Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.12

What need is there of suspicious fear, since it is in your power to inquire what ought to be done?

And if you see clear, go by this way contented, without turning back; and if you do not see clear, stop and take the best advisers.

But if any other things oppose you, go on according to your powers with due consideration, keeping to that which appears to be just.

For it is best to reach this object, and if you do fail, let your failure be in attempting this.

He who follows reason in all things is both tranquil and active at the same time, and also cheerful and collected.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 10.12 (tr Long)

I sometimes cringe at how many years I spent blindly trusting people who insisted that they had my back, only to eventually find no one was there when I turned around.

There were the childhood chums, of course, who seemed so keen on ridicule, gossip, and slander. Adults will often dismiss the problems of children, but I still remember that it felt quite real. I was told to not mind any of it too much, but it seemed to set a pattern.

Then there were those who declared themselves to be the closest of friends, some of whom I loved very dearly, but who only stayed around when the going was good, and then suddenly disappeared when it became inconvenient. I was told to just move past it all, but it broke my heart every time.

Then there were all the slick professionals I worked with, who swore a shared and noble purpose, using the most charming words, but always played clever games for their own profit. I was told to keep to my principles regardless, but it ended up being quite lonely.

Whether they were schoolmates, or friends, or colleagues, it never felt any better. It only became worse on every occasion, as each incident made me more suspicious and untrusting, preparing me rather poorly for any future relationships. How did I really know if I could rely on someone, and if I couldn’t know at all, where did that leave me?

I was sure the last straw for me was a fellow I hired as a teacher in my department, being mightily impressed with his credentials, his charm, and his references. It didn’t hurt that he was a fellow alumnus from my old school.

Yet only a about month after the ink had dried, I received an unusual e-mail from one of his references, apologizing for ever having thought well of him, and explaining that she would no longer be his dissertation director. “Get rid of him while you still can,” were her exact words.

She attached a letter he had proudly sent around to his friends, where he bragged about how he would take my job as Chairman within a few years, because I was so naïve and gullible. She had also learned that his supposed scholarly work was tainted with plagiarism.

I said nothing directly to the fellow, willing to offer him the benefit of the doubt, but I did politely ask him why he was changing his director. He was shocked that I knew of this, but he had a whole fanciful story to explain it, based on all sorts of falsehoods. What he didn’t know was that I was already quite aware of what had happened, straight from the horse’s mouth.

This one just felt like one too many. I was convinced I had hit some critical mass within myself, dealing with one charlatan or hypocrite after another, certain that I no longer knew how to relate to any people at all, always dubious about their motives and their honesty.

Here is where the Stoic Turn can save lives. Did any of these people treat me poorly? That is on them, but not on me. But did I allow myself to be played or manipulated? That is on me, but not on them.

If I understand my own purpose in this life correctly, I should never blame others for what they have done to me, knowing they did so out of an ignorance of the good, and knowing it remains my job to offer love to them and to care for them, regardless of their mistakes. I have been there myself, and can hardly throw stones.

But I should blame myself for what I have done to myself, knowing that I did so upon a false premise, that the merit of my life depended upon their support and approval. I was ignorant of my own good, and I am the one who decides about that. Let me keep my stones to myself. Let me build my own home with them, not waste them by tossing them away.

I should wish what is best for those folks, even if they don’t wish what is best for me. My trust should go out to people I sincerely believe to be of character, not merely those I would hope to be of character. Even if others do then break that trust, I should never break it myself.

It all boils down to foolishly making my own value contingent upon the estimation of others. Stop doing that! Other people are made to be loved, so love them. Does my calling in life change if they don’t offer the same in return? What vanity, what arrogance, what pride to think that I should expect to receive anything at all, even as I was created to give all of myself.

I need to follow my conscience, rightly informed. If it is not rightly informed, let me ask for the help of those who appear to know better. If I have trusted poorly, I have at least done my best, and in my trying I have still improved myself. I will try again, knowing only that I am my own master, that no one else is my master, and that I am the master of no one else.

If I remain constant within myself, at peace with my own character, there will be no failure. Failure will only come when I sell myself out, when I submit myself for a price, and never when another tempts me by offering a price.

Tranquil within, while still active without. This is only possible where the true measure of virtue is respected.

Written in 1/2009