Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.8

When you have assumed these names, good, modest, true, rational, a man of equanimity, and magnanimous, take care that you do not change these names. And if you should lose them, quickly return to them.

And remember that the term Rational was intended to signify a discriminating attention to every single thing, and freedom from negligence. And that Equanimity is the voluntary acceptance of the things that are assigned to you by the Common Nature. And that Magnanimity is the elevation of the intelligent part above the pleasurable or painful sensations of the flesh, and above that poor thing called fame, and death, and all such things.

If, then, you maintain yourself in the possession of these names, without desiring to be called by these names by others, you will be another person and will enter into another life. For to continue to be such as you have hitherto been, and to be torn in pieces and defiled in such a life, is the character of a very stupid man and one over-fond of his life, and like those half-devoured fighters with wild beasts, who, though covered with wounds and gore, still entreat to be kept to the following day, though they will be exposed in the same state to the same claws and bites.

Therefore fix yourself in the possession of these few names, and if you are able to abide in them, abide as if you were removed to certain Islands of the Happy. But if you shall perceive that you fall out of them and do not maintain your hold, go courageously into some nook where you shall maintain them, or even depart at once from life, not in passion, but with simplicity and freedom, and modesty, after doing this one laudable thing at least in your life, to have gone out of it thus.

 In order, however, to the remembrance of these names, it will greatly help you if you remember the gods, and that they wish not to be flattered, but wish all reasonable beings to be made like themselves. And if you remember that what does the work of a fig-tree is a fig-tree, and that what does the work of a dog is a dog, and that what does the work of a bee is a bee, and that what does the work of a man is a man.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 10.8 (tr Long)

I know full well that virtue is my highest calling as a human being, as a creature of reason and choice, but I often find myself feeling quite uncomfortable talking about it. This isn’t because I should not live this way, but because I am acutely aware that I regularly fail to live this way. I will embrace the name, but not the task; I will speak the words, but not live the life.

How often have I now seen people who parade about, posing for the world, telling us how good they really are? How often have I done much the same, spouting out all of the platitudes, while not rising up to the standard? Look at all the filth underneath the polish.

I am afraid to speak about virtue, since I do not wish to be like so many of the hypocrites I see around me. I have seen the bishops and priests, the politicians, the captains of industry, the academics, or the lawyers and the doctors puff up their chests. I am not important like they are, but I still manage to mess up my living much like they do.

And it’s all because I take a name, like wisdom, or temperance, or courage, or justice, and I don’t apply what it means.

The fact is that I am regularly not a man who acts with reason, or with equanimity, or with magnanimity. All that remains for me is to understand why I am not putting my money where my mouth is, and to not play games with something that is quite serious, the most serious thing there could ever be. Who is stopping me? The blame needs to stop here, and I need to only take responsibility for myself. If I really believe it is worth doing, I will simply choose to do it. There is no secret beyond that.

I think the obstacle I put in front of myself is the fear of what Marcus Aurelius describes so beautifully here: if I am going to be good man, I will now have to be a completely different man, a totally new person, someone reborn into a radically transformed life. I will no longer define myself by my job, or by my circle of friends, or by where I happen to live, but by how well I decide to live. That can be rather frightening, because it demands letting old habits go, and replacing them with new habits that fly in the face of everything that is popular and acceptable.

Mouthing the words will no longer be sufficient; casting aside all that is easy and comfortable will be required.

They may tell me that I can’t live on the Island of the Happy, that it is a ridiculous dream, and that I must simply continue with the same daily grind of work and exhaustion, to play the part of a producer, a consumer, and a mindless drone. Yet I recognize that the only thing standing in my way is my own freely chosen dependence upon things quite separate and distinct from my own character.

Will I now no longer have the chance to be rich, or praised, or living in the comforts of the body? It is of no matter. Let others live by those standards, but I do not have to be like them.

Yes, I will have to withdraw into the world of my own moral measures, and I will be required to look quite the fool to those who still bow to a life of fortune. I will be told that I am a troublemaker, that I am counter-cultural, that I am a radical, that I am a lose cannon, and that I am a danger to others, all because I will not play by the rules of people who are blind to their humanity.

If I consider it rightly, I am not making any sacrifice at all, because there is nothing to lose from a shallow life. I am quite aware, however much I might try to deny it, that everything that has ever hurt me has come from my own vices. Accordingly, the only thing that will ever redeem me comes from my own virtues.

Let me live rightly while I can live, and if that is not possible, let me die with some dignity.

Make the words mean something! Nothing needs to keep me from that Island of the Happy! 

Written in 1/2009