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Saturday, July 13, 2019

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.16

As to living in the best way, this power is in the soul, if it is indifferent to things that are indifferent. And it will be indifferent, if it looks on each of these things separately and all together, and if it remembers that not one of them produces in us an opinion about itself, nor comes to us.

But these things remain immovable, and it is we ourselves who produce the judgments about them, and, as we may say, write them in ourselves, it being in our power not to write them, and it being in our power, if perchance these judgments have imperceptibly got admission to our minds, to wipe them out.

And if we remember also that such attention will only be for a short time, and then life will be at an end.

Besides, what trouble is there at all in doing this? For if these things are according to Nature, rejoice in them and they will be easy to you; but if contrary to Nature, seek what is conformable to your own nature, and strive towards this, even if it bring no reputation.

For every man is allowed to seek his own good.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.16 (tr Long)

I sometimes find it puzzling that people will think of Stoicism as being fatalist, because it argues that our circumstances are ultimately beyond our power. I would rather think it fatalist to claim that we must be under the power of our circumstances, which is the implicit assumption we too often make about our lives.

Things will be what they are, according to their own natures, and I will be what I am, according to my own nature. Whatever may happen to me, or whatever another may think or do, these events can stay right where they are, and it is only my own judgment and choice about them that will move or change me.

They will have as much of a hold on my estimation as I give to them, and even if I have previously allowed them to rule me, it remains in my power to put them aside, right here and now. It is within my nature as a creature of reason to do this.

How often have I told myself that I had do something, that there was no choice in the matter, or that my actions were beyond my control? How often have I heard others say that they wish they could act differently, but that their hands were tied, that they couldn’t help it? What lies we tell, what illusions we live under!

It may be the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do, and the pressure of circumstances may feel so great, but as long as I am still conscious and aware, I am forced to do nothing. The weight of all those conditions is the weight I choose to give them.

“I couldn’t help it, that’s just who I am!” No, who I am is precisely what I decide, since as a human being, gifted with mind and will, I can always “help” what I do, even if I cannot “help” what others do.

I used to think this way of living would be so hard to do, and I will still fall into the old habits of dependence upon impressions each and every day, but I learn more and more that the real hindrance to my own liberty, my ability to be completely responsible for myself, is entirely within me. I am the one building the walls, and putting up the misleading road signs, and saying that there is something about ruling and ordering myself that can’t be done.

It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, in that by judging it to be impossible for myself I thereby make it impossible for myself.  “My fear, my desire, my anger, my pain are simply too strong!” My fear, my desire, my anger, or my pain didn’t tell me that at all; I told myself that.

“But I have to keep my job, and pay the rent, and keep up my standing!” Come now, I know better than that. I may say I have to, because I still think these things to be necessary for a good life. They are not necessary, however, and so I should be indifferent to them, willing to take them up or to leave them be, as my own conscience informs me. I can learn to be indifferent to circumstances only when I recognize that my good is within my own virtue.

I used to roll my eyes when people did perfectly kind things for no other gain at all, and when I begrudgingly thanked them, they would say, “Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” But they were right; it really isn’t any trouble at all.

Written in 5/2009


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