.
. . Remember these nine rules, as if you had received them as a gift from the
Muses, and begin at last to be a man while you live.
But
you must equally avoid nattering men and being vexed at them, for both are
unsocial and lead to harm. And let this truth be present to you in the
excitement of anger, that to be moved by passion is not manly, but that
mildness and gentleness, as they are more agreeable to human nature, so also
are they more manly; and he who possesses these qualities possesses strength,
nerves, and courage, and not the man who is subject to fits of passion and
discontent.
For
in the same degree in which a man's mind is nearer to freedom from all passion,
in the same degree also is it nearer to strength; and as the sense of pain is a
characteristic of weakness, so also is anger. For he who yields to pain and he
who yields to anger, both are wounded and both submit.
But
if you will, receive also a tenth present from the leader of the Muses, Apollo,
and it is this—that to expect bad men not to do wrong is madness, for he who
expects this desires an impossibility. But to allow men to behave so to others,
and to expect them not to do you any wrong, is irrational and tyrannical.
—Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.18 (tr
Long)
These
rules always suggest to me that being most fully human asks that I take
responsibility for myself, that being strong in happiness requires being strong
in my own character, and that I need to have mastery over no one but myself to
find peace.
I will
always, on each and every day that I go out into the world, come across people
who are loud, petty, and brutish. Far more often than I might expect, I will
also find them to be dishonest, selfish, and cruel. There is the challenge,
there is my test. They live in this way because they have reason and choice,
just as I do, and they have decided on a different path. Will I allow my own
balance to be upset by their imbalance?
Stoicism
is often associated with a certain sort of toughness, but it is not a toughness
of being insensitive or uncaring toward others. It is the firmness of being
willing to rule over my desires and my aggression, and not to permit them to
rule over me. It is the courage to stand by what I know to be right.
And what
I know to be right is to show concern for my neighbor, to live in solidarity
with him, to define my relationship with him through justice and not through
force. A strong man is a good man, and a good man is a “gentle man”, in the
fullest and proper sense of the word.
Will
another not be gentle with me? He may indeed choose to be a slave to his
passions, but I do not need to do so for myself. His bluster and boasting are
not signs of strength, but actually of weakness. To surrender is not to show
reverence for what is good in others, but to submit to what is worst within
ourselves.
If there
is to be a tenth rule, then, one that is given not only by the Muses but also
by Apollo himself, let it be a very practical summation of all of them. I
cannot demand that other people treat me well, but I can always demand that I
treat them well.
Further,
I cannot be willing to accept injustice done to others, if I am not also
willing to face it for myself. Let me stop telling other people to “man up” and
“get over it”, because those are the words of just another bully, not of an
actual man. I will show my conviction and fortitude by living up to my own
principles.
Written in 5/2009
IMAGE: Robert Sanderson (1848–1908), Apollo and the Muses
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