Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.18.4

. . . Fourth, consider that you also do many things wrong, and that you are a man like others.

And even if you do abstain from certain faults, still you have the disposition to commit them, though either through cowardice, or concern about reputation, or some such mean motive, you do abstain from such faults. . . .

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.18 (tr Long)

In my worst moments, I simply want to run away; the idea of becoming a hermit suddenly seems quite appealing. I think of this, however, because I am saddened or offended by others. I would not make a good hermit on these grounds, not even one bit, if my reason for being alone is my resentment for other people.

What is it that fuels my anger or despair? It is nothing else than demanding decency from others, just a bit of respect, a glimmer of love and loyalty. When I don’t get it, I will be tempted to do one of two things: I want to erupt in rage, or I want to crawl into a hole.

I am really just making myself the victim, an antithesis of all that is Stoic, and it isn’t that I need to get tougher, but that I need to become more understanding and compassionate. I need to see myself in others, and others in myself.

Why am I so full of hatred and fear? Because someone else has done something wrong? Let me remember how often I, too, have done wrong because of my own ignorance. Once I came to truly understand my error, I could only think of how to become better, and if I am to be consistent, I should also think of how to help another wrongdoer become better.

There is a twisted hypocrisy in my thinking and living when I treat another as I would never treat myself. I will condemn him, and seek to do him harm, while I will have sympathy with myself, and give myself another chance.

Can I be so confident as to claim that I no longer have such faults? I know I can’t, though let me imagine that I could. Even then, am I not just as prone to fall back into error, or perhaps I am doing the right things for the wrong reasons? I should be aware of my own weakness, and I should be critical about my own motives before I put down someone else’s.

“Look! I have been honest, or helpful, or kind, and my neighbor hasn’t been!” But look how easily I could have done otherwise, how fine that line really was, and maybe I was just honest because I was afraid, or helpful to get ahead, or kind to win affection.

I suspect the real hermit will have no disdain for others at all, and will seek solitude not to stew in his hatred, but to do some work on his ability to love.

Written in 9/2005

IMAGE: Jusepe de Ribera, Saint Paul, The First Hermit (1640)