Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.8

A branch cut off from the adjacent branch must of necessity be cut off from the whole tree also. So too, a man, when he is separated from another man has fallen off from the whole social community.

Now as to a branch, another cuts it off; but a man by his own act separates himself from his neighbor when he hates him and turns away from him, and he does not know that he has at the same time cut himself off from the whole social system.

Yet he has this privilege certainly from Zeus, who framed society, for it is in our power to grow again to that which is near to us, and again to become a part that helps to make up the whole.

However, if it often happens, this kind of separation, it makes it difficult for that which detaches itself to be brought to unity and to be restored to its former condition.

Finally, the branch, which from the first grew together with the tree, and has continued to have one life with it, is not like that which after being cut off is then engrafted, for this is something like what the gardeners mean when they say that it grows with the rest of the tree, but that it has not the same mind with it.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.8 (tr Long)

How much of the most sincere love, the most genuine sacrifice, and the most undying commitment I have had the joy to see in this life. It was not always so apparent to the world, but it is still the hidden lifeblood that keeps it all going.

How much of the most grinding hatred, the most heartless selfishness, and the most disgusting abuse I have had the horror to see in this life. It often seemed to run the world, and I often felt like it was the cancer that would finally eat away all of us.

Yet chop off all of the limbs you may wish, and burn them in a fire of your own malice or indifference, but the tree doesn’t die. Nature still lives, and the Divine still lives. Try to cut it away, and it will grow back nevertheless.

Remove the part from the whole, and the part becomes nothing at all in itself. Now the branch has no choice if it is pruned from the tree, but I most certainly have the choice if I will be separated from all of my brothers and sisters.

Being part of a social community has nothing, I suggest, to do with being liked or respected. Shallow people, who define themselves through the opinions of others, are the only ones to think that. Real folks, those who work, commit, love, and bleed, are not interested in what they receive. They give to the whole, knowing that they are a part of the whole.

Lust is selfish, but love is selfless. Love is not to the harm of the branch, but rather to the benefit of both the branch and of the tree. There is no one without the other.

I am the only one responsible for my isolation from my neighbors. Do they not care for me? Let that be. Do I not care for them? I can do something about that.

The worst part of it is that annoying power of habit. The more I hate, the harder it is for me to love. The more I look away, the harder it is for me to look right back at it. The more I grow cold, the harder it is for me to become warm once again.

I have learned, through hard and painful experience, that everything I have ever suffered came from me. I have also learned, with much shame and squirming, that after I had so foolishly detached my branch from the tree, I could always have easily reattached my branch to the tree. Only the stubbornness of my will got in the way.

“I’m sorry. I love you. How can I make it right?”

Yes, many people will laugh at you, or dismiss you, if you say something like that. Say it in any event, and mean it, from one branch of the tree to another.

Written in 4/2009