Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.27

The Pythagoreans bid us in the morning look to the heavens, that we may be reminded of those bodies that continually do the same things and in the same manner perform their work, and also be reminded of their purity and nudity. For there is no veil over a star.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.27 (tr Long)

Daily life will often seem without purpose, and things will often appear confused and unclear. Many philosophers have made their names by insisting that the way of the world is precisely that there is no way, and many average folks have resigned themselves to their lot. Accept that there is no meaning, they say, and grab whatever gratification you can, while you still can.

It doesn’t have to be that way, not just because we might want to deserve better, but also because Nature herself reveals something very different. If I observe the motion of the stars and planets, the pattern of the tides, the changes of the seasons, or the delicate balance between all living things, I will not be so quick to say that everything is muddled and pointless.

Each part has a purpose within the whole, every piece exists within a greater harmony, all things go around and then come around again. I cannot possibly look at the sky and see only chaos, if I only choose to look with care. Is it a mystery precisely how and why things unfold the way they do? Certainly, though the mystery is to be unraveled in my understanding, while Nature always remains herself, clearly and completely.

It is not things themselves that are uncertain and adrift, it is my own estimation of things that is uncertain and adrift. To deny order, structure, and design within Nature is much like a child who insists that something does not exist because he has covered his eyes with his hands.

“Well, that all sounds wonderful in theory. . . .” Actually, I don’t approach it as a matter of theory at all, but as an immediate immersion in practice. I have, at many times in my life, felt overwhelmed by human noise, the yelling, the boasting, the snickering, the crying, and I have wanted to surrender, to give up on trying to make any sense of it at all.

That I am still here is proof that I somehow recovered a part of my sanity, and in each and every case it helped me to turn my attention to the unity, the structure, and the beauty of Nature at work. It could be a starry sky, or a thunderstorm, or a bird’s nest. Then it was no longer noise, but a song, and everything danced.

Yes, even all that human hustle and bustle was part of the dance. I just hadn’t noticed it, because I hadn’t looked past my own selfishness to the bigger picture. All the little bits, that seemed to be racing about with no rhyme or reason, were charged with purpose. They mattered, as everything matters.

Written in 6/2009