The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Monday, April 27, 2020

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 9.10


But tell me, my friend, when Diogenes was in exile at Athens, or when he was sold by pirates and came to Corinth, did anyone, Athenian or Corinthian, ever exhibit greater freedom of speech than he? And again, were any of his contemporaries freer than Diogenes? Why, even Xeniades, who bought him, he ruled as a master rules a slave.

But why should I employ examples of long ago? Are you not aware that I am an exile? Well, then, have I been deprived of freedom of speech? Have I been bereft of the privilege of saying what I think? Have you or anyone else ever seen me cringing before anyone just because I am an exile, or thinking that my lot is worse now than formerly?

No, I'll wager that you would say that you have never seen me complaining or disheartened because of my banishment, for if I have been deprived of my country, I have not been deprived of my ability to endure exile.

I am always pleased to see Diogenes offered as an example, because I have a special attachment to his unconventional manner of thinking and living, much to the frustration of those who know me. I heartily nod in agreement when Musonius repeatedly refers to Diogenes in this lecture, knowing how powerful an inspiration that bewildering man can be, having made so much of himself out of so little, and willing to see every obstacle as an opportunity.

But why only look to the lives of strangers from the past, when we can also look to our own situations, right here and now, to strengthen our commitments? Musonius finally reminds us that he is also an exile, and that this has hindered him no more than it did Diogenes.

I am not certain exactly when the Lectures were originally presented or written down, but Musonius, following in the footsteps of Diogenes, was exiled twice from Rome, once under Nero, and then later under Vespasian. I suppose the best philosophers, those who truly embrace the task, have a knack for making themselves quite unwelcome by those who wish to maintain their power.

Our own personal experiences might not be as dramatic as those of Diogenes, or even of Musonius, yet they can still support exactly the same lessons in life. Most anyone will know something of how it feels to be left out, to be cast aside, to be considered unworthy of attention.

I have never been kicked out of a city or a country, not for want of trying, though I have been fired from a job for speaking my mind, and I have found myself socially shunned by all the members of a local church for bringing up things that were considered unmentionable. Though the scale was obviously not as grand, it still taught me that who I am is not determined by where I am, and that character is not measured by circumstance.

There was never any formal proclamation to it, and only my immediate family know anything of how it all happened, but there also came a moment when I realized I could never go back to my old neighborhood without causing myself terrible harm. It has been one of the most unpleasant events of my life, and at the same time one of the most formative events of my life. There is nothing like losing the familiar and beloved to help you cling all the more tightly to what is truly your own.

I once got to know a fellow, a fiery and impassioned journalist, who was forced to flee his home country with his family in the middle of the night, and then spent the next two decades in the United States.

He would occasionally have me over for tea, and though he had a flair for the melodramatic, I couldn’t help but be moved when he would point to his head and his heart, slowly saying, “Home is here . . . and here.”

He never returned, even after the government that had harassed him was overthrown, because he insisted that “changing the color of the flags doesn’t change the nature of the tyrants.” I like to imagine him, Diogenes, and Musonius now having a good laugh together.

Barely a day passes when I am not also deeply impressed by some of the people I meet in the most unassuming of situations, who had to leave their homes on account of poverty or oppression, and who will still find a way to live in peace and joy. I am not so much interested in the angry politics of it, as I am in the genuine humanity of it. I see myself complaining about the pettiest of things, and they show me what a spoiled brat I can be.

Exile, deprivation, and hardship are unable to stop me from understanding and loving, and so they are unable to stop me from living well.

Written in 12/2016

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