The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Sunday, June 7, 2020

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 11.2


Yet he does not hold himself cheap, because he knows that he is not his own, but performs all his duties as carefully and prudently as a pious and scrupulous man would take care of property left in his charge as trustee.

When he is bidden to give them up, he will not complain of Fortune, but will say, "I thank you for what I have had possession of: I have managed your property so as largely to increase it, but since you order me, I give it back to you and return it willingly and thankfully. If you still wish me to own anything of yours, I will keep it for you. If you have other views, I restore into your hands and make restitution of all my wrought and coined silver, my house and my household.

“Should Nature recall what she previously entrusted us with, let us say to her also: 'Take back my spirit, which is better than when you gave it me: I do not shuffle or hang back. Of my own free will I am ready to return what you gave me before I could think: take me away.'"

What hardship can there be in returning to the place from where one came? a man cannot live well if he knows not how to die well. We must, therefore, take away from this commodity its original value, and count the breath of life as a cheap matter.

Does this mean I have nothing? Not at all, I have myself, right here and now. Why do I give so little value to the most precious thing I possess? Let me qualify that statement, since I am not just the most precious thing I possess, but I am actually the only thing I possess, however temporary it may be.

Being a fellow with an unfortunately melancholic bent, always struggling with the bad habit of finding what is worst, I might claim that owning myself isn’t worth very much at all. Look at what others have thought of me, have said of me, have done to me.

The fellow who replaced me for the affections of the lost love of my life once sent me a letter, back when we would still write letters, and he made it entirely clear what he thought of me, and what his new beloved thought of me. I’m not sure why I ever saved that old letter, but I suspect the darker side of me was still trying to come to terms with it.

“Do you even know how ridiculous you are? You’re a waste of human life, a total failure, and we laugh about you all the time. Did you really think you could do anything to make her happy? I do things for her you could never do. You need to have the decency to fuck off and die.”

I took that to heart, as I did so many other perceived slights, and I wasted many years trying to do exactly that, just going off and dying.

How mistaken I was in taking that path.

Did she care? Did he care? Clearly not at all. Did any of that matter? Clearly not at all, if only I’d had my wits about me.

My deepest affection, my most profound caring, came from a mistaken assumption, that I am what others say I am.

I am not what others say I am. I am not the sum total of how I am perceived. I am not ridiculous, or wasted, or a failure because someone else has said so.

As insignificant as I may feel, I am worth something. I am worth something just by being human, yet I can also add to that. I can act with understanding and love, whatever else may come my way, and so I can then make something better of myself.

I am not cheap. I may cringe to say it, but yes, I can actually be priceless.

It all boils down to a simple concept: anything I have ever had, or felt, or loved has never been “mine” at all. It was lent to me for a time. The pretty girl was never mine, the proper job was never mine, and the fancy house was never mine. I was offered a sort of care over them for a brief moment, but they were never mine.

I still recall a phrase my family constantly used, and I hated it so much then, but I get it so much now:

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord!

Instead of my constant whining and complaining, here is a better way for me to live:

Thank you for this chance to be responsible for what happened to be in my custody. It has been a privilege, and not a right.

Thank you for taking any of it away at the proper time. I tried to manage it well, and I will pass it on gladly.

Thank you for the time I have been provided, however long or short, whatever the circumstances. I recognize that my very existence was a gift. I did my best with all of it.

I might say I hope it was enough, but that has depended entirely on me.

Written in 11/2011

IMAGE: Balthazar Nebot, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1730)

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