Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.36

Man, you have been a citizen in this great state, the world; what difference does it make to you whether for five years or for three? For that which is conformable to the laws is just for all. 

 

Where is the hardship then, if no tyrant or yet an unjust judge sends you away from the state, but Nature, who brought you into it? It is the same as if a praetor who has employed an actor dismisses him from the stage.

 

"But I have not finished the five acts, but only three of them!" 

 

You speak well, but in life the three acts are the whole drama; for what shall be a complete drama is determined by Him who was once the cause of its composition, and now of its dissolution: but you are the cause of neither. 

 

Depart then satisfied, for He also who releases you is satisfied.

 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.36 (tr Long)

 

I don’t know in what order the Meditations were originally written, or how they somehow ended up formatted in the way they were. I have been told that Marcus Aurelius never intended them for publication, and I understand that completely, having been writing for most of my life, and never expecting anyone to read a single word. 

 

My own thoughts are not even close to the value and dignity of the Philosopher-Emperor, but I like to imagine that he wrote down his ideas for the very same reason I did: to improve himself, not to impress anyone. He did it better, and I just followed. 

 

I do appreciate this passage as a final one. Might he have been writing this as he knew his own life was coming to an end? What a wonderful way to go!

 

Look at what has been given to me, a chance to live a life of awareness and choice, a chance to determine my own dignity. I was not made as a rock, or as a tree, or even as a dog, but as a man. Thank you. That, in and of itself, is more than enough to offer gratitude to Providence. 

 

That same Providence also gave me the time and opportunity to grow, to learn, to become myself as fully as I possibly could. There was a second gift. I made so many mistakes, and I cringe even to think of them, but each moment of my life was a new chance. 

 

“I need more time!” No, I really don’t. What was provided was quite enough, far more than I even needed. Even as I wanted more, I always needed less than I thought. Three acts? Five acts? No difference. Now is enough. I was never entitled to it, but I received it nonetheless. It was God who gave it, and so it is right when God takes it away. 

 

I was put on this little blue ball, at a certain time, in a certain place, and under certain circumstances. The time, or the place, or the circumstances did not make me; I chose whether I would make something of myself, whether I would be a man or a shadow of a man. Thank you. 

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.35

The man to whom that only is good which comes in due season, and to whom it is the same thing whether he has done more or fewer acts conformable to right reason, and to whom it makes no difference whether he contemplates the world for a longer or a shorter time—for this man neither is death a terrible thing.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.35 (tr Long)

“This is good. Give me more!”

But if it is so good, why can’t I enjoy what I already have? If I need more to make it better, how good was it to begin with?

I would roll my eyes when my betters told me to seek quality over quantity, and would snidely reply that I wanted both. I was failing to see that if I actually possessed something of genuine quality, I wouldn’t even be thinking about the quantity.

It is that way with a fine meal, where eating more is not better. There will be the portion that is just enough, and doubling or tripling it will only make me sick.

It is that way with the love of a true friend, where multiplying it will add nothing. There will be joy in sharing what already is, and asking for no more.

It is that way with the duration of life itself, where living well is not the same as living long. There will be contentment in having done right in this opportunity, not in demanding another.

Let me find happiness in what Nature has given to me, knowing full well that it is completely sufficient, precisely because she has given it to me. Let me do it right once, treating that moment as if it were all moments. Let me appreciate this, and I will have no longing for that.

The end of my life does not need to be a sad thing, just as the last page of a good book should not be a disappointment. It can just as easily be the happiest thing, where it all comes together, and I can walk away totally fulfilled, satisfied with a job well done. Do I still feel dissatisfied right now? Well, I can fix that right now, if only I so decide. No more is required.

More pleasure, more money, more praise, more hoops to jump through, and, above all else, more time. This is the sign of a man who chooses not to find peace simply in who he is, right here and right now. Like the glutton, he thinks that if he consumes more he will be more, and like the glutton, he gets fatter as he becomes more miserable.

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.34

This reflection is most adapted to move us to contempt of death, that even those who think pleasure to be a good and pain an evil still have despised it.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.34 (tr Long)

I once liked bickering about ideologies, because the thought of being right made me feel more important. What I completely misunderstood was all about what it even meant to be right.

Being right isn’t about holding the supposedly correct view, while ridiculing and condemning anyone who holds the supposedly incorrect view. Being right is about making myself better, and never about making anyone else worse. Once my own right is at the expense of another, it immediately ceases to be right.

In philosophy, religion, or politics, we love to hate the “other”. You surely see the problem. There is no real love where there is any presence of hate.

Let me fix my own problems, and exorcise my own demons. Then, and only then, let me help others fix their own problems, and exorcise their own demons, on their terms, and not just on mine. Helping is the key, not forcing.

Have you ever come across a stubborn mule? That is how you treat the man you now so proudly call your enemy. He will not change one bit, unless you treat him with the respect he deserves.

“But he’s just a mule!”

No, he is a man like you. Treat him as you would like to be treated. Anything less, and suddenly you are now the animal, not him.

In Rome, the two major conflicting philosophies were Stoicism on the one hand, and Epicureanism on the other. The former preached about providence and virtue, and the latter preached about randomness and pleasure.

Yet, in an odd sort of way, they both ended up teaching that a good man would have to be wise, brave, moderate, and just. They simply came at it from very different angles.

That difference of principles is deeply important, even as the shared sense of human decency is more important. The Stoic is not unfeeling, and the Epicurean is not gluttonous. Work with that to begin with, and find the common ground. The conflicts can only be resolved through what is universal.

Virtue or pleasure? Yes. Both. The priority is what we are fussing about.

Here is something shared: neither the Stoic nor the Epicurean has any fear or worries about death. They both understand that life will end. They both understand that life should be lived well. They both understand that how we live matters far more than how long we live, or when we die.

Marcus Aurelius reminds us that we can find at least one thing that binds us together. Begin with that, and a sense of solidarity can then perhaps follow.

“You filthy Epicurean! I’ll kill you now!” You stopped being a Stoic when you said that. He fears death no more than you. 

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.33

How does the ruling faculty make use of itself? For all lies in this.

But everything else, whether it is in the power of your will or not, is only lifeless ashes and smoke.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.33 (tr Long)

I have learned that there is a difference between being clever and being wise, or between being efficient and being good. For some people, their thoughts and actions are only steps to improving their circumstances. For other people, their circumstances are only steps to improving their thoughts and actions. This man is trying to get something for himself, while that man is trying to make something of himself.

The difference is quite real, like night and day.

Everything for me really hinges upon how I choose to shape my own judgments, and the value of all other things for me will proceed from that estimation.

Is it good, or is it bad? Many people will say something is better or worse depending on all sorts of attributes, like whether it is pleasurable or painful, or whether it will make them richer or poorer, or whether it helps them appear in one light or another.

But I realize more and more that a few other people don’t see it that way at all, and those are the people who should inspire me. It is not the event, or the situation, or the condition itself that is good or bad for me, but rather how to put that event, or condition, or situation to good use.

I could gain money, or I could lose it. Either can help me to be just. It will be in my own thinking.

I could receive gratification, or I could face suffering. Either can help me to be temperate. It will be in my own discipline.

I could be surrounded by friends, or I could be completely alone. Either can help me to be brave. It will be in my own conviction.

I could be healthy and strong, or I could be sick and weak. Either can help me to live well. It will be in my own awareness.

I may think of all sorts of analogies: the material is only as good as the artist, the dirt is only as good as the farmer, or the ingredients are only as good as the chef.

And so it is in all of life. Whatever happens to me, that which comes and goes, is in itself without life for me. I will decide whether I give it such life, by how I inform it with my own measure of meaning and purpose. It will become for me what I make of it.

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.32

How small a part of the boundless and unfathomable time is assigned to every man, for it is very soon swallowed up in the eternal!

And how small a part of the whole Substance; and how small a part of the Universal Soul; and on what a small clod of the whole earth you creep!

Reflecting on all this, consider nothing to be great, except to act as your nature leads you, and to endure that which the Common Nature brings.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.32 (tr Long)

Stoicism does indeed ask me to be responsible for myself, but I must also remember that it does not ask me to make myself the measure of all things. I am not the center of gravity, or that around which the world revolves, or the absolute by which everything else is to be judged. The part is in service to the whole, not the whole in service to the part.

Not only am I a part of Nature, but I am a rather small part within a grand design, only here for the briefest moment, one instance of thought among countless others.

This does not mean that I have no value, but it certainly means that I am not all that is of value. I am with other things, never above other things. I am the master of my own good, but I am not the master of all that is good.

The self-reliance of Stoicism can tempt me into becoming quite self-serving, in which case it would hardly be any different from so many other forms of subjectivism, relativism, and egoism that pass for philosophy, that are so especially fashionable at the moment.

It is easy for me to blame others, to be angry at the world, or to stubbornly insist that I am not getting what I deserve.

Informed by a twisted form of Stoicism, I might then instead transform my resentment into dismissing others, ignoring the world, or stubbornly insisting that no one deserves anything at all from me. The expression is different, while the vanity remains the same. There is still no sense of my commitment to my neighbor, or of a reverence for Nature.

“I don’t care about the universe, because the universe doesn’t care about me.” I find no wisdom in that. “You don’t exist for me. What you do is meaningless to me.” I find no virtue in that.

Stoicism does indeed ask me to radically change my perspective, but it cannot just be a change where I modify and shuffle around the terms of my own importance. The particular will only make sense with the context of the universal, my nature within Nature. I am called to follow virtue, because my own nature tells me it is right. I am called to show respect for whatever may happen to me, because Nature herself tells me it is right. 

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.31

What do you wish—to continue to exist? Well, do you wish to have sensation, movement, growth, and then again to cease to grow, to use your speech, to think?

 What is there of all these things that seems to you worth desiring? But if it is easy to set little value on all these things, turn to that which remains, which is to follow reason and God.

But it is inconsistent with honoring reason and God to be troubled because by death a man will be deprived of the other things.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.31 (tr Long)

We say it is a sign of a proper and civilized society when people manage to live just a little bit longer. We say it is a sign of a proper and civilized society when people have possession of a few more things. Is it really better to have more time, or to own more stuff?

In one place some starve, and in another place some grow too fat. Which is actually the worse fate?

Neither is better or worse in and of itself. A man isn’t made to live either a short life or a long life. He isn’t made to be impoverished or to grow in wealth. He isn’t even made to live or to die at this point or at another point. He is made to increase in his character, the core of his humanity, whatever circumstances may come his way.

Think that through for a moment, and you will realize that it flies in the face of all we hold so dear. This is anathema to a secular and consumer society, one obsessed with worldly gratification and profit. It is deeply offensive to those who tell you that a good life requires a chicken in every pot, and a car in every garage, and a few more years of life to wallow in it all.

One might prefer a longer life, but that is not the measure of life. Do not confuse quantity with quality, or preference with necessity. We complain about the tyranny of those who bought and sold people, and yet we still continue it by buying and selling longevity and prosperity.

No, a Stoic mindset will not go down well with the movers and shakers of this world, because those who seek to only be rich and powerful are hardly interested in your moral worth. They are interested in your financial worth. The longer you live, the more you can produce for them and buy from them.

By all means live long, if you like, but far more importantly live well, because you must. I hear scientists talking about how we could make humans immortal, and I can only cringe. We might be able to transfer a consciousness to a machine, and then we would never end. How would that possibly improve the human condition?

I am called to honor reason, which asks me to live with wisdom and virtue, and I am called to honor God, which asks me to show reverence for the order of Nature. Living for one more minute, or year, or decade will not make me any better at doing this. If I choose to live in ignorance and vice, with no respect at all for the order of Providence, no amount of extra time will ever improve me.

Do I want to feel more? Do I want to do more? Do I want to have more? Why? What was insufficient in that which was already given to me? The very idea of growth, what is behind the intrinsic value of life as a process directed toward a specific goal, requires a beginning, and a middle, and an ending. Anything else is just stagnation. Growth comes to its natural completion, and then it is right for there to be passing. Out of this can come something new, a rebirth.

A longer or a shorter life will never make me better or worse. A virtuous or a vicious life will make me better or worse. Immortality won’t make me a more decent, just, or loving man. I need to redefine what I think is worthy about life.

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.30

There is one light of the sun, though it is interrupted by walls, mountains, and other things infinite. There is one common substance, though it is distributed among countless bodies that have their several qualities. There is one soul, though it is distributed among infinite natures and individuals. There is one intelligent soul, though it seems to be divided.

Now in the things that have been mentioned, all the other parts, such as those that are air and matter, are without sensation and have no fellowship: and yet even these parts the intelligent principle holds together and the gravitation towards the same. But intellect in a peculiar manner tends to that which is of the same kin, and combines with it, and the feeling for communion is not interrupted.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.30 (tr Long)

We insist so often on how much things are different, that we forget how much they are really the same.

Classical Stoicism stressed the fundamental unity of all things, that the great varieties of things we see around us are aspects or manifestations of only one being.

Now there are various philosophical concerns here, about the definition of this or that  -ism, or about the specific distinction between a substance and a quality, but in practice it really just means that we should think about things as being joined together, not as being set apart.

There is nothing that exists in and of itself, separately from what is one. There is no multiplicity without proceeding from singularity.

This is all the more true when it comes to mind, where the very identity of consciousness means that intellect receives and contains within itself the forms of all that it knows, and that awareness is an openness to binding itself to other things. When minds meet, they perceive one another as alike, drawn to their shared nature, each becoming present within the other. My mind, and your mind, and all the many expressions of mind, participate in the one Mind, the glue that binds reality together.

In thinking about myself, I do so through reflecting on other things, and I thereby reach out to others as others reach out to me. To recognize another soul like my own is to find myself all over again, to discover what is common.

In those rare but wonderful times when I have found friendship, fellowship, and sincere love with others I am touching upon that mutual kinship. Few things can be as powerful or fulfilling. I am not made only for myself, but to be in community with others, and to be in harmony with all of Nature.

Yes, some will laugh at you if you say that. They will dismiss, reject, and exclude, convinced that who they are has absolutely nothing to do with who you are. They choose not to see that the limit of one thing is only possible through its presence to another, or that it is impossible to speak of this independently of its relationship to that. 

Written in 10/2009

IMAGE: M.C. Escher, Mosaic I (1951)

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.29

The safety of life is this, to examine everything all through, what it is itself, that is its material, what the formal part; with all your soul to do justice and to say the truth.

What remains, except to enjoy life by joining one good thing to another, so as not to leave even the smallest intervals between?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.29 (tr Long)

As a rational animal, I am made to seek wisdom, to look beneath appearances to the nature of things themselves, and I am made to strive to do what is good, in such a way that it is always at the center of my purpose.

This is all that I will need for a decent and happy life, assured that there is nothing that can hinder me from simply being human. If I can work to be constant in keeping my attention on these ends, I will find the peace and contentment I so desperately seek.

I find myself distracted, however, because not too many people around me may choose to see it this way. Yes, they may sometimes mouth the noble words, but too often I see manipulation taking the place of prudence, and I see gratification taking the place of justice.

Perhaps I now tell myself that if my neighbor won’t do it, then I don’t need to do it. Perhaps I now become discouraged from doing what is right, when I must face what is wrong.

Why am I making it more difficult than it has to be? Why am I compromising my own character because of the judgment of others? Let them make their own way, in their own time, and let me be my own master.

They may choose pleasure, or wealth, or power, or reputation as their goals, and I can choose something very different as my own. They may or may not notice what I am trying to do, but that is neither here nor there, as long as I am sincerely trying to do it well. Am I not receiving the respect I think I deserve? It is of no matter, since I can still decide to give such respect.

There will be times, especially at first, when I struggle mightily to do something even slightly fair or decent, even as I am still filled with frustration and resentment. Then, sometimes quite unexpectedly, I will find the deepest joy in doing the smallest of things, not because they will win me anything else, but just because they are the right things to do.

To find happiness in this life is not, I regularly remind myself, to go out and conquer the world, but just to go within and conquer my own thoughts and deeds. The rest will fall into place around that, as the worth of the rest for me is only measured by my own wisdom and virtue.

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.28

To those who ask, where have you seen the gods, or how do you comprehend that they exist and so worship them, I answer, in the first place, they may be seen even with the eyes.

In the second place, neither have I seen even my own soul, and yet I honor it.

Thus then with respect to the gods, from what I constantly experience of their power, from this I comprehend that they exist, and I venerate them.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.28 (tr Long)

There was a time when a fiery debate about the existence of God would consume my attention, because I saw that if there was no question more ultimate, then there could be no question more important. I am still convinced of that, but I also see that many people, if not most, who enter into such discussions aren’t really interested in a reasoned argument, and they aren’t really interested in the importance of God either. They are already beginning with their conclusion, and they are interested in their own importance.

So I will now usually keep my thoughts to myself, while trusting that a genuinely open mind will look to the evidence of Nature, and will come to understand for itself, in its own time, and in its own way. No amount of posturing, or yelling, or dramatic speeches will change that. If I have a sincere respect for the truth, I commit a great disservice by trying to force it down someone’s throat.

Some will insist that the Divine is just a fantasy, a blind acceptance of something invisible and unknowable. But why do they assume this is the case? Are we to simply dismiss the direct experience of God, however we may understand or express it?

And can things not also be known indirectly, by means of their effects? If I already don’t wish to see something, if I choose to turn away, of course I won’t accept it. I need to take off my blinders if I wish to perceive the fullness of reality around me.

I will never be open to a direct experience of the Divine if I take it for granted that it is something separated and distant from my world. Could it be something immanent and immediate?

Even if I do not see it right in front of me, I need to consider how so many of the things I know are only known through other things. I see smoke, and I think fire. I see symptoms, and I think of the disease. I see a kind deed, and I think of love, though I have never seen love in itself, only how it acts upon others.

I remember the Buddhist story of the skeptical monk, who refused to acknowledge anything he couldn’t see with his eyes, until his master pointed out that surely he believed in the wind.

Fighting about God seems so pointless to me. Might it not be better to first look and listen? 

Written in 10/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.27

Constantly bring to your recollection those who have complained greatly about anything, those who have been most conspicuous by the greatest fame or misfortunes or enmities or fortunes of any kind: then think where are they all now?

Smoke and ash and a tale, or not even a tale.

And let there be present to your mind also everything of this sort, how Fabius Catellinus lived in the country, and Lucius Lupus in his gardens, and Stertinius at Briae, and Tiberius at Capreae, and Velius Rufus; and in fine think of the eager pursuit of anything conjoined with pride; and how worthless everything is after which men violently strain; and how much more philosophical it is for a man in the opportunities presented to him to show himself just, temperate, obedient to the gods, and to do this with all simplicity.

For the pride that is proud of its want of pride is the most intolerable of all.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.27 (tr Long)

Look at the people who have always impressed you, intimidated you, been better and holier than you.

Now look again. They are nothing more than you at all, and nothing less than you at all. They were born alone, and they will die alone. They are no different from you.

They pretend they are better, of course, because they play games of smoke and mirrors. They tell you that the right people won, and the wrong people lost, even as they have no idea of what it even means to be right or wrong.

Notice how they boldly brag about their achievements when life goes their way, and vigorously complain about the injustices when life doesn’t go their way. See those who make more of themselves because of where they were, and see those who make less of others because of where they were not.

“Well, that’s not me at all!” That makes it even worse. Now you are both a player and a liar. You know it within yourself, because you know that your words don’t fit your deeds.

Here’s the trick: stop being where you are, either rich or poor; start being who are you are, either good or bad. 

All of those who work so hard for their fame and glory now have nothing whatsoever. They live here or there, in this fancy neighborhood or another, drive the best of cars, and go on the finest of vacations. Still, if this is what they work so hard for, they have nothing, because there is nothing within them. Everything they value is outside of them.

In one sense, an old abandoned house will make me feel sad, because I wonder about the fate of those who had lived in it. In another sense, that some wreck gives me comfort, because I know that no human vanity will ever last.

Do you remember those names in the passage? Would it even matter if you did? Imagine how much care they must have given to their mansions, their food, their clothes, their reputations, or their many gratifications.

Their fancy homes are now just ruins, their names of no relevance at all. Become a decent man, ruled by wisdom and virtue, and you will care nothing for old piles of brick. You will learn to understand, not to be shallow. You will learn to love, not to be important.

Written in 9/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.26

When you are troubled about anything, you have forgotten this, that all things happen according to the Universal Nature;

and forgotten this, that a man's wrongful act is nothing to you;

and further you have forgotten this, that everything that happens, always happened so and will happen so, and now happens so everywhere;

forgotten this too, how close is the kinship between a man and the whole human race, for it is a community, not of a little blood or seed, but of intelligence.

And you have forgotten this too, that every man's intelligence is a god and is an efflux of the Deity;

and forgotten this, that nothing is a man's own, but that his child and his body and his very soul came from the Deity;

forgotten this, that everything is opinion;

and lastly you have forgotten that every man lives the present time only, and loses only this.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.26 (tr Long)

I am as tempted to cherry picking as anyone else, all the more so when it comes to matters of meaning and value. I may remember what I find convenient, and forget what I find inconvenient. In doing so, by stressing one part at the expense of the whole, I am confusing truth with preference.

When I am “forgetting” in this way, it comes from deliberately looking away, from failing to apply the good practice of thinking. Through such neglect, the pieces are scattered, and no longer make any sense in relationship to one another. I am thinking of myself in opposition to the world, and not in harmony with the world.

Stoicism works as a complete system, because it follows from a model of Universal Nature. There can be all sorts of ways to summarize the basic principles of Stoic ethics, for example, but I will often return to this passage from Marcus Aurelius, especially when my memory has been too selective.

I may have my own particular wording, but I try to recall the same lessons:

All things act together, each for its own reason, under the design of Providence.

The way another may do wrong must never hinder me from doing right.

Whatever is taking place for me now is a process shared with everyone and everything else, past, present, and future.

I am never alone, because I possess the very same human nature as all of my fellows, every single one, and we are all ordered to the same good.

As a creature of mind, I participate in the very Mind that gives all meaning and purpose.

I am nothing in and of myself, but everything by working with and through the whole.

What is good or bad for my own life, what makes me happy or miserable within that whole, will be formed by my own judgment, not merely by what happens to me.

The merit of my life is mine to determine at this moment, free from the weight of what has been, or by the fear of what will be. 

Written in 9/2009

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.25

Cast away opinion: you are saved.

Who then hinders you from casting it away?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.25 (tr Long)

We’ve all heard the conversation, and we may well have been on the receiving end of the challenge.

“I desperately wish I could be happy!”

“What’s stopping you?”

Now I may assume that the person telling me to take control is only being dismissive and rude. Perhaps he is, or perhaps he is actually trying to be helpful. In either case, what he says is completely true. I am the only obstacle to my own happiness.

Am I frustrated, discouraged, despondent, angry, offended, or jealous? There is someone or something I am concerned about, but the concern rests within me. The situation will be as it is, but I will decide what I will make of the situation.

If I can change it, I have no reason to be worried. If I can’t change it, the worry won’t do me any good either. My judgment will make all the difference.

If it is my thinking that gets in the way of being at peace, then let me alter my thinking. If an opinion about this or that is dragging me down, then let me rid myself of that opinion.

It may not be easy to change my mental habits, and it may not happen overnight, but at least I know where the work needs to be done. No one stands in my way but myself.

Bad thoughts lead to bad actions, and bad actions lead to bad character. I have just made myself a miserable man, because I have made myself a morally empty man. Solve the problem at the root, I remind myself, and dispose of those bad thoughts. I do not need them, and so I will throw them away. I can now be free of all sorts of burdens.

I was always an odd and eccentric fellow, but as the years have passed I find that I simply do not see the world as most people around me do. I have felt lonely, I have assumed that I don’t belong, and I have been tempted to surrender.

Yet if I am certain, being as sincere and humble as I can be, that this is the right way for me to live, then this is how I should live. My doubt comes only from my confused opinions, opinions that are still rooted in a thinking of conformity and appearance. Cast away those opinions, which are entirely of my own making, and I have saved myself from myself.

Written in 9/2009