A (19:02)
We think all our problems are so modern. We think they're so think we live in unprecedented times. We think everything is changing really, really fast. But of course, it's always been this way. That is the oldest thing in the world. Change. It says. Some things are rushing into existence and others out of it. Some of what now exists is already gone. Change and flux constantly remake the world, just as the incessant progression of time remakes eternity, he says. We find ourselves in a river. Which of the things around us should we value when none of them can offer a firm foothold, like an attachment to a sparrow? We glimpse it and it's gone. In fact, he returns to this theme over and over and over again in Meditations. There's a great Southern expression about how if you don't like the weather, just wait. It'll change. He says. It would take an idiot to feel distress or indignation about change, because it's not going to last either. And this is the most important lesson that Marcus Aurelius can teach us about change. He says, you're frightened of change, but what can exist without it, this present moment that you're trying to protect and preserve? It has not always existed. It itself is a product of change. You are a product of change. So what we have to do is embrace it. What we have to do is accommodate it. Figure out how we're going to use it, what we're going to learn from it, and how we're going to make the best of it. Marcus Aurelius didn't have to try to get better. He didn't have to get outside of his comfort zone. He didn't have to worry about job security. He had a job for life. He was supposed to be infallible he was literally worshiped as a kind of a God. He had unlimited power. He could make people tell him what he wanted to hear. He could make everyone tell him he was perfect and did not need to change. And yet we see in Meditations that he wanted to work always on getting outside of his comfort zone, on challenging himself. That's why this passage in book 12 is so great. He says, you should practice even what seems impossible. The left hand, he said, is useless at almost everything for lack of practice, but it guides the reins better than the right from practice. And he talks about this elsewhere in Meditations, that he is actively trying to practice holding the reins in his non dominant hand. He's working on getting outside of his comfort zone. He's working on trying to do things differently. He's working on doing them the hard way. He's taking the stairs instead of the elevator, so to speak. He's not taking the easy way out. He's not giving himself the gimmes. Why? Because you don't get better if you do that. But by challenging yourself, by facing resistance on purpose, you get better, you grow, you get stronger, and the non dominant hand gets a little less useless. This is book 754 of Meditations. It's a good reminder everywhere, at each moment, you have the option to accept this event with humility, to treat this person as they should be treated, and to approach this thought with care so that nothing irrational creeps in. Easy to say, hard to do, but it's something we should all be striving for. It was one thing after another. There was a plague, there was a famine, there was a flood, there were wars. He had health issues, he had marital issues, he had family issues. He was betrayed in a coup by one of his most trusted advisors. He gets chosen to be the Emperor of Rome, the most powerful man in the world. But then he has bad luck. And he addresses it here in book 5:37. He says, I was once a fortunate man, but at some point fortune abandoned me. Why have the gods forsaken me? Why are they picking on me? Why is my luck so bad? But then he catches himself and he says, no, true good fortune is that which you make for yourself. And he defines this good fortune as the three things. Says good fortune is good character, good intentions and good actions. We don't choose whether we live in good times or bad times, a good world or a bad world. But we do control whether we are a good person, whether we do good, whether we play the hand we are dealt. Good. The people you Admire aren't perfect. They screw up, they get rattled, they make mistakes, they fall short of their values. What makes them great, though, is how quickly they're able to get back to it, how quickly they're able to return to their principles, how quickly they're able to get back on track. Which is actually something Mark Stewart talks about in Meditations. It's one of my favorite passages, he said, and this is book 6, 11. When jarred unavoidably by circumstances, revert at once to yourself. And don't lose the rhythm more than you can help it. You'll have a better grasp of the harmony if you keep going back to it. Point is, it's okay that you screwed up up. It's normal that you screwed up. It's human that you screwed up. But you don't have to keep screwing up. What matters is how quickly you get back to it. This one is fitting here. As the ocean crashes behind me, he says to be like the rock that the waves keep crashing over. It stands unmoved and the raging of the sea falls still around it. Right. Stoicism is not the absence of emotion, but it is about that even keel not getting too high and not getting too, too low. It's actually funny, you know, the Buddhists have a different image. They talk about if you grabbed a cup of water from the ocean or a river or a lake, it would be hard to see at first, but if you let it sit for a second, eventually it would settle down and that water would become clear. That's what Marcus Aurelius is talking about. The world is going to be noisy. The world is going to be loud. A lot of things are going to happen. But if you take a minute, if you pause and reflect, you give things a second to settle down. If you don't get lifted up by them or dragged down by them, eventually you get to a level set, a kind of point of clarity. And in a way, that's what Marcus Rios is doing in Meditations itself. It's kind of crazy, if you think about it. We all know ourselves better than other people. We all know what we're trying to do. We all know who we are. And yet, for some reason, we're like a weathervane. We let public opinion or trends decide what we like. We. We let the criticism or the potential criticism of others decide what direction we go with our life. It's so absurd that Cyril Connolly, trying to take it to its logical extreme, said, there are people who are afraid even to kill themselves for fear of what the Neighbors might think that's why I love this passage in book 12 of Meditations. Marcus Rios, the most powerful man in the world, the person who really had no reason to care about what anyone else thought and yet to do his job well, needed to understand public opinion. He said, it never ceases to amaze me. We all love ourselves more than other people, but care about their opinion more than our own. If a God appeared to us, he said, or a wise human being even, and prohibited us from concealing our thoughts or imagining anything without immediately shouting it, we wouldn't make it through a single day. That's how much we value other people's opinions instead of our own. It's not that we shouldn't care at all what other people think. We should just care a whole lot less. He says, take Antoninus as your model. Always the this is his stepfather, his predecessor. His energy in doing what's rational, his steadiness in any situation, his sense of reverence, his calm expression, his gentleness, his modesty, his eagerness to grasp things and how he never let things go before he was sure he'd examined them thoroughly, understood them perfectly. The way he put up with unfair criticism without returning it, how he couldn't be hurried, how he wouldn't listen to informers, how reliable he was as a judge of character or of action, not prone to backbiting or cowardice or jealousy or empty rhetoric, content with the basics and living quarters and bedding and clothes and food and servants. How hard he worked, how much he put up with his ability to work straight through dust because of his simple diet, his constancy and reliability as a friend, his tolerance of people who openly questioned his views, and his delight at seeing his ideas improved on his piety without a trace of superstition. So that when your time comes, he says, this is why he was fighting to be the person that philosophy tried to make him. Your conscience will be as clear as his this is Meditations 6 24. I think it's one of the most powerful lines in Meditations. He says, Alexander the Great and his mule driver both died, and the same thing happened to both. They were both absorbed alike into the life force of the world or dissolved alike into atoms. I think he's just reminding himself here again, a man as famous, perhaps even more powerful, he's reminding himself that at the end we're all equal, at the end we're all mortal, that at the end of the day we all become worm food. And so you can't let your accomplishments puff you up. You can't believe that your legacy is going to help you last forever. You got to remind yourself we're all equal in the end. We know that absolute power corrupts absolutely, right? And yet here in this book, which is written by the most powerful man in the world, you see him fighting to do precisely the opposite. In book 6:30 of Meditations, Marx, Aurelius says, to escape imperialization, that indelible stain. He writes elsewhere about not being stained purple by the cloak of the emperor. He says it happens, but he says, you have to make sure that you remain straightforward, upright, reverent, serious, unadorned, an ally of justice, pious, kind, affectionate in doing your duty with a will. He says, you must fight to be the person that philosophy tried to make you. So why isn't Marcus Aurelius corrupted by power? Why doesn't it break him or make him evil or wrong? Well, Meditations is the answer. He's fighting to be the person that philosophy tried to make him. He's trying to escape imperialization. He's trying not to be stained purple. And he's doing it by writing these notes to himself, by checking in with himself, by putting himself up for review, by holding himself up accountable. Well, one of the things he does is he tries to think, he says, of the qualities of the people around you. He says, when you need encouragement, think of the qualities of the people around you. He said, think of this one's energy, this one's modesty, another's generosity, and so on. He says nothing is so encouraging as when virtues are visibly embodied in the people around us, when we're practically showered with them. He says, it's good to keep this in mind. And that's why the first book of Meditations is so powerful. It's known in the Gregory Hayes translations. It's titled Debts and Lessons. And in Debts and Lessons, you have Marcus Aurelius writing about what he learned from Rusticus, his philosophy teacher, who told him to never be satisfied with just getting the gist of things. He talks about Sextus, the philosopher from whom he learned kindness and gravity without heirs, to invest in, investigate and analyze with understanding and logic and the principles that we ought to live by, says not to display anger or other emotions, to be free of passion, yet full as love. I particularly like what he says he learned from Maximus Said, self control and resistance to distractions, optimism and adversity, especially illness. A personality in balance, dignity and grace together doing other people's job without whining other people's certainty that what he said said was what he thought, and that what he did was without malice, said generosity, charity, honesty, the sense he gave of staying on the path rather than being kept on it, that even he had a great sense of humor. Marx Aurelius says he learned from his mother her reverence for the divine, her generosity, her inability not only to do wrong, but to even conceive of doing it in the simple way she lived. Not in the least like the rich. But most of all the person Marcus Aurelius most saw these virtues embodied in is, of course, Antoninus, his beloved stepfather. Right compassion, unwavering adherence to decisions once he'd reached them. Indifference to superficial honors, hard work, persistent. His altruism, not expecting his friends to keep him entertained or travel with him unless they wanted to. And anyone who had to stay behind to take care of something always found him the same when he returned. His constancy to his friends, never giving, fed up or playing favorites. His constant devotion to the empire's needs, his stewardship of. Of the treasury, his willingness to take responsibility and blame, his ability to feel at ease with people and put them at their ease. His willingness to yield the floor to experts, the way he respected tradition without constantly needing to congratulate himself for safeguarding our traditional values. That he never exhibited rudeness or lost control of himself or turned violent. No one ever saw him sweat. Everything was approached logically and with due consideration, he says. You could have said of him, as they say of Socrates, that he knew how to absorb, abstain and enjoy from the things that most people found it hard to abstain from. And all too easy to enjoy. Strength and perseverance, self control in both areas, a mark of a soul in readiness, indomitable. So Marcus really saw these virtues embodied in person, in the people he loved. But then he also took time to write them down, to think about them, to read about them, which is what we have to do. So we never drift far away from them. This is one of the most powerful passages in one of the most powerful books ever written. Two thousand years ago, the Emperor of Rome, a person that many believed was a God, that believed was immortal, that they believed had so much power that no one and nothing could touch him. We have Marcus Aurelius writing in his famous meditations. In book 2:21, he says, you could leave life right now, let that determine what you do and say and think. He writes over and over again. In Meditations we see him doing this memento mori practice, remembering that he is mortal, remembering that life is ephemeral, that life is short, that we are not in control, that we don't get to decide. And so we can't take this present moment for granted. We can't take our health for granted. We can't take other people around us for granted. We can't take the future for granted. He says, you could be good today, instead you choose tomorrow. Don't put it off. Do what you need to do now, because you could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say. And think it would shock him today that we are still reading it and the fact that we still know his name, that it's still a bestseller, well, he would shrug his shoulders at that. Here's what he says in book 5. 33. Soon you'll be ashes or bones, a mere name at most, and even that is just a sound, an echo. And then he comes back to this theme of same over and over and over again. He says, people who long for posthumous fame, he says, they forget that they won't be around to enjoy it. He says elsewhere in Meditations that also the people in the future are not that awesome. They're not going to be that much better than the people that are around today. And then, in one of my favorite passages, he lists the names of the famous emperors who came before him. Vespasian and Trajan and Domitian. Names that were so famous at the time and yet, he says, are already being forgotten. It's like that line from Taylor Swift about the who's who of who's that. So the fact that we're still reading Marcus Aurelius, he would say, I guess that's fine. It doesn't do me any good. What matters is who I was in life. What matters is what I did with my life. Was I a good person? Did I do good things? I'm going to end this video with the last passage in Marcus Aurelius Meditations, and it may well have been the last thing that this great man wrote. He says, you've lived life as a citizen in a great city. Five years or 100, what's the difference? The laws make no distinction. Says to be sent away not by a tyrant or a dishonest judge, but by nature who first invited you in. Why is that so terrible? Like the impresario ringing down the curtain on an actor. I've only gotten through three acts. Yes, but this will be a drama in three acts, the length fixed by the power that directed your creation and now directs your dissolution. Neither was yours to determine. So make your exit with grace, the same grace shown to you. And we're actually told that this is how Marcus Aurelius left this earth. He reminded his weeping friends that he wasn't the only one dying, that millions had died of the plague, and that they should take from this lesson not sadness, but a reminder of their own mortality, to seize the present while they could, to be good while they could. He was happy and content with the life he'd been given. He wanted to handle business. He wanted them not to miss him. And then he wanted to close his life with grace and poised to die well. Which is, by the way, what philosophy is. Cicero said philosophy is to learn how to die. We can tell from this final passage in Meditations. We can tell from how Marx lived his life and left this life that he learned that lesson well.