Marcus Aurelius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
1. At dawn, when you are reluctant to get up, let this thought be ready at hand: I am rising to do the work of a human being. Why then am I irritated, if I am setting out to do what I was born for and what I was brought into the world to do? Or was I made for this, to lie warm under the covers? "But this is more pleasant." So were you born for pleasure — altogether for being acted upon, and not for action? Do you not see the little plants, the little sparrows, the ants, the spiders, the bees doing their own work, each putting together its own share of the world's order? And then are you unwilling to do the work proper to a human being? Do you not run toward what accords with your own nature? "But one must also rest." I agree — yet nature has set a measure for that too, just as it has set a measure for eating and drinking; and yet you go beyond the measure, beyond what is enough, while in your actions you no longer do so, but stay within what is possible. For you do not love yourself — otherwise you would love your nature too, and its will. But those who love their own crafts wear themselves down over the works of those crafts, unwashed and unfed; you honor your own nature less than the engraver honors engraving, the dancer dancing, the miser his money, or the vain man his little glory. And these people, when they are absorbed in something, are unwilling to eat or sleep rather than build up the things they are devoted to; yet do the actions of fellowship seem to you cheaper and worth less effort?
2. How easy it is to push away and wipe out every disturbing or unfitting impression, and at once to be in complete calm.
3. Judge yourself worthy of every word and deed that accords with nature, and do not let the blame or talk that some may bring afterward distract you; rather, if what was done or said is good, do not judge it beneath you. Other people, after all, are governed by their own guiding minds and move by their own impulses; pay that no mind, but hold to your own path, in step with your own nature and with the nature shared by all — for these two have one and the same road.
4. I journey through what is in accordance with nature, until I fall and come to rest, breathing my last into that from which I draw breath each day, and collapsing onto the very ground that supplied my father with the seed, my mother with the blood, and my nurse with the milk that made me — the same ground that, day upon day across all these years, has fed me and given me drink, that holds me up as I walk on it and put it to countless uses.
5. They cannot admire your sharpness of mind — very well; but there are many other things of which you cannot say, "I was not born for that." Offer, then, those qualities which are entirely within your power: integrity, dignity, endurance of hardship, distaste for pleasure, contentment with your lot, needing little, kindliness, freedom, simplicity, freedom from idle talk, greatness of spirit. Do you not perceive how many qualities you are already able to offer, for which there is no excuse of natural incapacity or unfitness, and yet you still willingly remain below the mark? Or are you forced, by having been made without natural gifts, to grumble, to be stingy, to flatter, to blame your poor little body, to curry favor, to boast, and to be tossed about so much in your soul? No, by the gods — you could have been rid of all this long ago; only, if it must be so, you might be found somewhat slow and hard to follow in understanding — yet even this must be trained against, not neglected, and not indulged as if you took pleasure in your own sluggishness.
6. One person, when he has done something good for someone, is quick to also reckon up the favor owed him for it. Another is not quick to do that, yet still, within himself, thinks of the other as a debtor and knows what he has done. But another, in a way, does not even know what he has done, but is like a vine that has borne its cluster of grapes and looks for nothing further once it has once borne its own fruit. A horse that has run, a dog that has tracked, a bee that has made honey, and a man who has done a good deed does not shout about it, but moves on to another act, just as the vine moves on to bear its cluster again in season. So one must be among those who, in a way, do this without dwelling on it.— Yes, but that very thing must be attended to, someone says: for it is proper to the social being to perceive that it acts socially, and, by Zeus, to want the fellow member of society to perceive it too.— What you say is true, but you misunderstand what is now being said; because of this you will become one of those I mentioned before, for they too are led astray by a certain plausible line of reasoning. But if you are willing to grasp what is actually meant, do not fear that on this account you will leave some act of social usefulness undone.
7. The prayer of the Athenians: "Rain, rain, dear Zeus, upon the plowed land of the Athenians and upon the plains." Either one should not pray at all, or one should pray like this — simply and freely.
8. What is meant when it is said that Asclepius prescribed for this man horseback riding, or cold bathing, or going barefoot, is the same sort of thing as saying that the nature of the whole has prescribed for this man disease, or disability, or loss, or something else of that kind. For there too, "prescribed" signifies something like this: he ordered this for him as fitting toward health; and here too, what happens to each person has been ordered for him in some way as fitting toward his destiny. For this is how we say things happen to us as well — just as craftsmen say that the squared stones in walls or in pyramids "fit together," joining with one another by a certain fitting arrangement. For altogether there is one single harmony, and just as the universe is completed as such a body out of all bodies, so destiny is completed as such a cause out of all causes. Even the thoroughly unlearned understand what I mean, for they say, "this brought it upon him." So then, this was brought upon this man, and this was ordered for this man. So we ought to receive these things in the way we receive what Asclepius orders. Many of his orders are indeed harsh, yet we accept them looking forward to being well.
Let the accomplishment and completion of what seems good to the common nature seem to you to be something of this same sort — as your own health is; and so welcome everything that happens, even if it seems rather harsh, because it leads you there, toward the health of the universe and the good passage and good fortune of Zeus. For he would not have brought this upon anyone if it were not of benefit to the whole; nor does even an ordinary nature bring anything that is not fitting for that which it governs. So then, for two reasons you must be content with what happens to you: for one, because it came to be for you, and was prescribed for you, and stood in some relation to you, spun together from the oldest causes from above; and for the other, because for him who governs the whole, what comes to each individual is a cause of his good passage and completion, and, by Zeus, of his very cohesion. For the whole is maimed if you sever any part whatsoever of the connection and continuity — of the causes, just as of the parts; and you sever it, so far as it depends on you, whenever you are discontented, and in a way you destroy it.
9. Do not be disgusted, nor give up, nor grow impatient, if it does not happen densely enough for you to act on right principles in every case; but even when knocked back, return to it again, and be glad if most of what you do is more worthy of a human being, and love this, that to which you return, and do not return to it as a pupil returns to a strict tutor, but as those with sore eyes turn to the sponge and the egg, as another turns to a poultice, as to a soothing compress. For in this way you will show that obeying reason is no burden, but that you find rest in it. Remember that philosophy wants only what your own nature wants; but you were wanting something else, not in accordance with nature. For what could be more agreeable than this? Is it not for this very reason that pleasure deceives? But look and consider whether greatness of soul is not more agreeable, and freedom, and simplicity, and considerateness, and holiness. For what is more agreeable than practical wisdom itself, when you consider the unstumbling and smooth-flowing character, in every matter, of the faculty of understanding and knowledge?
10. Things are, in a way, wrapped in such a veil that to not a few philosophers, and not the run-of-the-mill ones either, they have seemed altogether incomprehensible; indeed even to the Stoics themselves they seem hard to comprehend — and all our assent is subject to change, for where is the man who never changes? Go, then, to the very objects themselves, seeing them as short-lived and worthless, capable of being in the possession of a pervert, or a prostitute, or a bandit. After that, go on to the characters of those who live alongside you, among whom it is hard to put up with even the most agreeable, not to mention that a man scarcely puts up with even himself. In such murk and filth, then, and in so great a flux of substance and time and motion and things moved, I cannot conceive what there could be worth prizing or being seriously concerned with at all. On the contrary, one must comfort oneself and wait for the natural dissolution, and not be vexed at the delay, but find rest in only these two things: one, that nothing will befall me that fails to fit the workings of the whole cosmos; the other, that no external force can make me act against my own indwelling god and guardian spirit — since no one has power to compel it into wrongdoing.
11. To what use, then, am I now putting my own soul? Ask yourself this at every turn and examine it: what do I have right now in this part of me they call the ruling faculty, and whose soul do I actually have at this moment? A child's? A young man's? A little woman's? A tyrant's? A beast's? A wild animal's?
12. What sort of things the many take to be good — you could learn even from this. If someone were to conceive of things that are truly good — prudence, self-control, justice, courage — having conceived these first, he could not then take in the phrase 'amid such an abundance of goods,' for it would not fit. But if someone first conceives what the many regard as goods, he will take in that line and readily accept it as aptly applied — the line spoken by the comic poet. That is how much the many themselves sense the difference: otherwise that phrase would not have jarred and been rejected in one case, while in the case of wealth and the good fortunes that lead to luxury or reputation we accept it as fittingly and cleverly said. Go on, then, and ask whether such things are to be honored and supposed goods — things such that, once conceived, it would fittingly follow that the man who possesses them, from sheer abundance, 'has nowhere to relieve himself.'
13. I am composed of a causal part and a material part. Neither of these will perish into non-being, just as neither arose out of non-being. So every part of me will be arranged, by change, into some part of the universe, and that in turn will change into another part of the universe, and so on into infinity. It was by this kind of change that I too came to be, and those who begot me, and so on back into another infinity. For nothing prevents saying this even if the universe is administered according to fixed cycles.
14. Reason and the art of reasoning are powers sufficient to themselves and to their own workings. They set out from their own proper starting point and travel toward the end set before them — which is why such actions are called 'right actions,' signifying the rightness of the path.
15. None of these things should be called a man's, which do not belong to man as man. They are not requirements of man, nor does man's nature promise them, nor are they completions of man's nature. So the end is not located in them for man, nor is the good, which is the fulfillment of the end. For if any of these did belong to man, then despising them and rising above them would not belong to him, nor would the man who makes himself free of need of them be praiseworthy, nor would the man who deprives himself of any of them be good — if these things were in fact goods. Yet in reality, the further a person strips away from himself things of this kind, or patiently accepts losing some of them, the better a person he becomes.
16. Whatever you keep picturing to yourself, such will your mind become — for the soul is dyed by its impressions. Dye it, then, by constant repetition of impressions like these: that wherever a life can be lived at all, a good life can be lived there too; and a life can be lived inside a palace, so a good life can be lived inside a palace as well. And again: that whatever a thing has been constructed for, toward that it is carried; and that toward which it is carried, in that lies its end; and where the end is, there too is each thing's advantage and good. Therefore the good of the rational creature is community. For that we were born for community has long since been shown. Or was it not obvious that the lesser exist for the sake of the greater, and the greater for one another's sake? And among things, the ensouled are greater than the unensouled, and among the ensouled, the rational are greater still.
17. To chase after impossibilities is madness; and it is impossible for the base not to do the sort of things they do.
18. No one meets anything his own nature lacks the strength to endure. The same things befall another, and whether unaware they have even occurred, or putting on a show of a lofty spirit, he stands unmoved and takes no hurt. It is a shameful thing, truly, that mere ignorance and empty pride should turn out mightier than genuine understanding.
19. Things themselves do not touch the soul in the slightest, nor have any way in to the soul, nor can they turn or move the soul; it alone turns and moves itself, and whatever judgments it deems itself worthy of, such it makes for itself the circumstances that stand before it.
20. In one sense man is closest of all to us, insofar as we must do him good and put up with him; but insofar as some men stand in the way of my proper actions, man becomes for me one of the things indifferent, no less than sun or wind or a wild animal. By these, some activity of mine might be hindered, but no hindrance comes to my impulse and disposition, because of the reservation and the turning of obstacles to use. For the mind turns and converts every hindrance to activity into a furtherance of that same activity: what checked this task becomes a furtherance to the task, and what blocked this path becomes a help to the journey.
21. Honor the most powerful thing in the universe: that which uses all things and directs all things. Likewise honor the most powerful thing in you: this is that thing's kin. For in you too it is this that uses everything else, and your life is governed by it.
22. What is not harmful to the city does not harm the citizen either. Whenever you have the impression of being harmed, apply this rule: if the city is not harmed by this, neither am I harmed. And if the city is harmed, you must not grow angry, but show the one harming the city what he is overlooking.
23. Consider often the speed with which things that exist and things that come to be are swept past and carried away. For substance is like a river in ceaseless flow, its activities in constant change, its causes in countless turnings, and hardly anything stands still — even what is right beside us. And the infinite gulf of past and future, in which all things vanish. How then is he not a fool who, amid these things, puffs himself up, or is racked with strain, or complains, as though he were troubled for any length of time worth mentioning?
24. Remember the whole of substance, of which you have the smallest share, and the whole of time, of which a brief and momentary span has been marked off for you, and destiny — what fraction of it are you?
25. Someone wrongs me? Let him see to that; he has his own disposition, his own action. I now have what the common nature wills me to have, and I do what my own nature wills me to do now.
26. Let the ruling and governing part of your soul be unmoved by the smooth or rough motion in the flesh, and let it not mix itself with it, but wall itself off, keeping such reactions penned within their own province. But when they are transmitted into the understanding, as is natural in a body united into one, through that other sympathy, then you must not try to resist the sensation, since it is natural — but let the ruling faculty not add to it, of its own accord, the judgment that it is good or bad.
27. 'Live together with the gods.' And he lives together with the gods who continually shows them his soul satisfied with what has been allotted to it, and doing whatever the guiding spirit within wills — that spirit which Zeus has given to each person as overseer and guide, a fragment of himself. And this is each person's own mind and reason.
28. Are you angry at the man who reeks, angry at the man with foul breath? What good will that do you? That is simply the mouth he has, the armpits he has — such things cannot help but give off such a smell. "But," you say, "the man has reason, and can, by paying attention, work out where he is going wrong." Good for you — well then, you too have reason: rouse a rational disposition by a rational disposition, show him, remind him. For if he listens, you will have cured him, and there will be no need of anger. No need to play the tragic actor, and no need to play the whore.
29. As you intend to live once you have departed, so it is possible to live here. But if they will not allow it, then depart from life itself as well — yet in such a way as to suffer no evil. "The smoke bothers me, and I am leaving." Why do you think this is some great matter? So long as nothing of that sort drives me out, I remain free, and no one will prevent me from doing what I want — and what I want is whatever fits the makeup of a reasoning creature meant for life among others.
30. The mind of the whole is social. At any rate it has made the lesser things for the sake of the better, and fitted the better things to one another. You see how it has subordinated, coordinated, and assigned to each what it deserves, and brought the things of highest excellence into concord with one another.
31. How have you behaved, up to now, toward the gods, your parents, your brothers, your wife, your children, your teachers, your tutors, your friends, your household, your servants? Is it true of you, toward all of them up to now, that you have neither done nor said anything outrageous? Recall, too, what sort of things you have come through, and what sort of things you have had the strength to endure, and that the story of your life is now complete, and your service finished, and how many fine things you have seen, and how many pleasures and pains you have looked past, and how many honors you have passed over, and toward how many ungracious people you have been gracious.
32. Why do untrained and ignorant souls throw into confusion a soul that is trained and knowing? What soul, then, is trained and knowing? One that knows beginning and end, and the reason that runs through the whole of substance and administers the universe throughout the whole of time according to fixed cycles.
33. How soon you will be ash, or a skeleton, and either a name, or not even a name — and the name is just a sound and an echo. And the things prized so highly in life are empty and rotten and small: little dogs snapping at one another, quarrelsome children, laughing and then immediately crying. But Trust and Modesty and Justice and Truth have withdrawn to Olympus, far from this broad-pathed earth. What, then, still holds you here, if the things perceived by the senses are easily changed and never stand still, and the organs of sense are dim and easily deceived, and the poor little soul itself is a vapor rising from blood, and gaining a good reputation among such people is empty? What then? Wait calmly for either extinction or transformation. And until the moment for that arrives, what is enough? What else but to revere the gods and speak well of them, and to do good to human beings and to bear with them and hold back from them — and as for everything within the bounds of this little flesh and breath, to remember that these are neither yours nor within your power.
34. You can always flow well, if you can also proceed well, if you can grasp things and act as the way requires. Two things are common to the soul of god and to the soul of man and of every rational creature: not to be hindered by another, and to place the good in a just disposition and action, and to let desire stop there.
35. If this is neither a vice of mine nor an activity in accordance with a vice of mine, and the common good is not harmed, why do I trouble myself over it, and what harm is done to the common good?
36. Do not let yourself be swept away wholesale by impression, but help others as far as your power and your standing allow, even if what they lose is only among the indifferent things — yet do not go imagining that loss a harm; that is a bad habit. Rather do as the old man did, who on leaving asked back his foster-child's spinning top, all the while remembering it was only a top. So too here. So when you find yourself declaiming from the speaker's platform — man, have you forgotten what these things really were? "Yes, but people take them very seriously." Is that any reason for you to turn fool as well? I was once, wherever I happened to be caught, a man of good fortune. And having good fortune means you have assigned to yourself a fine share in life — and a fine share consists of well-turned dispositions of the soul, well-turned impulses, well-turned actions.