Marcus Aurelius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
1. Will you ever, O my soul, be good, and simple, and one, and bare, more visible than the body that surrounds you? Will you ever taste the disposition of loving and affection? Will you ever be full and without want, longing for nothing and desiring nothing, neither anything ensouled nor anything soulless, for the enjoyment of pleasures — not even more time in which to go on enjoying them, not a place or a country or a kindlier climate, not harmony with other people? But will you instead be content with your present condition, and pleased with all that is now present, and persuade yourself that everything is present to you from the gods, that all is well with you and will be well, whatever is dear to them and whatever they are going to give for the preservation of that perfect living being — the good and just and beautiful, which begets all things and holds them together and encompasses and embraces them as they dissolve into the generation of others like them? Will you ever be such as to share your citizenship with gods and men in such a way that you neither find fault with them at all nor are condemned by them?
2. Observe what your nature seeks, insofar as you are governed only by nature; then do it and accept it, unless your nature as a living being is going to be worse off for it. Next you must observe what your nature as a living being seeks, and take up all of that, unless your nature as a rational living being is going to be worse off for it — and the rational is, immediately, also the political. Using these rules, do not trouble yourself further about anything.
3. Everything that happens, happens either in such a way that you are by nature fitted to bear it, or in such a way that you are not by nature fitted to bear it. If then it happens to you as something you are fitted to bear, do not be vexed, but bear it as you are fitted to. But if it happens as something you are not fitted to bear, do not be vexed either — for it will destroy you and then itself pass away. Remember, though, that you are fitted by nature to bear anything which it lies within your own judgment to make bearable and tolerable, by regarding it as either in your interest or your duty to do so.
4. If he is mistaken, teach him kindly and show him what he has overlooked. But if you are unable to, blame yourself — or not even yourself.
5. Whatever happens to you was prepared for you from eternity, and the interweaving of causes has spun together, from everlasting, both your own existence and this event's coincidence with it.
6. Whether it is atoms or nature, set this down as the starting point: I belong to a whole governed by nature, and beyond that, I am akin to the other pieces that share my kind. Holding these two things in mind, since I am one piece among many, I will not chafe at whatever share falls to me out of that whole — since nothing good for the whole can wound the piece within it. What the whole contains works only toward its own good, and this holds true of every nature there is; but the nature governing the universe carries a further trait — no outside force can compel it to breed anything harmful to itself. Keeping in view, then, my membership in a whole of this sort, I will meet everything that comes to pass with good cheer; and since I am akin to the other pieces sharing my kind, I will do nothing that sets me against my fellows — I will instead reach for what suits our common bond, steer every impulse toward the shared good, and turn it away from whatever opposes that good. Once this pattern is followed through, an untroubled life must surely result — picture the untroubled life of a citizen who moves from one deed useful to his neighbors to the next, and takes gladly whatever task the city hands him.
7. For the parts of the whole—everything that nature encloses within the universe—destruction is a necessity; let this be understood in the sense of alteration. But if this were by nature an evil and a necessity for them, the whole would not be well managed, with its parts moving on toward alteration and constituted variously for the purpose of being destroyed. Did nature herself set out to do evil to her own parts, and to make them liable to falling into evil and necessarily bound to fall into it—or did such things happen without her knowing? Both are implausible. And if someone, setting nature aside altogether, should explain these things simply as what happens by their inborn constitution, it would still be ridiculous to say in one breath that the parts of the whole are constituted by nature to change, and in the next to be astonished or vexed at something as though it happened against nature—especially since the dissolution of each thing is into the very elements out of which it was composed. For it is either a scattering of the elements from which it was compounded, or a turning of the solid into earth and of the breath-like into air, so that these too are taken back up into the reason of the whole, whether the whole is periodically consumed by fire or renewed by eternal exchanges. And do not imagine that the solid and the breath-like element in you date from your first birth: all of this took its influx only yesterday and the day before, from the food you ate and the air you drew in. So it is this that changes, which you took in—not what your mother bore. And suppose that you are bound up all too closely with that other thing, your own particular quality—that, I think, has no bearing on what is now being said.
8. Having set these names for yourself—good, modest, truthful, sound of mind, of one mind with what is common, above the mind's ordinary reach—take care never to be renamed from them; and if you should lose these names, return to them quickly. Remember that 'sound of mind' meant for you a discerning attention to each particular and a freedom from inattention; 'of one mind with what is common' meant a willing acceptance of what is assigned by the common nature; and 'above the mind's ordinary reach' meant the raising of the thinking part above the smooth or rough motion of the flesh, and above petty reputation, and death, and all such things. If, then, you keep yourself among these names, not hankering after being called by them by others, you will be a different person and will enter upon a different life. For to go on being the sort of person you have been until now, and to be torn and fouled in such a life, belongs to someone altogether without feeling and altogether too fond of his own life—like those half-eaten beast-fighters who, covered all over with wounds and gore, still beg to be kept alive until the next day, though they will be thrown to the same claws and teeth. So embark yourself upon these few names, and if you can remain in them, remain, as if you had been resettled on some Isles of the Blessed;
But if you perceive that you are falling out of them and not holding your ground, withdraw boldly into some corner where you will keep hold of them, or else depart from life altogether—not in anger, but simply, freely, and with due modesty, having accomplished this one thing in your life at least, that you left it in this way. And toward remembering these names it will greatly help you to remember the gods, and that what they want is not to be flattered, but that all rational beings should be made like themselves, and that the fig tree should do what belongs to a fig tree, the dog what belongs to a dog, the bee what belongs to a bee, and the human being what belongs to a human being.
9. Playacting, war, terror, torpor, slavery—each day these will wear away those sacred convictions of yours, all the ones you picture and pass by without examining them by natural philosophy. You must look at everything and act in everything in such a way that the practical task is at the same time accomplished and the contemplative faculty is at the same time exercised, and the self-assurance that comes from knowledge of each particular thing is preserved unnoticed, not hidden away. For when will you enjoy simplicity? When will you enjoy dignity? When will you enjoy the recognition of each thing—its underlying nature, the position it occupies within the cosmos, how long it is suited by nature to endure, what elements make it up, to whom it can belong, and who can give it and take it away?
10. A spider is proud of catching a fly, one man of catching a hare, another of netting a sprat, another of catching young boars, another of bears, another of Sarmatians. Are these not, if you examine their guiding convictions, all robbers alike?
11. Acquire a method for contemplating how all things change into one another; attend to this constantly and train yourself thoroughly in this branch of study, for nothing is so productive of greatness of mind. A man who has done this has stripped off the body, and reflecting that before long he must leave all these things behind and depart from among men, has given himself over wholly—as regards what he himself does—to justice, and in all else that happens to him, to the nature of the whole. Whatever others might say of him, imagine of him, or attempt against him, he refuses to allow it any foothold in his thinking; he rests satisfied with just these two things: that he himself is acting justly in what he is now doing, and that he loves what is now allotted to him. He has let go of all his busy occupations and ambitions, and wants nothing else than to run a straight course through the law, and, running it straight, to follow God.
12. What need is there for guesswork, when it is possible to examine what must be done? If you see it clearly, proceed that way, calmly and without turning back; but if you don't see it clearly, hold off and consult the best advisers. But if other considerations stand against this, go forward reasoning from your present resources, holding to what appears just — for it is best to hit that mark, since falling short of it is failure. Something leisurely and at the same time quick to move, cheerful and steady together, is the man who follows reason in everything.
13. Ask yourself, right when you rouse out of slumber: does it change anything for you if some other person finds fault with what is just and right? It does not. Have you forgotten that these people who bristle with praising and blaming others are the same kind in bed, the same kind at table — what they do, what they flee, what they chase, what they steal, what they grab, achieving it not through hand or foot, but through the most valuable part of themselves, which becomes — whenever it wishes — trust, shame, truth, law, a good guiding spirit?
14. To nature, which gives all things and takes them back, the educated and respectful man says: give what you want, take back what you want. And he says this not out of defiance, but only out of obedience and goodwill toward her.
15. Little is left of what remains. Live as if on a mountain — for it makes no difference there or here, if a man lives everywhere as in a city that is the world. Let men see, let them observe a true man living according to nature. If they cannot bear him, let them kill him — for that is better than living the way they do.
16. No longer discuss at all what sort of man the good man ought to be — just be one.
17. Keep constantly before you the image of the whole of time and the whole of substance, and that every particular thing, as regards substance, is a grain of millet, and as regards time, one turn of a drill.
18. Fix your attention on each thing before you and conceive of it as already dissolving, changing, becoming as it were rot or scattering — or however each thing is by nature made to die, so to speak.
19. What sort of people they are while eating, sleeping, mating, relieving themselves, and the rest — then what sort while lording it over others and strutting, or raging and rebuking from a position of power, though only a little before they were slaves to how many things, and for what reasons; and in a little while they will be slaves again.
20. What benefits each thing is whatever the nature of the whole brings to each — and it benefits precisely when that nature brings it.
21. 'The earth loves the rain, and the majestic sky loves' — and the universe loves to bring about whatever is about to come to be. So I say to the universe: I love along with you. And isn't this also what is meant when something is said to 'love to happen'?
22. Either you live here, and you are already used to it; or you go away elsewhere, and this too you wanted; or you die, and you have completed your service. Besides these there is nothing else. So keep your spirits up.
23. Let it always be plain to you that this field is just like that one, and that everything here is exactly the same as it is on a mountaintop, or on the shore, or wherever you like. You will find just what Plato says holds true: 'penning himself in a fold on a mountain, milking the bleating flocks.'
24. What is my ruling faculty to me, and what am I now making of it, and for what am I now using it? Is it empty of mind? Is it cut loose and torn away from fellowship with others? Has it melted into and been mixed together with this poor scrap of flesh, so that it now turns and sways along with it?
25. A runaway slave is one who flees his master; and the master is the law, so the lawbreaker is a runaway slave. But also the one who grieves, or is angry, or is afraid, does not want something that has happened, or is happening, or will happen, among the things ordained by the one who administers all things — which is law, allotting to each whatever falls to him. So the one who fears, or grieves, or is angry, is a runaway slave.
26. A man releases seed into a womb and departs, and then another cause takes over, works, and completes an infant — from so small a thing, what a thing! Again: a man sends food down through his throat, and then another cause takes over and produces sensation and impulse and, in a word, vitality and vigor and a host of other things — so many, so extraordinary! Consider these things, then, happening in such concealment, and see the power at work in this way — just as we see the force pulling things down and the force carrying things upward — not with the eyes, but no less clearly for that.
27. Constantly consider how everything now happening was already happening before, just as it is now, and consider that it will happen again; and set before your eyes whole dramas and scenes of the same kind, as many as you have come to know from your own experience or from older history — for instance, the entire reign of Hadrian, the entire reign of Antoninus, and the entire reigns of Philip, Alexander, and Croesus too. Every one of those was exactly like this present scene, merely acted out by different players.
28. Picture every man grieving over anything at all, or discontented, as like a little pig being sacrificed, kicking and squealing. The man who groans on his bed alone, in silence, is just the same. Consider our bondage — and that it is given only to the rational animal to follow willingly what happens, while mere following is a plain necessity laid on everyone.
29. Stop at each thing you do, one by one, and ask yourself: is death terrible because I would be deprived of this?
30. When you're offended at someone's wrongdoing, turn at once and consider what similar wrong you yourself commit — for instance, treating wealth as though it were a genuine good, or ranking pleasure that way, or a scrap of reputation, and so through each category. For if you turn your attention to this you'll quickly forget your anger, once it strikes you that the man is under compulsion — what else is he to do? Or else, if you can, remove the compulsion that drives him.
31. When you see Satyrion, picture a Socratic type, or a Eutyches, or a Hymen; and when you see Euphrates, picture a Eutychion or a Silvanus; and when you see Alciphron, picture a Trophy-bearer; and when you see Severus, picture a Crito or a Xenophon; and looking at yourself, picture one of the Caesars — and so on by proportion for each. Then let this strike you: where are they now? Nowhere, or who knows where. In this way you will continually see human affairs as smoke and nothing at all — especially if you keep in mind that once a thing has changed it will exist no more, for all the rest of infinite time. Why then do you strain yourself? Why isn't it enough for you to pass through this brief span in good order? What matter and occasion are you running from! What is all of this except exercises for a reason that has looked closely and scientifically at the things of life? Stay with it, then, until you have made even these things your own, the way a strong stomach makes everything its own, the way a bright fire turns whatever you throw into it into flame and light.
32. Let no one who speaks truly about you ever be able to say that you are not straightforward or not good — let anyone who thinks any such thing of you be a liar. This is entirely up to you: who is stopping you from being good and straightforward? Simply decide not to go on living unless you are such a person — for reason itself does not choose to keep on if you are not.
33. What is it that can be done or said upon this material in the healthiest way? Whatever that may be, it is possible for you to do it or say it, and do not make excuses that you are being hindered. You will not stop groaning until you have come to feel about this the way the soft-living feel about their luxury: that to do, upon whatever matter is put before you and falls to you, the things proper to a human being's constitution — this is what you should take as enjoyment; and this is available everywhere. A cylinder is not given leave to move everywhere with its own proper motion, nor water, nor fire, nor anything else governed by nature or by an irrational soul, since the things that block and obstruct them are many. But mind and reason are able to travel through everything that stands against them, in just the way their nature is and just as they wish. Set before your eyes this ease with which reason will be carried through all things — as fire upward, as a stone downward, as a cylinder down a slope — and seek nothing further; for the remaining obstacles either belong to the dead little body, or, apart from opinion and the yielding of reason itself, they do not crush nor do any harm at all. Otherwise the one who suffers them would immediately become bad himself —
whereas among all other constructed things, whatever bad thing happens to any of them, the thing that suffers it becomes worse on that account; but here, if it must be said, the human being even becomes better and more praiseworthy by making right use of what befalls him. And in general remember this: nothing harms the natural citizen that does not harm the city, and nothing harms the city that does not harm the law; and of these so-called misfortunes, none harms the law. So then, what does not harm the law harms neither city nor citizen.
34. For the person soaked through with true doctrines, even the briefest and most ordinary saying suffices as a reminder to be free of grief and fear — for instance: 'leaves — some the wind scatters to the ground; so too the generation of men.' Little leaves too are your own children; little leaves too are these people shouting their trustworthy-sounding praise, or on the other side cursing, or quietly finding fault and mocking; little leaves likewise are those who will take up the fame that comes after. For all these things 'spring up in the season of spring'; then the wind has knocked them down; then the wood grows others in their place. A short time for all is common to everything, but you flee and pursue all things as though they were going to be eternal. A little while and you will close your eyes, and before long someone else will be mourning the one who carried you out.
35. A healthy eye ought to look at all visible things and not say, 'I want green things' — that is the mark of a diseased eye. And a healthy hearing and sense of smell ought to be ready for all things audible and smellable, and a healthy stomach ought to be disposed toward all foods alike, as a mill is constructed for grinding whatever is put to it. So too a healthy mind ought to be ready for everything that happens; but a mind that instead insists, 'keep my children safe from all harm,' or, 'make everyone applaud whatever I do,' is like an eye demanding only green things, or teeth wanting nothing but soft food.
36. No one is so fortunate that when he dies there will not be some standing by who welcome the misfortune that has befallen them. He was a serious and wise man - won't there be someone in the end saying to himself: at last we can breathe again, free from this schoolmaster? He was harsh with none of us, but I could feel that he silently condemned us. So much for the serious man - yet turning to ourselves, think how many further reasons exist that make plenty of people eager to be rid of us! You will keep this in mind, then, as you die, and you will leave more easily, reasoning: I am departing from a life in which even my own partners, on whose behalf I struggled so hard, prayed, and worried, they themselves want me to go, hoping for some further ease from it. Why then would anyone cling to a longer stay here? Do not, however, for this reason go away any less kindly disposed toward them, but keeping to your own character, friendly and well-meaning and gracious - and not, again, as though being torn away, but as when someone dies an easy death and the little soul is readily released from the body, so too should your departure from these people be. For nature bound you to them and joined you together, but now she unbinds. I am being unbound as from kin, yet not being dragged away resisting, but without compulsion - for this too is one of the things according to nature.
37. Make it a habit, as far as possible, to ask yourself in the case of whatever is done by anyone: to what does this man refer this? But begin with yourself, and examine yourself first.
38. Remember that what pulls the strings is that thing hidden within: that is the eloquence, that is the life, that is - if it must be said - the man. Never picture along with it the vessel-like body surrounding it and these little organs molded onto it. They are like a carpenter's axe, differing only in that they are attached and growing. For indeed these parts are no more useful without the cause that moves and holds them than the shuttle is to the weaving-woman, or a stylus is useful apart from whoever writes with it, or a whip apart from the one driving.