My dog ate my book... a.k.a Meditations

Literally… this past autumn, my four-month-old golden retriever, Fin, found a thin paperback copy of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius on my nightstand. I found it hours later chewed to a nub, small shards of paper spotting the carpet of my bedroom like a confetti celebration of stoicism. Ironically, I did not feel very stoic when I found the mess.

It was one of those worn paperbacks: creased, dog-eared, notes in the margin, passages underlined. And though I kept it on my nightstand, in recent years it was just an ornament. Perhaps I expected the wisdom to seep into my sleep in some form of hopeful osmosis. It didn’t.

And so, as I stood over the mess, I told myself that it was a blessing, a sign maybe, that it was time to get a fresh copy and start again.

Since the new year, I have made it a practice to read a passage each morning. When I am done, I make a few scant notes in a planner about the prior day, then step outside to embrace the bitter winter morning. On my back deck, I breathe, stretch, reflect, and say a morning prayer.

Each passage in Meditations, a paragraph or two at most, provides a perspective with a depth that increasingly expands with reflection. After two years of major shifts and changes in my life - lows and highs – stoicism is a good reminder about balance, and inner peace.

A misconception I often hear about the practice of stoicism is that it lacks emotional depth. I find that stoicism is not about denying the depths we find in our sea of emotion, but rather how we keep the waters calm regardless of the winds of circumstance, both good and ill.  Can we find peace in the face of the unknown? Can we find peace in the difficulties and the raptures?

As the years pass, I find that it is not the pursuit of happiness that appeals to me, but the pursuit of meaning and inner peace. This is particularly difficult as, often, what brings us meaning are the burdens of responsibility we bear. Can we bear our burdens with peace? Can we humble ourselves to our burdens and accept them as nourishment for the soul, and the precursor for growth?  

In honor of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, below is one of my own, one that I have been reflecting on as I start a new year. I hope you find something of value in it.

Embrace the Unknown

Let’s face it, you know less than you think.

There have been billions of perspectives that have come before you, over eight billion perspectives alive today, and now, artificial intelligence. Where does that put you?

Good.

Maybe you can have some humility and put yourself a little closer to the small piece of this rock in space to which you cling.

Perhaps there is appreciation there, gratitude, even.

I get to be here.

Forget the perspectives and how you stack up.

I’ll take the salt of the earth.

It’s real.

You know less than you think.

How often have all those plans you made turned out as you designed? When has the script in your mind accurately authored the future?

Good.

Maybe the possibilities of your life are bigger than you think.

Maybe you won’t worry so much about what’s in the crystal ball, what people think of you, how things are meant to turn out.

Perhaps you can find some meaning there, purpose, even.

Forget the fantasies and plans.

I’ll take the scars of experience.

They are real.

You know less than you think.

What are you claiming to be a victim to? What are you putting off? What are you running from? What does it say of your character?

Good.

It’s my story. I can choose the hero.

Maybe you should face the monsters, receive the unknown as a gift, and mold the present moment like clay.

Perhaps there is redemption there, service to something eternal, even.

Forget the outside voices and the circumstances you can’t control.

I’ll choose my way regardless of the obstacles.

The choice is what is real.

“Our inward power, when it obeys nature, reacts to events by accommodating itself to what it faces – to what is possible. It needs no specific material. It pursues its own aim as circumstances allow; it turns obstacles into fuel. As a fire overwhelms what would have quenched a lamp. What’s thrown on top of the conflagration is absorbed, consumed by it – and makes it burn still higher.

- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations