âIn his Meditations, Marcus Aurelius wrote,â
âAt dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: âI have to go to workâas a human being. What do I have to complain of, If Iâm going to do what I was born forâthe things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets an stay warm?â
âBut itâs nicer here âŚ
So you were born to feel âniceâ? Instead of doing things and experiencing them? Donât you see the plants, the birds, the ants and spiders and bees going about their individual tasks, putting the world in order, as best they can? And youâre not willing to do your job as a human being? Why arenât you running to do what your nature demands?
âBut we have to sleep sometimeâŚ
Agreed. But nature set a limit on thatâas it did on eating and drinking. And youâre over the limit. Youâve had more than enough of that. But not of working. There youâre still below your quota.
You donât love yourself enough. Or youâd love your nature too, and what it demands of you. People who love what they do wear themselves down doing it, they even forget to wash or eat. Do you have less respect for your own nature than the engraver does for engraving, the dancer for the dance, the miser for money or the social climber for status? When theyâre really possessed by what they do, theyâd rather stop eating and sleeping than give up practicing their arts. Is helping others less valuable to you? Not worth your effort?â
âItâs a beautiful passage, and a good introduction to the Stoic philosophy that follows. For an emperor, too, it seems very sound counsel. But for anyone under the pall of depression, itâs some of the stupidest advice ever written.â
âAnd some of the most pernicious. Marcus Aurelius, presumably, is addressing merely the lazy, not those who are weighed down by their brains and bodies and accidents of life and chemistry. And yet, this still seems to be the going line on these things: Get up! Pull yourself together! Look at nature! Take a walk! When the very prospect of showering seems beyond comprehension, though, these are so many abstractions, and the exhortations yet another despair. Itâs one more reason to feel bad.â
âBadâwhat an inadequate word.â
âYou donât love yourself enoughâwell, no. We live in a time that tells you to live lavishly because youâre worth it. But what about those moments when youâre not worth it? Or canât conceive of a world where you ever will be worth it? Self-care is so often conflated with self-indulgence that either can become unthinkable. And self-respect? Thatâs an idea for a world with a past, and a future, and more of a present than the pervasive misery of isolation. And yet, the body and the mind help us forget these things.â
âI wanted the perverse mindfulness of the eye of the storm.â
âin the midst of it, these things are present only as a vacuum.â
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