If you’re anything like me (not that I would wish that upon anyone) getting out of bed in the morning can be a struggle. The day to day grind can seem pointless and mundane as the days, weeks and months begin to blend together. A loss of perspective is always inevitable; even Christians can forget to trim their lamps as life goes on. I’ve found the stoic philosopher and Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius in famous Meditations to be helpful in this regard. His style is a bit gruff, like a drill sergeant, but I find that to be conducive. The first meditation from Book 2 of the Gregory Hays translation reads:
When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. They are like this because they can’t tell good from evil. But I have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own-not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine. And so none of them can hurt me. No one can implicate me in ugliness. Nor can I feel angry at my relative, or hate him. We were born to work together like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower. To obstruct each other is unnatural. To feel anger at someone, to turn your back on him: these are obstructions.
A lot of my grief comes from believing people are always going to align with my will. And when they don’t, I become angry and begin to hate them. This meditation just dispels the illusion that people are always going to be skipping and doing back flips to please me or do what I will. It sets the bar pretty low and not everyone I meet will be terrible, but at least I’ve made peace with the worst case scenario.
Then there is the beautiful comparison to a body, a very Christian one I might add. Humanity is meant to operate like a body, with each piece going about different tasks. A lot of my grief comes from having expectations of what each part of the body is supposed to be doing. But really, if I’m the top jaw and some fellow on the metro or in my office is the bottom jaw, I just need to worry about being the top jaw and accepting that his role as the bottom jaw is his lot.
Here’s another one I’ve always loved. I actually had this taped over my bed in college. From Book 5 it reads:
At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: “I have to go to work-as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for-the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?’
-but it’s nicer here….
So you were born to feel “nice”? Instead of doing things and experiencing them? Don’t 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 you’re not willing to do your job as a human being? Why aren’t you running to your job as a human being? Why aren’t you running to do what your nature demands?
-but we have to sleep sometime….
Agreed. But nature set a limit on that-as it did on eating and drinking. And you’re over the limit. You’ve had more than enough of that. But not of working. There you’re still below your quota.
You don’t love yourself enough. Or you’d 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 they’re really possessed by what they do, they’d rather stop eating and sleeping than give up practicing their arts.
Is helping others less valuable to you? Not worth your effort?
As a generally soft and mushy culture, relishing in comfort and ease and working “smarter not harder” this reads like a bucket of cold water. What is the point of life? Is it to be comfortable? To eat drink and be merry? Is the good life sitting in front of a flat screen with a bucket of chicken wings?
Particularly as Christians, do we love God and our neighbor enough to forego the niceties of life like we sometimes do when pursue less than ideal goods? Do I spend as much time in prayer as I do goofing off on social media? Do I delight in being a creature of God in the way the drunkard revels in his dissipation? I know I don’t pull my weight (or rather, surrender and let Him carry my weight) but I’m grateful for the reminder, clearly seen even by a pagan.
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