Death, Again

Wrapping up Notebook 2 of Marcus Aurelius' Meditations

First, a quick note. I launched paid subscriptions on this newsletter recently. These posts on the Meditations (and future works) remain free. The archive of posts is paywalled, as are some longer, topical essays I’ll be releasing two or three times per month.

Now, onto the Meditations. We’re going to pick up the pace and cover more ground in this post. (My worry is that at our current pace, it will take several years to read the Meditations!) This will be our final post on Notebook 2.

I’ve often proceeded by quoting a paragraph, explaining its meaning, and moving on. But as we get deeper into the Meditations, we are going to find that Marcus often repeats himself. Or, he often returns to topics. He will voice views in a variety of ways and idioms. In this way, the text does not hide the fact that it is a collection of journals. Our journals are often rambling, repetitive, and raw.

Since the Meditations can repeat itself, it is helpful for me to bring out themes from a notebook. And the theme that sticks out in the second notebook, the one that I keep seeing as I read these pages, is death. I covered this a bit in last week’s post.

A Limit Has Been Set On Your Time

Death is a constant. Marcus reminds himself of this when he writes that ‘no one lives long, and this of yours is all but spent’ (§6) or exclaims ‘How rapidly everything vanishes, physical bodies lost in the universe and the memory of them lost in eternity!’ (§12). Even if one were to live for thousands of years, ‘the only life anyone loses is this one, the one he’s living, and the only life anyone lives is the one he loses.’ (§14). And, finally, the beginning of §17:

A person’s lifetime is a moment, his existence a flowing stream, his perception dull, the entire fabric of his body readily subject to decay, his soul an aimless wanderer, his fortune erratic, his fame uncertain.

What is certain, of course, is that the man will die.

We can choose to respond to death in a variety of ways. We could choose despair, depression, detachment. We could choose to live in denial. We could find hope in something greater, as one finds in religious traditions. Or, as Marcus would have it, we could try to live our best lives. ‘Everything you do and think,’ Marcus writes, should be predicated on the possibility of your imminent departure from this life’ (§11).

This is a troubled phrase in the contemporary age. ‘Live your best life’ is usually read like a moderately hedonistic mantra — do what makes you happy, what brings you pleasure. But this is not going to be the Stoic reading of that phrase. Because Marcus says that only one thing can escort us safely through life. That thing? Philosophy.

Let me caution you against nostalgia for the Roman Empire. You might look at Marcus’ answer and think that he is expressing a common view in antiquity, and perhaps you might start longing for a world like that. After all, it is a world where philosophy is valued. Yet, Marcus is the outlier, then and now. I do not know of any other Roman emperor who took such an approach to life. Few statesmen in history have done so.

The truth is, philosophy has perennially shown itself to be valuable — but only to a few. This is not because we are somehow special, chosen, or elect. It is because philosophy’s answers to life biggest questions are so often counter to prevailing wisdom. Thus, only a few will take the time to think about them.

Notebook 2 sees Marcus repeatedly reminding himself that he will die, and this spurs him to action. But he does not choose action just for the sake of action. He chooses actions that are in accordance with nature. This means choosing actions which are fitting for him to perform as a human being, as a man, and as an emperor. He thinks of his part in the larger whole — the entire universe.

As I finish reading Notebook 2, this is what stands out to me. Marcus responds to an existential problem, the problem of death, by thinking of the universe. He reminds himself that all comes from the same source as himself (§17), that the human soul dishonors itself when it resents the universe (§16).

As we conclude our reading of Notebook 2, I’d like to ask you some questions for discussion.

• Do you think of death often? And if you do, how do you respond?

• What have you learned from Marcus so far in our reading?

• I’m sure some of you think I’ve gotten something wrong — what criticisms do you have?

Let’s have a fun conversation down in the comments. As always, the rules are simple: be kind and mostly on-topic.