You Haven't Yet Achieved Simplicity
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, Notebook 4
Your death is imminent, and you haven’t yet achieved simplicity, imperturbability, the conviction that nothing external can make you a worse person, or the ability to deal serenely with everyone, nor do you dedicate your intelligence solely to right action.
This is §37 from Notebook 4, and it will be our focus this week.
There are two main themes I’d like to focus on. First, I want us to think about simplicity and what it means. Second, I want us to think about what it means that Marcus Aurelius would include a passage like this in his notebooks.
If you were on the internet in the early 2010s, you will remember when minimalism became the trend. It was everywhere, and while it has lost a bit of its glamor, the word has stuck. ‘Minimalist’ is now used primarily to describe an aesthetic — so one can see minimalist jewelry, minimalist home decor, minimalist graphic design. Minimalism, which began as a kind of lifestyle, has become a marketing term.
This is inevitable, it seems. Anything that can be utilized to increase consumption inevitably will be.
I bring minimalism up in this piece to contrast it with the Stoic ideal of simplicity. Marcus Aurelius is not advocating for bare walls, weekend decluttering projects, and the like. He is in favor of a simplicity of spirit.
I mention often that reading the Waterfield translation of the Meditations is a good idea, especially because of the notes.1 The footnote Waterfield provides for this passage is especially helpful. He writes:
Simplicity is being integrated, focused, undisturbed by passions, and capable of dealing with others without artifice and without compromising one’s principles.
This is the simplicity of spirit I am referring to, and this is the simplicity that Marcus is striving to achieve. This is the simplicity that we should all be striving to achieve.
So often, we live our lives as fractured or fragmented selves. In one context, we live one way. In another, it is like we are a different person. Sometimes we try to fix this by asking which of these is our ‘true’ self. But that is the wrong question, I think. When we are fragmented, we do not have a true self — being integrated is a requirement.
The temptation to live a fractured life is great. In a polarized world, we are tempted to mouth along to whatever our friends might say, even if we disagree. In an atomized world, it is easy for us to behave one way in private and another in public. For me, so much of it stems from an overwhelming desire to be liked and admired.
This fragmentation is detrimental to us as human beings. A fragmented and fractured self does not have a principles or ideals. A fragmented self cannot develop or improve. A fragmented self cannot reliably act virtuously.
Marcus, when he writes this, first and foremost is concerned with the integrity of his self. To be simple is to be an integrated self. This integrated self is the sort of thing which can be made better over time.
But why does Marcus write this about himself? Because he is human, and he wants to be more human.
Some make our Marcus Aurelius to be a perfect man. Even if we do not say this explicitly, we talk about Marcus and his Stoicism like a kind of demigod. He is spoken of like a man who has achieved the Stoic ideal. He is a role model for us.
But Marcus was imperfect, even by his own standards. I’ve noticed this more as I have read through the Meditations for this newsletter. Previously, I would read these passages and be amazed by the wisdom that Marcus displayed. But this time, I am noticing just how often he chastises himself or offers himself encouragement to do better.
There are two ways we might respond to this realization.
We might think that this proves that there is no hope for us. If Marcus could not achieve his ideals, what hope do we have? Perhaps it would be better to just give up. But to give up is to renounce our human nature — we would be turning our backs on what we truly are.
Instead, we can try to find hope in the fact that our imperfections do not mean that we cannot improve. I am not as wise as Marcus Aurelius — but perhaps I could be. My imperfections are opportunities to do better tomorrow. So, I when I write in my own journals, I write like Marcus. I restate my goals. I remind myself of my convictions.
Let me end this newsletter with another quotation, this time from Epictetus.
Let not slumber approach your weary eyes before reviewing all that you did during the day. ‘Where did I go wrong? What did I do? What duty did I leave undone?’ After this beginning, run back over your actions, and then reproach yourself for things done badly and rejoice for things done well.
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