Marcus Aurelius and Henry David Thoreau: Live a Life of Contemplation

A Warring Emperor

You are the son of a distinguished Roman politician, but your father died when you were just 3 years old. Hand-picked at a young age by the Emperor to one day succeed him, you have been groomed for the throne your whole life. You are handed the reins to the Roman army first, and then to all of Rome. General, High Priest, Emperor—titles you never wanted, but were bound by duty and destiny to accept. Death was never far from your family. Your mother and sister died far too young, along with nearly half of your 13 children who didn’t live to see adolesence. You scarcely knew their faces, for duty always came before family. Now, you ride on horseback across the front lines of your Roman legion preparing for battle with the Germanic hordes. This is just one of hundreds of battles you have fought over the past several years, and will continue to fight for several years to come. The invaders are far less disciplined and possess far less advanced weaponry, but they make up for that in sheer aggression and seemingly inexhaustible numbers. As you survey your troops, the greatest fighting force the Western world has ever known, every passing face bows in reverence and subservience. To you. For you. Their lives, their fortunes, their lands, their very spirits, are at your service and under your protection.

Marcus Aurelius

This is the context in which Marcus Aurelius (121-180 CE) wrote his most famous work, now known as the Meditations. This work was not intended for a public audience, but was instead a personal journal of notes and reminders Aurelius wrote to himself while away at war. This context explains the short, aphoristic style of the writing, and makes it one of the most fascinating pieces of writing in all of philosophy – after all, this is essentially the diary of the leader of the Western world at the time. That it has managed to survive this long is a testament to its continued relevance to people’s lives.

Discontent in the Industrial Age

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats.”

“But lo! Men have become the tools of their tools. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on the earth and forgotten heaven.”

“To make a railroad round the world available to all mankind is equivalent to grading the whole surface of the planet. Men have an indistinct notion that if they keep up this activity of joint stocks and spades long enough all will at length ride somewhere, in next to no time, and for nothing; but though a crowd rushes to the depot, and the conductor shouts 'All aboard!' when the smoke is blown away and the vapor condensed, it will be perceived that a few are riding, but the rest are run over,—and it will be called, and will be, 'A melancholy accident.'"

Henry David Thoreau

This is the world as Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) saw it in Antebellum Massachusetts. Following the Industrial Revolution, less and less people worked for themselves or used goods they themselves produced, but rather toiled away at jobs they hated in exchange for money, which they used mostly to buy things they didn’t need. Everywhere, Thoreau saw people as either obsessed with material possessions without a clear sense of what they were acquiring them for, or so overworked at their laborious jobs that they hadn’t time or energy to be obsessed with material wealth. None of these people were “really living,” in his eyes, and so he set out to change that, for himself and (he hoped) for others following his example. He wrote Walden, his most famous work, while living alone in the woods by Walden Pond just outside his hometown of Concord.

Focus on what matters

Marcus Aurelius

Alignment with Divine Providence

The particular effects in the world are all wrought by one intelligent Nature. This universal cause has no foreign assistant, no interloping principle, either without or within it. (VI.9)

The world is either a medley of atoms that now intermingle and now are scattered apart, or else it is a unity under the laws of order and providence. If the first, what should I stay for, where nature is in such a chaos, and things are so blindly jumbled together? Why do I care for anything else than to return to the element of earth as soon as may be? Why should I give myself any trouble? Let me do what I will, my elements will be scattered. But if there is a Providence, then I adore the great Governor of the world, and am easy and of good cheer in the prospect of protection. (VI.10)

If the gods have decreed anything concerning me or my business, they have decreed my advantage. For it is absurd to suppose that they are mistaken in their measures, or not benevolent in their design. For to what purpose should they intend me any harm? What would themselves, or the universe, the special object of their providence, gain by it? And why, then, should I not be contented with whatever happens as a consequence of the universal whole? (VI.44)

We ought to live with the gods. This is done by him who always exhibits a soul contented with the appointments of Providence, and obeys the orders of that divinity which is his deputy and ruler, and the offspring of God. Now this divine authority is neither more nor less than that soul and reason which every man possesses. (V.27)

Everything is Connected

All parts of the universe are interwoven and tied together with a sacred bond.  And no one thing is foreign or unrelated to another.  This general connection gives unity and ornament to the world.  For the world, take it altogether, is but one.  There is but one sort of matter to make it of; one God that pervades it; and one law to guide it, the common reason of all rational beings; and one truth; if, indeed, beings of the same kind, and endued with the same reason, have one and the same perfection. (VII.9)

The soul of the universe is of a social disposition. For this reason it has made the lower part of the creation for the sake of the higher. And as for those beings of the higher rank, it has bound them to each other. You see how admirably things are ranged and subordinated according to the dignity of their kind, and cemented together in mutual harmony. (V.30)

Thoreau

Shams and delusions are esteemed for soundest truths, while reality is fabulous. If men would steadily observe realities only, and not allow themselves to be deluded, life, to compare it with such things as we know, would be like a fairy tale and the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. If we respected only what is inevitable and has a right to be, music and poetry would resound along the streets. When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence,—that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. This is always exhilarating and sublime. By closing the eyes and slumbering, and consenting to be deceived by shows, men establish and confirm their daily life of routine and habit everywhere, which still is built on purely illusory foundations. Children, who play life, discern its true law and relations more clearly than men, who fail to live it worthily, but who think that they are wiser by experience, that is, by failure.

Men esteem truth remote, in the outskirts of the system, behind the farthest star, before Adam and after the last man. In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates in the present moment, and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages. And we are enabled to apprehend at all what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality that surrounds us. The universe constantly and obediently answers to our conceptions; whether we travel fast or slow, the track is laid for us. Let us spend our lives in conceiving then.

Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito’s wing that falls on the rails… Why should we knock under and go with the stream? … If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider what kind of music they are like. Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe, through Paris and London, through New York and Boston and Concord, through church and state, through poetry and philosophy and religion, till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality, and say, This is, and no mistake; and then begin, having a point d’appui, below freshet and frost and fire, a place where you might found a wall or a state, or set a lamp-post safely, or perhaps a gauge, not a Nilometer, but a Realometer, that future ages might know how deep a freshet of shams and appearances had gathered from time to time… Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel cold in the extremities; if we are alive, let us go about our business.

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.

I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.

Dying Well

Marcus Aurelius

Use philosophy to overcome it

The extent of human life is but a point; its substance is in perpetual flux, its perceptions dim, and the whole composition of the body tending to corruption. The soul is but a whirl, fortune not to be guessed at, and fame undiscerning – in a word, that which belongs to the body is a flowing river, and what the soul has is but dream and bubble. Life is but a campaign, or course of travels, and after-fame is oblivion. What is it, then, that will stick by a man? Why, nothing but philosophy. Now, this consists in keeping the divinity within us from injury and disgrace, superior to pleasure and pain, doing nothing at random, without any dissembling and pretence, and independent of the motions of another. Farther, philosophy brings the mind to take things as they fall, and acquiesce in their distribution, inasmuch as all events proceed from the same cause with itself; and, above all, to have an easy prospect of death, as being nothing more than a dissolving of the elements of which each thing is composed. Now, if the elements themselves are never the worse for running off one into another, what if they should all change and be dissolved? Why should any man be concerned at the consequence? All this is but Nature’s method; now, Nature never does any mischief. (II.17)

Keep it always in your mind, but don't fear it

Do not act as if you had ten thousand years to throw away. Death stands at your elbow. Be good for something, while you live and it is in your power.  (IV.17)

Consider what death will make of you, both as to body and mind, recollect the shortness of life, the immeasurable extent of time, both past and future, and how slenderly all things are put together. (XII. 7)

He that dreads death is either afraid that his senses will be extinguished or altered. Now, if you have no faculties, you will have no feeling. But if you have new perceptions, you will be another creature, and will not cease to live. (VIII.58)

Thoreau

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to “glorify God and enjoy him forever.”

Self-Control vs. Retreat

Marcus Aurelius

Compassion

Just as connection creates sympathy in the members of the body, so relation of nature does the same thing among rational beings. For though separate in space, they seem all made to co-operate with each other. This thought will be more intelligible and affecting if you frequently consider yourself as a member of the rational system. But if you reckon yourself only a part, you do not yet love mankind with all your heart. A generous action does not yet delight you from conviction; you do a good office merely for fashion and decency, but not as if it were really a kindness to yourself. (VII.13)

It is the privilege of human nature to love those that disoblige us. To practice this, you must consider that the offending party is of kin to you, that ignorance is the cause of the misbehavior, and the fault is involuntary, that you will both of you quickly be in your graves; but especially consider that you have received no harm by the injury, for your mind is never the worse for it. (VII.22)

Gratitude

The example of my grandfather Verus gave me a good disposition, not prone to anger. (I.1)

From Diognetus, to shun vain pursuits, not to be led away with the impostures of wizards and soothsayers, who pretend they can discharge evil spirits… This Diognetus taught me to bear freedom and plain-dealing in others, and apply myself to philosophy. He also procured me the instruction of Bacchius, Tandasis, and Marcianus. He likewise put me upon improving myself by writing dialogues when I was a boy; prevailed with me to prefer a couch covered with hides to a bed of state; and reconciled me to other like rigours of the Grecian discipline. (I.6)

The philosopher Sextus recommended good-humour to me, and showed me the pattern of a household governed in a fatherly manner. He also bade me make nature and reason my rule to live by. By his precedent I was instructed to appear with an unaffected gravity, to study the temper and circumstances of my friends in order to oblige them. (I.9)

Self-Control

Toss me into what climate or state you please, for all that, I will keep my divine part content, if it can but exist, and act in accordance with its nature. What! Is this misadventure big enough to ruffle my mind and make it deteriorate? To make it mean, craving, and servile, and frightened; what is there that can justify such disorders? (VIII.45)

If anything external vexes you, take notice that it is not the thing which disturbs you, but your notion about it, which notion you may dismiss at once if you please. But if the condition of your mind displease you, who should hinder you from rectifying your opinion? Farther, if you are disturbed because you are not active in the discharge of your duty, your way is rather to do something than to grieve at your own omission. But you are under some insuperable difficulty; then never vex yourself about the matter, for you have nothing to answer for. (VIII.47)

Concerning those that offend, consider in the first place, the relation you stand in towards men, and that we are all made for each other… Do not forget you are like the rest of the world, and faulty yourself in a great many instances… When you are most angry and vexed, remember that human life lasts but a moment, and that we shall all of us very quickly be laid in our graves… Consider that it is not other people’s actions which disturb us, but only our own opinions about them… Consider that our anger and impatience often prove much more mischievous than the things about which we are angry or impatient… That gentleness is invincible, provided it is of the right stamp, without anything of hypocrisy or malice. (XI.18

Thoreau

Be healed by nature

When first I took up my abode in the woods, that is, began to spend my nights as well as days there, which, by accident, was on Independence Day, or the Fourth of July, 1845, my house was not finished for winter, but was merely a defence against the rain, without plastering or chimney, the walls being of rough, weather-stained boards, with wide chinks, which made it cool at night. The upright white hewn studs and freshly planed door and window casings gave it a clean and airy look, especially in the morning, when its timbers were saturated with dew, so that I fancied that by noon some sweet gum would exude from them. To my imagination it retained throughout the day more or less of this auroral character, reminding me of a certain house on a mountain which I had visited the year before. This was an airy and unplastered cabin, fit to entertain a travelling god, and where a goddess might trail her garments. The winds which passed over my dwelling were such as sweep over the ridges of mountains, bearing the broken strains, or celestial parts only, of terrestrial music. The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it.

Olympus is but the outside of the earth everywhere.

 It is a surprising and memorable, as well as valuable experience, to be lost in the woods any time. Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations.

Total retreat

But for my part, I preferred the solitary dwelling. Moreover, it will commonly be cheaper to build the whole yourself than to convince another of the advantage of the common wall; and when you have done this, the common partition, to be much cheaper, must be a thin one, and that other may prove a bad neighbor, and also not keep his side in repair. The only coöperation which is commonly possible is exceedingly partial and superficial; and what little true coöperation there is, is as if it were not, being a harmony inaudible to men.

 I confess that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic enterprises. I have made some sacrifices to a sense of duty, … As for Doing-good, that is one of the professions which are full. Moreover, I have tried it fairly, and, strange as it may seem, am satisfied that it does not agree with my constitution.

I believe that every man who has ever been earnest to preserve his higher or poetic faculties in the best condition has been particularly inclined to abstain from animal food, and from much food of any kind. 

The summer, in some climates, makes possible to man a sort of Elysian life. Fuel, except to cook his Food, is then unnecessary; the sun is his fire, and many of the fruits are sufficiently cooked by its rays; while Food generally is more various, and more easily obtained, and Clothing and Shelter are wholly or half unnecessary.

I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.

However, if one designs to construct a dwelling house, it behooves him to exercise a little Yankee shrewdness, lest after all he find himself in a workhouse, a labyrinth without a clue, a museum, an almshouse, a prison, or a splendid mausoleum instead. Consider first how slight a shelter is absolutely necessary.