Summary: Meditations (page 6)

Next, to fear death, one would have to assume that human life holds intrinsic value — and that death, as the dissolution of something supposedly precious, would constitute a loss or a disaster. Yet the Stoic exercise of putting things into perspective leads us to question this very notion of value. In a word, always regard human affairs as fleeting and insignificant ¹.

Thus, death is not a serious matter — not the disappearance of something precious — but rather a process woven into the natural order of what truly has value: the world. Marcus Aurelius evokes the serenity that comes over the wise man who has overcome the fear of death:

Therefore, spend this infinitesimal moment of existence in keeping with nature, and depart with serenity — like an olive that, having ripened, falls to the ground, blessing the earth that bore it and giving thanks to the tree that produced it ².

For the Stoic, the fear of death arises from the refusal to contemplate it. In this reflex of avoidance, anguish becomes inescapable. The paradox of Stoicism is that, on the contrary, the very thought of death holds within it the key to overcoming the fear it provokes. To think on death is to liberate oneself from it — and he who no longer fears death attains total freedom, becoming master of himself. He then resembles the promontory against which the waves break incessantly — yet it stands firm, while around it the swell surges and recedes ³.

This Stoic doctrine, as outlined, leads the wise man to reject three attitudes that are often, though mistakenly, considered hallmarks of the philosopher.

If Aristotle claims that astonishment is the emotion at the origin of philosophy — astonishment at the beauty of the world, at the fact that things are as they are — Marcus Aurelius, on the contrary, asserts: How absurd is the man who is astonished at anything that happens in life! ⁴.

Now we understand why: to be astonished by something is to regard it as abnormal, as contrary to the laws of nature. Yet for the Stoic, every event belongs to the chain of causes and effects — it is therefore entirely natural, entirely normal. Astonishment is only warranted in a world ruled by chance.

Likewise, thinkers and artists are often credited with great imagination — the very faculty that enables them to write or paint immortal works. Yet Marcus Aurelius considers imagination a danger:

What are you doing here, imagination? Be gone, by the Gods, as you came! I have no need of thee. You came, as is your habit; I do not reproach you — only begone ⁵.

Imagination, like desire — from which it perhaps originates — disturbs the serenity of the wise man. It is also an escape from the world and its natural beauty, conjuring up other realities it deems superior. And yet, for the Stoic, this world is the only one, and it is already perfect.

To imagination, the Stoic prefers contemplation.

To desire, the Stoic prefers gratitude — gratitude for the beauty of a world he is permitted to contemplate briefly before it dissolves into nothingness; gratitude for mankind.

Indeed, the first book of the Meditations is devoted to expressing thanks to the various people Marcus Aurelius encountered in his life — acknowledging what each offered him, whether as a model, a relative, or a friend. For example: From my father: [...] indifference to the vain glory bestowed by what passes for honours ⁶.

Finally, the wise man must not seek to cultivate himself excessively, nor pursue erudition for its own sake. Books, by the sheer diversity of doctrines they present, become a source of anxiety: As for your thirst for books, reject it, so that you may die not muttering, but truly at peace ⁷.

¹ IV, 48
² ibid.
³ IV, 49
⁴ XII, 13
⁵ VII, 17
⁶ I, 16
⁷ II, 3