When you are distressed by an external thing, it’s not the thing itself that troubles you, but only your judgement of it. And you can wipe this out at a moment’s notice.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 8.47

The book’s example after this quote is about Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He spent his whole life dreaming and preparing for his career in politics, but at 39 he got polio. Did he let this horrible disease, an “external thing,” end his hopes and dreams of winning the presidency? We all know the answer given that FDR is widely regarded as one of the greatest political figures in American history.

This one also hits home for me. As we’ve touched on in the past, it is easy to feel like life was unfair in the hand it dealt you and then use that as fuel to generate a myriad of reasons why you don’t have what you want. My dad became disabled when I was in fourth grade. My mother got breast cancer a couple years later, and she died when I was in eleventh grade. My maternal grandfather died that same year. The knock on effects of these events were huge. Almost everything in life changed in some way. My entire childhood was defined by these events, and they were all outside of my control.

It took me a long time to make my peace. Ultimately the feelings of worry, anger, stress, disdain, and sadness were generated from within, and they were holding me back. Changing how I thought about these things very likely saved my life, and only now am I able to look back and see how fortunate I still was in so many ways.

The book ends with the line, “Let’s not confuse acceptance with passivity.” This is an important note. The idea is not to invalidate your feelings, to ignore things, or not to care. It is not about lack of agency, or abdicating your desires and ability (and responsibility) to act. From my view, you should experience the emotions as they come to you. It is good to be sad when sad things happen. But don’t get stuck and dwell on it for too long.

Time moves on, and so should you. Accept the things you cannot change.

Just as we commonly hear people say the doctor prescribed someone particular riding exercises, or ice baths, or walking without shoes, we should in the same way say that nature prescribed someone to be diseased, or disabled, or to suffer any kind of impairment. In the case of the doctor, prescribed means something ordered to help aid someone’s healing. But in the case of nature, it means that what happens to each of us is ordered to help aid our destiny.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 5.8

Doctor’s orders. Somehow this simple phrase does carry enough weight to get people to accept unpleasant things. There is the promise that in following through with the unpleasant course of action we will find ourselves in a better place. And yet we often don’t apply this same thinking to fate or destiny.

Again, as in part 5, this one is harder for me to swallow. It implies that there is a destiny for each and every soul, and while I agree that each creature in this universe will follow a path to an eventual conclusion, that conclusion may not be one we readily desire and accept.

Many people are dealt an unfair and uncaring hand by the universe. Should you accept and welcome a destiny where you are permanently disabled and nearly die in a car crash in your 40s? That is what happened to my father. Although he survived, he lived another 20 years of declining health and ability, and he gradually watched as the world he was leaving to his kids seemingly became worse at every turn.

Perhaps the stoics would say that his destiny was in fact to have a family and be lucky enough to watch his kids grow up — a gift this universe did not grant my mother — and that this is enough. Framed in this light I can accept what Marcus says. I generally think being a good parent is by far the most important thing most humans will do with their lives.

It took me what feels like a long time, but I have come to appreciate my life experiences even though my younger years were extremely challenging and frequently consisted of loss and hardship. These experiences have indeed helped me become who I am today, and I know I would not be where I am without them. They have made me more grateful for what I have, and they have motivated me to stay on my purpose in a way that seems very uncommon amongst my peers.

I am still amazed at how insights into life from 1800 years ago are still incredibly poignant today.