The Meditations

A clean and lucid book about living right, written as easily digestible maxims by the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius. It is a very approachable work, written almost as 'notes to self' by the author, and this perhaps helps explain its continued popularity. It gives an insight – almost like a diary – into the author's own struggles with his character. This honesty and humility is what makes the book so approachable, and it is both heartening and distressing to realize that the problems of living right are the same now as they have ever been. But whilst I enjoyed a lot about it – and enjoyed having the thoughts and concepts roaming through my mind – I also had plenty of misgivings.

The Stoic philosophy that Meditations unpacks can show more sound simplistic when you try to summarize it, despite its intricacies, but I will try my best here. Basically, it boils down to living as an individual and not allowing the world to diminish your integrity, regardless of what it throws at you, for Nature has deemed it to be this way and to rebel against it would be to rebel against the natural order. Therefore, you should live in the moment, so to speak, and mould yourself to whatever comes along. There are other offshoots of this, but this is the core philosophy as I can sum it up briefly.

It all sounds very commendable – and some of it is. Some of the individual maxims are succinct quotations conveying a certain philosophical idea that is worth putting in your head and trying to orient your thoughts around. (Book 5.28 also gives advice on how to tell someone they have B.O.) Meditations is not lacking in poetry, and it would be all but impossible to read the book without generating some kind of intellectual stimulation. The main reason for my disquiet comes down to this: the notion that you should take life as it comes, regardless of content, is one that is not only unsound, but one that can lead to dangerous consequences.

This idea that you should be steadfast and unmoving against life's ups and downs – at one with the flowing river, so to speak – rests on the supposition that the way things are is actually the way things are meant to be. You have to accept concepts such as 'destiny' and a benevolent Nature as a given. In other words, you have to accept the idea of a God. Without it, the foundation upon which Aurelius' whole Stoic philosophy is built is absent.

Now, there will be many who will be able to accept this pre-supposition (that is what they call 'faith', after all), but the cold truth is that there is no objective basis for that assumption. In Book 5.8, is it suggested that we have to accept whatever life/nature brings our way, in the same way we would accept medicine from a doctor. However harsh the flavour of the medicine, we take it in the hopes of improving our health. On the surface that seems fine, but I would also suggest that you should be willing to question the competency of your doctor, or at least ask for evidence of his qualifications. I am unconvinced that you should just accept all of the bad things in the world (the good things also, but especially the bad) as all part of the benevolence of God, just as you would want a second opinion if a doctor says you have to lose the leg, or prescribes some powerful opiate. It seems to me that the appropriate response to witnessing the good and bad things in the world is not acceptance, but inquiry: trying to figure out what and why it is, testing different ideas, and that includes the idea that there is no god. And when you include the viability of atheism as a theory (not even its truth, but its mere viability), then the foundational assumption of Stoicism is washed away as though it was built on sand. On only one occasion, in Book 12.28, does Aurelius try to 'prove' that the god that is key to his philosophy actually exists. But even then, he only suggests that the gods exist because we experience the world which 'proves their power every day', which is a somewhat circular argument that any modern rationalist or philosopher would scoff at.

It might seem unfair to judge Meditations by modern standards, with our more advanced knowledge of science, biology, the universe, and so on, as well as the trails forged for us by subsequent philosophers. Indeed, plenty of Aurelius' maxims are mature, and he writes about atoms centuries before the rationalists of the Enlightenment picked up such theories again. He also talks about the Earth being but a tiny insignificant point in the universe (Book 4.3) many centuries before Carl Sagan had the Pale Blue Dot photograph published. This is not a small mind here. But if Meditations is to be of worth in the modern day, to modern readers living modern lives, it has to stand up to modern knowledge and modern critique. It often does, in parts, but it also has holes and, like the Roman ruins themselves, the architecture can start to crumble in your hands if you pay too close attention to it.

This leads me to another point. In no small part because Meditations was written for the author's own edification, rather than for a wider audience, it lacks the rigour of proper philosophy. These are maxims, assertions and little snippets of poetry, rather than a comprehensive theory that must show its working and its logic. (In Book 8.1, Aurelius even criticizes the 'casuistries' of logic, which is grossly unfair and, for his assertions, rather convenient.) Whilst the book could not be criticized for lack of self-awareness – Aurelius is clearly a conscientious observer – Stoicism doesn't really work if you simply play it through.

One book which I remember reading years ago which did 'play it through' with regards to Stoic philosophy is John Williams' 1965 novel Stoner. Williams was keen on the philosophy, but I found when reading the novel just how appalled I was at the harm his protagonist, Stoner, does to himself and others by following Stoicism. Stoner takes life as it comes to him and, as a consequence, he only really has utility as a doormat. His wife treats him with contempt, and like a Stoic he accepts it as part of the natural way of life and doesn't seek any remedy. His daughter grows up and goes off the rails, and similarly he accepts it as the way of things and doesn't help her. His colleagues at work scheme against him and as a result he never achieves anything in his career, whilst they thrive. Unintentionally, Williams only succeeds in showing how dangerous such a Stoic approach to life is, when you play it through. Stoner makes the world around him a hell. Not a fire-and-brimstone Hell, but a drab and grey hell in which nothing of spark or inventiveness ever really happens.

Now you might consider this unfair – and I am supposed to be reviewing Meditations, not Stoner – but it shows how just accepting things as they come can have outsized consequences. Even if Aurelius does not intend this (he is rather inconsistent on what you should hope to gain out of life), the sentiment can lead to passivity and nihilism. Many who want stoicism and find it hard to live up to will settle for the easier nihilism, and for indifference. Putting stock in the power of the mind to overcome is all well and good, but people will always use that same power of the mind to rationalize away their mistakes and their desires. Everyone can always find an excuse to switch off the alarm and enjoy another few minutes in bed.

But there is plenty of evidence in Meditations that Aurelius does indeed intend this passivity. "If thou wouldst know contentment, let thy deeds be few," Aurelius quotes with approval in Book 4.24. "A man must… wait quietly for his natural dissolution," he says in Book 5.10, as though life was just an inconvenience and we're all just waiting at the bus stop for death to come and trying not to cause too much of a fuss. This passivity – the opposite of carpe diem – only really makes sense if you believe that there is a god – a benevolent god – that has everything in hand. Voltaire skewered this idea that 'everything must be for the best' and that 'we live in the best of all possible worlds' brilliantly in his satirical Candide, but it does make for an even more fundamental hole in Stoic philosophy. If you think that things happen anyway without any input from you, then why even bother with Meditations? Why bother with a code for the individual, if the individual cannot or should not effect change? It seems a paradox, or at best that man is an inconvenience in some grand, automated spinning machine of no real purpose, and should just sit quietly until his death so that he does not inconvenience the gears.

The truth is that, as with those characters who took advantage of Williams' Stoner, you make the world a worse place if you just accept it. "If someone uses force to obstruct you… resign yourself without a pang," Aurelius writes in Book 6.50. That's about as wrong as a thing can be. There is value in the notion, continued on from that Book 6.50 quotation and also in Book 4.49, that you should not view hardship as a misfortune but rather as something that gives you an opportunity to exercise your virtue, but it is not enough. If you are insistent on the philosophy that you should swallow whatever is put in front of you, and this philosophy is followed by everyone (or even by enough), then over time the cumulative effects of this would create a world that is a much worse place in which to idly live out your days. Maybe if you are Emperor, you can not let such things bother you and you can just wait for death, but if you are one of the other billions of people who do not have the luxuries and security afforded an emperor, then reach for something, dammit, and either succeed or fail. Whilst you, the Stoic, are accepting things as they come, other people in the world are manipulating the world to their own ends. And this will impact on you negatively. If you accept whatever someone puts on your plate, pretty soon people will only be putting thin gruel on it, because they know you won't complain. You can revoke the pain that the world causes you at any moment (Book 8.47) but only if, like Stoner, you don't care about your children or if, like the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, your children are already taken care of by the standard of life they have been born into. (Not coincidentally, Book 5.30 says those who are created 'lower' must serve the 'higher', and elsewhere he remarks briefly how slavery is fine, with no apparent concern for the slaves' individuality and free will. Presumably they are to accept their plight stoically.)

You can see by now that Meditations and Stoic philosophy, despites its merits, does have plenty of inconsistencies. Many of the maxims are good in isolation – whether to accept as a rule for your own life or just to ponder in your thoughts for a while – but often contradict one another. To add just one more, it is worth pondering the above-quoted line from Book 6.50 – about resigning yourself to force used against you – in light of the fact that much of Meditations was written whilst Aurelius was on military campaign. The pacifism, it seems, is only skin-deep, or perhaps he was hoping his enemies would accept the tenets of non-resistance.

It might seem strange, in light of my (extensive) criticisms, to assert that I really enjoyed the book. The mind is a muscle, and reading Meditations critically is a great exercise. Teasing over its ideas in your mind – not least the arresting idea of stoic individualism in the face of adversity and life's suffering – is extremely beneficial. But I find, in a rather mischievous way, that enjoying and engaging with Meditations is in some ways a rejection of Stoicism. "Dispense with the education of the schools and have good masters at home instead," Book 1.4 tells us, and certainly it is better to have Meditations at home on your bookshelf – well-thumbed and digested – than it is to sit through a po-faced university course on intersectionality. But then Books 1.17, 2.2 and 2.3 in quick succession tells us to reject books and acquired learning. "Treat with respect the power you have to form an opinion," Book 3.9 rightly tells us, but then, if you follow Stoicism, of what use is the individual's opinion? What power does it have?

Trying to bring coherence – in a rigorous, philosophical sense – to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius is a frustrating task. It makes it hard to assess and to review, for it gives with one hand and takes away with the other. It introduces one maxim championing individualism, free will and independent thought, then introduces a series of other maxims which build the case for an unknowable god, a course of fate that you cannot change, and the need to have an indifferent approach to the world around you. Aurelius writes his Meditations presumably to guide his life and make sense of his world, and then writes, "As for things that are beyond my understanding, they are no concern of my understanding" (Book 7.2). We are going around in circles.

Aurelius believes in destiny and in indifference to the course of life, and this is the root of my unease. Surely the point of the human mind – if there is one – lies in its uniqueness, its consciousness of things beyond the self, its ability to challenge the world, to challenge its limits, and either fail or overcome? I could cite some of Aurelius' maxims that support this, but also plenty that refute it. It is all maddeningly inconsistent, but there is an energy and a joy in going mad as you engage with it. There are holes in it – some in the inconsistencies and some in the philosophy itself, even if followed right – but in some sense the holes don't matter and it is good to allow yourself to flow through the sieve like water. If you engage with Meditations, and engage with other books and other philosophies, and enjoy the richness that is presented to you and the sensation of pulling your mind in different directions, you will improve. It can be disappointing to discover that there is no magic wand in philosophy where, if you follow the tenets, you will live a good life. (Indeed, Meditations makes this point in Book 4.46 – another maddening inconsistency.) But there is joy in remarking upon "the complexity of the web" (Book 4.40) and dyeing your soul with the colour of such trains of thought (Book 5.16).

In some sense, this is a rejection of Stoicism: the world is there to be interacted with, and its treasures are not to be treated with a miserly hand. And if you do nourish your mind with these sort of thoughts, you find you are bringing yourself into a different, ascendant state of mind as you gain more and more knowledge and understanding. In this way, 'accepting the world' or 'turning the other cheek' is a natural outgrowth of your behaviour and your grace and your quest to make sense of things, rather than a set of maxims to be adopted. In one of his best lines, Marcus Aurelius says, "Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one." (Book 10.16). Maybe I should be doing that, instead of writing this review, but I do not think it means to discard Meditations unread. Instead, it means to both think on what a good man should be but also to act as one, in the real world and not just in your books. Stoic philosophy can form a part of this strategy, but I do not think it is the whole thing. And I think that Marcus Aurelius might even accept this; that he would be happy for people to look into his Meditations and find worth there, but also to look elsewhere for other things. And I've just realized that that would be a very Stoic thing for him to do.

"Dig within. There lies the well-spring of good: ever dig, and it will ever flow." (Book 7.59) show less

Marcus Aurelius had me on his team from the outset until he wrote in Book 2, “But cast away the thirst after books, that thou mayest not die murmuring.” My first reaction: the nerve of creating a book, then. Then I recalled that this book is a collection of notes to himself. Rather than asserting that any well-read person dies murmuring, he’s steeling himself against regret that he could not lead the retired life of a philosopher but that it was his lot to be emperor. That being so, he resolved to carry it out for the general good and in line with the Stoic principles he imbibed from his youth.

Moreover, even an emperor can philosophize: “Where a man can live, there he can also live well. But he must live in a palace; — well show more then, he can also live well in a palace.”

And what a time to be emperor. These notes were written in stolen moments while campaigning on the fringes of the Roman Empire as the Pax Romana began to crumble. The circumstances of their composition help explain the loose organization and repetition; he did not prepare these for publication. We are listening over his shoulder as he admonishes and exhorts himself. His words attest to his moral seriousness and awareness of falling short of his rigorous standards.

In Book 8, Marcus draws an analogy between an arrow and the mind, asserting that both move straight, although in a different manner. These jottings are evidence that this is not really so with the mind.

Despite the seemingly random nature of the collection, it does have overwhelming recurrent themes. Paramount: the need to cultivate equanimity in the face of mortality. Marcus believes in God/the gods (he seems to use the terms interchangeably), yet not in any afterlife. Other emphases are the need to follow the “ruling part,” as Long translates the Greek term used by Stoics to denote reason, and to remember that the opinion of others is only that, opinion.

When Marcus returns to the consideration that even an emperor can be a philosopher, he writes, “How plain does it appear that there is not another condition of life so well suited for philosophizing as this in which thou now happenest to be.” If it’s true of him, it can also be true for us since, as he writes, “How close is the kinship between a man and the whole human race, for it is a community, not of a little blood or seed, but of intelligence.”

This universal applicability helps explain why these deeply personal musings have been widely read through the centuries. show less

I've been on a Grecian/Roman kick for quite a while, and here we arrive at the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. First, let me get this right out of the way and just say (admit/confess) that the prime reason I chose to read this when I did was because Elizabeth Gilbert (yes, THAT one) mentioned this as one of the more influential books she's read...this galled me on a couple levels. One, Elizabeth Gilbert is to (good) writing what a D+ physics student is to Einstein. They both exist in the roughly the same continuum, but that's pretty much where the likenesses end. She is a hack par exellance and her popularity really worries me if this (THIS) is what mass reading consumption in this country has come down to.

However, digression aside, I show more went into this book thinking that if Gilbert can find influence here then there must be something , if not good, than at least worth seeing, if only to see how one of the most emptily pretentious fools on the literary scene came to be what she is. Let me just say I was blown away (in the best possible way) after I read this. And I had to ask myself, upon finishing, if Gilbert and I had even read the same book.

Without going into specifics too much, Aurelius was a thoughtful man, probably a genius but more importantly a thinker. He knew he was flawed and gave us these pearls to live by. I say thank you. And I also say (ask) what, if anything, did Liz Gilbert get from this? Ah well, life (as Frost said) goes on. show less

Modern stoics are such pilferers of diaries... That they would take the desperate letters of self-encouragement, the cheap ‘self-help’ of musty centuries, for any kind of truth is vulgar. And worse they have made the mistake of taking a ‘shepherd’s manual’ for life philosophy. Such bad taste is the case with most ‘Stoic thought’. Meditations, Seneca’s Letters – these are private conversations and should remain as such. Those who can derive the most benefit from these works are roman emperors of the second century, teens, and office workers who are about to receive a stern (but less-than-official) reprimand from a client or manager and must remind themselves not to let it ruin a nice weekend at the links.

Were someone show more to publish my own ‘notes to self’ as any kind of life philosophy I would be mortified. Imagine how even the face of Marcus Aurelius would flush were he to learn that his private, unpolished musings were being used as cheap self-help by thousands of ‘peasants’ and 'petty bourgeois'. (He, the Emperor! What gall.) If there is one truth in this work, it is found in the description of the unrelenting stupidity of each generation, “always the same”.

Stoicism is a kind of play-acting. As one might critique the modern self-help genre as so much tripe compared to the original stoics, so too the stoics are characterized by bad thought and bad thinking. The fool reads one book, and, taking it uncritically, proceeds to speechify as if the ideas were his own. The stoic sleeps one night on the ground and considers himself a philosopher for discovering the possibility of being unfortunate (though he remains a fortunate one). In this instance, he has gone less far than even the vulgar peasant, for at least this slave really does experience privation.

These aren’t just strong opinions – ask Marcus Aurelius if he is really convinced by his own tract. If I may paraphrase a paraphrased Kierkegaard, ‘Aquinas has already made himself ridiculous with his five proofs. If G-d really exists, then one proof should be sufficient. And even one is too many, for why should I attempt to prove that my neighbor exists – such a thing would be an insult. All the more to G-d, who does not need his existence “proven".’ This should be our attitude to Marcus Aurelius’ arguments against his fear of death. The bored student already realizes this, “Why does he repeat himself so much? Why is he always changing his arguments from one page to the next?” This is because he hasn’t convinced even himself. If Marcus Aurelius had conquered his fear of death and also realized the truth of his perspective with Platonic Knowledge, then he would not have to repeat himself. Maybe once he would write it down, perhaps to please the peepers of dairies, but there wouldn't be reason to justify its prominent place throughout the text. The argument continues, why insist on virtuous life slow to anger if this is already one’s character…

Perhaps most damning, Meditations can only be taken in the context of real political supremacy such that one’s only difficulties consist of small intrigues and social slights. Aurelius' insistence on the Rule of Law in reference to Nature is also the transparent insistence that others respect his supremacy. As such, this work only applies to those who are themselves roman emperors or imagine themselves as such. (I’m looking at you, teens.) For anyone else, adherence to command is servility through the looking glass of self-actualization. This weakness is evident in Aurelius’ use of metaphor:

“Pointless bustling of processions, opera arias, herds of sheep and cattle, military exercises. […] The miserable servitude of ants, scampering of frightened mice, puppets jerked on strings. Surrounded as we are by all of this […] remembering that our own worth is measured by what we devote our energy to.”

How many of these aria singers, military recruits might be better than Aurelius, yet are fixed to 'strings' by material conditions. Why not use an example of inner turmoil as metaphor instead of the act of performing one’s duty? Because what Aurelius really wants is Dominion. I provide the following as a corollary:

“To keep on being the person that you’ve been—to keep being mauled and degraded by the life you’re living—is to be devoid of sense and much too fond of life. Like those animal fighters at the games—torn half to pieces, covered in blood and gore, and still pleading to be held over till tomorrow . . . to be bitten and clawed again.”

The little person Augustus deigns to play a small part in his metaphor, to receive a little insult, is then returned to life where he is immediately put to death. show less

Another book that I got at a bookstore on Vancouver Island because the person working there was attractive and flirty, and told me I should get it. I don't know that this old ass book is something that I would have picked up on my own, but buy it I did, so I had to read it.
Although I probably would not have crossed paths with Marcus Aurelius had we both existed at the same time, a lot of his ideas do resonate with me in the same way that reading Buddhist thought does. He writes a lot about acceptance, about how a good life embraces and loves everything that happens, simply because it's happening and we have no control over it. He writes about how the only thing that's constant is change and that we are only here for the briefest of show more times. In the end, it doesn't matter. As time goes on, we will be forgotten.
As someone who used to have to be constantly on the move—always finding the next best place—but has now discovered that I'm where I'm supposed to be, I appreciate the way he talks about the best vacation is to retreat inside of ourselves. If we can have a good inner life—not caring what other people are thinking, and that “If your distress has some external cause, it is not the thing itself that troubles you, but your own judgment of it,”—then all will be well. Finally, the thing I appreciated was how he talked about “god.” Like Spinoza many centuries after him, he talks a lot about the Whole; how everything is one and all actions effect everything (but in a much smarter way). My favorite part of is that he capitalizes Whole, but not god.
There were a couple major trains of thought that I disagree with: He is very pro-slavery and anti-gayness. I'm glad he only mentions these things minimally, and I can accept that this was written a couplet thousand years ago, but it's confusing that he's so forward thinking on just about everything else.
Overall though, I really enjoyed the short amount of time it took me to read this book. Reading fifteen or twenty pages was a great way to start my days. show less

It's tough to rate this book so low, in part because I really identify with Stoicism's conclusions and I wanted to enjoy this book. On the surface, it sounds great: the personal writings of Marcus Aurelius, one of the great Roman Emperors, never intended to be published, and therefore about as genuine of a self help book as you'll ever get.

I'll start with the good. For something written almost two thousand years ago, the questions that Marcus grapples with are starkly relatable. Why do bad things happen to good people, and how can you deal with it when they do? How do you overcome materialistic impulses to try and find something deeper in life? How do you reconcile fear of death with its undeniable inevitability? Some of the answers show more that Marcus gives, while not exactly original (see Epictetus), have been helpful in my own life: focusing on what I can control, letting go of what I can't, and living in the moment free from regret over the past or anxiety over the future. I also respect Marcus Aurelius a lot as a person, and the fact that he practiced what he preached is truly admirable.

Now comes the bad. First, the justifications behind many of his answers are unsatisfying because they basically all rely on the shoddy physical foundation of Stoicism: that reason (logos) is a substance that is as real as air or water, that it is distributed to humans and what gives them their rationality, and that the "background" reason (cosmic logos) controls everything that happens and gives everything a purpose. In other words, by virtue of existing in a rationally constructed universe where everything has a purpose, you also have a purpose. What is that purpose? To serve other people. That's a wrap, philosophy is solved, the meaning to life has been found.

Many of Marcus' other lessons are similarly justified. I already have a general sense that helping other people is worthwhile, that being selfish is not, and that justice, humility, honesty, and a myriad of other virtues that he lists are indeed worth aspiring to. I don't need him to tell me that again - what I would appreciate is a good reason behind exactly why my intuition on these things might be justified. A vague appeal to some clearly false omnipresent reason that made it my purpose to do these things (a purpose he just asserts that this reason gave us, by the way, without even elaborating on why we should blindly accept it) is not helpful.

This is especially clear when it comes to questions I don't have a good answer for, like whether we should fear death or not. Marcus' answer is no. Why? Because death is inevitable, and therefore it is natural, and everything that is natural is good, because otherwise the cosmic reason would not have chosen for it to happen. (It is also asserted that this cosmic reason is benevolent.) Again, this argument that could have been taken straight from the mouth of Pangloss is not helpful.

This constant appeal to nature and cosmic reason degraded his credibility for me so much that it even made his more helpful advice seem dubious to me. Is the reason why we should try to remain strong in the face of tragedy, like the death of a child, really only because the fact that it happened means that there was a good reason for it, courtesy of the cosmic reason? In other words, even though I agree with these teachings, it is in spite of this book rather than because of it.

I also disliked how repetitive the ideas were. The same few ideas were repeated over and over again to the point of tedium, especially because they rarely went beyond some superficial aphorism that had been rehashed a dozen times by that point, avoiding what I really wanted to hear: a justification behind the claim. Reading a hundred times that tragedies or setbacks or injustices against you don't matter because they don't affect your ability to perform your true purpose in life, as assigned by the cosmic reason (just trust me bro) gets old really quickly.

Furthermore, some of the lessons are just plain depressing. At least here, it's a blessing to know that his justification for them is paper thin and I can safely ignore them. At one point, Marcus is conditioning himself to avoid being moved by music, and indifference is held up as a virtue alongside humility and justice. I don't know, I want to live my life with passion instead, trying to make sure that I live it to the fullest. Of course, Marcus would say that living life to the fullest has nothing to do with passion and all about fulfilling that purpose which he never justifies or even goes into much detail on.

Despite all this negativity, this experience does not make me think any less of Marcus Aurelius, even as an author. These writings were not meant to convince, but to reinforce. They weren't organized logically or in a structured, interesting way because they were never meant to be read by anyone other than the writer. In other words, the reason I think it's such an unsatisfying book is because it was never meant to be a book in the first place. show less

True to Roman stoicism, the 'Meditations' by Marcus Aurelius are a practical tool to help face daily life, outline a whole attitude and frame of mind to go through existence's hardships. The fact it's not even an intended book but, more a kind of a patchwork of notes and ideas the Emperor-philosopher thrown onto paper and kept to himself, make it all the more fascinating to read -it's short hence straightforward, concise, clear, incisive and, well, quite candid. I mean, the bluntness of it all can be surprising (the obsession with death and how transient life is) but, let's not forget how brutal was the world Marcus Aurelius lived in! His own reign was marked by wars and a plague, his personal life by illnesses and the loss of children. show more Thus, this is not a book on how to be happy but, how to endure pain, face frustration and learn how to accept whatever life throws at you. Of course, I don't buy the whole Stoic mindset! For a thing, Marcus Aurelius was a devoted pagan, he believed in the gods ruling over the cosmos and our lives, a rational logos pervading everything and, as an atheist who don't, I found his constant allusions to Providence quite annoying and plain silly. However, the idea of accepting and accommodating to life's hindrance, with a constant detachment all along, this I found remarkably helpful to built and shape a strong character. By constantly putting things into perspective (the fragility of life and our place in the cosmos versus our daily preoccupations and defects) it's even quite comforting -as all is about simplicity, humility and compassion (and yes, that's indeed also the three treasures of most of oriental philosophies...). All in all, it's a nice little book to have at hand to go and cherry-pick soothing quotations when in need. show less