A Hand with the Dishes
I phoned him a week ago and we exchanged pleasantries. "All well. Except, I'm in the dogbox of late."
Meditations of Marcus Aurelius
In my teens and early twenties, I suffered from severe bouts of mental anguish whenever I tried to make sense of my existence. I had long since dismissed religion and belief in the supernatural as little better than magic and superstition as a way to explain the world and the purpose of human beings in it. I grappled with questions relating to suffering and injustice, and got nowhere.
In my youthful naivete, I searched for a source of wisdom that would help me discover the reason for why I was living this stupid life. Reading widely, I could find no satisfactory answers to the central question, so I shifted my search to finding out how to cope with living in a world of senseless conflict and cruelty. By chance, I stumbled upon a Penguin Classic, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations.
Aurelius (121-180 AD) was a Roman emperor who spent much of his time leading campaigns against enemies of the Empire. It was while he was supervising the subjugation or slaughter of those challenging Roman rule that he composed most of his philosophical writing. His brand of Stoicism appealed to me, as it suggested a way to deal with the misfortunes that were bound to beset me as I blundered my way through life. Basically, what he was telling me was to stop whining and, grit my teeth and put up with all this crap, because things could be worse; far worse. I got it.
In my semi-autobiographical novel, The Life of Henry Fuckit I incorporated a scene in which Henry is given a copy of the Meditations:
MIKE: Greetings, gentlemen. (Formally shakes hands.) Hello, Fackit. Glad to see you, and so sorry to hear about your mishap. (Shakes Henry's hand vigorously.) I brought you some assorted dried fruit to promote digestion and regularity. And also some reading matter - I know you've always got your nose in a book. I asked the bookshop owner to recommend something philosophical, but none of that damn existentialist crap you were so fond of. Something to uplift you and strengthen the character.
STEVE: What was your choice? Dale Carnegie? Billy Graham?
JOE: (Takes book from packet.) 'The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius.' Not a bad choice, Mike.
IVOR: Stone cold stoicism. I don't know about STRENGTHENING the character. STRANGLING the character is more like it. Stoicism, asceticism, Spartanism, flagellation, self-deprivation, cold showers, abstinence, frugality, humility, chastity, and all manner of self-loathing. A mirthless devotion to duty and virtue. I don't know, Mike. I somehow doubt whether he's ready for the straight and narrow, but I might be wrong.
JOE: Ah, here we are Henry. This is for you. "Do not say 'How unlucky I am, that this should have happened to me!' By no means; say rather, 'How lucky I am, that it has left me with no bitterness; unshaken by the past, and undismayed by the future.'
STEVE: Ag, it's all very well to urge an oke to be dispassionate and long-suffering, but does that deal with any of the underlying problems? What Henry needs to do is analyse where he went wrong and how he got himself into this condition in the first place.
JOE: Not so easy. How do you pinpoint a moment or an event in your life and say, this is where I fucked up? Too facile.
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