Meditations by Marcus Aurelius (Updated Translation)

Book Summary

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius is a collection of personal writings by the Roman emperor, composed between 170-180 AD during his military campaigns. Written in Greek and never intended for publication, these reflections serve as a private journal where Aurelius contemplates life, virtue, and the principles of Stoic philosophy. As one of the last great Stoic thinkers, he grapples with the challenges of leadership, the nature of fate, and the pursuit of inner tranquility in a chaotic world.

The text is divided into twelve books, each containing a series of short philosophical insights rather than a structured narrative. Aurelius continually reminds himself to act with justice, discipline, and humility, recognizing that external circumstances are beyond his control, but his reactions to them are not. He emphasizes the Stoic ideals of accepting fate, maintaining rationality, and focusing only on what can be governed—one’s own thoughts and actions. Through these reflections, he reinforces the idea that true contentment comes not from wealth, power, or fame but from living in accordance with reason and virtue.

A central theme in Meditations is the impermanence of life. Aurelius repeatedly acknowledges the fleeting nature of human existence, urging himself to embrace mortality with dignity and to avoid becoming attached to material possessions or personal status. He reminds himself that all things—empires, people, and even memories—will eventually fade, making it essential to live with integrity and purpose in the present moment. This perspective fosters resilience, as he encourages himself to meet hardships with composure and to find strength in adversity.

Meditations (Modern, Updated Translation)

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Aurelius also addresses the challenge of dealing with others, particularly those who act unjustly or foolishly. He advises himself to remain patient and compassionate, recognizing that ignorance and vice stem from a lack of wisdom rather than malice. Rather than allowing anger or frustration to cloud judgment, he strives to respond with understanding and virtue. This practical approach to interpersonal conflicts aligns with Stoic teachings that emphasize self-mastery and emotional detachment from external negativity.

Throughout the book, Aurelius returns to the idea that everything in life is part of a greater natural order, governed by reason or divine will. He urges himself to trust in this order, accepting both success and hardship as necessary components of existence. This belief in fate, combined with a strong personal sense of duty, shaped his philosophy of leadership and his approach to ruling an empire. He sees his role as emperor not as a means of personal glory but as a responsibility to serve others with wisdom and fairness.

While Meditations was never meant for an audience, its raw honesty and introspective depth have made it one of the most influential philosophical works in history. It continues to inspire readers seeking guidance on how to navigate life’s challenges with clarity, resilience, and ethical integrity. The text remains a cornerstone of Stoic thought, offering timeless lessons on self-discipline, perspective, and the pursuit of inner peace in an unpredictable world.

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Book One

From my grandfather Verus, I learned how to have good morals and how to control my temper.

From my father's reputation and memory, I learned modesty and what it means to have a strong, honorable character.

From my mom, I learned devotion and kindness, and to avoid not just evil actions, but even evil thoughts. She also taught me to live simply, steering clear of the lifestyle of the wealthy.

From my great-grandfather, I learned not to attend public schools, to have good teachers at home, and to understand that it's worth spending generously on such things.

From my governor, I learned not to take sides with either the green or blue party at the circus games, nor to favor the parmularius or scutarius at the gladiator fights. He also taught me to endure hard work, to be content with little, to work with my own hands, to mind my own business, and not to be quick to listen to gossip.

From Diognetus, I learned not to get caught up in trivial matters and not to believe what miracle-workers and tricksters say about spells and driving away demons and such things. I also learned not to breed quails for fighting or to become overly passionate about such activities. I learned to tolerate free speech, to become familiar with philosophy, and to have been a student, first of Bacchius, then of Tandasis and Marcianus. I wrote dialogues in my youth and desired a simple plank bed and a skin, along with other things associated with Greek discipline.

From Rusticus, I got the sense that I needed to work on my character and discipline. He taught me not to get caught up in superficial competition, writing about speculative topics, giving little motivational speeches, or trying to show off as someone who practices a lot of discipline or does good deeds just for attention. He advised me to steer clear of rhetoric, poetry, and fancy writing, and not to walk around the house in my outdoor clothes or do similar things. He encouraged me to write my letters simply, like the one he wrote from Sinuessa to my mother. When it comes to people who have offended me with words or wronged me, he taught me to be quick to forgive and reconcile as soon as they show they're willing to make amends. He also emphasized reading carefully and not being satisfied with just a surface-level understanding of a book, and not to quickly agree with those who talk too much. I'm grateful to him for introducing me to the teachings of Epictetus, which he shared with me from his own collection.

From Apollonius, I learned about having free will and unwavering determination; to focus solely on reason, even for just a moment; and to remain consistent in tough times, like during intense pain, the loss of a child, or a long illness. He showed me through his own life that a person can be both incredibly determined and flexible, and not irritable when teaching others. I saw in him someone who viewed his experience and ability to explain philosophical ideas as the least of his accomplishments. From him, I also learned how to accept what are considered favors from friends without feeling humbled by them or ignoring them altogether.

From Sextus, I learned kindness, how to lead a family with a fatherly touch, and the importance of living in harmony with nature. He showed seriousness without being pretentious and always looked out for his friends. He was patient with those who were ignorant or formed opinions without much thought. Sextus had a knack for getting along with everyone, making interactions with him more pleasant than any flattery could. Yet, he was deeply respected by those around him. He had a talent for identifying and organizing life's essential principles in a smart and systematic way. He never showed anger or any other strong emotion, remaining calm and affectionate. He could express approval without making a big fuss and had a wealth of knowledge that he never flaunted.

From Alexander the grammarian, I learned to avoid nitpicking and not to scold people harshly when they used incorrect or awkward language. Instead, I learned to skillfully introduce the correct expression in a way that either answers or confirms what they meant, by engaging in a discussion about the topic itself, rather than focusing on the word choice, or by offering a gentle suggestion.

From Fronto, I learned to recognize how envy, deceit, and hypocrisy manifest in a tyrant, and that, generally, those we call patricians often lack genuine paternal affection.

From Alexander the Platonic, don't often or without a good reason tell someone, or write in a letter, that you're too busy; and don't constantly use being busy as an excuse to neglect the responsibilities you have towards the people you live with.

From Catulus, I've learned not to be indifferent when a friend criticizes me, even if it's without reason. Instead, I should try to help them return to their usual self. I've also learned to be quick to praise my teachers, just like Domitius and Athenodotus are known to do, and to genuinely love my children.

From my brother Severus, I learned to love my family, to value truth, and to stand up for justice. He introduced me to figures like Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, and Brutus. Through him, I embraced the idea of a society where everyone is equal under the law, a society that values equal rights and free speech, and a leadership that prioritizes the freedom of its people. He taught me to be consistent and unwavering in my commitment to philosophy, to be generous and hopeful, and to trust that my friends care for me. I noticed that he never hid his opinions about those he disapproved of, and his friends never had to guess what he wanted or didn't want—it was always clear.

From Maximus, I learned self-control and not to be easily swayed by anything. He taught me to stay cheerful in all situations, even when sick, and to balance kindness and dignity in my character. He showed me how to tackle tasks without complaining. I noticed that everyone believed he meant what he said, and he never acted with bad intentions. He was never shocked or surprised, never rushed, and never procrastinated. He was never confused or downhearted, and he didn't laugh to hide frustration. On the flip side, he was never angry or suspicious. He was naturally generous, quick to forgive, and always honest. He seemed like someone who naturally did the right thing, rather than someone who had to work at it. I also noticed that no one ever felt looked down upon by Maximus, nor did anyone dare to think they were better than him. He had a knack for being funny in a pleasant way.

In my father, I noticed a calm demeanor and unwavering determination in decisions he made after careful thought. He wasn't interested in the superficial honors that others chased after. He loved hard work and persistence, and he was always open to listening to suggestions that could benefit everyone. He was fair, giving each person what they deserved, and he knew from experience when to take strong action and when to ease off. He had moved past any youthful passions and saw himself as just another citizen. He didn't obligate his friends to dine with him or accompany him when he went out, and if they couldn't join him due to pressing matters, he was always understanding. I also noticed his thoroughness in decision-making and his persistence. He never stopped investigating just because something seemed fine at first glance. He valued his friendships, wasn't quick to tire of people, and wasn't overly affectionate. He was content and cheerful, able to plan for the future while taking care of the small things without showing off. He was quick to dismiss public praise and flattery. He was diligent in managing the empire's needs and finances, and he patiently endured any criticism for his actions. He wasn't superstitious or interested in winning people over with gifts or flattery. He was sober-minded and firm, never petty or obsessed with new trends. He used life's comforts, which fortune provided in abundance, without arrogance or excuses. He enjoyed them without pretense when he had them and didn't miss them when he didn't. No one could accuse him of being a sophist, a frivolous person, or a pedant. Everyone saw him as mature, perfect, above flattery, and capable of managing his own and others' affairs. He respected true philosophers and didn't criticize those who only pretended to be philosophers, nor was he easily swayed by them. He was easy to talk to and pleasant without being fake. He took reasonable care of his health, not out of vanity or obsession with life, but so that he rarely needed a doctor. He was quick to acknowledge and support those with special talents, like eloquence or knowledge of law or morals, helping them gain the recognition they deserved. He always followed his country's traditions without pretending to do so. He wasn't fond of change or instability; he liked staying in the same places and working on the same things. After his headaches, he quickly returned to his usual activities with energy. His secrets were few and only related to public matters. He was prudent and economical in public events, building projects, and donations, focusing on what needed to be done rather than seeking fame. He didn't bathe at odd hours, wasn't obsessed with building houses, or picky about food, clothing, or the appearance of his slaves. His clothes usually came from his villa at Lorium or Lanuvium. We remember how he treated the toll-collector at Tusculum who asked for forgiveness, and that was typical of his behavior. He wasn't harsh, unforgiving, or extreme. He approached everything methodically, as if he had all the time in the world, without rushing, but with energy and consistency. Like Socrates, he could both abstain from and enjoy things that many people either can't resist or overindulge in. Being strong enough to handle both is the mark of a person with a perfect and invincible spirit, as he showed during Maximus's illness.

I'm grateful to the gods for blessing me with good grandparents, parents, a sister, teachers, friends, and family—basically everything good in my life. I'm also thankful that I never rushed into doing anything wrong against them, even though I might have had the tendency if the chance had come up. Thanks to their guidance, I never faced such a test. I'm glad I wasn't raised longer with my grandfather's mistress and that I kept my youthful innocence, waiting for the right time to mature. I had a father and a leader who taught me humility and showed me that you can live in a palace without needing guards, fancy clothes, or statues. He showed me that you can live simply and still be effective and dignified in public duties. I'm grateful for a brother who inspired me to be vigilant about my own behavior while also showing me love and respect. My children are neither dull nor physically flawed. I didn't get too caught up in rhetoric, poetry, or other studies, which might have consumed me if I had seen more progress. I quickly honored those who raised me, without making them wait, because they were still young. I'm thankful I met Apollonius, Rusticus, and Maximus, and that I learned clearly and often about living in harmony with nature. The gods have given me everything I need to live this way, though I fall short due to my own mistakes and not always following their guidance. I'm thankful my body has held up in this lifestyle, that I never got involved with Benedicta or Theodotus, and that I overcame romantic infatuations. Even when I was upset with Rusticus, I never did anything I'd regret. Although my mother died young, she spent her last years with me. Whenever I wanted to help someone, I always had the means to do so, and I never needed to rely on others for help. I'm grateful for a loving, obedient, and straightforward wife, and for the great teachers my children had. I've been shown remedies in dreams, including ones for bloodspitting and dizziness. When I was drawn to philosophy, I didn't fall into the trap of sophistry or waste time on historical writings, logical puzzles, or studying the heavens. All these things required the gods' help and good fortune.

With the Quadi at the Granua River.

Book Two

Start your morning by reminding yourself: Today, I might encounter busybodies, ungrateful people, the arrogant, the deceitful, the envious, and the unsociable. These behaviors arise because they don't understand what is truly good and evil. But I know that what is good is beautiful, and what is bad is ugly. I also understand that those who do wrong are connected to me—not just by blood or origin, but because we share the same intelligence and a part of the divine. I can't be harmed by them because they can't impose ugliness on me, nor can I be angry or hateful towards them. We are meant to work together, like feet, hands, eyelids, or the rows of upper and lower teeth. Acting against each other goes against our nature; being annoyed or turning away from one another is unnatural.

Whatever I am, it's just a bit of flesh, breath, and the mind that guides me. Ditch your books; stop distracting yourself: it's not allowed. Act as if you're on your deathbed, and disregard the flesh; it's just blood, bones, and a network of nerves, veins, and arteries. Look at the breath too, what is it really? Just air, constantly being exhaled and inhaled. The third part is the mind: think about this. You're an old man; don't let your mind be a slave anymore, don't let it be controlled like a puppet to antisocial impulses. Stop being unhappy with your current situation or fearing the future.

Everything that comes from the gods is filled with providence. What comes from fortune isn't separate from nature or disconnected from the things that are ordered by providence. Everything flows from there, and there's also necessity and what benefits the entire universe, of which you are a part. Whatever the nature of the whole universe brings is good for every part of nature, and it supports maintaining this nature. The universe is preserved not only by the changes of the elements but also by the changes of things made up of those elements. Let these principles be enough for you, and keep them as firm beliefs. But let go of the constant craving for books, so you won't die complaining, but instead, be cheerful, sincere, and truly grateful to the gods from your heart.

Think about how long you've been procrastinating on these things, and how many chances the universe has given you that you haven't taken. It's time to finally realize what universe you're a part of, and who governs it, and understand that there's a set amount of time for you. If you don't use this time to clear the confusion from your mind, it will pass, you'll pass, and it won't come back.

At every moment, think like a Roman and a human being, focusing on doing what you have to do with complete and simple dignity, affection, freedom, and justice. Free yourself from all other distractions. You'll find relief if you approach every action in your life as if it were your last, setting aside carelessness, irrational aversions, hypocrisy, self-centeredness, and dissatisfaction with what you've been given. Notice how few things are truly necessary for a peaceful life, one that resembles the existence of the gods. The gods themselves wouldn't ask for more from someone who follows these principles.

You're doing yourself wrong, you're doing yourself wrong, my soul; but soon you won't have the chance to honor yourself anymore. Everyone's life is enough. But yours is almost over, and yet your soul doesn't respect itself; instead, it finds happiness in the approval of others.

Are you getting distracted by external things happening around you? Take some time to learn something new and worthwhile, and stop letting yourself get swept up in the chaos. But remember, you also need to avoid being pulled in the opposite direction. There are those who exhaust themselves with constant activity but have no clear purpose guiding their actions and, ultimately, their thoughts.

People rarely become unhappy by not paying attention to what's going on in someone else's mind. However, if you don't pay attention to what's happening in your own mind, you're bound to be unhappy.

Always remember this: understand the nature of the universe and your own nature, and how they are connected. Consider what kind of part you are within this greater whole. Know that no one can stop you from always acting and speaking in ways that align with the nature of which you are a part.

Theophrastus, in his comparison of bad actions—such a comparison as anyone might make based on common human understanding—says, like a true philosopher, that the wrongs committed out of desire are more blameworthy than those committed out of anger. When someone is driven by anger, it seems like they are turning away from reason with a certain pain and involuntary reaction. But when someone does wrong because of desire, being overwhelmed by pleasure, they appear to be more indulgent and, in a way, more irrational in their actions. So, rightly and in a manner befitting philosophy, he argued that an offense committed with pleasure is more blameworthy than one committed with pain. Overall, the first is more like someone who has been wronged and, through pain, is forced to become angry; whereas the second is driven by their own impulse to do wrong, being led by desire to act.

Since it's possible that you could leave this life at any moment, make sure every action and thought is in order. Leaving this world, if there are gods, isn't something to fear because the gods won't lead you into evil. But if they don't exist, or if they don't care about human affairs, why should I worry about living in a universe without gods or divine guidance? In reality, they do exist and they do care about human matters, and they've given us everything we need to avoid true evils. As for anything else, if there was something truly evil, they would have ensured it was within our power to avoid it. Now, if something doesn't make a person worse, how can it make their life worse? It's not possible that the universe, either through ignorance or lack of ability, has ignored these things. Nor is it possible that it has made such a big mistake, either from lack of power or skill, that good and evil would happen randomly to both good and bad people. But death and life, honor and dishonor, pain and pleasure—these things happen equally to good and bad people, and they don't make us better or worse. Therefore, they are neither good nor evil.

Everything fades away so quickly—both the physical things in the universe and the memories of them over time. Think about the nature of all the things we can sense, especially those that lure us with pleasure, scare us with pain, or get hyped up by fleeting fame. They're all so insignificant, trivial, dirty, temporary, and lifeless. It's the job of our intellect to notice this. We should also pay attention to who these people are whose opinions and voices shape reputations; understand what death really is. If you look at death on its own and break down everything your imagination conjures about it, you'll see it's just a natural process. If someone fears a natural process, they're being childish. Death isn't just a natural process; it also serves the purposes of nature. We should also observe how humans connect with the divine, through which part of themselves, and when this part is aligned.

There's nothing more miserable than a person who goes around in circles, digging into things beneath the surface, like the poet says, and trying to guess what's on other people's minds, without realizing it's enough to focus on their own inner spirit and genuinely respect it. Respecting your inner spirit means keeping it free from passion, carelessness, and dissatisfaction with what comes from the gods and other people. The things from the gods deserve our admiration for their excellence, and the things from people should be cherished because we're all connected. Sometimes, they even evoke our sympathy because of people's ignorance of good and evil, which is as significant as not being able to tell the difference between black and white.

Even if you were going to live for three thousand years, or even thirty thousand years, remember that no one loses any life other than the one they're living now, and no one lives any life other than the one they're losing now. The longest and shortest lives are essentially the same. The present moment is the same for everyone, even though what fades away isn't the same; what is lost seems like just a fleeting moment. A person can't lose the past or the future because you can't lose what you don't have. Keep these two things in mind: first, that everything from eternity follows similar patterns and cycles, and it doesn't matter if you see the same things for a hundred years, two hundred years, or forever; and second, that the person who lives the longest and the one who dies the soonest lose exactly the same thing. The present is the only thing a person can be deprived of, if it's true that this is all they really have, and you can't lose something you don't possess.

Remember, everything is just an opinion. What the cynic Monimus said is clear: and it's also clear how useful his words can be, if you take the truth from them.

The human soul harms itself, first of all, when it becomes like a sore or a growth on the universe, as much as it can. Being upset about anything that happens separates us from nature, which includes the essence of everything else. Next, the soul harms itself when it turns away from someone or approaches them with the intention to harm, like those who are angry. Third, the soul harms itself when it is overwhelmed by pleasure or pain. Fourth, when it acts or speaks insincerely or falsely. Fifth, when it allows any action or movement to be aimless, doing things thoughtlessly without considering what they are, since even the smallest actions should have a purpose; and the purpose of rational beings is to follow reason and the law of the most ancient city and society.

Human life is fleeting, constantly changing, and our understanding is often unclear. Our bodies are prone to decay, our minds are restless, and predicting our future is tough. Fame lacks true judgment. In short, everything physical is ever-changing, and everything related to the soul is like a dream or mist. Life is a battle and a temporary stay, and being remembered after we're gone is unlikely. So, what guides a person? Just one thing: philosophy. This means keeping your inner spirit free from harm and above pain and pleasure, acting with purpose and honesty, not relying on others' actions, and accepting whatever happens as part of the universe's plan, just like where we came from. Finally, facing death with a positive attitude, seeing it as simply the breaking down of the elements that make us. If these elements naturally change into something else without harm, why should we fear this change and dissolution? It's all part of nature, and nothing natural is evil.

This is in Carnuntum.

Book Three

We should not only think about how our life is slipping away day by day and how little time we have left, but we also need to consider something else: even if we live longer, it's uncertain whether our mind will still be sharp enough to understand things and keep the ability to explore both the divine and the human. If we start losing our mental faculties, things like sweating, eating, imagining, and wanting won't stop; but our ability to use our minds effectively, fulfill our responsibilities, clearly distinguish between different perceptions, decide if it's time to leave this life, and all other things that require a well-trained mind, will already be gone. We need to hurry, not just because we're getting closer to death every day, but also because our ability to understand and make sense of things fades away first.

We should also notice that even the things that come after natural processes have their own charm and appeal. For example, when bread is baked, some parts crack open on the surface, and these cracks, which happen in a way the baker didn't intend, have a unique beauty and make us want to eat the bread. Similarly, when figs are fully ripe, they split open, and ripe olives, just before they start to rot, have a special beauty. The way ears of corn bend, the lion's eyebrows, and the foam from a wild boar's mouth—these things might not be beautiful on their own, but because they result from natural processes, they add to the overall beauty and are pleasing to the mind. So, if someone has a deep understanding and appreciation for the things in the universe, almost everything that naturally follows will seem pleasing in some way. Such a person will find the real gaping jaws of wild animals as fascinating as those depicted by artists. They will see a certain grace and dignity in elderly people and appreciate the beauty of youth with a respectful gaze. Many things like this might not be pleasing to everyone, but they will be to someone who truly understands and appreciates nature and its creations.

Hippocrates, after curing many diseases, eventually got sick himself and died. The Chaldaei predicted many deaths, but fate caught up with them too. Alexander, Pompey, and Julius Caesar, after destroying entire cities and defeating countless thousands of soldiers in battle, eventually left this life as well. Heraclitus, who speculated so much about the universe's fiery end, ended up dying from a condition that filled him with water and left him covered in mud. Democritus was taken down by lice, and Socrates met the same fate. What does all this mean? You've set sail, completed your journey, and arrived at the shore; it's time to disembark. If there’s another life, there will still be gods there. But if it's a state without sensation, you’ll be free from pain and pleasure, no longer a slave to the body, which is inferior to what serves it: intelligence and divinity, as opposed to earth and decay.

Don't waste the rest of your life worrying about what others are doing unless it relates to something useful for everyone. When you get caught up in thoughts like, "What is that person doing? Why are they doing it? What are they saying or thinking?" you miss the chance to focus on your own inner strength. We should filter out thoughts that are pointless or harmful, especially those that are overly nosy or mean-spirited. Train yourself to think only about things you wouldn't mind sharing if someone suddenly asked, "What are you thinking about right now?" You should be able to answer honestly and openly, showing that your thoughts are straightforward, kind, and fitting for someone who cares about others and isn't focused on pleasure or competition, envy, or suspicion—things you'd be embarrassed to admit. A person like this, who strives to be among the best, is like a priest or a servant of the gods, using the divine spirit within them. This makes them immune to pleasure, unharmed by pain, unaffected by insults, and free from feeling wronged. They fight the noblest battles, can't be overwhelmed by passion, are deeply just, and accept everything that happens to them as their share. They don't often, or without a good reason, worry about what others say, do, or think. They focus on what is theirs to do and constantly reflect on their own role in the grand scheme of things, making sure their actions are good and believing their share is fair. Each person's destiny is intertwined with them, and they remember that every rational being is a relative, and caring for everyone is natural. They value the opinions of those who live naturally, not those who don't. They keep in mind what kind of people these others are, both in private and public, day and night, and who they associate with in their impure lives. Therefore, they don't care about praise from such people, as these individuals aren't even content with themselves.

Work willingly and with an eye on the common good. Be thoughtful and focused, and don't let fancy words dress up your thoughts. Avoid being overly talkative or juggling too many tasks at once. Let the spirit within you guide you as a mature, responsible person involved in public affairs, a Roman leader ready to answer life's call without needing promises or validation from others. Stay positive and don't rely on outside help or the peace that others might offer. A person should stand tall on their own, not be propped up by others.

If you find anything in life better than justice, truth, temperance, fortitude, or, in short, anything better than the satisfaction your mind gets from doing things according to right reason and accepting the situation you're given without your choice, then go for it wholeheartedly and enjoy what you've found to be the best. But if nothing seems better than the divine part within you, which controls your desires, carefully examines all impressions, and, as Socrates said, has freed itself from the influence of the senses, submitted to the gods, and cares for humanity; if you find everything else to be smaller and less valuable than this, don't give way to anything else. Because if you do, you'll no longer be able to focus on that good thing which is truly yours. It's not right for anything else, like praise from others, power, or pleasure, to compete with what is rationally and practically good. All these things, even if they seem to align with better things a little, quickly take over and lead us astray. So, I say, simply and freely choose the better and stick with it. But if something is useful, it is better. Well then, if it's useful to you as a rational being, stick with it. But if it's only useful to you as an animal, acknowledge it and hold your judgment without arrogance. Just make sure you investigate it with a reliable method.

Never consider anything beneficial for yourself if it forces you to break your promises, lose your self-respect, hate someone, become suspicious, curse, act like a hypocrite, or desire things that need to be hidden. If you prioritize intelligence, your inner spirit, and the pursuit of excellence above all else, you won't play a tragic role in life. You won't need to groan, seek solitude, or crave company. Most importantly, you won't be obsessed with chasing or avoiding death. Whether your soul stays in your body for a long or short time, it won't matter to you. Even if you have to leave immediately, you'll do so as calmly as if you were doing anything else that can be done with dignity and order. Throughout life, just make sure your thoughts stay aligned with what is fitting for an intelligent being and a member of a community.

In the mind of someone who has been disciplined and purified, you won't find any corruption, impurity, or hidden wounds. When fate catches up with him, his life doesn't feel unfinished, like an actor leaving the stage before the play is over. Moreover, there's nothing in him that's servile, fake, overly attached, or completely detached from other things. There's nothing blameworthy or in need of hiding.

Respect the ability that forms your opinions. This ability is crucial in determining whether your core beliefs align with nature and the essence of a rational being. This ability offers freedom from making rash decisions, fosters goodwill towards others, and encourages harmony with the divine.

Let go of everything else and focus on just a few important things. Remember, everyone only lives in the present moment, which is just a tiny point in time. Everything else in life is either in the past or uncertain. So, the time each person has is short, and the place where they live is just a small corner of the world. Even the longest-lasting fame after death is brief, carried on by a series of ordinary people who will soon die themselves and don't even truly know themselves, let alone someone who passed away long ago.

Here's another tip to add to the ones we've talked about: Create a clear definition or description of whatever you're dealing with. This helps you understand exactly what it is in its essence, in its bare form, and in its entirety. Identify its proper name and the names of the elements that make it up and those it will break down into. Nothing elevates the mind more than being able to methodically and truthfully examine everything life throws at you. Always try to see how each thing fits into the universe, what role it plays, its value in the grand scheme of things, and its value to us as humans, who are part of the largest community, where all other communities are like families. Understand what each thing is, what it's made of, how long it will last, and what virtues you need to deal with it, like kindness, courage, honesty, loyalty, simplicity, contentment, and so on. Therefore, in every situation, remind yourself: this comes from a higher power; this is part of the destiny that's been spun for me, and such coincidences and chances; and this is from someone who shares my nature, a relative and partner, even if they don't understand their own nature. But I do; that's why I treat them with kindness and fairness, following the natural law of fellowship. Meanwhile, in things that don't really matter, I try to figure out their true value.

If you focus on the task at hand, following sound judgment seriously, energetically, and calmly, without letting anything distract you, and keep your inner self pure as if you might have to return it at any moment; if you stick to this, expecting nothing, fearing nothing, and are content with your current actions in line with nature, speaking and acting with genuine truth, you will live happily. And no one can stop you from doing this.