Transcript:
Marcus Aurelius never wrote meditations. At least he never wrote a book called meditations. He didn't publish it. He didn't write it for an audience. As far as we know, he never imagined you would read it. What survived were notes Marcus wrote to himself. And once you know that, the book makes a lot more sense. Because Marcus repeats himself constantly. You're going to die. Stop caring about what other people think. Do your duty. Control your judgments. Don't get angry at idiots. Then 20 pages later, you're going to die. Stop worrying about what people think. That's not bad editing. It's practice. We're not reading a philosopher explaining stoicism after he's mastered it. We're reading someone trying to live it. And this particular someone happened to be the emperor of Rome. He had wars, plague, political intrigue, endless petitions, flatterers, enemies, and almost unimaginable power. So he kept reminding himself, don't let power corrupt you. Don't chase reputation. Don't lose your temper. Remember that you're going to die. Then Marcus dies in the year 180. And somebody keeps the notes. Around the year 900, a Byzantine scholar named Arethas says he has an old copy of Marcus's writings that's literally falling apart. So he has another one made. Think about what that means. Before printing, a book survived only because generation after generation of human beings kept deciding this is worth copying again. Eventually in 1559, Meditations is printed. Marcus wasn't trying to write a masterpiece. He was trying to become a better human being. And here's what makes the whole story almost perfect. Marcus repeatedly tells himself that fame is meaningless, that everyone dies, that eventually everyone is forgotten. And somehow his private reminders about not caring whether anyone remembered him became the thing he's remembered for almost 2,000 years later.
