Meditations 10:8

Epithets for yourself: Upright. Modest. Straightforward.

Sane. Cooperative. Disinterested.

Try not to exchange them for others.

And if you should forfeit them, set about getting them back.

Keep in mind that "sanity" means understanding things—each individual thing—for what they are. And not losing the thread.

And "cooperation" means accepting what nature assigns you—accepting it willingly.

And "disinterest" means that the intelligence should rise above the movements of the flesh—the rough and the smooth alike. Should rise above fame, above death, and everything like them.

If you maintain your claim to these epithets—without caring if others apply them to you or not—you'll become a new person, living a new life. 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.

Set sail, then, with this handful of epithets to guide you.

And steer a steady course, if you can. Like an emigrant to the islands of the blest. And if you feel yourself adrift—as if you've lost control—then hope for the best, and put in somewhere where you can regain it. Or leave life altogether, not in anger, but matter—of—factly, straightforwardly, without arrogance, in the knowledge that you've at least done that much with your life.

And as you try to keep these epithets in mind, it will help you a great deal to keep the gods in mind as well. What they want is not flattery, but for rational things to be like them.

For figs to do what figs were meant to do—and dogs, and bees . . . and people.