Book IV feels personal.
Not just as a reader — but because I see something of myself in Aurelius.
Not in stature or wisdom. But in attitude, and how he wrestles with the same tensions I do.
Key reflections:
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“The fire becomes stronger by consuming what’s thrown into it.”
That’s how he describes the soul. Not as fragile — but as something that grows through challenge.
That image stayed with me. -
He says people run to retreats — nature, villas, silence.
But you can retreat into yourself anytime.
That struck a chord. I’ve always been like that — I don’t need the world to be peaceful.
I can adapt. Create structure. Focus. Even in chaos. -
He talks about being forgotten — and accepting it.
It’s more than intellectual detachment. It feels like a deep inner strength.
I understand what he means — but I don’t know if I feel it as fully as he does.
Maybe I’ll evolve toward that. -
The decomposition of the body — back into soil, into atoms.
He’s genuinely at peace with that.
And 2000 years ago, he already saw the cycle: decay becomes nourishment.
What’s fascinating is how natural — even beautiful — it seems to him. -
“Remove the impression, and you remove the hurt.”
One of the strongest lines in the book.
It echoes Viktor Frankl: between stimulus and response, there is space.
That space is freedom. And responsibility. -
He praises goodness again.
The idea that living in accordance with the good is enough.
I wonder — did Christian ethics influence him? Or is this just parallel wisdom? -
He emphasizes reason — again.
But not just cold logic.
It’s reason guided by virtue. Without it, intellect can go dark. -
He diminishes fame — completely.
He says not even glory during life is worth much.
That cut deep. I still feel the pull of recognition, even if I know it’s hollow.
Aurelius was stronger. Or at least, more resolved. -
Beauty is not external approval.
Something is beautiful in itself. Not because people praise it.
That hit me hard. It reframes how I think about value — and validation. -
He keeps returning to death — perhaps too often.
It’s repetitive at times. But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe he’s not preaching, but training himself — repetition as reinforcement. -
“Don’t focus on others — focus on yourself.”
Pure stoicism — but also echoes Jesus: “remove the plank from your own eye”.
A universal truth. -
Life is short. Prioritize.
Over and over again — he reminds himself to focus on what matters.
That hit me hard. I often over-focus, hyper-zoom on one task.
But maybe, as he says, that’s not a flaw. Maybe it’s a gift. -
Accept what must be — and don’t resist the inevitable.
His words carry a strange peace — not passive, but grounded. -
He praises justice. Then again, and again.
It’s not justice as legality — but as fairness, dignity, and rightness in action. -
On people’s opinions:
“What happens to you happens to everyone. But not everyone endures it with dignity.”
That stuck with me. It’s not the event — it’s the posture. -
And finally — he says something that feels like me:
If someone shows you a better argument, be willing to change your mind.
I’ve always believed in that.
My beliefs aren’t possessions — they’re conclusions. If they stop fitting the truth, I let them go.
And in that — I feel close to Marcus.
Takeaway from Book IV:
The soul is strong when it absorbs, not avoids.
Life is short — and fame won’t matter.
What you do, how you think, and whether you act in accordance with virtue — that’s what defines the quality of your time.
And all else, in time, is forgotten.