October 1, 2024
Few men suffered through life like Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius. He was forced into a throne he didn’t want to inherit, fought countless military campaigns against foreign invaders, lost most of his children, was betrayed by his closest ally, and plagued with chronic illness his entire life.
Yet while many in this situation would grow embittered and cynical, by all accounts Marcus Aurelius lived a remarkable life of selfless nobility. In his day, he was known and loved as a strong and generous leader. In our day, his Meditations is known as a hallmark of stoic philosophy, and a guidebook for living virtuously in the face of pain and evil.
What was Marcus’ secret? How did he overcome suffering, and thrive in the midst of it? Today, we unpack the secret that fueled the wisdom of history’s most renowned philosopher-king.
Aurelius’ secret comes down to one phrase in his work Meditations:
“The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”
The idea behind this sentence is that the things which seem to be obstacles in your life — the things that keep you from attaining your goals — are not obstacles at all. Rather, they are the very conduits that help you achieve those goals.
This begins to make more sense when you see it in the context of what Marcus Aurelius believed about life. He believed that the purpose of life was eudaimonia, or human flourishing. It’s a term that comes from Aristotle, who defined eudaimonia as “activity of the soul in accordance with virtue.”
Aurelius’ life was full of suffering. But he understood that suffering wasn’t an impediment in his pursuit of eudaimonia. Instead, he knew hardship was precisely what extended to him the opportunity to practice the “activity of the soul in accordance with virtue” — for virtue is like a light, burning brightest in the midst of darkness.
But what did this look like practically? One episode from late in Aurelius’ life puts this concept on full display…
When Macrus Aurelius was sick and nearing the end of his life, his most trusted general, Avidius Cassius, betrayed him and declared himself emperor. Aurelius was fully aware that if Cassius pulled off the coup, it would be his head paraded around Rome on a pike.
So how did he respond? Out of anger or wrath? Did he order his troops to immediately crush the rebellion?
Quite the opposite, in fact — Aurelius kept the betrayal a secret from his men, hoping to give Cassius a chance to come to his senses. Only when he didn’t, and when conflict became unavoidable, did Aurelius act. But even then, he said he would still:
“Forgive a man who has wronged one, remain a friend to one who has transgressed friendship, continue faithful to one who has broken faith.”
In other words, he saw this betrayal as an opportunity to practice virtue, to act magnanimously and spare the life of a man who deserved to die. He ordered his troops to do what was necessary to keep the peace in Rome, but to not act out vindictively — because he knew that doing so would only lead to more violence.
As fate would have it, someone in Cassius’s camp decided to put an end to the chaos himself, and he murdered Cassius. So while Aurelius never got to put his intended magnanimity into practice, he did get to practice another one of the stoic virtues: amor fati.
Amor fati is another stoic principle which means “love of fate.” Practically, it means to neither resent nor seek to avoid the events of life as they happen to you — rather, it means to embrace them.
As Macrus Aurelius himself wrote, “A blazing fire makes flame and brightness out of everything thrown into it.” In other words, even hardship and difficulty is tinder to the flame of your potential and purpose.
Aurelius certainly practiced amor fati when he was betrayed by Cassius — instead of devolving into anger and frustration, he accepted the situation as it was and acted accordingly in light of it.
But Aurelius also practiced amor fati throughout his life. 12 of his 13 children predeceased him, and amor fati helped him get through the worst of these heartbreaking moments. It helped him reconcile his grief by practicing the virtue of faith, trusting that his children’s death somehow made sense in light of a larger story, even though that story was beyond his understanding.
This same mindset also helped him persevere throughout a life of chronic illness. He believed his physical suffering benefitted him and his spirit, even though that benefit was never immediately obvious. He believed destiny gave him whatever was necessary for his flourishing, and wrote:
“Accept whatever destiny brings you, because what could better fit your needs?”
Aurelius believed that eudaimonia (the “activity of the soul in accordance with virtue”) was the purpose of life. Because of this, he didn’t shy away from hardship, but welcomed it with open arms — because he knew it would help him grow in virtue and towards eudaimonia.
By accepting difficulty as a gift intended to help you grow, you both suffer less and grow more in the midst of hardship. Obstacles cease to be obstacles and instead become conduits for your growth.
“A blazing fire makes flame and brightness out of everything thrown into it.” Amor fati is very similar to the principle behind “the obstacle is the way,” but it focuses more on embracing all of what happens to you as a gift.
In many ways, amor fati is the precondition of faith that is necessary before you can even see an obstacle as a path to growth. It is the wholehearted embrace of fate and of everything that happens to you — it means you wish not that things were different, but are grateful for them being exactly as they are. By practicing amor fati, you can go through even the most painful of hardships with a sense of inner calm and peace.
Marcus Aurelius did not write Meditations for publication — it was his personal notebook for his own private reflections. Yet unbeknownst to him, his writing would get passed down and go on to inspire millions of readers.
Aurelius’ pain may have often seemed pointless to him — why was he so destined to suffer? But providence works in mysterious ways, and the reflections he wrote in the midst of his suffering have served to transform the lives of countless others. So even when you can’t see a reason behind your suffering, know that it’s never without purpose — it may indeed serve a purpose greater than anything you can imagine.
If you enjoyed this email and want to support my work, the best way to do so is by purchasing a fresh bag of Imperium Coffee.
All the proceeds go towards sharing more stories like this and helping others learn from the lives of great men — since you’re on this list, you can use the code INVICTUS10 for 10% off your order!
Thanks as always for your support, and I look forward to seeing you on this week’s Spaces.
Ad finem fidelis,
Evan
