A Conversation Across Two Thousand Years

📖 What I've Been Reading

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius

A few weeks ago, I picked up a copy of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. It had been sitting on my reading list for years, recommended by everyone from entrepreneurs and athletes to military leaders and historians. Like many books that acquire almost mythical status, I approached it with a healthy degree of scepticism. Whenever something is praised by everyone, there's a part of me that assumes it can't possibly live up to the hype.

What I discovered was not what I expected.

Before reading the book, I knew the broad outline of Marcus Aurelius' story. He was a Roman Emperor, widely regarded as one of history's greatest rulers and one of the leading figures of Stoic philosophy. What I didn't appreciate was that Meditations was never intended to be a book at all.

It was a journal.

A private collection of notes, reflections, reminders and observations written largely to himself. Marcus wasn't building an audience. He wasn't trying to publish a bestseller. He wasn't creating a philosophy course or establishing himself as a thought leader. He was simply attempting to make sense of life while carrying the responsibilities that came with leading the most powerful empire on earth.

Perhaps that is why the book feels so honest.

As I worked through its pages, I found myself repeatedly forgetting that these words were written nearly two thousand years ago. In many ways, the world Marcus inhabited would be completely unrecognisable to us. The Roman Empire, horse-drawn travel, handwritten letters, wars fought with swords and shields, all of it belongs to a distant chapter of human history.

Yet the concerns occupying his mind felt remarkably familiar.

He worried about distraction. He reflected on the shortness of life. He wrestled with frustration, disappointment, responsibility and the opinions of others. He thought deeply about character, purpose, discipline and what it meant to live a good life. Strip away the Roman Empire and replace it with smartphones, email and social media, and much of what he was grappling with could easily belong to someone writing today.

That realisation struck me more than any individual lesson in the book.

We often convince ourselves that we are living through uniquely complicated times. Every generation seems to believe its challenges are unprecedented. Yet reading Meditations reminded me that while technology changes, human nature remains remarkably consistent. We still struggle with many of the same fears, temptations, insecurities and questions that have followed people for centuries.

One passage in particular stayed with me. Marcus writes, "You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength."

The older I get, the more relevant that idea seems.

Much of modern life feels designed to pull our attention toward things we cannot control. News headlines compete for our outrage. Social media encourages comparison. Markets fluctuate. Politics shifts. Opinions multiply. Entire industries have been built around capturing and monetising our attention.

Against that backdrop, Marcus' words feel refreshingly simple. His reminder is not that external events don't matter, but that our greatest influence lies in how we respond to them. It is an idea that sounds obvious until you start paying attention to how often you forget it.

Another theme that appears repeatedly throughout the book is Marcus' awareness of time. He returns to it again and again, not in a morbid or pessimistic way, but as a reminder to remain focused on what matters. Reading those passages forced me to confront a question I suspect many of us avoid.

How often do we behave as though there will always be more time?

More time to call a friend.

More time to spend with family.

More time to take the trip.

More time to start the project.

More time to have the conversation.

Perhaps there will be. Perhaps there won't.

What Marcus seems to understand is that an awareness of life's brevity should not make us anxious. It should make us present. It should sharpen our appreciation for the people around us and the opportunities already in front of us.

The final lesson that stayed with me was his relentless focus on character. Not reputation. Not status. Not success. Character.

Throughout Meditations, Marcus repeatedly returns to a question that feels increasingly rare in modern culture: What kind of person should I be?

Not what should everyone else be doing.

Not why is the world unfair.

Not how can I become more successful.

What kind of person should I be?

As a husband, father, coach and business owner, I found myself returning to that question long after I had put the book down. Not because I have an answer, but because it strikes me as the sort of question worth revisiting throughout life.

What impressed me most about Marcus Aurelius wasn't his wisdom. It was his humility. Despite his position, power and influence, he writes like a man who is still learning. There is very little certainty in these pages and a great deal of reflection. He is not presenting solutions so much as wrestling with questions.

Perhaps that is why the book has endured for nearly two thousand years.

Not because Marcus Aurelius figured life out.

But because he understood that the important questions rarely change.

☕ Over Coffee

Have you ever read a book that arrived at exactly the right time in your life?

I'd love to hear what it was and why it stayed with you.

Chat laters,

Snoopy