Tempus edax rerum. Marcus Aurelius 2.17


Marcus ends his second book with a meditation on time, death, and philosophy. As we live, time shows us mortality: the fact that we and other life must die. Philosophy can help us make peace with this, preparing us to release life happily when our time comes, and to be grateful meanwhile for all the gifts of fortune, even those that seem evil. <Greek>.


Τοῦ ἀνθρωπίνου βίου ὁ μὲν χρόνος στιγμή, ἡ δὲ οὐσία ῥέουσα, ἡ δὲ αἴσθησις ἀμυδρά, ἡ δὲ ὅλου τοῦ σώματος σύγκρισις εὔσηπτος, ἡ δὲ ψυχὴ ῥόμβος, ἡ δὲ τύχη δυστέκμαρτον, ἡ δὲ φήμη ἄκριτον· συνελόντι δὲ εἰπεῖν, πάντα τὰ μὲν τοῦ σώματος ποταμός, τὰ δὲ τῆς ψυχῆς ὄνειρος καὶ τῦφος, ὁ δὲ βίος πόλεμος καὶ ξένου ἐπιδημία, ἡ δὲ ὑστεροφημία λήθη. τί οὖν τὸ παραπέμψαι δυνάμενον; ἓν καὶ μόνον φιλοσοφία· τοῦτο δὲ ἐν τῷ τηρεῖν τὸν ἔνδον δαίμονα ἀνύβριστον καὶ ἀσινῆ, ἡδονῶν καὶ πόνων κρείσσονα, μηδὲν εἰκῇ ποιοῦντα μηδὲ διεψευσμένως καὶ μεθ̓ ὑποκρίσεως, ἀνενδεῆ τοῦ ἄλλον ποιῆσαί τι ἢ μὴ ποιῆσαι· ἔτι δὲ τὰ συμβαίνοντα καὶ ἀπονεμόμενα δεχόμενον ὡς ἐκεῖθέν ποθεν ἐρχόμενα, ὅθεν αὐτὸς ἦλθεν· ἐπὶ πᾶσι δὲ τὸν θάνατον ἵλεῳ τῇ γνώμῃ περιμένοντα ὡς οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ λύσιν τῶν στοιχείων, ἐξ ὧν ἕκαστον ζῷον συγκρίνεται. εἰ δὲ αὐτοῖς τοῖς στοιχείοις μηδὲν δεινὸν ἐν τῷ ἕκαστον διηνεκῶς εἰς ἕτερον μεταβάλλειν, διὰ τί ὑπίδηταί τις τὴν πάντων μεταβολὴν καὶ διάλυσιν; κατὰ φύσιν γάρ· οὐδὲν δὲ κακὸν κατὰ φύσιν.


Time punctuates human life. Wealth flows with the tides. Powers of perception go dim. Sinews well-knit are quick to rot. The soul is a spinning rhombus, roaring as it whirls (†). Fortune remains hard to read, and the spoken word lies ever in doubt. To put it briefly: all the goods of the body are a river, flowing swiftly past, while those of the soul are a dream that lies. Life is war, and foreign exile; and the fame we hand down to posterity is forgetfulness. What is there capable of escorting us to the grave? Only one thing: philosophy. We find philosophy by watching our inner spirit, keeping it immune to outrage and injury, making it mightier than pleasures and toils—until it does nothing at random or under false pretenses, and has no need to do anything other than what it does. Then it will accept all events, receiving all its fate as kin unto itself, since they come from the same origins. In every circumstance it will await death with calm resolve, recognizing its mortality as nothing but the dissolution of material elements from which every living thing is made. As there is nothing terrible in the fact that these elements are changing constantly, each turning into the other over time (‡), why should anyone look askance at the evolution and dissolution of the entire world? This is simply the nature of things, and there is nothing evil by nature.

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(†) The musical instrument known to Greeks as the rhombus (ῥόμβος) is very ancient, appearing all over the world in primitive cultures (cf. Alfred Haddon, The Study of Man, ch. 10; Otto Zerries, Das Schwirrholz; Alan Dundes, "A Psychoanalytic Study of the Bullroarer" in Man 11.2). There are even Paleolithic exemplars extant (cf. Harding, "The Bullroarer in History and in Antiquity" in African Music 5.3). The basic form of the instrument is a carved blade, usually stone or bone or wood, pierced with a hole through which a cord is strung. The instrument is played by first twisting the cord, then spinning it in great circles, causing the blade to roar as it cuts through the air. Besides the Greek name, which we inherit as part of Euclidean geometry (its blade is often rhomboid), the instrument has others: bullroarer (British), thunderspell (British), brummer (Scandinavian), Waldteufel (German), turndun (Australian), purerehua (Maori), tsin ndi'ni' (Navajo), tzi-ditindi (Apache), matapu (Mehinaku), and many more.

(‡) Marcus refers here to the ancient observation that our world is made up of material elements that change form over time, becoming each other in a series of transformations that continue as long as worlds endure. Ancient elements, unlike modern, are defined intuitively, in terms that admit many different chemicals and processes as notionally the same. Thus, earth produces a dead tree. Lightning from the air strikes it, causing it to catch fire, which transforms the earth into smoke. Smoke ascends as air into the clouds, which come down upon us as water, which feeds the earth to make new trees and start the cycle over. Marcus avoids committing himself closely to any of the various different cosmologies elucidating this common outlook because what he cares about is mortality, not physical science. Because of this, his reflections are still up to date. Though the narrative of science has changed, mortality has not. We still exist as living beings in ecosystems that transform themselves and us via natural processes punctuated by death. Marcus would not be surprised to hear Bret Weinstein explain that cellular life finds itself lethally caught between cancer and the Hayflick limit.