Get up, lazybones! Marcus Aurelius 5.1

Marcus rousts himself from bed to begin the fifth book of Notes.

Ὄρθρου, ὅταν δυσόκνως ἐξεγείρῃ, πρόχειρον ἔστω ὅτι ἐπὶ ἀνθρώπου ἔργον ἐγείρομαι· ἔτι οὖν δυσκολαίνω, εἰ πορεύομαι ἐπὶ τὸ ποιεῖν ὧν ἕνεκεν γέγονα καὶ ὧν χάριν προῆγμαι εἰς τὸν κόσμον; ἢ ἐπὶ τοῦτο κατεσκεύασμαι, ἵνα κατακείμενος ἐν στρωματίοις ἐμαυτὸν θάλπω; ἀλλὰ τοῦτο ἥδιον. πρὸς τὸ ἥδεσθαι οὖν γέγονας, ὅλως δὲ πρὸς πεῖσιν, οὐ πρὸς ἐνέργειαν; οὐ βλέπεις τὰ φυτάρια, τὰ στρουθάρια, τοὺς μύρμηκας, τοὺς ἀράχνας, τὰς μελίσσας τὸ ἴδιον ποιούσας, τὸ καθ’ αὑτὰς συγκοσμούσας κόσμον; ἔπειτα σὺ οὐ θέλεις τὰ ἀνθρωπικὰ ποιεῖν; οὐ τρέχεις ἐπὶ τὸ κατὰ τὴν σὴν φύσιν; ἀλλὰ δεῖ καὶ ἀναπαύεσθαι. δεῖ· φημὶ κἀγώ· ἔδωκε μέντοι καὶ τούτου μέτρα ἡ φύσις, ἔδωκε μέντοι καὶ τοῦ ἐσθίειν καὶ πίνειν, καὶ ὅμως σὺ ὑπὲρ τὰ μέτρα, ὑπὲρ τὰ ἀρκοῦντα προχωρεῖς, ἐν δὲ ταῖς πράξεσιν οὐκ ἔτι, ἀλλ’ ἐντὸς τοῦ δυνατοῦ. οὐ γὰρ φιλεῖς σεαυτόν, ἐπεί τοι καὶ τὴν φύσιν ἄν σου καὶ τὸ βούλημα ταύτης ἐφίλεις. ἄλλοι δὲ τὰς τέχνας ἑαυτῶν φιλοῦντες συγκατατήκονται τοῖς κατ’ αὐτὰς ἔργοις ἄλουτοι καὶ ἄσιτοι· σὺ τὴν φύσιν τὴν σαυτοῦ ἔλασσον τιμᾷς ἢ ὁ τορευτὴς τὴν τορευτικὴν ἢ ὁ ὀρχηστὴς τὴν ὀρχηστικὴν ἢ ὁ φιλάργυρος τὸ ἀργύριον ἢ ὁ κενόδοξος τὸ δοξάριον. καὶ οὗτοι, ὅταν προσπαθῶσιν, οὔτε φαγεῖν οὔτε κοιμηθῆναι θέλουσι μᾶλλον ἢ ταῦτα συναύξειν, πρὸς ἃ διαφέρονται· σοὶ δὲ αἱ κοινωνικαὶ πράξεις εὐτελέστεραι φαίνονται καὶ ἥσσονος σπουδῆς ἄξιαι;

Whenever you awaken in a lazy stupor, get up. Have this insight ready: I have risen for the work of man. Shall I groan and grumble, as I set about doing that for which I was born, the task whose glory drew me into the world? Or has destiny prepared me to lie idle abed, warming myself with blankets? This fate is sweeter. No doubt, but were you born to pleasure, to be given over wholly to appetite rather than activity? Don't you see the small plants all around, and the little birds, the ants and spiders and bees, going about their own business, all of them arranging together the tiny world that's theirs? Still unwilling to do human work? Aren't you running now against your own nature? But we have to give it a rest sometimes! Of course. I agree. Nature has given us a share of rest, even as she has given us our portion of food and drink, but you persist in going beyond her measure, consulting what is possible instead of what is practical. You do not love yourself, for that would require you to love both your own nature and her will, which is to temperance, even when painful. Other folk waste away by practising arts they profess to love, going dirty and unfed as an indication of their dedication. You love your nature less than the sculptor loves his reliefs, less than the dancer loves dancing, or the miser money, or the conceited his little moment of glory. All these people, no matter what their experience, desire food and sleep less than they long to build whatever works they have chosen. Do the endeavors you share seem any cheaper than theirs, any less deserving?