What matters? Not fame. Marcus Aurelius 5.33

Marcus asks himself how to live, and comes up with a Stoic answer: do right by gods and man; don't aspire to exercise control over your life that you don't actually have. Don't worry about fame, or being canceled; these things are necessarily insignificant.

Ὅσον οὐδέπω σποδὸς ἢ σκελετὸς καὶ ἤτοι ὄνομα ἢ οὐδὲ ὄνομα, τὸ δὲ ὄνομα ψόφος καὶ ἀπήχημα. τὰ δὲ ἐν τῷ βίῳ πολυτίμητα κενὰ καὶ σαπρὰ καὶ μικρά· καὶ κυνίδια διαδακνόμενα καὶ παιδία φιλόνεικα, γελῶντα εἶτα εὐθὺς κλαίοντα. Πίστις δὲ καὶ Αἰδὼς καὶ Δίκη καὶ Ἀλήθεια

    πρὸς Ὄλυμπον ἀπὸ χθονὸς εὐρυοδείης.

τί οὖν ἔτι τὸ ἐνταῦθα κατέχον, εἴ γε τὰ μὲν αἰσθητὰ εὐμετάβλητα καὶ οὐχ ἑστῶτα, τὰ δὲ αἰσθητήρια ἀμυδρὰ καὶ εὐπαρατύπωτα, αὐτὸ δὲ τὸ ψυχάριον ἀναθυμίασις ἀφ’ αἵματος, τὸ δὲ εὐδοκιμεῖν παρὰ τοιούτοις κενόν; τί οὖν; περιμένειν ἵλεων τὴν εἴτε σβέσιν εἴτε μετάστασιν· ἕως δὲ ἐκείνης ὁ καιρὸς ἐφίσταται, τί ἀρκεῖ; τί δὲ ἄλλο ἢ θεοὺς μὲν σέβειν καὶ εὐφημεῖν, ἀνθρώπους δὲ εὖ ποιεῖν καὶ ἀνέχεσθαι αὐτῶν καὶ ἀπέχεσθαι· ὅσα δὲ ἐντὸς ὅρων τοῦ κρεᾳδίου καὶ τοῦ πνευματίου, ταῦτα μεμνῆσθαι μήτε σὰ ὄντα μήτε ἐπὶ σοί.

Fame and the lack thereof are not even as substantial as ash or bones, for our names are mere noise and echo. The things folk constantly praise in life are empty, rotten, and mean. Little dogs snap at each other, and the little kids snark, mocking and then screaming as they strive for glory. Where are faith and shame, justice and truth?

    Fled to Olympus, far from Earth's wide ways (†).

What then remains to hold us here, if appearances are fleeting and easily changed? If our senses are dull and easily fooled? If our little soul is nothing more than a breath of vapor, rising from the blood? If, on top of all this, prospering in the public eye is also vain, then what remains? Simply to await our end, whether it be a sudden quenching of life's flame or a low guttering as it gradually fades to black. Until that moment is upon us, what matters? What else but worshipping the gods, blessing their divinity with our mouths, and treating people well, bearing them up and refusing to burden them. As you look upon everything inside your body and soul, remember that what you see is not yours, and that it is beyond your power to control.

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(†) Marcus here quotes Hesiod (Works & Days 198). The passage he alludes to is from the ancient poet's account of the Iron Age, which comes after the age of Heroes, the Bronze Age, the Silver Age, and the Golden Age at the dawn of our mortality. As you can probably guess, the Iron Age is depicted as a time of physical and moral degeneracy: its people are short-lived, with bad attitudes. A fuller quotation (lines 195-201) will show the general picture Marcus alludes to here, when he finds his own era fraught with wicked strife, tending to ruin more society than it builds.

ζῆλος δ᾽ ἀνθρώποισιν ὀιζυροῖσιν ἅπασι

δυσκέλαδος κακόχαρτος ὁμαρτήσει, στυγερώπης.

καὶ τότε δὴ πρὸς Ὄλυμπον ἀπὸ χθονὸς εὐρυοδείης

λευκοῖσιν φάρεσσι καλυψαμένα χρόα καλὸν

ἀθανάτων μετὰ φῦλον ἴτον προλιπόντ᾽ ἀνθρώπους

Αἰδὼς καὶ Νέμεσις· τὰ δὲ λείψεται ἄλγεα λυγρὰ

θνητοῖς ἀνθρώποισι· κακοῦ δ᾽ οὐκ ἔσσεται ἀλκή.

Still with men shall Envy bide

While Shame & Vengeance leave our side.

Envy shrieks with evil face

Takes delight in all disgrace.

Shrinking, hiding from his sight

Shame & Vengeance, veiled, take flight.

To Olympus hence they'll go

Leaving nought for us but woe.

The tribe of gods shall take them in

As Earth surrenders all to sin.