I knew within a few lines this was going to be treasure. The kind of book that demands a pencil in one hand, checking off this, underlining that. Stedall is a word master, and without any cheap tricks or somersaults, he had me instantly intrigued. Outlining his personal search in the Introduction for that eternal question we all surely ask (or should) about the meaning of life, Stedall ponders what Marcus Aurelius might have said on the matter.
Called "one of five good Roman Emperors" (AD 121-180), Marcus Aurelius was known for his philosophical Meditations, a treatise on the definition of right and wrong without religious constraint and the value of a good man. Centuries later, author Stedall finds himself pondering these same questions, imagining what those answers might have been had he been overheard discussing such matters among his closest confidantes.
To have a value system means that first we must examine our lives with an unflinching inner eye. Stedall had been attracted to Marcus Aurelius' Meditations for their "vigorous engagement in life." Without a divine power handing down commandments to follow, defining good and right, can these concepts still exist? If we have no fear of hell and no desire for heaven, what might those values be? What makes a good man good?
"Increasing the richness of the tapestry of one's understanding must inevitably increase the comfort (or discomfort) or our awareness of the material world. Knowledge, therefore, is not only power but, of its nature, it modifies action and behavior."
This is an engaging series of discussions of a somewhat fictionalized Roman emperor in friendly debate with his friends and military comrades. From chapters headed "On the Brevity of Life and the Need to Seek Meaning," "On the Pursuit of Purpose," "On the Supreme Good," and "On the Pursuit of the Virtuous Life," Stedall gives us simple but solid reasoning.
But what of value? If we have purpose, and we have blessing, what do we value? As for those who value nothing, Aurelius remarks pointedly: "If nothing is valued, one does not risk losing anything of value. However, it seems to me that this philosophy promotes an unbecoming lack of engagement with life, a general retreat from life. Indeed, such a philosophy would perhaps hold it best not be born in the first place; engagement places us at risk of disappointment in our endeavors, and grief at our loss of persons and things we love, but this is the price we pay for being born with natural gifts and accompanying obligations."
A life well-lived is not measured by success in our endeavors, but in the endeavoring itself. It is the journey, and not the destination. It is the process, and not the end result. The blessing that does not perish is what comes from a life so lived, and is, finally, unscathed by success as modern society would measure it.
Now Aurelius sinks his teeth into the meat of the issue: values. And from those values - morals:
"The judgments of others are fickle. Today's acclaimed hero will soon be cast down by public opinion as yesterday's fool or villain. The only judgment we need to consider is that of our own conscience... If others conduct themselves badly, so be it. The condition of each man's soul is his own responsibility."
If any reader thinks that is letting you off easy, think again. There is no harsher master than one's own conscience, certainly not when one has a working mind. Aurelius (that is, Stedall) takes on the dissection of good and evil; it is fascinating to watch the concepts take shape without various religious laws to fall back upon. He does it skillfully, with reason as his tool of precision, logic falling neatly into place like an intricate puzzle. There is room here for pain, and there is room for tragedy. That inevitable question of "why me?" is addressed as well. Joy has its place, and so does peace, as each sends out ripples to begin another ripple in neat succession.