One of the most life-changing experiences during my trip to Italy was delving into Stoic philosophy, particularly through the writings of Marcus Aurelius.
Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Emperor, held the most powerful position in the world at his time.
Yet, his writings in Meditations were not meant for anyone but himself; they were deeply personal reflections, a kind of diary.
Diaries offer a unique glimpse into the mind of their authors, and Marcus’s stands out as it comes from the highest seat of power, combined with a person of great rectitude.
The act of keeping a diary is intimate, almost like peering directly into the writer’s thoughts.
Modern authors sometimes donate or sell their personal notes to universities or auction houses.
I recently read an article about Ian McEwan, who admitted he couldn’t continue writing a diary because he feared that one day his private thoughts might be sold for a vast sum of money.
This contrast between modern concerns and the purity of intention behind Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations – a work never inteded for public eyes – led me to relect on how deeply personal writings can resonate across time and cultures.
As I delved into Meditations, one discovery I notice is the striking resemblance to Eastern philosophy.
Consider this passage from Confucius’s Analects:
“At fifteen, I set my heart on learning. At thirty, I established myself. At forty, I had no more doubts. At fifty, I knew the will of Heaven. At sixty, my ear was attuned. At seventy, I could follow my heart’s desires without transgressing what was right.”
This passage reflects Confucius’s stages of personal development.
The phrase “四十而不惑” (At forty, I had no more doubts) indicates a moment when he had gained enough wisdom to no longer experience confusion or uncertainty.
While reading Meditations, I came across this reflection:
“It reflects that our successors will see nothing new, just as our predecessors saw nothing more than we do: such is the sameness of things, a man of forty with any understanding whatsoever has in a sense seen all the past and all the future.”
— Meditations 11.1
Despite the vast distance between East and West in those times, the more I read, the more I am reminded of a universal human truth that transcends cultures.
I am now in my late forties, and while I may not yet have achieved the untarnished perspectives of these great thinkers, I have had the unique opportunity to witness the world from both Eastern and Western perspectives.
This position allows me to explore the souls of past greats with a broader understanding.
What particularly struck me about Marcus Aurelius was his choice to write in a foreign language—Greek.
By using the language of philosophy, different from his mother tongue, he was able to observe himself from a detached perspective.
This is exactly the same practice I applied all those years and I intend to continue as I embark on this new series.
Living in Japan, I’ve often wondered what equivalent we have to Meditations.
What writings contain the universal truths that could benefit today’s global readers?
Then I thought of Essays in Idleness (originally in Japanese, Tsurezuregusa) by Yoshida Kenkō.
Yoshida Kenkō was a writer and monk who lived in Kyoto from 1283 to 1350.
I’ll delve into the details of his life in a later series, but for now, I want to emphasize the resemblance in style between Kenkō’s writing and that of Marcus Aurelius.
Kenkō wrote from his humble home in rural Kyoto, after having fallen from the career ladder.
Unlike the emperor Marcus, Kenkō was a nobody—neither a devout monk nor a known poet or philosopher.
His most famous work, Essays in Idleness, was discovered long after his death in the 17th century.
Yet, his writings remain rich with teachings on human nature, full of love and insight that continue to console us today.
In this series, I aim to introduce a simple man who lived through a time of transition from aristocracy to samurai society.
A voice once belonged only to a humber writer resonates with all of us in the modern world today.
