When I first moved to Albany several months ago in pursuit of the exciting and glamorous life of a clinical ethics fellow, I brought with me only a handful of my earthly possessions; if the Fates have their way with me, I will likely leave with even less.
During this past month, in the late-night hours one night I awoke from my slumber to discover that while I had slept the majority of my basement apartment had been transformed into a bog. Yes, I was experiencing wintery real-life application of the law of thermal expansion as it applies to dihydrogen monoxide (i.e., a water pipe burst). After an emergency call to my landlord, I proceeded with my own separation of sheep from goats: what could be saved and salvaged was transported to the little dry land remaining in my now water-logged kingdom, while those items clearly destined to doom and decay were left languishing amidst the advancing liquid army. Few of my books survived, but among them was one I thought quite fitting to the circumstances: Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations.
Essential reading for any good Stoic (and, to my mind, useful if not essential reading for all human beings), Meditations, and the ancient words of wisdom it contains, helped me to navigate through and reflect upon my experience of the flood and its corresponding aftermath. Some choice morsels include:
Casting aside other things, hold to the precious few; and besides bear in mind that every man lives only the present, which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is either past or is uncertain.