Latest / Marcus Aurelius: Rome's Philosopher King — Fexingo History / Marcus Aurelius and the Stoic Body: Health, Vigor, and the Meditations
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Marcus Aurelius the philosopher, the general, the lawgiver. But there's another side to him that I think is really compelling—and surprisingly personal. It's about his body, his health, and how being a Stoic shaped the way he experienced physical pain and illness. Luna: His body? I mean, he was emperor during a plague and constant wars, so he must have been under immense stress. Lucas: Exactly. And he writes about it in the Meditations more than most people realize. He talks about his stomach troubles, his insomnia, his constant fatigue. This is a man who was genuinely sick a lot of the time. And what's fascinating is how he uses Stoic philosophy to frame that experience. Luna: So he's not just an abstract thinker—he's dealing with real physical suffering. Lucas: Right. In Meditations, he writes things like, 'Pain is neither unbearable nor unending, as long as you keep in mind its limits and don't add to it with your imagination.' That's pure Stoic psychology. He's training himself not to amplify pain by fearing it or resenting it. He's basically doing cognitive behavioral therapy on himself, 1800 years before it was a thing. Luna: But did he actually succeed? I mean, he was human. Lucas: That's the thing—he was very human. Cassius Dio and the Historia Augusta both mention his frail health. He had some kind of chronic digestive issue, possibly an ulcer or something like Crohn's disease. He also suffered from what sounds like severe insomnia. And then, of course, during the Antonine Plague, he was right in the middle of it, losing his co-emperor Lucius Verus likely to the plague, and facing constant military campaigns. It's a wonder he functioned at all. Luna: And he had Galen as his doctor, right? The most famous physician in ancient Rome. Lucas: Yes, Galen served as court physician under Marcus. And Galen's writings give us a window into Marcus's health. Galen talks about treating the emperor for various ailments, including what he called 'melancholia'—which we'd probably call depression. He prescribed a mix of diet, exercise, and herbal remedies. And Marcus, being a Stoic, took that advice seriously. He believed in discipline of the body as much as the mind. Luna: So there's a physical side to Stoicism that we don't always think about. Lucas: Absolutely. The Stoics had a concept of pneuma—a kind of vital breath or spirit that animates the body. They saw health as a state where the pneuma flows properly. Marcus uses metaphors from the body constantly in the Meditations. He talks about the 'tension' in the mind like a muscle, about not letting impressions 'flood' you. He's literally using a physical vocabulary for mental states. And he advocates for treating the body with respect but not obsession—like a tool you maintain but don't worship. Luna: That makes sense with his famous line about being 'like a rock against which the waves break.' Lucas: Exactly—that's a body metaphor! The rock doesn't resist, it just stands firm. And he applies that to his own physical suffering. In one passage he says, 'If you are pained by any external thing, it is not this thing that disturbs you, but your own judgment about it. And it is in your power to wipe out that judgment.' That's him talking to himself about physical pain. He's trying to decouple the sensation from the emotional reaction. Luna: But did it work for him? Did he actually manage to stay calm through chronic illness? Lucas: We don't know for sure, but his writings suggest he had to constantly remind himself. The Meditations is literally a series of notes to himself—self-coaching. He writes things like 'Remember how long you have been putting this off' and 'You could be alive right now. Let them see you have principles.' That urgency suggests he struggled. He was not a serene sage; he was a man fighting his own mind and body every day. Luna: It's almost like he's his own therapist. Lucas: Yes! And there's a beautiful term he uses: pathos. In Greek, pathos means suffering or emotion—it's where we get 'pathology' and 'empathy.' Marcus writes about not letting pathos rule you, but he doesn't deny it either. He says, 'It is not death or pain that is to be feared, but the fear of pain or death.' That's a radical acceptance of the body's reality. He's not pretending not to feel pain; he's refusing to let it define him. Luna: How did his health affect his rule, do you think? I mean, he was making decisions for an empire while in pain. Lucas: It definitely shaped his style. He was known for his patience and his willingness to listen—maybe because he didn't have the energy for explosive anger. The Historia Augusta says he rarely lost his temper. And his schedule was famously grueling: he would start his day before dawn, work through the night, and still find time for philosophy. That extreme discipline might have been partly a response to his physical limitations—he had to be efficient because he didn't have stamina to waste. Luna: What about the plague? That must have been terrifying for someone already worried about health. Lucas: It's interesting because Marcus's response to the plague was very practical. He organized burial details, provided state assistance, and even sold off palace treasures to fund relief. But in the Meditations, he almost never mentions it directly. Instead, he talks about accepting death and change. He writes, 'The rotting of matter is the basis of all things.' He's almost brutally realistic about decay. That's his Stoic armor: if you truly accept that everything decays, then disease loses its power to shock you. Luna: But that sounds kind of bleak. Did he have any joy in his body? Lucas: He did! He talks about the simple pleasures of walking, of a good night's sleep, of feeling healthy even for a moment. He thanks the gods for good health in his writings. And he had a deep appreciation for the beauty of nature—the way a loaf of bread splits open, the texture of ripe figs, the movement of animals. He finds joy in the physical world precisely because he knows it's fleeting. That's the Stoic paradox: by accepting loss, you're free to enjoy what's here now. Luna: So his philosophy wasn't just about enduring pain, but about savoring what's good while it lasts? Lucas: Exactly. He writes, 'When you have savored a dish or a fine wine, you have already taken your leave of it.' His attitude is about gratitude without attachment. And he applies that to his own body: he's grateful for the years of relative health he had, aware that it could end any moment. That's a really mature, hard-won perspective. And it's not just theory—he lived it. He died, according to the sources, of an illness, likely the plague, in 180 AD. And even on his deathbed, he was composed, talking with friends, accepting his end. Luna: That's remarkable. I think we often imagine Stoics as emotionless, but really he was deeply feeling—he just chose not to be ruled by those feelings. Lucas: Absolutely. And his body was the arena where he practiced that every single day. For Marcus, philosophy wasn't just a mental exercise—it was a physical discipline. He lived on the frontier, slept in army tents, ate simple food, and pushed through pain. His legacy isn't just his writings; it's the example of a human being trying to live with integrity while in constant physical distress. And that, to me, is more inspiring than any abstract ideal. Luna: I think that's something modern listeners can really connect with. We all have bodies that fail us sometimes. Lucas: Exactly. And that's why the Meditations still speak to us. It's not a textbook on Stoic metaphysics—it's a man talking to himself about how to get through the night, how to get out of bed, how to face another day of pain and responsibility. And he does it with such honesty. He never pretends he's above it all. He says, 'Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.' That's the voice of someone who knows how hard it is. Luna: So next time I have a headache, I'll remember Marcus Aurelius. Lucas: Ha! I think he'd approve. And he'd remind you that the headache isn't the problem—it's the story you tell yourself about it. That's Stoic wisdom from a man who really walked the walk. Or, you know, limped the limp.