Recently, while reading Marcus Aurelius, I came across an idea that stayed with me.
It goes something like this:
For a stone thrown into the air, going up is not good, and coming down is not bad.
It sounds obvious.
Throw a stone into the sky and it rises. Eventually it loses momentum and falls back down.
But the stone doesn’t think,
“Great! I’m going up. I’m winning!”
And when it starts falling, it doesn’t think,
“Oh no. I’m going down. I’ve failed.”
It simply rises and falls.
And that made me wonder:
Maybe reputation works the same way.
My Reputation Went Up. So What?
We humans love it when our reputation improves.
Someone praises us.
We get recognized.
Our work is appreciated.
People say, “That person is doing really well.”
And somehow, it feels as though we ourselves have become more valuable.
The opposite happens too.
Someone criticizes us.
Someone dislikes us.
We receive a bad review.
We aren’t appreciated as much as we expected.
Suddenly, it feels as though our value as a person has fallen.
But when I think about it, that’s rather strange.
If my reputation goes up, I haven’t literally gone up with it.
And if my reputation goes down,
I haven’t suddenly sunk into the ground either.
I’m still basically the same person I was yesterday.
What changed?
Mostly, someone else’s opinion of me.
It’s Not Just Bad Reputation
This is the part I find interesting.
People often say:
“Don’t worry about criticism.”
“Don’t care what people say about you.”
That sounds reasonable.
But I think that’s only half the story.
If I want to stop being controlled by bad opinions of me, perhaps I also need to loosen my attachment to good opinions of me.
Because the two are connected.
“I don’t want people to dislike me.”
and
“I want people to like me.”
“I don’t want people to think I’m a failure.”
and
“I want people to think I’m successful.”
They look like opposites.
But both are built around the same question:
“What do other people think of me?”
As long as I desperately need a good reputation, I will always be vulnerable to a bad one.
So perhaps freedom doesn’t mean learning how to defeat criticism.
Perhaps it means gradually leaving the reputation game altogether.
From Space, It All Looks Pretty Small
Marcus Aurelius often tries to pull the camera back.
Imagine looking down at human life from high above.
Then pull back even farther.
Look at Earth from space.
Asia and Europe become tiny.
The oceans become little patches of blue.
Mountains become bumps on a small planet.
And somewhere on that tiny planet, we humans are worrying:
“Someone doesn’t like me.”
“My reputation has improved.”
“My reputation has fallen.”
“Do people think I’m successful?”
From far enough away, the whole thing starts to look rather small.
And then there is time.
A hundred years from now, almost everyone who currently knows me will be gone.
The people who praised me will be gone.
The people who criticized me will be gone.
Most of those opinions will disappear with them.
So why should I spend so much of my limited life trying to manage what is happening inside other people’s heads?
Reputation and Trust Are Not the Same Thing
Of course, this doesn’t mean:
“Do whatever you want. Other people don’t matter.”
Trust matters.
Keep your promises.
If you make a mistake, correct it.
If someone gives you useful criticism, listen.
If you hurt someone, apologize.
That is simply part of living with other people.
But there is an important distinction:
Use feedback as information.
Don’t use reputation as a measure of your worth.
If someone says,
“You made a mistake here,”
I can look at the facts and fix it.
But if someone says,
“I heard that person doesn’t like you,”
maybe sometimes the answer can simply be:
“Oh, really?”
And then I can get on with my day.
Trying to manage everyone’s opinion of me is an impossible job anyway.
I Don’t Have to Prove Myself
When we are younger, we often want things to go up.
Grades.
Income.
Status.
Achievements.
Assets.
Reputation.
I’ve played plenty of those games myself.
And to be fair, they were fun.
Watching the score rise can be exciting.
You discover what you’re capable of.
You go farther than you thought you could.
There is nothing inherently wrong with that.
But I’m beginning to think that I don’t have to play the same game forever.
At some point, I’m allowed to say:
“That was fun. Maybe I’ve played enough.”
I can put down the controller.
I can try another game.
Or perhaps, for a while, I don’t need to play any game at all.
The Stone Simply Rises and Falls
Life has its ups and downs.
There are times when work goes well and times when it doesn’t.
There are times when people praise us and times when they criticize us.
There are periods when our reputation rises and periods when it falls.
But the stone doesn’t call rising “success.”
It doesn’t call falling “failure.”
It simply rises and falls.
We humans are the ones who add the labels:
Success.
Failure.
Winning.
Losing.
Good.
Bad.
Of course, I’m human too.
If someone praises me, I’ll probably feel happy.
If someone says something nasty about me, I may still get annoyed.
That’s fine.
I don’t need to become a stone.
I just want to remember the stone.
When things are going well:
“Ah. The stone is going up.”
When things are going badly:
“Ah. Now the stone is coming down.”
Neither movement needs to define who I am.
I’d Rather Live My Life Than Manage My Reputation
In the end, I keep coming back to something very simple.
I don’t need everyone to think I’m successful.
I don’t need everyone to think I’m impressive.
And if people praise me, I don’t need to spend the rest of my life protecting that image either.
Good reputation.
Bad reputation.
Given enough time, both disappear.
So instead, I’d rather have dinner with my family.
Take a walk.
Sit in a hot spring.
Travel somewhere I’ve never been.
Look at a river.
Read a good book.
Play a game.
Think about something interesting.
Actually experience the life that is happening in front of me.
My reputation went up.
So what?
My reputation went down.
So what?
The stone keeps rising and falling.
Meanwhile, I’d rather get on with enjoying my life.
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