Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its

Hear, O children of wisdom, the solemn words of the emperor-philosopher Marcus Aurelius: “Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.” These are not idle musings, but the meditations of one who bore the weight of empire and yet looked beyond marble and steel to the eternal flow of existence. To him, time was not a still pond but a river—ever-moving, ever-consuming, ever-renewing.

The meaning of this teaching lies in its image. The river of time does not pause for kings or for beggars. It carries all before it: triumphs, sorrows, glories, and humiliations. What appears to us today as immovable—monuments, victories, even grief—will tomorrow be but a memory, swept downstream by the current. Marcus Aurelius, steeped in the philosophy of the Stoics, reminds us that to cling to what is passing is folly, for all is destined to drift into the sea of oblivion.

Consider the might of Troy, once the jewel of the ancient world. Its walls stood proud, its heroes were sung of in immortal verse. Yet, as Marcus foretold, the river of time swept it away. Its towers crumbled, its people scattered, and even its memory would have vanished had not Homer sung its tale. What seems eternal in one age becomes dust in the next. Thus the emperor bids us see that our victories and our defeats alike are but ripples in the current.

Yet, do not mistake this wisdom for despair. Though the river sweeps all away, it also teaches us freedom. If all things must pass, then why should we cling to pain? Why dwell upon insult or loss, when these too shall be carried off? The wise man learns from Marcus that time’s current, though relentless, can cleanse as well as consume. It teaches humility in triumph and endurance in suffering, for both will be gone tomorrow.

Look also to Abraham Lincoln, who in the depth of civil war bore the weight of a nation’s survival. Each day brought crushing burdens, yet he endured them with patience. He knew that the war itself, though terrible, would not last forever. His hope was not in halting the river, but in guiding its flow toward justice. And when his own life was cut short, the current of time carried him into memory, where his deeds became eternal inspiration. His story proves that though events are fleeting, the spirit with which we meet them can outlive the rushing tide.

The lesson is thus: live not as one who clings to the riverbank, grasping at what the waters will surely take. Live instead as one who flows with the current, unafraid of its strength, using each passing moment with purpose. Do not waste your heart in longing for what is gone, nor in fearing what is to come. Attend to the present, for it alone is within your grasp, and even now it slips swiftly past.

Practical counsel is clear. When joy comes, savor it deeply, knowing it will pass. When sorrow comes, endure it bravely, knowing it too will pass. Use your hours to create good, to speak truth, to show kindness, for soon the river will sweep even you away, and only the mark you leave upon others will endure. Guard against pride, for empires crumble. Guard against despair, for pain dissolves. Stand steady, like the sage upon the shore, watching the river without fear.

So carry Marcus’s words within your heart: “Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current.” Let them remind you of the frailty of all things, yet also of the strength that comes from acceptance. For though all things are swept away, the soul that lives with wisdom and courage stands eternal, untouched by the current, at peace with the river’s flow.