Background: Marcus Aurelius (AD 121–180), a Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher, wrote Meditations as a private journal to guide himself through hardship. His reflections were never meant to be published, yet they have become one of the most influential works in philosophy.
“The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.”
—Marcus Aurelius
For a long time, I underestimated how much my thoughts shaped my daily life. I assumed that my emotions were reactions to what happened around me—school stress, family tension, uncertainty about the future. I thought I felt overwhelmed because life itself was overwhelming. But the more I read Marcus Aurelius, the more I realized the weight didn’t come from events alone. It came from the thoughts I allowed to settle in my mind.
There was a period when I constantly imagined the worst. If I didn’t understand something in class, I told myself I was falling behind. If my parents argued, I assumed the night would spiral. If I felt nervous about an exam, I convinced myself I wasn’t prepared. Slowly, without noticing, I was dyeing my mind with fear. Every worry left a stain, and eventually I couldn’t tell if the world was actually stressful—or if I had colored it that way.
When I first read this quote from Aurelius, it didn’t strike me immediately. It felt poetic, not practical. But one day after school, sitting alone with my thoughts, I realized how true it was. The world wasn’t coloring my soul—I was. I was letting negative thoughts linger, replaying them until they became the lens through which I saw everything.
If I kept imagining the worst, of course the world looked dark. If I kept telling myself I wasn’t enough, of course I felt small.
Changing this wasn’t easy. I couldn’t just “think positive” or pretend nothing was difficult. But I could choose which thoughts I allowed to stay. I could notice when I was spiraling and step back. I could ask myself: Is this true? Is this useful? Or am I dyeing my mind with something that will only hold me down?
Over time, the colors shifted. I started to focus on the things I could control—my effort, my presence, my choices. Instead of replaying worst-case scenarios, I asked myself what I could do right now. Instead of assuming the future would be painful, I accepted that whatever came, I could face it.
My challenges didn’t disappear. My parents still argued sometimes. School was still demanding. Life was still unpredictable. But the way I experienced it changed. When my thoughts became calmer, my world became calmer. When I chose patience, my days felt lighter. When I allowed myself hope—not the kind tied to fear, but the quiet kind rooted in effort and integrity—life felt more open.
Marcus Aurelius taught me that character isn’t built in grand moments, but in the quiet places of the mind. The thoughts I choose, the ones I let stay, slowly become who I am. And while I can’t control the world, I can choose the colors I carry within me.
In the end, the soul really does become dyed with the color of its thoughts. And for the first time, I’m choosing the colors myself.