Snippets from the Handbook 2

Things in our power are by nature free, unhindered, untrammeled; things not in our power are weak, servile, subject to hindrance, dependent on others. 

Remember then that if you imagine that what is naturally slavish is free, and what is naturally another's is your own, you will be hampered, you will mourn, you will be put to confusion, you will blame gods and men. 

But if you think that only your own belongs to you, and that what is another's is indeed another's, no one will ever put compulsion or hindrance on you, you will blame none, you will accuse none, you will do nothing against your will, no one will harm you, you will have no enemy, for no harm can touch you. 

—Epictetus, The Handbook 1 

Jottings on Marcus 3

All that is from the gods is full of Providence. 

That which is from fortune is not separated from Nature, or without an interweaving and involution with the things which are ordered by Providence. 

From thence all things flow; and there is besides necessity, and that which is for the advantage of the whole Universe, of which you are a part. . . . 

—from Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.3 

I remain under the illusion that there must be order, purpose, and design in the big things, while completely neglecting the order, purpose, and design in the little things. 

Even the smallest part is significant to the whole, and it is never overlooked. What I still call good or back luck really has nothing to do with luck at all. 

Stop expecting it to be impressive for it to be significant. The true, the good, and the beautiful are present at every scale. God is not too busy, I am too lazy. 

IMAGE: Giovanni Lanfranco, Providence (c. 1625) 

Dhammapada 422

Him I call indeed a Brahmana, the manly, the noble, the hero, the great sage, the conqueror, the impassible, the accomplished, the awakened. 

IMAGE: Kishi Ganku, Buddhist Sage (1756) 

Plutarch, The Life of Cato the Younger 31

These things, however, were still in the future. Meanwhile Lucullus got into a contention with Pompey over the arrangements in Pontus (each of them, namely, demanded that his own proceedings should be confirmed), Cato came to the aid of Lucullus, who was manifestly wronged, and Pompey, worsted in the senate and seeking popular favor, invited the soldiery to a distribution of land.⁠ 

But when Cato opposed him in this measure also, and frustrated the law, then Pompey attached himself to Clodius, at that time the boldest of the popular leaders, and won Caesar to his support, a result for which Cato himself was in a way responsible. 

For Caesar, on returning from his praetor­ship in Spain,⁠ desired to be a candidate for the consul­ship, and at the same time asked for a triumph. But since by law candidates for a magistracy must be present in the city, while those who are going to celebrate a triumph must remain outside the walls, he asked permission from the senate to solicit the office by means of others. 

Many were willing to grant the request, but Cato opposed it; and when he saw that the senators were ready to gratify Caesar, he consumed the whole day in speaking and thus frustrated their desires. 

Accordingly, Caesar gave up his triumph, entered the city, and at once attached himself to Pompey and sought the consul­ship.⁠ After he had been elected consul, he gave his daughter Julia in marriage to Pompey, and now that the two were united with one another against the state, the one would bring in laws offering allotment and distribution of land to the poor, and the other would be at hand with support for the laws. 

But the party of Lucullus and Cicero, ranging themselves with Bibulus, the other consul, opposed the measures, and above all Cato, who now suspected that the friendly alliance between Caesar and Pompey had been made for no just purpose, and declared that he was afraid, not of the distribution of land, but of the reward which would be paid for this to those who were enti­cing the people with such favors. 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 198

His own character is the arbiter of every man's fortune. 

Epictetus, Discourses 2.13.5

“Nay, but I am anxious to know how I am to address him.” 
 
What, is it not in your power to address him as you will? 
 
“Yes, but I am afraid I may lose my self-possession.” 
 
Are you afraid of losing your self-possession when you are going to write the name Dion? 
 
“Certainly not.” 
 
What is the reason? Is it not, that you have practiced writing? Of course it is. Or again, when you are about to read, would you not be in like case? 
 
“Exactly.” 
 
What is the reason? The reason is that every art contains within it an element of strength and confidence. 
 
Have you not practiced speaking, then? What else did you study at school? You studied syllogisms and variable arguments. 
 
What for? Was it not that you might converse with skill, and does not “with skill’ mean in good season, with security and good sense, and, more than that, without failure or hindrance, and, to crown all, with confidence? 
 
“Yes." 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 

 
In the peculiar circles I travel in, I have now experienced both the secular and the spiritual varieties of bombastic language. There’s nothing like an impressive title to make a dull bureaucrat feel like he’s a terribly important person, or a mystical utterance to cast the illusion of dignity on our bland mediocrity. Though words ought to clarify things, we too often use them to obfuscate things. 
 
I noticed that our nurse has become a senior wellness coordinator, and our janitor is listed in the directory as a facilities management technician. I fear I am the only one who still thinks the old names were far more distinguished, and even comforting, but while I see no shame in using humble and honest words, I have also learned to keep my mouth shut, lest I suddenly find myself subject to a workforce imbalance correction. 
 
I am standing my ground, however, with a local priest, who was recently made a monsignor, and now loudly corrects me whenever I still address him as “Father”. Although I have a great attachment to medieval formalities, I have absolutely no intention of stroking his ego, even as I am happy to overlook his butchering of so many Latin phrases, which he sadly believes will make him appear more holy. 
 
Let them have their titles, for I bear then no ill will. You will please forgive me, however, for not playing along with the game, or for having a confidence in the unadorned expressions of common sense. It is one thing to be careful about what we might say, but quite another to be afraid about what we are permitted to say. It remains the task of a man to form his own conscience, by his own skill, and while he should patiently listen to others, he should never allow himself to be bullied. 
 
Will I offend the master? What will he do to me if I fumble for my words? Shall I be cast out for failing to submit to the latest fashion? Such an anxiety reveals that I have already surrendered a mastery of myself, by reducing the true, the good, and the beautiful to the vagaries of mere impressions. Regardless of your scolding, I still know how to spell the words, and I still know what they mean. I am trying to examine the thing itself, and I am not looking over my shoulder to see if you happen to approve. 
 
All is lost once the bosses can dictate how we think and how we speak, by threatening us with poverty, suppression, or the fires of hell. 

—Reflection written in 8/2001 

Maxims of Goethe 90

We are all so limited that we always think we are right; and so we may conceive of an extraordinary mind which not only errs but has a positive delight in error. 

Justus Lipsius, On Constancy 1.18

The first three kinds of destiny briefly explained. The definition or description of them all. The Stoics slightly and briefly excused.

"I call mathematical destiny that which ties and knits firmly all actions and events to the power of the planets and dispositions of the stars. Of which the Chaldeans and astrologists were the first authors. And among the philosophers that lofty Mercurius is principal and abettor, who subtly and wisely distinguishing providence, necessity, and destiny, says: providence is an absolute and perfect knowledge of the celestial God; which has two faculties nearly allied unto it, necessity and destiny. 

"Destiny truly serves and assists providence, and also necessity, but unto destiny itself the stars do minister. For neither may any man avoid the force of fate, nor beware of the power and influence of the stars. For these be the weapons and armor of destiny, at whose pleasure they do and perform all things to nature and men. In this foolish opinion are not only the common crew of astrologers, but, I shame to speak it, some divines. 

"I call natural fate the order of natural causes, which, not being hindered, by their force and nature do produce a certain and the selfsame effect. Aristotle is of this sect, if we give credit to Alexander of Aphrodisias his interpreter. Likewise, Theophrastus, who writes plainly, that destiny is the nature of each thing. By their opinion it is destiny that a man begets a man; and so that he dies of inward natural causes and not by violence or force, it is destiny. Contrarily, that a man should engender a serpent or a monster, it is besides destiny: also to be killed with a sword or by fire. 

"This opinion is not very offensive, for that indeed it ascends not so high as the force of fate or destiny. And does not everyone escape falling that keeps himself from climbing aloft? Such a one is Aristotle, almost everywhere writing ought of celestial matters, except it be in his book of the world, which is a golden treatise savoring of a more celestial air. I read moreover in a Greek writer that Aristotle thought that fate was no cause, but that chance was in some sort an alteration or change of the cause of such things as were disposed by necessity. 

"O the heart of a philosopher: that dares to account fortune and chance among the number of causes but not destiny. But let him pass: I come to the Stoics my friends (for I profess to hold that sect in estimation and account) who were the authors of violent fate, which with Seneca I define to be a necessity of all things and actions, which no force can withstand or break. And with Chrysippus, a spiritual power, governing orderly the whole world. 

"These definitions swerve not far from the truth if they be soundly and modestly expounded. Neither, happily, their opinion generally, if the common people had not condemned the same already by a prejudicate conceit. They are charged with two impieties, that they make God subject to the wheel of destiny, and also the actions of our will. I cannot boldly acquit them of both these faults: for out of some of their writings (few being at this day extant) we may gather those sayings, and out of some other we collect more wholesome sentences.

"Seneca, a principal pillar of that sect, stumbles at the first block of his book on providence where he says, the very same necessity binds God: an irrevocable course carries away both human and divine things. The maker and ruler of all things decreed destinies but now follows them; he commanded once, but he obeys forever. And that same indissoluble chain and linking together of causes which binds all things and persons seems plainly to infer force or constraint. 

"But the true Stoics never professed such doctrines, and if by chance any like sentence passed from them in the vehemency of their writing or disputing, it was more in words than in substance and sense. Chrysippus, who first corrupted that grave sect of philosophers with crabbed subtleties of questions, clears it from depriving man of free liberty. And our Seneca does not make God subject to fate (he was wiser than so) but God to God, after a certain kind of speech. For those Stoics that came nearest the truth do call destiny sometimes providence and sometimes God. 

"Therefore Zeno when he had called destiny a power moving about the same matter, after one and the same manner, he adds, which it boots not whether you call it providence or nature. Likewise Chrysippus elsewhere called destiny the eternal purpose or decree of providence. Panaetius the Stoic said, that God himself was fate, Seneca being of the same mind says, when you list you may call the author of nature and all things, by this or that name: you may justly term him the best and great Jupiter and thundering and Stator, that is stable and standing, not so called as historians deliver because after a vow undertaken, he stayed the Roman army from flying away; but because all things stand by his free benefit, therefore was he named stander or establisher. 

"If you call him also fate or destiny, you shall not belie him. For since that destiny is nothing but a folded order of causes, he is the principal and first cause of all whereon the residue does depend. Which last words are so godly spoken that slander itself cannot slander them. In this point dissented not from the Stoics that great writer to a great king: I think that necessity ought not to be called anything else but God, as a steadfast and stable nature. And destiny that which knits together all things and holds his course freely, without let or impediment. Which sayings, if they have any taste of temerity in them, yet not impiety; and being rightly interpreted differ not much from our true fate and destiny. 

"I do in good earnest give this commendation to the Stoics, that no other sect of philosophers avowed more the majesty and providence of God, nor drew men nearer to heaven and eternal things. And if in treading this trace of destiny they went somewhat astray, it was through a laudable and good desire they have to withdraw blind men from the blind goddess, I mean fortune: the nature whereof they did not only mightily hiss out of their company, but even the very name." 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, Destiny (1900) 

Aurora Triumphans

Evelyn De Morgan, Aurora Triumphans (c. 1886) 

Night and Sleep

Evelyn De Morgan, Night and Sleep (1878) 

Delphic Maxims 99

Πόνει μετ’ εὐκλείας 

Struggle with honor 

IMAGE: Charles Le Brun, Horatius at the Bridge (c. 1643) 

Epictetus, Discourses 2.13.4

Therefore, Zeno was not distressed when he was going to meet Antigonus, for Antigonus had no authority over any of the things that Zeno admired, and Zeno paid no attention to the possessions of Antigonus. 
 
Antigonus was anxious when he was going to meet Zeno, and with good reason, for he wanted to please him, and this lay beyond his control; but Zeno did not wish to please Antigonus, any more than any artist cares to please one who has no skill. 
 
Do I want to please you? Why should I? Do you know the standards by which man judges man? Have you made it your study to learn what a good man is and what a bad man is, and what makes each of them so? Why, then, are you not good yourself? 
 
“Not good? What do you mean?” he replies. 
 
Why, no good man whines or groans or laments, no good man grows pale or trembles or says, “How will he receive me? What hearing will he give me?” 
 
Slave, he will do as he thinks good. What concern have you in what does not belong to you? Is it not his fault if he gives a bad reception to what you offer? 
 
“His fault, certainly.” 
 
But can the fault be one man's and the harm another's? 
 
“No.” 
 
Why, then, are you anxious about another's concerns? 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 
 
Among those many unwritten rules, we are expected to fret over pleasing our superiors, though I will rarely hear of anyone questioning what actually makes a man better or worse. Generally speaking, if someone is rich, or can slip you a favor, or might cause you some injury, you are told that you should grovel. I once lost a precious hour of my life trapped in a meeting about choosing the best birthday gift for the provost—it was getting awfully close to promotions season. 
 
By all means, give proper respect wherever it may be due, but first reflect upon your standards of merit, and do not treat fawning and fear as if they were forms of reverence. An anxiety over impressing the boss or placating the bully is a mark of weakness, not of virtue, for we dishonor both ourselves and others whenever we play such crafty games. 
 
Zeno was just an insignificant philosopher, and Antigonus was the mighty king of Macedon, yet the one felt absolutely no need to be esteemed, while the other was always worried about winning further approval. How odd that the people who make the most noise in this world will so often possess the least confidence in themselves! If only they had a greater trust in their own convictions, they would not be so moved by the opinions of their fellows. 
 
As much as I may prefer to be liked, it is not within my power to determine anyone else’s judgments. Let me carefully attend to my conscience, and whether I end up being recognized or ignored, let that stand for itself. If I win a friend, that can always serve me well, and if I make an enemy, I can continue to wish him well. Care enough to listen, without caring so much as to turn into a lackey. 
 
Even after over a decade of constant effort, I can still find this incredibly difficult; the obstacle is not, however, from any lack of fierce willpower but from a lack of calm understanding. It just goes to show how long those noxious habits can cling to us. Falling down is so easy, and standing back up is so hard.
 
I continue to feel a sting when I am insulted or rejected, and if I cling to that impression, I will invariably tumble into a pit of agitation and resentment. The only remedy I have found is to let that pesky passion be, to stop what I am doing right then and there, to take a deep breath and get my bearings. A moment of contemplation then makes the consternation seem quite ridiculous. 
 
Once again, if I can change it, there is no cause for worry, and if I can’t change it, there is no cause for worry. A deliberate decision to cease casting blame is a step in the right direction, since it removes the illusion of conflict. I will recognize the victory when the composure finally becomes like a second nature. 

—Reflection written in 8/2001 

Storm on the Sea 33

Andreas Achenbach, Storm at Sea off the Norwegian Coast (1837) 

Ruins 23

Carl Hasenpflug, The Ruins of Walkenried Abbey in Winter (1843) 

Memento Mori 16

René Bull, Dust to Dust (1913) 

Illustration from Edward FitzGerald, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 

"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!" 

Vanitas 101

Hendrick Andriessen, Vanitas (c. 1640)

Chuang Tzu 6.13

Î-r Tsze having gone to see Hsü Yû, the latter said to him, "What benefit have you received from Yâo?" 

The reply was, "Yâo says to me, 'You must yourself labor at benevolence and righteousness, and be able to tell clearly which is right and which wrong in conflicting statements.'" 

Hsü Yû rejoined, "Why then have you come to me? Since Yâo has put on you the brand of his benevolence and righteousness, and cut off your nose with his right and wrong, how will you be able to wander in the way of aimless enjoyment, of unregulated contemplation, and the ever-changing forms of dispute?" 

Î-r Tsze said, "That may be; but I should like to skirt along its hedges." 

"But," said the other, "it cannot be. Eyes without pupils can see nothing of the beauty of the eyebrows, eyes, and other features; the blind have nothing to do with the green, yellow, and variegated colors of the sacrificial robes." 

Î-r Tsze rejoined, "Yet, when Wû-kwang lost his beauty, Kü-liang his strength, and Hwang-Tì his wisdom, they all recovered them under the moulding of your system—how do you know that the Maker will not obliterate the marks of my branding, and supply my dismemberment, so that, again perfect in my form, I may follow you as my teacher?" 

Hsü Yû said, "Ah! That cannot yet be known. I will tell you the rudiments. 0 my Master! 0 my Master! He gives to all things their blended qualities, and does not count it any righteousness; His favors reach to all generations, and He does not count it any benevolence; He is more ancient than the highest antiquity, and does not count Himself old; He overspreads heaven and supports the earth; He carves and fashions all bodily forms, and does not consider it any act of skill;- this is He in whom I find my enjoyment." 

IMAGE: M.C. Escher, Eye (1946) 

Epictetus, Discourses 2.13.3

What do I mean by “having no lawyer”? 
 
I mean that he does not know that he is wishing to have what is not given him, and wishing not to have what he cannot avoid, and he does not know what is his own and what is not his own. 
 
If he did know, he would never feel hindrance or constraint or anxiety; how could he? Does anyone fear about things which are not evil? 
 
“No.” 
 
Or again about things which are evil but are in his power to prevent? 
 
“Certainly not.” 
 
If, then, nothing beyond our will's control is either good or evil, and everything within our will's control depends entirely on ourselves, so that no one can take any such thing away from us or win it for us against our will, what room is left for anxiety? 
 
Yet we are anxious for our bit of a body, for our bit of property, for what Caesar will think, but are not anxious at all for what is within us. 
 
Am I anxious about not conceiving a false thought? No, for that depends on myself. 
 
Or about indulging an impulse contrary to nature? No, not about this either. 
 
So, when you see a man pale, just as the physician, judging from his color, says, “This man's spleen is out of order, or that man's liver”, so do you say, “This man is disordered in the will to get and the will to avoid, he is not in the right way, he is feverish”; for nothing else changes the complexion and causes a man to tremble and his teeth to chatter, 
 
“and droop the knee and sink upon his feet." 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 
 
A few years back, I met a fellow who boldly insisted upon representing himself in a civil trial, and while I did not doubt the righteousness of his cause, I sadly knew that it would not end in his favor. The best of intentions are no substitute for an understanding of what makes it all tick. 
 
If you can stay off their radar, you might avoid a need for the lawyers, but there is no escaping the need to live your life from day to day, in the regular company of your neighbors, while making continual decisions about your desires and aversions. You cannot pay anyone to do this work for you—you will have to suck it up and become a philosopher. 
 
From a sound understanding of the human good, without the distraction of any academic pretensions or professional entanglements, you will discover why there is nothing you should want to get that you don’t already have within your power, and why there is nothing you should want to avoid that is already beyond your power. The crippling anxiety is a result of wishing for all of the wrong things. 
 
Since the fulfillment of any creature is in the excellence of its own nature, it follows that our happiness is from the exercise of our own virtues, to which all other circumstances must be relative. Do not confuse the essence with the accidents. 
 
Or put simply, the quality of my life is in what I choose to do, not merely in what is done to me. Some folks scoff at that old saying about lemons, but that’s probably because they have yet to outgrow a love of complaining.
 
So, if something is outside of my control, why am I permitting it to determine my well-being? And if something is under my control, what is keeping me from changing it for my benefit, right here and now? In either case, the good or the evil are grounded in my estimation: every situation, however imposing, allows me to act with integrity. 
 
Pleasure, riches, and fame are not always blessings, just as pain, poverty, and obscurity are not always curses. Everything hinges upon the presence or absence of character, which explains how a king can be crying while a beggar can be laughing. The distress and the fear turn out to be from a state of mind, never actually from the state of affairs. 
 
Far too often, I catch myself grumbling about various aches and pains, or trembling at the prospects of some wasting disease, when the decay of my body is inevitable, whether it happens sooner or later. Yes, I can take a pill that might give me more time, but what use is the time when the sickness is in my soul? The first task is to get my judgments into shape, so that I do not treat a preference as if it were a necessity. 

—Reflection written in 8/2001 

IMAGE: Titian, Portrait of a Sick Man (1515) 

Conscience

Francois-Nicolas Chifflart, The Conscience (1877) 

Surprise!