Epictetus, The Handbook 25: A Life of Any Account

Let not reflections such as these afflict you: 'I shall live without honor, and never be of any account'; for if lack of honor is an evil, no one but yourself can involve you in evil any more than in shame. Is it your business to get office or to be invited to an entertainment?

‘Certainly not.’

Where then is the dishonor you talk of? How can you be 'of no account anywhere', when you ought to count for something in those matters only which are in your power, where you may achieve the highest worth?

'But my friends,' you say, 'will lack assistance.'

What do you mean by 'lack assistance'? They will not have cash from you and you will not make them Roman citizens? Who told you that to do these things is in our power, and not dependent upon others? Who can give to another what is not his to give?. . .

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 24 (tr Matheson)

We are told that our lives need to matter, that we need to make a difference, that we must make our mark. These are noble sentiments, but what they mean hinges entirely upon what we consider to be a valuable life. It is much like our parents telling us to be good, though we aren’t quite sure what being good means.

I remember all the fine kids in college who were going to do something important with their lives. They were going to save the environment, ban nuclear weapons, fix the economy, or reform government. Since none of those things have actually happened, they clearly didn’t follow through. The one that wanted to become an environmental lawyer became a divorce lawyer instead, and the one that was going to go into government on a platform of integrity now sells insurance in New Jersey.

I would usually keep my trap shut when these conversations were going on, but one day I was asked straight out what I planned on doing with myself. In my usual flippant way, I suggested that I would build a log cabin as far away from civilization as possible, and whittle wooden ducks.

“Oh, and then you’ll write a bestseller about it, like that Thoreau guy? Dude, I can totally see you doing that.”

Jesus wept.

We see, of course, how easy it is to become scornful of human motives. My sardonic wit would take me only so far, and in the end I was left with exactly the same old question: what sort of life will be of any account?

The usual answer is that a life that matters is a life that has influence. To make a difference is to be remembered. To make our mark is to impress ourselves upon the world.

I’m fairly sure it was a combination of Marcus Aurelius and Ecclesiastes that eventually freed me from that illusion. Nothing I can ever do in this world will have any permanent influence, all of us will end up forgotten, and any impression I make will be quickly washed away.

This does not, however, need to leave me hopeless and without purpose. It is the mark of the pessimist to see only how something has failed, but the mark of the optimist to see how something can be transformed. To be someone that matters, to be a person of account, will simply not be found in the measure of the world around me. This is completely beyond my power. It will rather be found in the measure of the man within me. That is completely within my power.

I can move beyond flippant ways and sardonic wit to recognize that my highest worth is never determined by how many people cheer me as I walk by. I can be totally content walking on an empty road, or strolling through a crowd that ignores me, in the knowledge that I am more than a lump of flesh that will die and rot in the ground. I have a mind that can be open to infinite truth, and a heart that can embrace unending love.

Instead of asking what I was going to do to change the world, someone once asked me a much more important question. If I had the opportunity to offer any last words before I died, what would they be? The flippant response, that I would croak or gurgle before leaving this mortal coil, came to mind quickly, and also quickly passed. Without even thinking further, I blurted out a phrase from Ecclesiastes:

There is nothing better than that a man should enjoy his work, for that is his lot; who can bring him to see what will be after him?

No amount of wealth, or fame, or influence is going to make me a person of account. Those things are not mine to possess, and they are not mine to give. I possess only myself, and how I live with that which is given to me will make all the difference. My work in this life isn’t about making money or being recognized, but about living well.

I hardly think it an accident that Epictetus agrees with the Scriptures here.

Written in 3/2007

Image: Luca Giordano, The Dream of Solomon (c. 1694)