Epictetus, The Handbook 54: Wanting the Biggest Boots

Every man's body is a measure for his property, as the foot is the measure for his shoe.

If you stick to this limit, you will keep the right measure; if you go beyond it, you are bound to be carried away down a precipice in the end; just as with the shoe, if you once go beyond the foot, your shoe puts on gilding, and soon purple and embroidery.

For when once you go beyond the measure there is no limit.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 39 (tr Matheson)

If the shoe fits, wear it. If I can find myself shoes that are comfortable, that help me to walk well, and are rugged enough to take me to all of the places I need to go, I should really care for nothing else.

Throughout my life, footwear has been a measure of status. In high school, my friends would quite often define others by the clothes and shoes they wore. Mind you, this was the middle of the 1980’s, and my circle was definitely very alternative, so there was no other option to be “in” than wearing a pair of Dr. Martens 1460’s, either in black or in oxblood. I found it amusing that there could ever be any fashion that was alternative, which seemed in itself to be a contradiction.

By the time I finally managed to get myself a pair, complete with the trendy yellow laces, I was told that I was so behind the times. Vintage Soviet army boots were now apparently the only way to go.

When college came around, everyone was wearing what they were now calling “athletic shoes”, equipped with all kinds of strange straps and pumping action, which seemed more appropriate for sexual bondage than they did for footwear. I kept wearing my 1460’s, and I still remained decidedly uncool.

What I found, however, was that these boots were the most comfortable and the most durable I had ever known. I never had a car, and I walked everywhere I went. This was in New England, where rain and snow are the norm. They kept me warm, dry, and seemed to last forever. I got used to being called the fellow with the clown shoes, and at a certain point I simply stopped caring.

The 1460’s became popular again for a very brief period in the early 1990’s, this time having been appropriated by the Grunge movement. That fashion also faded from view, but those boots still remained reliable, because they always got me where I needed to go, regardless of what people thought of them.

Perhaps they will become trendy once again in my lifetime, but I will surely no longer notice. Time can give us a better perspective, and we can all see how ridiculous we are when we add image to necessity. This holds for many aspects of life, from our clothes, to our cars, homes, careers, or politics.

Nature herself provides the only measure for what I need, just as the foot provides the only measure for the shoe. Once I add all the bells and whistles to the simplicity of a life well lived, I have distracted myself from the task at hand. Whenever I abandon such a measure, and I am no longer bound by my need, that leaves me only with a limitless greed. This is the reason why the good man is so easily satisfied, while the bad man will never have enough. 

Written in 7/1999