The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Epictetus, Discourses 1.1.4


But, as things are, though we have it in our power to pay heed to one thing and to devote ourselves to one, yet instead of this we prefer to pay heed to many things and to be bound fast to many—our body, our property, brother and friend, child and slave. 
 
Inasmuch then as we are bound fast to many things, we are burdened by them and dragged down. That is why, if the weather is bad for sailing, we sit distracted and keep looking continually and ask, “What wind is blowing?” 
 
“The north wind.” What have we to do with that? 
 
“When will the west wind blow?” When it so chooses, good sir, or when Aeolus chooses. For God made Aeolus the master of the winds, not you. 
 
What follows? We must make the best of those things that are in our power, and take the rest as Nature gives it. What do you mean by “Nature”? I mean, God's will.
 
I don’t know if it came from a hit movie, or if it was a catchphrase in some goofy sitcom of my youth, or if it has a more ancient provenance, but I do find that I can remind myself of that classic expression whenever I get too caught up in unnecessary trivialities and anxieties: “You had one job!”
 
Life does indeed call for noble efforts, but at the same time happiness makes simple demands, asking only that we attend to the nurture of our nature. That is within our power, and the rest, to put it bluntly, is quite beyond our power. 
 
And yet I will still fail to live up to that one responsibility, precisely because I have taken it upon myself to attend to all other sorts of petty tasks, which are ultimately none of my business, and which I cannot gain a mastery over, however hard I try. 
 
I cannot force the world to give me anything. I cannot make her love me. I cannot change the course of the stars and the planets. The winds will blow as the winds will blow. To delude myself into thinking otherwise is the source of so much of my unfulfilled longing, my frustration, my resentment. 
 
It isn’t the world that is stressing me out; I am stressing myself out, by obsessing about things I don’t need to carry along with me. I have the one job, to think and act with wisdom and with virtue, and I am the only one who stands in the way of getting that job done right. 
 
I think of how much of my day is occupied with busywork, how my judgments are diverted from the main task of simply showing understanding and compassion in anything that I do. For a moment I may despair of all the waste, but then I can pull myself together, recalling that I can stop playing the fool right here and now, caring little if anyone else may think me the fool, and keeping it pure and simple. 

How silly of me to think I know how Providence should unfold, when all I need to know is how I should unfold. Be right, and let the rest be. 

Written in 8/2000 



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