Epictetus, Discourses 1.6.1

Chapter 6: On Providence.

Each single thing that comes into being in the Universe affords a ready ground for praising Providence, if one possesses these two qualities—a power to see clearly the circumstances of each, and the spirit of gratitude therewith. 

 

Without these, one man will fail to see the usefulness of Nature's products and another, though he sees it, will not give thanks for them. 

 

If God had created colors and, in general, all visible things, but had not created a faculty to behold them, of what use would they be? None at all. 

 

I,f on the other hand, He had created this faculty, but had not created objects of such a nature as to fall under the faculty of vision, even so of what use would it be? None at all.

 

If again He had created both these, and had not created light, even so there would be no use in them. 

 

I still have the unfortunate tendency to divide the world into the things that I like and the thing that I don’t like, and so I will thoughtlessly assume that something only makes sense if it is immediately convenient or gratifying for me. 

 

What I fail to remember is that everything, simply by being in its own way, is good and worthy, and it plays a necessary part in the unfolding of the whole. 

 

Just as the extreme skeptic will refuse to see what he doesn’t want to see, it is similarly my own narrow and selfish attitude that makes me closed to the meaning and value in Providence. 

 

What is dragging me down? Perhaps I am not looking to the identity of things in themselves, and how they then work in such close and complex relationships with one another. Or perhaps I am not thankful for the existence of all these different creatures, unwilling to honor the importance of what they are made to do. 

 

There is a failure in accepting, or a failure in respecting. I will need to both accept and respect, to have an open mind and an open heart, if I am to find my own proper place. 

 

I can readily look most anywhere around me, and I can discern the presence of an order and purpose inherent in what I observe. Action flows from causes to effects, always for the sake of a certain function or goal. Remove this step, or that component, and the entire process might fail, but when it is all put together just so, there will be the most beautiful harmony. 

 

This comes and that goes, one side rises and the other side falls, and through it all Nature will move with balance and complementarity. Everything has its role, and nothing is in vain. The most revered orchestra in the world can’t get close to such a performance. 

 

How do I do not grasp this? Why am I not filled with awe and reverence?

 

Vision, for example, is only possible by the concurrence of different conditions. The eye is made to see in a certain way, and objects are made to be visible in a certain way, and the medium of light joins them together in a certain way. Take away any one of these, or knock them ever so slightly out of accord with one another, and the world is blind. Yet sight is so widely distributed across the animal kingdom. 

 

Do I wish to insist that this is all pointless and haphazard? 

 

Where there is purpose, there is design. Where there is aim, there is intention. 

Written in 10/2000