The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Thursday, September 23, 2021

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.2


Prove to me then how it is natural.

 

“I cannot, “he said, “rather do you prove to me how it is wrong or unnatural.”

 

He answered, suppose we were discussing black and white, what test should we call in to distinguish between them?

 

“The sight,” he said.

 

What if we were discussing things hot or cold, hard and soft, what test should we use?

 

“Touch.”

 

Well then, as we are discussing what is natural and right and the opposite, what test would you have us take?

 

“I do not know,” said he.

 

Look here, it is no great loss perhaps not to know the proper test for colors and smells, nay, and flavors too, but do you think it is a small loss to man not to know what is good and what is evil, what is natural and what is unnatural?

 

“No, the greatest possible loss.”

 

“After all, it’s only natural . . .”

 

“Hey, I’m only human!”

 

A little bell rings my head when I hear such phrases. They may sound so innocuous at first, and yet I can’t help but notice how often they are used to casually brush aside accountability. It is just a small step to saying, “I couldn’t help myself.”

 

It may be natural to feel fear, or to fall into an honest mistake; yet will it be natural to lie for convenience, or to cheat on my wife? There is a line here between what is bound to happen, and what I myself have decided to do. This was not always so clear to me before I looked at the world with Stoic eyes.

 

I understand that people will run away when they are hurt, having done it myself, while I also keep in mind that this does not necessarily make fleeing the natural thing to do, and therefore the right thing to do. The passions are conditions we work with, not the masters of our choices. 

 

The official is confused about the way he responded to his daughter’s sickness. How is he to react, when his emotions are pushing him in all sorts of conflicting directions? He took those impressions merely at face value, not reflecting upon their purpose, and right there is the missing piece. 

 

Our nature provides us with all sorts of faculties to regard our world, The five senses allow us to perceive various qualities of matter, or the memory and imagination allow us to retain and combine these impressions, and we can become rather skilled at training such powers. We correctly admire the man with a sharp eye, or an attuned ear, or a quick inventiveness. 

 

And while such abilities help us to describe things, they are unable to understand things. They do not get beyond the appearances to the content, and so they offer us no guidance about what is true and false, right and wrong.

 

For this our human nature was given an intellect, by which to comprehend, and a will, by which to choose. I can stare at something all I want, and I will find no answers there; it is when the mind goes to work that the meaning and the value can finally be revealed. 

 

The official was doing a lot of feeling, but not very much thinking. He recognized the importance of the senses, even as he drew a blank on the need for contemplation. What could be more critical, however, than the ability to distinguish at the level of identity, to arrive at that which stands behind all appearances? Only then is someone truly aware and truly free. 

 

I find this to be a common problem for many of us, where we settle for the outside without exploring on the inside, and so we become competent at particular skills, while we remain quite clueless at the whole art of living itself. 

 

Do you know how to drive a car, and pay your taxes, and file the right forms for the boss, and give an impressive presentation at the departmental meeting?

 

“Yes, I’d like to think I’m good at those things.”

 

Now what about knowing how to love a friend without conditions, or grasping why you should speak with absolute honesty, or judging when things are good, bad, or merely indifferent? 

 

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not sure anyone can do all that.”

 

I know I’m in trouble when my answers start sounding like that. 


Written in 12/2000




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