Epictetus, Discourses 1.24.2

Diogenes, who was sent scouting before you, has brought us back a different report: he says, “Death is not evil, for it is not dishonor”; he says, “Glory is a vain noise made by madmen.” 

 

And what a message this scout brought us about pain and pleasure and poverty! “To wear no raiment,” he says, “is better than any robe with purple hem”; “to sleep on the ground without a bed,” he says, “is the softest couch.” 

 

Moreover he proves each point by showing his own confidence, his tranquility of mind, his freedom, and withal his body well knit, and in good condition. “No enemy is near,” he says, “all is full of peace.” 

 

What do you mean, Diogenes? 

 

“See,” he says, “have I suffered shot or wound or rout?” 

 

That is the right kind of scouting: but you come back to us and talk at random. Drop your cowardice and go back again, and take a more accurate observation. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.24 

 

The usual assumption is that the brave man will identify some terrible danger, and then he will fight tooth and nail to crush his enemies, or at the very least he will perish nobly in the face of overwhelming odds. 

 

The model is built upon a premise of life as defined by conflict, and of stubbornness and brute strength as being the only remedies in a world that offends us. Too often overlooked is the other option, where we can choose to examine the intimidating impression, and conclude how it is not so much of a menace at all. 

 

Do I truly need to destroy it, or to run away from it if I don’t have the muscle to beat it into submission? Are fight or flight the only possibilities? Could a deep peace of mind prove invulnerable to any appearance of peril? 

 

Observe how the second spy, aptly named Diogenes, sees the very same situation in Rome, and yet he reacts so very differently than the first spy. Perhaps the Romans are busy abusing and murdering one another, and yet death is not itself to be taken as an affliction. Perhaps the Romans are caught up in all sorts of schemes of character assassination, and yet true honor has nothing to do with popular acclaim. 

 

The few with the money continue to bleed the many with a pittance, only because they do not comprehend what it means to be rich in spirit. The tax collector hinders me from owning fancy clothes, and the landlord forces me to sleep in a hovel, and through all of that it remains completely within my power to appreciate whatever is given and to act with understanding and with love. 

 

Where there is a peace within me, I do not have to be at war with my neighbors. Once I have identified the genuine source of benefit and harm, as the Stoic or any follower of the perennial Wisdom Traditions does, there is no longer a misguided perception of injury. 

 

You say you can take everything from me—it turns out you can take nothing from me that ultimately matters for my happiness. 

 

It is the chapters like this one that remind me how I cannot just pay lip service to the calling of philosophy. If I go on with the same old daily grind, where the pursuit of fortune and fame continue to occupy me day and night, my efforts are sadly misdirected, and what I am calling steadfastness is merely a cover for greed and lust. 

 

Look at the city of Rome, or the circumstances of any time and place, from many angles, and treat each snapshot as an opportunity for virtue. Then the anxiety begins to melt away. 

—Reflection written in 3/2001 

IMAGE: Giovanni Paolo Panini, Gallery of Views of Ancient Rome (1758)