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Saturday, September 24, 2022

Epictetus, Discourses 1.26.5


This, then, is where the philosophic life begins; in the discovery of the true state of one's own mind: for when once you realize that it is in a feeble state, you will not choose to employ it any more for great matters. 

 

But, as it is, some men, finding themselves unable to swallow a mouthful, buy themselves a treatise, and set about eating it whole, and, in consequence they vomit or have indigestion. Hence come colics and fluxes and fevers. They ought first to have considered whether they have the faculty.

 

It is easy enough in speculation to examine and refute the ignorant, but in practical life men do not submit themselves to be tested, and we hate the man who examines and exposes us. Yet Socrates used to say that a life which was not put to the test was not worth living. 


—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.26 

 

I can be aware of so many things outside of me, and it will do me no good if I do not use those experiences to become more fully aware of what is inside of me. Philosophy, as a way of living and not merely as a career, might not make me rich and famous, but I do know it is the only way for me to be happy. 

 

Once I honestly look within myself, I see how I’m not all I might make myself out to be. The demeanor of a cool confidence can’t cover for the huge gaps in my understanding, particularly in the way I’m not living up to my supposed ideals. The connection isn’t being made because my thinking is still sloppy. 

 

Without the habits of coordination that come from practice, my mind can barely handle the little things, let alone cope with the big things. I might as well tell a child to run before he is able to walk. 

 

When I was in high school, and everyone asked me what I wanted to do with my life, how could I answer without at least a general sense of what it meant to be human, and how to put the pieces together in pursuit of that goal? We rushed to the conclusions, never spending much time on the relationship between the premises, or even clearly defining our terms. 

 

The result, especially among the “educated” class, is an elaborate stage play where we make dramatic proclamations about the sweeping concepts, all the while avoiding the inconvenient bits and pieces. Indeed, we often begin with our preferences, and then work backwards to fabricate the evidence. 

 

Yes, then there is much vomiting forth, and everyone wonders why they feel so sick to their stomachs. It came from biting off more than we could chew. We waved our fists about justice, lacking the ability to either define it or to apply it in an orderly demonstration. 

 

In a controlled environment, like a classroom, a board meeting, or a formal debate, it is easier to set artificial rules. The real problems arise when we can no longer manipulate the variables, and we find that people don’t take kindly to being offended: they will most certainly bite back. 

 

Now what is the prudent man to do? 

 

He learns not to be outraged when others are outraged, since he knows something about the line between his own responsibility and the responsibility of others.

 

He chooses not to hate, as much as others might choose to hate. 

 

He offers love, as much as it costs him in worldly conveniences. 

 

He does not apply any mercenary conditions to his principles. 

 

He can do so because he started out with a patient attention to the details of sound reasoning. Only then did he advance to the lofty rules of Nature. 

—Reflection written in 4/2001 



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