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Wednesday, October 12, 2022

Epictetus, Discourses 1.27.1


Chapter 27: On the ways in which impressions come to us, and the aids we must provide for ourselves to deal with them.
 
Impressions come to us in four ways: either things are and seem so to us; or they are not and seem not to be; or they are and seem not; or they are not and yet seem to be. 
 
Now it is the business of the true philosopher to deal rightly with all these; he ought to afford help at whatever point the pressure comes. 
 
If it is the fallacies of Pyrrho and of the Academy which crush us, let us render help against them. 
 
If it is the plausibilities of circumstances, which make things seem good which are not, let us seek help against this danger.
 
 If it is habit which crushes us, we must try to discover help against that. 
 
What, then, can we discover to help us against habit? 
 
Contrary habit. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.27 
 
Bookish philosophers do like to delve into epistemology, the theory of knowledge, almost as much as they love to debate metaphysics, the reflection on pure being. I jokingly call these instances of “high octane” philosophy, where the Ferraris are driving circles around the Fiats. It is certainly a noble and necessary endeavor to tackle these problems, even though many of us will feel dizzy from all the subtle abstractions. 
 
Epictetus, of course, was of an extremely practical bent, and had little patience for theoretical noodling. Nevertheless, he did not dismiss such profound questions, but rather advised us to approach them in a spirit of common sense. 
 
If I am asked, for example, to give an account of how there can be certainty in knowledge, I might argue about the possibility of proving the existence of external objects, and speculate on whether the relationship between the knower and the known is one of a representational or a formal likeness. For better or for worse, I’ve now been doing that sort of thing for several years, and I wouldn’t blame you one bit if it just made your head hurt. 
 
And I can imagine Epictetus, with a tone that is both patient and firm, telling me how this is all well and good, while also wondering whether any of those fanciful musings have helped me to become any better at living my life for today. If it is supposed to help me understand right from wrong, why am I still a slave to my impressions? 
 
There is little point in debating if the world exists when it is very clear I am in it right now, and its presence is the very self-evident condition which provides me with the luxury to question it. Whatever intellectual labels I attach to my awareness do not make the experience any more or less real to me. 
 
Sometimes I am seeing things as they are, and sometimes I am seeing them as they are not; my affirmation or denial are sadly not always in accord with what is and what isn’t the case. Now I can talk about it until I’m blue in the face, or I can get to work unraveling the difference, applying my reason calmly and consistently to the task of discerning the reality behind the appearances. 
 
A number of obstacles may stand in my way. Let me examine them one by one. 
 
The Academics and the Pyrrhonists fell into degrees of skepticism, either by reducing truth to mere probability or by denying that any affirmation of truth could be made at all. Once I go down this road, I will be paralyzed by doubt, without any firm direction, unwilling to face the fact that I am either unwittingly succumbing to anxiety or deliberately avoiding my responsibilities. 
 
I might also feel like my circumstances are confusing and overwhelming, where a barrage of impressions makes me lose my sense of scale and perspective. Why did it seem small yesterday, but now it seems big? How have I forgotten which way is up and which way is down? Don’t panic. It will take some time and focus to steady myself before I can again look without distraction. 
 
Finally, I find myself facing a resistance to my efforts at clarity, as if my intentions are moving ahead while something else is pulling me back. Yes, that is the force of habit, the inclination that comes from constant repetition. Where I have done something many times, it becomes easier every time, and before too long I am flying on autopilot. Now that can be a very good thing, or it can be a very bad thing, depending on the merits of the particular habit. 
 
I must say that my bad habits have been the greatest hindrance of all, especially because they have only given greater strength to my skepticism and my disorientation. How can I overcome the limitations of my routines? Only by slowly but surely nudging in the opposite direction, by gradually building a better set of habits to replace the old ones. The baby steps eventually grow into the stride of a man.  
 
I should not settle for the first image that hits me—I must look behind it to the substance. 

—Reflection written in 4/2001 




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