Whose business then is it to take cognizance of these questions? It is for him that has studied at school; for man is a creature with a faculty of taking cognizance, but it is shameful for him to exercise it in the spirit of runaway slaves.
No: one must sit undistracted and listen in turn to tragic actor or harp player, and not do as the runaways do. At the very moment one of them is attending and praising the actor, he gives a glance all round, and then if someone utters the word “master” he is fluttered and confounded in a moment.
It is shameful that philosophers should take cognizance of the works of Nature in this spirit. For what does “master” mean? No man is master of another man; his masters are only death and life, pleasure and pain. For, apart from them, you may bring me face to face with Caesar and you shall see what constancy I show.
But when he comes in thunder and lightning with these in his train, and I show fear of them, I am only recognizing my master as the runaway does.
But so long as I have respite from them I am just like the runaway watching in the theater; I wash, drink, sing, but do everything in fear and misery.
But if I once free myself from my masters, that is from those feelings which make masters formidable, my trouble is past, and I have a master no more.
No: one must sit undistracted and listen in turn to tragic actor or harp player, and not do as the runaways do. At the very moment one of them is attending and praising the actor, he gives a glance all round, and then if someone utters the word “master” he is fluttered and confounded in a moment.
It is shameful that philosophers should take cognizance of the works of Nature in this spirit. For what does “master” mean? No man is master of another man; his masters are only death and life, pleasure and pain. For, apart from them, you may bring me face to face with Caesar and you shall see what constancy I show.
But when he comes in thunder and lightning with these in his train, and I show fear of them, I am only recognizing my master as the runaway does.
But so long as I have respite from them I am just like the runaway watching in the theater; I wash, drink, sing, but do everything in fear and misery.
But if I once free myself from my masters, that is from those feelings which make masters formidable, my trouble is past, and I have a master no more.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.29
For most people I know, an education serves as a vehicle for employment or an increase in social status. As such, our contemporary model of learning revolves almost entirely around what the Ancients and the Medievals called the Servile or Mechanical Arts, the skills useful for producing and selling goods and services.
When a man is primarily defined by his professional standing, it will follow that any schooling is geared toward his financial profit.
For some, however, there is still a sense that an education has a deeper purpose, that understanding is noble and worthy for its own sake, and assists us not merely with making more money, but more importantly with strengthening our virtues. What the Ancients and the Medievals called the Liberal Arts were designed to inspire us to rule ourselves by a knowledge of the true and a love of the good.
When a man is primarily defined by his moral standing, it will follow that any schooling is geared toward improving his character.
Only a very few will be willing to follow through on the promise of the Liberal Arts, since they demand a total commitment to a way of life that flies in the face of blind obedience. As the name suggests, such a genuine education offers the only freedom that counts, the liberty to be our own masters, made possible by discovering all human benefits in the excellence of the reason and of the will.
The fanciest lessons will bring me nothing at all if I remain bound to the lure of wealth, pleasure, power, or image. As long as my impressions drag me along, I continue as a slave, owned by the objects that feed my lust, rage, or fear. The true Stoic is a true philosopher, because he rises above the limitations of his circumstances.
This section leads me to reflect on how I am inclined to look over my shoulder, anxious about whether “the boss”, whoever or whatever that may be, will approve or disapprove of me. Yet once I begin to judge for myself, and inform my own conscience, I no longer need to shudder at the approach of a tyrant, or cower in the presence of a wayward passion.
Observe how the shifty players are desperately worried about who might be watching or listening, and so they are oblivious to the fact that they are actually the ones being played. Self-control is the only control that amounts to anything.
For most people I know, an education serves as a vehicle for employment or an increase in social status. As such, our contemporary model of learning revolves almost entirely around what the Ancients and the Medievals called the Servile or Mechanical Arts, the skills useful for producing and selling goods and services.
When a man is primarily defined by his professional standing, it will follow that any schooling is geared toward his financial profit.
For some, however, there is still a sense that an education has a deeper purpose, that understanding is noble and worthy for its own sake, and assists us not merely with making more money, but more importantly with strengthening our virtues. What the Ancients and the Medievals called the Liberal Arts were designed to inspire us to rule ourselves by a knowledge of the true and a love of the good.
When a man is primarily defined by his moral standing, it will follow that any schooling is geared toward improving his character.
Only a very few will be willing to follow through on the promise of the Liberal Arts, since they demand a total commitment to a way of life that flies in the face of blind obedience. As the name suggests, such a genuine education offers the only freedom that counts, the liberty to be our own masters, made possible by discovering all human benefits in the excellence of the reason and of the will.
The fanciest lessons will bring me nothing at all if I remain bound to the lure of wealth, pleasure, power, or image. As long as my impressions drag me along, I continue as a slave, owned by the objects that feed my lust, rage, or fear. The true Stoic is a true philosopher, because he rises above the limitations of his circumstances.
This section leads me to reflect on how I am inclined to look over my shoulder, anxious about whether “the boss”, whoever or whatever that may be, will approve or disapprove of me. Yet once I begin to judge for myself, and inform my own conscience, I no longer need to shudder at the approach of a tyrant, or cower in the presence of a wayward passion.
Observe how the shifty players are desperately worried about who might be watching or listening, and so they are oblivious to the fact that they are actually the ones being played. Self-control is the only control that amounts to anything.
—Reflection written in 5/2001
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