Why do you not lay down the law in matters of grammar? Are you going to do it here then, where all mankind are at sea and in conflict with one another?
Therefore, that was a good answer that the lady made who wished to send the shipload of supplies to Gratilla in exile, when one said, “Domitian will take them away”: “I would rather”, she said, “that Domitian should take them away than that I should not send them.”
What then leads us to consult diviners so constantly? Cowardice, fear of events. That is why we flatter the diviners.
“Master, shall I inherit from my father?”
“Let us see: let us offer sacrifice.”
“Yes, master, as fortune wills.”
When he says, “You shall inherit”, we give thanks to him as though we had received the inheritance from him. That is why they go on deluding us.
Therefore, that was a good answer that the lady made who wished to send the shipload of supplies to Gratilla in exile, when one said, “Domitian will take them away”: “I would rather”, she said, “that Domitian should take them away than that I should not send them.”
What then leads us to consult diviners so constantly? Cowardice, fear of events. That is why we flatter the diviners.
“Master, shall I inherit from my father?”
“Let us see: let us offer sacrifice.”
“Yes, master, as fortune wills.”
When he says, “You shall inherit”, we give thanks to him as though we had received the inheritance from him. That is why they go on deluding us.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.7
Like so many impatient teenagers, I was initially bored by the Greek and Roman myths, but however tediously they may have been taught at school, I quickly realized I should be paying very close attention, because they had an uncanny way of revealing so many universal truths about our human condition.
In what was probably one of my first forays into clumsy philosophical reflection, I noticed how prophecies seemed to get people into ever deeper trouble, and yet it then became clear that the forecast itself was doing absolutely no harm at all. Rather, the problems arose when the characters took it upon themselves to play with fate, to focus on winning a more satisfying outcome, without first considering their own personal responsibilities.
The example of Oedipus was foremost in my mind, where the vain attempts at avoiding the Delphic predictions ironically became the very cause of their fulfillment. A surrender to fear leads to hasty judgment, and pride goes before the fall. If a young man had just trusted in his own constancy, instead of plotting to outwit his circumstances, he would never have become that old man broken by despair.
What a world of difference there is between humbly wishing to discern the will of Providence and impudently bargaining with the dictates of Fortune! I should no more seek the advice of a fortune teller in matters of the virtues than I should trust my mechanic to teach me about the subtleties of grammar.
Will someone with great power hinder me in my best-laid plans? While it is quite possible that he can do so, this should not discourage me from pursuing what I know to be right, nor does a heads-up on the odds of success absolve me of my duty. The emperor has his sort of power, and I have my own sort of power, one that remains completely beyond his reach.
Years later, the Bhagavad Gita taught me about a commitment to action, while remaining detached from the fruit of the action, and my thoughts returned back to the tragic Oedipus. As simple as the lesson should be, so many of us struggle with trying to master events, when we should really be trying to master ourselves. For myself, I am painfully aware that this is due to a far deeper tension between a life of integrity and a list of stipulations.
In seeking out divination, is it my intent to understand the events on Nature’s terms or to control the events according to my whims? It speaks volumes when I only expect what is convenient and fly from what is burdensome; I cannot praise destiny on one day and then curse it the next. I doubt that God wishes us to become spiritual mercenaries, coming and going for the right price.
Like so many impatient teenagers, I was initially bored by the Greek and Roman myths, but however tediously they may have been taught at school, I quickly realized I should be paying very close attention, because they had an uncanny way of revealing so many universal truths about our human condition.
In what was probably one of my first forays into clumsy philosophical reflection, I noticed how prophecies seemed to get people into ever deeper trouble, and yet it then became clear that the forecast itself was doing absolutely no harm at all. Rather, the problems arose when the characters took it upon themselves to play with fate, to focus on winning a more satisfying outcome, without first considering their own personal responsibilities.
The example of Oedipus was foremost in my mind, where the vain attempts at avoiding the Delphic predictions ironically became the very cause of their fulfillment. A surrender to fear leads to hasty judgment, and pride goes before the fall. If a young man had just trusted in his own constancy, instead of plotting to outwit his circumstances, he would never have become that old man broken by despair.
What a world of difference there is between humbly wishing to discern the will of Providence and impudently bargaining with the dictates of Fortune! I should no more seek the advice of a fortune teller in matters of the virtues than I should trust my mechanic to teach me about the subtleties of grammar.
Will someone with great power hinder me in my best-laid plans? While it is quite possible that he can do so, this should not discourage me from pursuing what I know to be right, nor does a heads-up on the odds of success absolve me of my duty. The emperor has his sort of power, and I have my own sort of power, one that remains completely beyond his reach.
Years later, the Bhagavad Gita taught me about a commitment to action, while remaining detached from the fruit of the action, and my thoughts returned back to the tragic Oedipus. As simple as the lesson should be, so many of us struggle with trying to master events, when we should really be trying to master ourselves. For myself, I am painfully aware that this is due to a far deeper tension between a life of integrity and a list of stipulations.
In seeking out divination, is it my intent to understand the events on Nature’s terms or to control the events according to my whims? It speaks volumes when I only expect what is convenient and fly from what is burdensome; I cannot praise destiny on one day and then curse it the next. I doubt that God wishes us to become spiritual mercenaries, coming and going for the right price.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
IMAGE: Michelangelo, Delphic Sibyl (1509)
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