Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 8.2

. . . Now the advice given, with respect to every one of these, is, that we would sit down, and seriously consider, what the nature and condition of each of them is; what hazards and uncertainties they are liable to; that they are subject to corruption and decay; that the enjoyment of them is short, and not to be depended upon; and that none of them are absolutely at our own pleasure and disposal. 

For such a reflection as this, which suggests to us continually, what their nature and circumstances are, is no other, than a meditating upon the loss of them. And such a meditation would render the thing easy and familiar to us; and when any accident of this kind befalls us, would prevent all that surprise and confusion, and extravagant concern, which the unthinking part of the world are oppressed with upon such occasions. 

And indeed the case here is the very same with several other instances, wherein we find, that the troubles and pains of body and mind both, though very grievous at first and in themselves, yet grow much more supportable by custom and use. 

To this purpose, the next words give us very good counsel: to begin at first with little matters, nay, not only with little, but with the least and most inconsiderable. For according to the old Greek Proverb, the potter must try a cup, before he can make a jar. 

He that undertakes the biggest first, is presently worsted, proves unsuccessful, spends his strength to no purpose, and gives out in utter despair. But he that sets out leisurely, and begins with small and easy trials, grows stronger and bolder with his good success, and by gaining ground upon what was a match for him before, advances more surely, and conquers still greater and greater difficulties. 

Thus a man used to four meals a day, if he attempts all on the sudden to fast a whole day together, will find the change too violent for his body to bear, and never get through the trouble and pain of it. And this force upon nature is the reason, why such warm undertakings are generally of dangerous consequence, only just for a spurt, and away. 

But if such a one abates of his former indulgence by degrees, first takes himself down to three meals, and, when this proportion is grown habitual and easy, then allows himself but two: thus it will be very feasible, and afterwards he may, without any great trouble, come to content himself with one; and such a change will be infinitely more safe, and more likely to continue. 

Apply this now to the instance before us: we should consider those things that are dear to us, upon the account of their usefulness and convenience; and from such among them as are of least consequence and value, acquaint ourselves with the condition of all the rest, as that their nature is corruptible, the enjoyment of them uncertain, and the loss of them what we have reason to expect every moment. 

As in an earthen pot, which can have nothing but its usefulness to incline us to value it, we are to remember, it is of a brittle substance, and dashed to pieces with the least accident. And what can be a poorer and more contemptible instance than this, to begin with? 

Yet mean and trifling as it is, a man that lays a good foundation here, and rises by degrees to matters of greater concern, shall be able at last to encounter his affection for a child; and not only in mere speculation, and empty formal words to say it, but to make his whole behavior speak, and all the dispositions of his mind to carry the impression of this wise and seasonable reflection, that what he thus dotes upon, is but a man; if a man, consequently a brittle and frail creature, and such as he is in a continual possibility of losing. 

And if his mind be once thoroughly possessed with this consideration, and confirmed with an habitual recollection of it, whenever that child is snatched away from him, he is prepared for the stroke, and cannot be surprised and confounded with passion, as if some strange or new thing had happened to him.

And here it is very well worth a remark, what abundance of wisdom and artifice there is in this management of things. For by it we get a mastery over those that are not by nature within our power, and deal with them as though they were. 

The saving my child from death, is a thing not in my power. 

But a due consideration of his being liable to it, the rendering this consideration familiar and easy to me, and living in expectation of it, as a thing no less natural and likely than his life, the not being disturbed if he does die, and the behaving myself with such evenness of temper, as if he were not dead: these are in my power, and which is a great deal more, they do in effect bring the very accident of his death, which is of itself not so, within it too. 

For a man thus composed may say, "My child is not dead to me." Or, to speak more truly and properly, "Though he be dead, yet I am still the same man, as if he were still alive."

I only observe farther, that the instances produced here by Epictetus, are fetched from the two latter sorts of things; such as are useful and beneficial to us, and such as nature, and affinity gives us a more than ordinary tenderness for. And these were prudently chosen, with an intent, I presume to intimate, that those things, which are for entertainment and diversion, and can only pretend to please without profiting us, are so very mean and despicable, as to deserve no consideration at all, for persons who have made any tolerable advances in the study of wisdom and virtue.