Exploring Encheiridion 6 – Episode 37

09/15/21 • 20 min

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Don’t preen yourself on any distinction that is not your own. If the preening horse should say “I am beautiful,” it would be acceptable. But when you are preening and say, “I have a beautiful horse,” admit that you are preening yourself on a good quality that belongs to the horse. What, then, is your own? The management of impressions. So whenever you are in harmony with nature in the way you perform this function, that’s the time to preen yourself; for then you will have a good thing that is your own to preen yourself on. (Ench 6) Don’t preen yourself on any distinction that is not your own. If the preening horse should say “I am beautiful,” it would be acceptable. But when you are preening and say, “I have a beautiful horse,” admit that you are preening yourself on a good quality that belongs to the horse. What, then, is your own? The management of impressions. So whenever you are in harmony with nature in the way you perform this function, that’s the time to preen yourself; for then you will have a good thing that is your own to preen yourself on. (Ench 6) If Epictetus were teaching today, he would probably not choose a horse as the object of his lesson. Instead, he might say, “Don’t preen yourself on your expensive sports car, sparking diamond bracelet, large, finely appointed house, etc., because the good qualities of those possessions do not belong to you.” The object does not matter; the lesson remains the same. Preening Oneself The first thing we need to do with this lesson is to understand the meaning of the word “preen” in this passage. Most translators use the English word “elated” in Encheiridion 6. However, A.A. Long chose the word “preen” for his translation, and I think his choice brings out the whole meaning of this passage. When I referred to my resources, I discovered the Greek verb used in this passage means to “lift up and set on.”[1] There are two aspects of this verb: to lift up and to set on. Therefore, Epictetus is doing more than warning us not to feel a sense of elation or pride when we look at our expensive sports car, sparking diamond bracelet, large, finely appointed house, etc. We could feel that sense of elation or pride while we’re alone, lying in bed, or daydreaming sitting in a park. The word “elated” seems to overlook the public aspect of this passage, and that may be why A.A. Long chose the word “preen.” The online Oxford Learner’ Dictionaries offers the following definition of preen when used as a transitive verb, which is the case in this passage: [transitive] preen yourself (on something) (usually disapproving) to feel very pleased with yourself about something and show other people how pleased you are.[2] That definition helps us understand Encheiridion 6. Epictetus is warning us not to show off our possessions as if their good qualities somehow transfer to us and lift us up in the eyes of others. The word “preen” is often used to describe a person grooming and admiring himself or herself in a mirror. But that’s not the whole meaning here. Likewise, the word “preen” may bring to mind the myth of Narcissus. Many of you are likely familiar with that Greek myth, from which we get the psychological construct of the Narcissist. Narcissus was a beautiful young man who wandered upon a still pool of water while he was hunting. When he saw his own reflection in the pool of water, he fell in love with it and remained there staring at it for the remainder of his life. While Narcissus was quite happy to remain at the pool, staring at and loving his reflection, that is not the point of Epictetus’ lesson. However, with some modification and modernization of that myth, we can make Epictetus’ point clear. Imagine a modern version of Narcissus who walks into their bathroom one day and sees their reflection in the mirror. They feel elated by their own beauty. WOW, they think, I look hot. So, they pull their smartphone out and take a photo of themselves in the mirror.

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Exploring Encheiridion 5 (part II) – Episode 36

Uneducated people blame others when they are doing badly. Those whose education is underway blame themselves. But a fully educated person blames no one, neither himself nor anyone else. (Ench 5) In Episode 35, I covered the first part of Encheiridion 5, where Epictetus added death to the list of things outside of our full control and, therefore, not inherently bad. If you’ve listened to Stoicism on Fire for a while or read my Traditional Stoicism blog, you likely understand this concept, which is frequently called the Dichotomy of Control, and you’ve probably been attempting to adopt this Stoic mindset toward externals. However, understanding this concept intellectually and putting it into practice are entirely different things. The practice of Stoicism is hard. I have been at it diligently for ten years, and I occasionally feel like a complete beginner. I understand the Stoic doctrines; I had a firm grasp of those within a couple of years. But, the goal of Stoicism is perfect practice, not perfect doctrinal knowledge. Perfect practice is the ideal of Stoicism. That is the standard attributed to the Sage and one none of us are likely to achieve. Which begs the question, “What then is the point of Stoic practice?” The answer, of course, is progress. Even though we will likely never arrive at the level of wisdom the Sage possesses, we can make progress toward that ideal. In the second part of Encheiridion 5, Epictetus outlines a three-step progression by placing all people into one of three categories: the uneducated, those whose education is underway, and finally, those whose education is complete. I think it is vital for us to understand these categories and their implication for our Stoic practice. Before we get into the categories, it is essential to note that education for the Stoics was more than memorization of doctrines. Education meant training (askesis). The Stoic training regimen required the student to put Stoic principles into practice. In other words, the distinction in Encheiridion 5 is not between those who are entirely ignorant of Stoic doctrines and those who memorized them all and can recite them at will. Epictetus infers more than book knowledge in this passage. We could relabel these categories as follows: those who are untrained in Stoic practice, those whose training in Stoic practice is underway, those who have completed their Stoic training and are completely wise—the Sage. Now, let’s consider these categories in a little more detail. Pay attention to the observable behavioral characteristics Epictetus provides for each of these categories. The uneducated person lives his or her life desiring and seeking things that are not within their complete control (wealth, pleasure, fame, political power, a good reputation, etc.). Simultaneously, they fear and attempt to avoid other things beyond their complete control (poverty, pain, obscurity, death, etc.). Now, here’s the behavioral characteristic of the uneducated person: When they are doing badly, they blame others. The uneducated blame others when they are not getting what they desire and getting what they fear instead. If you doubt this truth, turn on the news for a few minutes. You will observe an endless parade of uneducated people who are angry because they don’t have what they think they deserve to make them happy. They frequently claim to be victims of circumstances or someone else’s bad behavior, and think others have the power to make them happy or miserable. Marcus described them in Meditations 2.1 as “ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, and unsociable people.” Then, he proposes that he remind himself each morning that these are the people he will encounter during the day. Marcus continues this passage by noting the reason uneducated people behave this way: They are subject to all these defects because they have no knowledge of good and bad. (Meditation 2.1) The uneducated seek well-being in externals that a...

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Exploring Encheiridion 7 – Episode 38

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When you are on a voyage and the boat is at anchor, if you disembark to get water, you may pick up a little shellfish and vegetable on the way, but you need to keep your mind fixed on the boat and keep turning around in case the captain calls; and if he does call, you must drop all those things, to avoid being tied up and stowed on board like the sheep. That’s how it is in life too. If you are given a little wife and child, instead of a little vegetable and shellfish, that will not be a problem. But if the captain calls you, run to the boat and leave all those things without even turning around. And if you are old, never go far from the boat in case you are missing when he calls. (Ench 7) This parable is interesting, and I cannot find a similar story anywhere in Stoic texts. However, the fact that Arrian would include it in his Handbook for Stoic practitioners tells us its meaning would have been clear to the students of Epictetus. Since no story like this appears in other surviving Stoic texts, Epictetus is likely drawing on a commonly understood cultural reference. I am not an expert in Greek culture, literature, or history. Nevertheless, I found the following connections that appear to add some meaning to this passage. The imagery in Encheiridion 7 is similar to that of the ancient Greek myth of Charôn, the ferryman. He transported the souls of the deceased over the river Styx to the underworld. The Greek poet Euripides, who was writing almost 500 years before Epictetus, has his character Alcestis say: I see him there at the oars of his little boat in the lake, the ferryman of the dead, Kharon (Charon), with his hand upon the oar and he calls me now. ‘What keeps you? Hurry, you hold us back.’ He is urging me on in angry impatience. (Euripides, Alcestis 252) Likewise, Machon, a writer of comedies, who was writing approximately 300 years before Epictetus, wrote the following in his Philoxenus: But since Timotheos' Kharon (Charon), the one in his Niobe, does not let me dally but shouts that the ferry-boat is leaving, and gloomy Moira (Fate), who must be obeyed is summoning me. (fragment 786) Machon, the writer of this passage, is quoting from a work by Timotheus of Miletus titled Niobe, written approximately 200 years earlier and 500 years before Epictetus. Note the reference to a piece titled Niobe. There are several versions of the myth of Niobe, the bereaved mother whose children were killed by Apollo as punishment for her hubris. The story of Niobe is not essential for our discussion; however, as I will point out in a minute, the reference to Timotheus’ Niobe is important. First, I also want to point out that Seneca references Charon, the ferryman of the river Styx, several times in his literary writings. This supports the idea this imagery was commonly used and understood during the time of Epictetus. So, how does all of this relate to Encheiridion 7? I think you’ll begin to see the connections after I tie it all together in an often-overlooked passage by Diogenes Laertius’ on the death of Zeno, the founder of the Stoa: The manner of his death was as follows. As he was leaving the school he tripped and fell, breaking a toe. Striking the ground with his fist, he quoted the line from the Niobe: I come, I come, why dost thou call for me? and died on the spot through holding his breath. (DL 7.28) I’m going to set the details of Zeno’s manner of death aside because that is relevant to our discussion. However, Zeno’s response to his imminent death is noteworthy. We can infer two different attitudes from Zeno’s words in this story of his death. First, we could infer some resistance to death from his last words: “why are you calling me?” Alternatively, we can infer an attitude of bewilderment. The Greek word used in this passage means to “cry out, shout, call aloud.” Therefore, Zeno could have been saying, “I’m coming, of course, I’m coming; there’s no need to shout at me?