Exploring Encheiridion 7 – Episode 38

09/22/21 • 20 min

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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?

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Exploring Encheiridion 6 – Episode 37

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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 8 – Episode 39

Don’t ask for things to happen as you would like them to, but wish them to happen as they actually do, and you will be all right. (Ench 8) This passage, and several other similar passages within the Stoic texts, present a huge, sometimes insurmountable, stumbling block for many people when they begin to study and practice Stoicism. As Simplicius notes in his commentary on this passage: But perhaps this injunction to ‘wish for it to happen as it happens’ will seem to some people to be harsh and impossible. What right thinking human being wishes for the occurrence of the widespread bad effects resulting from the universe – for instance, earthquakes, deluges, conflagrations, plagues, famine and the destruction of all sorts of animals and crops? Or the impious deeds performed by some human beings on others – the sacking of cities, taking prisoners of war, unjust killings, piracy, kidnapping, licentiousness, and tyranni cal force, culminating in compelled acts of impiety? ...These things and others of this sort – of which there has been an excess in our own lifetime – who would want to hear of them, let alone see them, take part in them or ‘wish them to happen as they happen’, except a malevolent person and a hater of all that is fine?[1] Within the last month, I responded to emails from two Stoicism on Fire listeners who expressed concern about this concept in Stoicism. I will keep the identity of those listeners anonymous. However, I’m going to use the content of those emails to help express a concern that is likely shared by others. The first is from a man who wrote: I am hoping you may be able to help me with something which has been a source of some vexation to me. I have been studying philosophy for most of my adult life and Stoicism is something I came to in the last 5-years or so. The problem I have is to do with the discipline of assent. It seems that what the Stoic wants is to dispense with the value judgement part of the impression. The idea seems to be that whatever is not in my control is to be expunged by simply not assenting to it. Now, I can perfectly see the argument that when a driver cuts me up or someone says something insulting to me, I may want to remove my value judgements to preserve my equanimity. All perfectly obvious. But what you seem to be saying is that any value judgement based on something not in my control, should be “deleted” from the impression, in order to preserve my equanimity. I’m afraid I find this absurd. Suppose you find yourself in a situation where one of your children has been taken hostage by a terrorist and is being threatened with a knife. There is a high probability that something terrible will happen, but according to the discipline of assent, you will need to delete the value judgement (which any normal father would have) that my child is in danger!!. Having thus deleted the value judgement, you can observe events unfolding from your “Inner Citadel” completely unperturbed. The second email was from a woman, who wrote: I have been reading the Stoics for many years. They have served as my substitute for religion, my preferred cognitive therapy. However my major reservation is that Stoicism does not provide an adequate answer or comfort in times of personal or global tragedy or suffering. When something horrible happens to someone, how can we respond by saying we will things as they are, we will things to happen as they have? Stoicism does not provide a good answer to the natural human emotional response to personal tragedy. It does not appear to accept that it is ok to feel the natural emotional anguish that comes with personal tragedy. I have always seen this as the major weakness. A show on this could be helpful, i.e., how does Stoicism dictate that the practitioner should react to a personal tragedy in their life, and does this make sense? Is it rational to expect sentient human beings to react to tragedy by saying, yes, I will things to happen as they have? Well,