Category Archives: Stoicism

You are Always Changing, Death is but Another Change

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The time of a human life is a point; its essence flows away, its perception is dim, the assemblage of the whole body is quick to decay, the soul is a roundabout, fortune is hard to interpret, fame is uncertain. To speak to someone who understands, all the things of the body are a river, while all the things of the soul are a dream and a delusion. Life is a war and the dwelling place of a sojourner, posthumous fame is oblivion. What, therefore, is able to be an escort [in life]? The one and only thing is philosophy. And philosophy is this, to preserve the god inside of us to be free of violence and unharmed, to be greater than pleasures and pains, doing nothing vainly or dishonestly or with hypocrisy, not being at a loss to do anything or not do anything. And yet it still accepts the things that come about and are portioned out, since they come from that same place where it came. And in general philosophy is accepting death with a gracious understanding, as nothing other than a dissolution of the elements from which each living creature is composed. And yet if there is nothing terrible in the elements themselves wherein each thing changes continuously into another thing, why would someone mistrust the change and dissolution of everything? For it is in accordance with nature. And there is nothing evil in accordance with nature. 1
 Meditations II.17

This is the last chapter of Book 2. Marcus, as he does continuously, is mindful and considerate of his own mortality, pondering fate not as an emotional spur so as to accomplish great deeds, but with an eye toward rationally digesting what personal death means within the scope of nature and the divine order. We would unfairly burden Marcus if we were to require of him a level of clarity which cannot be expected of a work aimed for personal reflection, so instead I approach the Meditations as a work which often needs its thoughts and arguments to be drawn out. This is one such section.

Far from being dour, as the stereotype of a frowning Stoic might allow us to infer, Marcus, although he begins by listing off the shortcomings of our human mortality, is in actuality laying out the case for the radical change we are constantly undergoing in our lives already. Even when a human is living, he is only a point (στιγμή), a thing both definite and small. The soul is often considered by the common person, no doubt because of its perceived persistence, as the element which truly constitutes the self. Yet even the soul, in Marcus’ words, is transient. It is called a ῥόμβος, meaning either a magic wheel or a whirling motion. Clearly motion is the emphasis, so I have translated it as roundabout.

The one constant thing in our lives, if we are fortune enough to have cultivated it, is philosophy. The job of philosophy is to cultivate our inner self to be morally pure and personally disciplined. This undertaking, however, is not to be done outside of or independent of the fated events which are doled out by the universe. In fact, Marcus tells us, philosophy is especially purposeful towards the goal of receiving death, perhaps the most disturbing of our fated events, with a glad heart (ἵλεῳ τῇ γνώμῃ). The gleeful acceptance of our death reflects a philosophically resigned mind.

As Marcus established the transience of both the body and soul, he points out that they are both made out of the same stuff as everything else in the universe. Since we are not disturbed at the constant flux of our constitutive elements as we live, we should not be alarmed at the final dissolution of the elements which make ourselves, as both bodies and souls.

1 Τοῦ ἀνθρωπίνου βίου ὁ μὲν χρόνος στιγμή, ἡ δὲ οὐσία ῥέουσα, ἡ δὲ αἴσθησις ἀμυδρά, ἡ δὲ ὅλου τοῦ σώματος σύγκρισις εὔσηπτος, ἡ δὲ ψυχὴ ῥόμβος, ἡ δὲ τύχη δυστέκμαρτον, ἡ δὲ φήμη ἄκριτον: συνελόντι δὲ εἰπεῖν, πάντα τὰ μὲν τοῦ σώματος ποταμός, τὰ δὲ τῆς ψυχῆς ὄνειρος καὶ τῦφος, ὁ δὲ βίος πόλεμος καὶ ξένου ἐπιδημία, [2] ἡ δὲ ὑστεροφημία λήθη. τί οὖν τὸ παραπέμψαι δυνάμενον; ἓν καὶ μόνον φιλοσοφία: τοῦτο δὲ ἐν τῷ τηρεῖν τὸν ἔνδον δαίμονα ἀνύβριστον καὶ ἀσινῆ, ἡδονῶν καὶ πόνων κρείσσονα, μηδὲν εἰκῇ ποιοῦντα μηδὲ διεψευσμένως καὶ μεθ̓ ὑποκρίσεως, ἀνενδεῆ τοῦ ἄλλον ποιῆσαί τι ἢ μὴ ποιῆσαι: ἔτι δὲ τὰ συμβαίνοντα καὶ ἀπονεμόμενα δεχόμενον ὡς ἐκεῖθέν ποθεν ἐρχόμενα, ὅθεν αὐτὸς ἦλθεν: ἐπὶ πᾶσι δὲ τὸν θάνατον ἵλεῳ τῇ γνώμῃ περιμένοντα ὡς οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ λύσιν τῶν στοιχείων, ἐξ ὧν ἕκαστον ζῷον συγκρίνεται. εἰ δὲ αὐτοῖς τοῖς στοιχείοις μηδὲν δεινὸν ἐν τῷ ἕκαστον διηνεκῶς εἰς ἕτερον μεταβάλλειν, διὰ τί ὑπίδηταί τις τὴν πάντων μεταβολὴν καὶ διάλυσιν; κατὰ φύσιν γάρ: οὐδὲν δὲ κακὸν κατὰ φύσιν. Τὰ ἐν Καρνούντῳ.

Epictetus on the Perishing of Pots and People (Part 2)

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Concerning each of those things that are alluring or have any usefulness or you are fond of, remember to say, what type it is, even beginning from the smallest things: If you are fond of a pot, that, “I am fond of a pot.”  For if it breaks you will not suffer.  If you kiss your very own little child or wife, that you are kissing a human: because if they die, you will not suffer. Epictetus, Enchiridion I.3

ἐφ᾽ ἑκάστου τῶν ψυχαγωγούντων ἢ χρείαν παρεχόντων ἢ στεργομένων μέμνησο ἐπιλέγειν, ὁποῖόν ἐστιν, ἀπὸ τῶν σμικροτάτων ἀρξάμενος: ἂν χύτραν στέργῃς, ὅτι ‘χύτραν στέργω.’ κατεαγείσης γὰρ αὐτῆς οὐ ταραχθήσῃ: ἂν παιδίον σαυτοῦ καταφιλῇς ἢ γυναῖκα, ὅτι ἄνθρωπον καταφιλεῖς: ἀποθανόντος γὰρ οὐ ταραχθήσῃ.

On my last post on Epictetus, I discussed the therapeutic protocol one is to undertake when encountering an “object” in the world.  It is unclear thus far if Epictetus intends for this mental procedure to be a comprehensive categorization of everything in the world which one could desire.  But it does, consistent with the all-inclusive calculus of a Stoic, include the seemingly least important (pots) all the way up to the most important “objects” (wives and children).

An interpreter could choose to focus on the subjective element of the choice in Epictetus: It is I, this self, that is choosing to love this pot.  And we could, in accord with this view, draw conclusions about foisting our choices promiscuously upon a new object of choice, after the old one has been taken from us. I do not believe this is Epictetus’ view.

Against our expectations of a philosopher who said, in the slanderous paraphrase of the Bard, “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”* Epictetus makes it quite clear that we are to focus on “what” our object is (ὁποῖόν ἐστιν).  So when it comes to forefending the grief associated with the loss of a wife, we are to remember that she IS a human, but we merely THINK she is our wife.  We must disabuse ourselves of erroneous dispositions about the actual world, not, as goes the Stoic caricature, mentally grunt it away.

 

*Hamlet Act 2 Scene II lines 250-251

Epictetus on the Perishing of Pots and People (Part 1)

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 Concerning each of those things that are alluring or have any usefulness or you are fond of, remember to say, what type it is, even beginning from the smallest things: If you are fond of a pot, that, “I am fond of a pot.”  For if it breaks you will not suffer.  If you kiss your very own little child or wife, that you are kissing a human: because if they die, you will not suffer. Epictetus, Enchiridion I.3

ἐφ᾽ ἑκάστου τῶν ψυχαγωγούντων ἢ χρείαν παρεχόντων ἢ στεργομένων μέμνησο ἐπιλέγειν, ὁποῖόν ἐστιν, ἀπὸ τῶν σμικροτάτων ἀρξάμενος: ἂν χύτραν στέργῃς, ὅτι ‘χύτραν στέργω.’ κατεαγείσης γὰρ αὐτῆς οὐ ταραχθήσῃ: ἂν παιδίον σαυτοῦ καταφιλῇς ἢ γυναῖκα, ὅτι ἄνθρωπον καταφιλεῖς: ἀποθανόντος γὰρ οὐ ταραχθήσῃ.

Epictetus has thus far lead us to believe that things either are or are not in our control, and that the former only properly belong to the domain of our concerns.  Chiefly, if not exclusively among those “things” in our power, are our mental states: hupolepsis– plan; horme– desire; oreksis– volition; and ekklisis– avoidance (the opposite of choice).

The practical takeaway amounts to this: If I love a thing I am to tell myself that I love a thing.  But what exactly does this mean?  Epictetus has just introduced three categories of “things” as they relate to us: the alluring, the useful and those things we are fond of.  A pot then, we are to remind ourself, fits into one of these three categories.  Epictetus places it into the “fond of” category.*  Note, not uncoincidentally, that it is we who are to remind ourselves.  If we told other people or vice versa, about this self-reflective protocol, we would in fact be transgressing Epictetus’ injunction to concern ourselves only with what is in our power.  If anything is not in our power, it is certainly the thoughts of other men.  For our own part however, conjuring up the thought, or perhaps even audibly voicing the words, “I am fond of a pot” is not necessarily supposed to sef-consciously evoke the brute absurdity of the utterance.  What I understand Epictetus to be doing is that when we say, “I am fond of a cup” we are to mentally categorize the object, the cup, into one of the three previous categories.  Either it is alluring, useful or loved.  It is the third, and after this recognition we are to note that if either of the two elements out our control, ourself (including our body) or the cup, is taken out of the equation, whether through destruction, theft, or injury, then we are immediately dealing with a concern not properly our own.  We can and must engage only with that in our control.  A destroyed pot, out of our control, is by definition something we should not concern ourselves with.  We should not say of a non-existing pot, “I am fond of a pot” just as we could not say, “I am fond of a pot” if we ourselves were to cease to be.

*(“Be fond of”, translated in three different places above, is here from the verb stergo, a term not normally associated with erotic love nor love for a friend, but often concerns the mutual love of parents and children.)