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| Elvis, horsing around while swimming_July 4, 1956 |
2 “Ench”, 1.4.1.1
TRANSLATION
(AIKEN)—On Activities. “Whenever you
are about to undertake some task or activity, keep reminding yourself what sort
of an activity it is. If you should leave to go swimming, for example, in your
mind’s eye pass in review what kinds of things occur at swimming pools: there
are going to be some who are splashing water, others who are horsing around, some
who are yelling and screaming, and then there are those sneaking around trying
to filch stuff. (4)
If you pass in review each and every activity in this same
way, (5) you will negotiate your life with greater composure, (6) by just
repeating this mantra to yourself straight-away: ‘I want to go swimming; and
this choice is of my own accord so I want to be absolutely clear about what it
means to do this activity; (7) because each activity, like swimming, has its
own nature.’ By going about activities in this way, (8) if for example something
should happen to prevent you from going swimming, you shall still be able to say:
‘The choice of doing this activity [e.g., swimming] is mine, and I am
absolutely clear about what it means to do this activity, which is that there
will be splashing, horsing around, yelling and screaming, and stealing. However, it is only some other hindrance,
something I did not want and was not looking for, that is keeping me from going
swimming; and I will not be losing sight of my own purpose, if I do not get all worked up when other stuff happens to get in the way.”
›Otan
a‚ptesqai÷ tinoß e¶rgou me÷llhØß, uJpomi÷mnhØske 2 seauto/n,
oJpoi√o/n e˙sti to\ e¶rgon. e˙a»n louso/menoß aÓpi÷hØß, pro/balle 3
seautw◊ø ta» gino/mena e˙n balanei÷wˆ, tou\ß aÓporrai÷nontaß, 4
tou\ß e˙gkrouome÷nouß, tou\ß loidorouvntaß, tou\ß kle÷ptontaß.
kai« ou¢twß aÓsfale÷steron a‚yhØ touv e¶rgou, e˙a»n 6 e˙pile÷ghØß
eujqu\ß o¢ti "lou/sasqai qe÷lw kai« th\n e˙mautouv proai÷resin 7
kata» fu/sin e¶cousan thrhvsai". kai« wJsau/twß e˙f’
e˚ka¿stou 8 e¶rgou. ou¢tw ga»r a‡n ti pro\ß to\ lou/sasqai
ge÷nhtai e˙mpodw¿n, pro/ceiron e¶stai dio/ti "aÓll’ ouj touvto h¡qelon 10
mo/non, aÓlla» kai« th\n e˙mautouv proai÷resin kata» fu/sin
e¶cousan 11 thrhvsai: ouj thrh/sw de÷, e˙a»n aÓganaktw◊
pro\ß ta» gino/mena."
Carter Translation 4. When you are going
about any action, remind yourself what nature the action is. If
you are going to bathe, picture to yourself the things which
usually happen in the bath: some people splash the water, some
push, some use abusive language, and others steal. Thus you will more safely go about this action if you say to yourself, "I will
now go bathe, and keep my own mind in a state conformable to
nature." And in the same manner with regard to every other
action. For thus, if any hindrance arises in bathing, you will
have it ready to say, "It was not only to bathe that I
desired, but to keep my mind in a state conformable to nature; and I will not keep it if I am bothered at things that happen.
In our previous essay expanding on Epictetus’ Handbook (§1.3.1.1), which was entitled “On Things… as
Things. Or, an Old Ontology," we learned about a former slave’s
attitude toward ‘things’, such as wine glasses, coffee mugs, and loved ones. We
learned that when we keep in mind what each particular thing is, in and of
itself, independent from our need of or interest in that thing, and separated from
whatever functions, uses, and purposes might be commonly or even uncommonly assigned
to it, we free ourselves from our dependency on all the object-things in our
lives that compete for our attention and for mastery over us. In a later
variation on this theme complete with a phenomenological tweak, Martin
Heidegger, doing his very best Epictetus imitation, might have said something
like, it is by continually ‘keeping in mind’ the nature of things as ephemeral
things that we begin ‘inhabiting’ fundamental philosophy, or ontology. The
history of Western philosophy did not really need to wait on a 20th
century philosopher for this invitation, however, which is as old as the hills,
to be aware of the worldliness of the World, which constructs itself all around
us and by means of us, through the medium of things.
Epictetus’ outline for the philosophical life addresses
activities in their specificity, and becomes more diffused when applied to more
general notions of activity, such as a career
in teaching or politics. The principle, however, is certainly applicable. If I
understand the activity of ‘politics’ to be ‘helping my fellow citizen’, for
example, my understanding of the activity is not specific enough for Epictetus’
purposes, and so I will be liable to land up to my neck in misunderstandings,
miscommunications, and misrepresentations. For Epictetus’ philosophical
strategy to work as intended, I must be able to identify specific actions or
activities that are an inherent part of the larger political pursuit—e.g.,
fundraising, writing laws, defending the interests of my constituency, etc.
In this present section, then, Epictetus
recommends that we cultivate the same exact attitude, the same point of view, toward
the ‘activities’ with which we occupy the hours of our life, as he has
encouraged us to have toward all the various ‘things’ that surround us in the
course of our journey through space and time. We ought continually to keep
active in the front of our minds (1.3.1.1, L2) an attitude of attentiveness toward
the world that can resolve itself into one question: ‘What kind of a thing is this thing or this activity?’
§ Bathing Habits
Perhaps, first of all, it might be helpful to
clarify that the example Epictetus is going to use as his illustration in this
section—bathing, is not necessarily referring to the activity of going to the
beach or to the local swimming pool to go swimming, which is clearly the
orientation of the Phrontisterion
translation. To be sure, the middle/passive lousomenos
[louso/menoß]
does certainly have the meaning of to
bathe in the ocean or in a river, and is used so quite normatively by Homer
if we remember, for instance, the time when Odysseus ends up in a suggestive
bathing-situation with the young princess Nausicaa on his journey home from
Troy (Odyssey Bks. 5-6). The addition
of balaneio [balanei÷wˆ], however, which translates as bath or
bathing-room, seems to suggest that
Epictetus is probably talking about public bathing, an activity that is generally only remembered nowadays by the
older generations who experienced public baths as a common occurrence in countries
like France until about the mid
1980s.
Public bathing might begin to look a little more
familiar to the modern imagination if we think about how people still rinse off
in the open showers at the beach or at the pool after swimming. The practice
in antiquity, however, seems to have had its detractors and, apparently, already
by the time of Socrates (5th c. BC) and Demosthenes (4th
c. BC) the more rigorous moralists of the city considered over-indulgence in
public bathing “a mark of luxury and effeminacy.” This is a bit of historical
insight that I could have wished had informed my parents for all those early
evening baths I had to take in my yesteryear summer-times when, as a rather
wayward-minded and urchin-esque young partisan of our local parks and woods, the
younger version of me would return home after long, dusty days playing hard
outside!
Our source
on bathing in antiquity tiresomely informs us that there were both public and
private baths, the public belonging to and maintained by the polis, and the private, predictably,
belonging to individuals: “Such private baths are mentioned by Plutarch” (1st
-2nd c. AD) and “were probably mostly intended for the exclusive use
of the persons to whom they belonged.” On the other hand, a rather succulent
piece of additional information from this source is that the entry price for
public baths was a mere trifling, at about ¼ of one obol, at a time when the going rate for a prostitute was 3 obols. For the comparison, in a ‘one-thing-leading-to-another-thing’
kind of chatty way, present-day black market prices for prostitutes are
available here,
and the ¼-to-3 ratio is certainly a thing of the antiquated past in most
countries.
In memories of my boyhood America, there were just going to be
some things that inevitably happened when one went swimming; and you either had
to be on board with that, or you were going to have a profoundly frustrating
and unhappy day at the pool. There are going to be some
who are splashing water…
From my hours at the pool I remember with no fondness
whatsoever all those morons who used to splash everyone and everything.
Probably the worst was when one was laying on the grass with the current
squeeze and all cozy warm from the sun, and someone would come up with a bucket
of cold water to splash all over you. There were also, of course, all the fist volcanoes when we were goofing off in the water– ‘hey, look at this’, as they
hold out their fist vertical in front you; you look, and they squeeze water up
through their fist, which sprouts like a volcano in your face. First time,
shame on them…. Then there were also the classic cannonballs from the high
dive, where those in a more athletic and daring mood attempted to drench the
nearby lifeguards in their high chairs overlooking the deep end of the pool. In
the case of the cannonballs, the penalty for success was to be kicked out of
the pool for the rest of the day.
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| [source] |
There are going to be others who are horsing around…, and some who are yelling and screaming. Nothing new there in my
childhood swimming pool memories. But then there will also be those sneaking around trying to filch stuff.
I have to admit: I never did understand why kids stole stuff from lockers at
the pool and it certainly used to tick everyone off. It is not like they were in
any material need; after all, we were all cut from the same working class mold
and haled from the same blue collar neighborhoods. And while we may have found
locker room theft aggravating at the time, or frustratingly stupid, our source
for bathing in antiquity tells us that in the Athens of Aristotle’s day, “those
who stole clothes from the baths were punishable with death.” Now no matter how
much we might appreciate the Athens of antiquity for all the right things, such
as philosophy and democracy and gyros pita with tzatziki, it is arguably a
social improvement that nowadays there is no longer a death penalty sanction
for those who steal stuff at local beaches or swimming pools. A good whack
should generally be sufficient.
Finally, in this section Epictetus
shows great personal tact, in addition to delicacy vis-à-vis the later history
of Western philosophy, by refusing to hold forth on a topic that is certainly the
comic scourge of public pools in modern times, and which, humans being humans,
must undoubtedly have plagued the baths of antiquity. Which is the issue
of yellow water, and all the panoply of attendant responses to the phenomenon—such
as, Who did that? Why is the water warmer here? That is disgusting! and, You
are a real sicko! There exists a very general humoristic consensus on this
matter, although Epictetus does not formally weigh in on the question, which
translates nicely by the admonition: ‘Don’t pee in the water.’
Which brings us back round again to Epictetus’ mantra about
‘things’, but which he is now applying to ‘activities’, which we are supposed
to repeat to ourselves: ‘What kind of an activity is public bathing?’ The answer to this question needs to be something like: I
am clear about all the various associated activities that are part and parcel
of public bathing, and I choose to go ahead and participate in this activity,
understanding what it is. With this state of mind, I am now liberated from any
ignorance about what it means to go swimming in public pools, and I am mentally
prepared for the consequences of my decision—that there will be
splashing, horsing around, yelling and screaming, and stealing.
Epictetus cautions us, however, that having girded
up the loins of our mind with this wonderful, appreciative, philosophical
attitude, there is yet a possible setback we might encounter. What happens when
something ‘else’, some other hindrance,
which we are not expecting and which does not necessarily belong to the
activity of swimming, should happen to keep me from going to the pool—e.g., the
car breaks down, my parents ground me, the pool is closed for maintenance, there
is a snowstorm in July. In this living philosophy, Epictetus encourages us to become
clear about what we, as individual
actors, wish to do or intend to do—so that we do not lose sight of our own purpose in all the rigmarole of
trying to go swimming ‘out there’ in a world of intersecting and competing actions
and activities. Stoic peace of mind inhabits us when we can keep clear in our mind
our understanding and our intent with respect to the activity
at hand; then, whenever the Universe-at-Large, which can often be
contrary-minded, interferes with our ability to carry out our planned activity,
Epictetus invites us to remember that it is our Choice, our Intent, that is
necessary to our peace of mind, and not the actual ‘doing’ of any particular activity.
So when there is the odd snowfall in July that happens to close the swimming
pool for a time, which means I cannot go swimming on that day when I really
wanted to go to the pool, I need to remember that I have no ability to make
happen or ‘unhappen’ odd snowfalls in July; but given this hindrance I do have
the ability to discover with my understanding and to determine my own purposes
toward, new and unexpected activities—e.g., making snowballs, or snowmen, or
snow-forts, or snow-sicles, in July. Conclusion: “If I do not get all worked up when other stuff
happens to get in the way, I will not be losing sight of my purpose.”
§ Grammatical Tidbits.
Whenever you
intend to undertake some task or activity, keep reminding yourself what sort of
an activity it is
(1-2); ›Otan a‚ptesqai÷ tinoß e¶rgou me÷llhØß, uJpomi÷mnhØske 2
seauto/n, oJpoi√o/n e˙sti to\ e¶rgon.
The translation: ‘intending to undertake’ some activity [me÷llhØß
… a‚ptesqai— melles… aptesthai],
sounds sort of like American entrepreneurial or business English, which is
unfortunate but not necessarily unrelated. There are two components to this
phrase. ‘Intending’ has a fairly interesting core, clearly having the sense of to be just about to, or to be on the point of doing, or, perhaps
more richly turned in the Stoic, purposive kind of way, it means to intend to do something, in the sense
of, I meant to or I had every intention of doing something
this afternoon.
The undertaking
bit of the translation [a‚ptesqai; aptesthai], which is in the middle
voice, has the core meaning of laying
hold of or of fastening oneself to,
to cling. This verb brings to mind
the image of the marriage idea as seen through the eyes of the King James Bible
translators of 1611 (Genesis 2:24) – “Therefore shall a man leave his father
and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife”; however, the LXX verb for
Genesis is not the same as the aptesthai
of Epictetus. In the Odyssey Homer
uses aptesthai when speaking of suppliants
who, in olden times, used to grab onto—to latch themselves onto like ticks on a
dog—the knees of their benefactors. Sophocles uses aptesthai in reference to engaging in war, and Plato uses aptesthai to express a similar but more
metaphorical situation, which is to dispute someone’s argument. Both Sophocles
and Plato use aptesthai in the sense
of to grasp with the senses, to apprehend, to perceive; and Plato and Xenophon both certainly must
have had cookie jars and little people in mind when they used aptesthai with the meaning of to come up to, to reach, to gain or lay
hold of. Equally, one can imagine that pole vaulters, when successful,
reach their mark [aptesthai].
…Keep reminding yourself what sort of an
activity it is. If you should leave to go swimming, for example, in your mind’s
eye pass in review what kinds of things occur at swimming pools… (2-3); uJpomi÷mnhØske
2 seauto/n, oJpoi√o/n e˙sti to\ e¶rgon. e˙a»n
louso/menoß aÓpi÷hØß, pro/balle 3 seautw◊ø
ta» gino/mena e˙n balanei÷wˆ
We have already sufficiently considered Epictetus’ use of
the bathing illustration; and as an illustration… it is illustrative but really
nothing more. He could have used any activity to make his point, which suggests
that, for whatever reasons, he may simply have had beach-party activities on
his mind at the time of his thinking. The important piece of this phrase is not
the illustration, but rather the verbal parenthesis provided by [uJpomi÷mnhØske
2 seauto/n… pro/balle 3 seautw; hupomimnhske seauton… proballe
seauto].
In a previous essay on the Enchiridion entitled, “Liberty Through Grammar [§1.2.1.1-1.2.2.1]”
we saw the perfect imperative expression: “Keep repeating in your mind” – [Me÷mnhso; memneso], which we saw
again in Handbook, 3, §1,
L.1; and we became accustomed to the idea that a verb in the perfect tense is a
sustained activity, beginning in the past and continuing dynamically into the
present. “You
must continue to keep in mind…” In this present passage we find a variation on
the theme of re-membering, re-minding, and re-calling, in the form of the
present active imperative, hupo-mimnhske [uJpomi÷mnhØske].
The idea of re-calling to mind continues to constitute the core image of this
verb, although it is nuanced here in the present tense instead of the perfect tense
that we have seen earlier. Nonetheless, the verb is rendered more emphatic in
this passage by the addition of the prefix hupo-
[uJpo], which gives us the sense of re-minding someone, or
ourself, by repeating over and over again; it harks back, and forward as well,
to the notion of the repetitive ‘mantra’ so dear to Epictetus’ heart.
One could say that the action of hupo-mimnhske is immortalized in the classic American comic
strip, the Bumsteads, where Blondie,
the nagging wife, who is the embodiment and cultural translation of the
principle of hupo-mimnhske, continues to hupo-mimnhske her husband, Dagwood –to harp
upon him, to continually recall to his mind— that he should drag his carcass up
off the sofa where he is busy napping and get busy, instead, doing his various
household chores. Similarly, as we go about the various activities of our day,
Epictetus invites us to nag ourselves continually, even in a harping kind of a
way, to keep calling back again to the front of our minds what sort of an activity
it is that we are presently engaged in.
Which brings us to proballe
[pro/balle; present
active imperative, 2nd singular]: in your mind’s eye pass in review, which closes line 2. Proballe
is, in effect, the active re-membering mechanism or device whereby the hupo-mimnhske [uJpomi÷mnhØske]
becomes effective for us. We re-call to our mind what sort of an activity we
are engaged in, by throwing again in front of our mind’s ‘eye’ [pro-balle; pro-/balle]
the types of things that happen at swimming pools. Pro-balle has the root sense of throwing,
to which is appended the prefix before or
in front of—so: casting in front of our memory. When used in this root sense the
meaning of pro-balle is clear—so, pro-posing [X] for an office (per Androcides);
or putting forward a defense or a
plea (per Sophocles, Euripides, & Thucydides); or giving up oneself for lost
(per Herodotus & Sophocles), but it seems less clear in its more legal
permutations. Because apparently, in Attic law, one accuses a person by probolle (προβολή), pre-senting
him as guilty of the offense, which is the job of the prosecutor; and in this context, the general meaning of to attack or to censure seems more remote.
In looking for the image to give
life to Epictetus’ use of pro-balle, we chose the idea of the
military parade, where the troops march smartly before the critical eye of the
ranking officers—“in your mind’s eye pass
in review what kinds of things occur at swimming pools…”
If you pass in review each
and every activity in this same way, (5) you will negotiate your life with
greater composure, (6) by just repeating this mantra to yourself straight-away:
‘I want to go swimming; and this choice is of my own accord so I want to be
absolutely clear about what it means to do this activity; (7) because each
activity, like swimming, has its own nature.’ [kai«
ou¢twß aÓsfale÷steron a‚yhØ touv e¶rgou, e˙a»n
6 e˙pile÷ghØß eujqu\ß o¢ti "lou/sasqai qe÷lw
kai« th\n e˙mautouv proai÷resin 7 kata»
fu/sin e¶cousan thrhvsai".]
Epictetus has now finished laying out the principle of
understanding ‘things’ and ‘activities’, and invites us in lines 5-7 to become
ever more consistent in applying his principle as a philosophical ‘rule of
thumb’ for living. This passage is particularly rich in both Stoic and simply
philosophically interesting language, such as: pass in review; negotiate…life
with composure; repeating…mantra;
and especially choice… of my own accord.
Ms. Carter’s translation of this passage in § 4, while not terribly insightful
philosophically, is linguistically minimalistic and stilted as well, which is
unfortunate, because the ideas here are at their most intimately individual and
human, and should therefore be rendered more intimately and normally. Carter
Translation 4. Thus you will more
safely go about this action if you say to yourself, "I will now go bathe,
and keep my own mind in a state conformable to nature." ‘Safety’
simply has no place in Epictetus’ thinking, and is, in fact, antipodal to the
Stoic mindset.
The modest houtos
[ou¢twß] that opens these lines and which translates as thusly, invites the translator, by means
of this more-than-efficient quasi-ellipsis, to insert for clarity’s sake the
last idea Epictetus was speaking about, which gives us: If
you review each and every activity in this same way [thusly]. And if we do as Epictetus suggests, the yield to us shall
be asphalesterpon [aÓsfale÷steron], which Phrontisterion
translates as greater composure,
where Ms. Carter translates as to go
about more safely. Greek epic uses asphalesterpon
in the sense of remaining fast, firm, or steady; without faltering;
without fail. It equally has the
sense of in safety, or with certainty, and is apparently so
translated in Sophocles. But this is still far away from Ms. Carter’s
inappropriate and misdirecting more
safely. The image behind the translation, you will negotiate your life with greater
composure,
is supplied by the future middle indicative verb, hapse [a‚yh], which conveys the sense of grappling as if in a wrestling match—we are called to engage in a
wrestling match with each and every one of our activities, in order to
understand the nature of the activity that is trying to drop a fireman’s carry
on us, so that we might remain steadfast in the heat of the action of our lives
and not get humiliatingly pinned in the very first round.
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| Fireman's carry in wrestling |
Finally, Epictetus
delivers in these closing lines of §4 a notion that is elemental to the Stoic
conception of the individual, which is the idea of choosing with a sense of
purpose, of making deliberate choices.
I want to go swimming; and this choice is of my own accord [lou/sasqai
qe÷lw kai« th\n e˙mautouv proai÷resin], so I want to be
absolutely clear about what it means to do this activity. Proairesin [proai÷resin; feminine accusative] is a
noble concept for Epictetus, and has a strong history in Democritus as well as
in Plato and Aristotle. First, making a deliberate choice flows out of myself [e˙mautou; genitive]; it is not
imposed upon me from the outside. Second, the choosing is deliberate or
reflective in nature; the not-making-a-decision-is-the-same-as-making-a-decision
refrain, which one hears commonly served up in an oft repeated, mindless litany,
does not hold here, unless the not-choosing is in fact deliberate, which
renders both the situation and the proverbial and still mindless refrain yet
more vacuous, if that is possible. Pro-airesin,
whose root idea is a deliberate or preferential choosing of one thing before another thing, encloses a considered
and purposive resolve. It carries the idea of doing an action on purpose; and it may be widened out to
include a purpose, plan, a scope or principle of action,
or even the course of a life. In
political discourse, pro-airesin
refers to a deliberate course of action,
or to a policy; and it may also
bespeak a mode of government (democracy,
oligarchy, monarchy, etc.). Finally, the term may be used to speak of a department of government or even a political party.
The image, then, that Epictetus
leaves us with in §4 is that of being the Leader or CEO in the
management or government of our own life, at least in terms of the deliberate choices
that we make in the course of a day. Which brings us up to his conclusion: that
as long as we keep sight of our
purpose in the heat of all the action going on all around us, we will not get
all worked up when other stuff
happens; and while ‘other stuff’ may interfere with the performance of our
‘actions’, nothing will be able to interfere with the steadfastness of our
‘purpose’. And
I will not be losing sight of my purpose, if I do not get all worked up when
other stuff happens to get in the way. [aÓlla» kai« th\n e˙mautouv proai÷resin kata»
fu/sin e¶cousan 11 thrhvsai: ouj thrh/sw
de÷, e˙a»n aÓganaktw◊ pro\ß ta» gino/mena].
The insight of Epictetus’ philosophy of attitude is to
actively avoid getting worked up [aganakto; aÓganaktw] about stuff, either about
‘things’ or about ‘activities’. Aganakto
is an expression that ranges from feeling
a violent irritation, to being vexed
at a person, to getting angry, and actually
stands in contextual relationship to the ou’
taraxthese [ouj taracqh/shØ] of §3, lns. 4-5: we are to avoid getting worked up
as we are to avoid being troubled in our
minds, disturbed, agitated, an expression which carries
with it the images of stirring up mud,
to be in a state of disorder, or being in an uproar. And we can avoid
this muddled mental state, says Epictetus, by repeating the famous, mind-nagging
mantra and thereby re-calling for ourselves: What is this activity I am doing?
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