~by
David Aiken~
§ Bits & Bobs of Fine Advice: Being
presumptuous
2 “Ench”, 1.8.1.1. TRANSLATION (AIKEN)—Do not look for things to happen in the way you expect them to; rather, anticipate that each thing will come
about just as it happens to come about, and you shall thrive.
2 “Ench”, 1.8.1.1
Mh\ zh/tei ta» gino/mena
gi÷nesqai wJß qe÷leiß, aÓlla» 2 qe÷le
ta» gino/mena wJß gi÷netai kai« eujroh/seiß.
Ms. Carter 8. Don't demand that things happen as
you wish, but wish that they happen as they do happen, and you
will go on well.
P.E. Matheson 8. Ask not that events should
happen as you will, but let your will be that events should happen as they do,
and you shall have peace.
Thomas Wentworth Higginson 8. Demand
not that events should happen as you wish; but wish them to happen as they do
happen, and you will go on well.
In the universe of its synonyms, ‘being
presumptuous’ likes to hang out with words like: presuming (ho-hum), insolent,
bold, rash, overconfident, improper, and inappropriate. So, as a description for someone, ‘being
presumptuous’ belongs to the family of associations linked to hubris or arrogance, which includes
adjectives such as overconfidence, superciliousness (which is a fine word, by
any standard!), haughtiness, and pride. The pivotal philosophical idea in § 8 of Epictetus’ Enchiridion
is framed by the tension between our ‘expectations’
related to being in the world, which belong only to us and can be profoundly
misleading [= hos theleis; wJß
qe÷leiß], and the ‘way’ World actually happens
around us [= hos ginetai; wJß
gi÷netai]. World comes at us in fits and starts,
confounding the possibility of any regular or dependable predictions and
expectations, and manifesting itself directly ‘in our face’ in its own
inimitable and unforeseeable fashion.
A
typical illustration of the relationship between our expectations and the World’s
way of being, might be to consider the weather forecaster. And by the way, on
the question of weather no bookie in his right mind would take odds against the
quasi infinite potential of World-weather, in favor of any particular individual’s
expectation about tomorrow’s weather, no matter whether grandma’s rheumatism is acting up or whether every cow in the neighborhood is taking an afternoon nap. So,
the weather forecaster—if we really want to have a nice picnic tomorrow (=E’s ‘you shall thrive’ at the end of § 8), all
we have to do is to prepare (mentally, physically & other) for an unexpected
participation from the weather gods. In other words, because World is in the
game of preparing surprises for us, Epictetus suggests that we should
anticipate the delight of the surprise [= zetei…
ginesthai; zh/tei …
gi÷nesqai], instead of the disappointment of the
false expectation [= thele [ginesthai]
hos ginetai; qe÷le [gi÷nesqai] wJß gi÷netai]. Expect the ‘way’ of World to surprise you,
and you shall remain on your toes, prepared ‘to avoid the mental distress’ [= euroeseis; eujroh/seiß] that tends to accompany the
variety and complexity of unforeseen things that happen to us, and that shall continue
to come calling on each one of us in the course of our life.
Phrontisterion here translates euroeseis (end of § 8) with ‘thriving’, which has virtue ethic
overtones, although the verb itself means to flow well or abundantly; in the
metaphorical sense of getting along well or being favourable; and, to be
prosperous. In contrast to the expect-to-be-surprised kind of philosophical
attitude that Epictetus recommends for us, it will be precisely when we are most
rock-solid sure about things, when we expect no surprises, that we shall be most
sorely disappointed—and surprised.
This particular pearl of Stoic wisdom is
never far from Epictetus’ thinking. For example, in the seafaring analogy from § 7, entitled Seafaring Ways, Epictetus reminds us that “the captain’s call [i.e., death] comes
when we least expect it.” For those among us who do not want to think that
event, says Epictetus, precisely because we do not wish to think about it and
prepare for its eventuality, we are always looking back over our shoulder in
fear of the monster pursuing us in the dark, and we remain distressed
throughout our lives. Whereas, when we prepare for the inevitabilities of the
world being World, we do not have to keep looking back over our shoulder, and
we understand that, in reality, there is neither ‘monster’ nor darkness.
Now, all the while you happened to be collecting (3) sea-snail shells
and cuttlebones for yourself during the stopover, you also needed (4)
to keep your attention riveted on the ship, to be constantly on your guard (5)
for when the captain summons to re-embark. Because whenever he calls to board,
(6) you need to drop all the things you picked up along the way. It is in this
way that, although your arms were full with all the things you had collected,
by getting rid of it all, you will not be thrown into distress about the
possibility of being left behind by the ship, (7) and become agitated like
sheep, which then start bleating and carrying on.
It
is just like that in life, as well—nothing shall prevent us from substituting,
instead of (8) sea-snail shells and cuttlebones, a bride and young child (9).
And when the captain summons us to re-board ship? (10) Return to the ship,
having returned all the things you gathered up along the way— not (11) having always been constantly
on your guard; and not being too far
away from the (12) ship, especially if you happen to be an old man. This way,
whenever you receive the summons, you will avoid being found wanting.
§ More Bits & Bobs of Fine Advice:
Limitations & Hindrances versus Resolve
2 “Ench”, 1.9.1.1. TRANSLATION (AIKEN)— Distress of the body is a limitation, but not of your resolve, unless
you want it to be. Lameness of a leg is a hindrance, but not of your resolve.
–Now, repeat this mantra in connection with each of the things that acts to
hinder you, because you shall always find that one thing is a limitation to
some other thing. But these things do not have to be a limitation to you in
your resolve.
2 “Ench”, 1.9.1.1
No/soß sw¿mato/ß e˙stin
e˙mpo/dion, proaire÷sewß de« ou¡, e˙a»n mh\ aujth\ qe÷lhØ. cw¿lansiß ske÷louß
e˙sti«n 3 e˙mpo/dion, proaire÷sewß
de« ou¡. kai« touvto e˙f’ e˚ka¿stou tw◊n 4 e˙mpipto/ntwn
e˙pi÷lege: euJrh/seiß ga»r aujto\ a‡llou tino\ß e˙mpo/dion, so\n de« ou¡.
Ms. Carter 9. Sickness is a hindrance to the
body, but not to your ability to choose, unless that is your
choice. Lameness is a hindrance to the leg, but not to your
ability to choose. Say this to yourself with regard to
everything that happens, then you will see such obstacles as hindrances
to something else, but not to yourself.
P.E. Matheson 9. Sickness is a hindrance to the body, but not to the will, unless
the will consent. Lameness is a hindrance to the leg, but not to the will. Say
this to yourself at each event that happens, for you shall find that though it
hinders something else it will not hinder you.
Thomas Wentworth Higginson 9. Sickness
is an impediment to the body, but not to the will, unless itself pleases.
Lameness is an impediment to the leg, but not to the will; and say this to
yourself with regard to everything that happens. For [p. 2220] you will find it to be an
impediment to something else, but not truly to yourself.
The central thread wending its way through § 9
is the idea of proaireseos [proaire÷sewß], which translates as
purpose; resolve; deliberate course of action; and conduct. We have already
seen in § 4, which we entitled “Bathing Habits…, Among Other Things,” that the notion of ‘deliberation’ is core to the Stoic idea of
the individual.
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.
Distress of the body is a
limitation, says Epictetus in § 9, but not of your resolve, unless you want it
to be. Lameness of a leg is a hindrance, but not of your resolve. –Now, repeat
this mantra in connection with each of the things that acts to hinder you,
because you shall always find that one thing is a limitation to some other
thing. But these things do not have to be a limitation to you in your resolve.
No/soß
sw¿mato/ß e˙stin e˙mpo/dion, proaire÷sewß de« ou¡, e˙a»n mh\ aujth\ qe÷lhØ.
cw¿lansiß ske÷louß e˙sti«n 3 e˙mpo/dion, proaire÷sewß de« ou¡. kai« touvto e˙f’ e˚ka¿stou tw◊n 4 e˙mpipto/ntwn
e˙pi÷lege: euJrh/seiß ga»r aujto\ a‡llou tino\ß e˙mpo/dion, so\n de« ou¡.
Epictetus parallels for us in this text various types of
impediments [empodion = e˙mpo/dion], sicknesses of the body
as well as physically restricting disablements, in order to tell us that, while
these may in fact present material hindrances, they do not present any
hindrance whatsoever to our ability to make deliberate choices concerning our attitudes
toward Life & World. What is most authentic about us, for Epictetus, is
that we are the Proairesic
Animal –the Choosing Animal
that can, in every circumstance that Life & World will hand us, exercise
thoughtful deliberation in making choices that embody our purpose and resolve.
The epilege [e˙pi÷lege]
of line 4, which we equally saw in the “Bathing Habits” text from § 4, has the
sense of ‘repeating to oneself’, to ‘say over and over again’. Sometimes it is
just not enough to think a thought, albeit a correct thought, in the silence of
our own minds; there are also just going to be those times, suggests E, when we
need to actually say the thing out-loud to ourselves: any physical hindrances I
might have cannot overcome my personal resolve to Choose—unless I want it!
§ Yet More Bits & Bobs of Fine Advice: Con-version
or Self-study.
2 “Ench”, 1.10.1.1. TRANSLATION (AIKEN)—Remember to turn inward, toward yourself, each and every time some
event occurs, to seek whatever ability you have in yourself that could be helpful
in handling the event. If you should tend to pay attention only to noble or
beautiful looking individuals, male or female, looking inward, you shall find ability
with respect to such things. If some burden assails you, looking inward, you
shall find hardiness; or if scorn, looking inward you shall find ways to withstand
with patience. It is also in this way, after you have become accustomed to
turning inward, that you shall free yourself from the World’s deceptions.
2 “Ench”, 1.10.1.1
∆Ef’ e˚ka¿stou tw◊n prospipto/ntwn me÷mnhso e˙pistre÷fwn
e˙pi« seauto\n zhtei√n, ti÷na du/namin e¶ceiß pro\ß th\n crhvsin 3 aujtouv. e˙a»n kalo\n i¶dhØß h£ kalh/n,
euJrh/seiß du/namin pro\ß tauvta 4 e˙gkra¿teian:
e˙a»n po/noß prosfe÷rhtai, euJrh/seiß karteri÷an: a·n loidori÷a, euJrh/seiß
aÓnexikaki÷an. kai« ou¢twß 6 e˙qizo/meno/n
se ouj sunarpa¿sousin ai˚ fantasi÷ai.
Ms. Carter 10.
With every accident, ask yourself what abilities you have for making a proper
use of it. If you see an attractive person, you will find that self-restraint
is the ability you have against your desire. If you are in pain, you will find
fortitude. If you hear unpleasant language, you will find patience. And thus
habituated, the appearances of things will not hurry you away along with them.
P.E. Matheson 10. When anything happens to
you, always remember to turn to yourself and ask what faculty you have to deal
with it. If you see a beautiful boy or a beautiful woman, you will find continence
the faculty to exercise there; if trouble is laid on you, you will find
endurance; if ribaldry, you will find patience. And if you train yourself in
this habit your impressions will not carry you away.
Thomas Wentworth Higginson 10. Upon
every accident, remember to turn towards yourself and inquire what faculty you
have for its use. If you encounter a handsome person, you will find continence
the faculty needed; if pain, then fortitude; if reviling, then patience. And
when thus habituated, the phenomena of existence will not overwhelm you.
In § 10 of Epictetus’ Enchiridion we meet once again a nuanced
but very strong Stoic notion of ‘conversion’, of turning inward to consult our
inner deliberation/s, in lieu of simply accepting, from the outside, the
various ‘interpretations’ or disguises the world hands us. World presents itself
to our senses through surfaces—which are nothing more than façades and smokescreens.
So, Epictetus naturally invites us to embody a notion of conversion in our
thinking and responding whereby, first, we turn away from what comes to us from
the outside, withholding judgment (per skepticism), and then we move very
deliberately toward that world of interior spaces that frames, if not constitutes,
the deliberately self-determining, choosing self.
In the opening salvo of § 10,
Epictetus counsels us, again, to remember—what exactly? That the Story of
Life & Living is forever pockmarked by events that seem to want to confound
us or that leave us in a befuddling funk; and that the process of making sense
of things for ourselves and then of handing these events, begins first by
searching for some ability you have in
yourself that could be helpful in handling the event. So, we first turn in upon ourselves [epistprephon = e˙pistre÷fwn; epi seauton
= e˙pi« seauto\n], he says quite
literally. This is a GPS go-to moment for the thinking individual, where one
turns one’s gaze neither to the left nor to the right nor straight ahead nor
behind—but toward the inside, into our deliberating interior where the self ‘takes
place’. For it is from there, from inside the deliberating self, according to
E’s conception, that the individual’s molten and even explosive kinetic energy
[dunamis],
his dynamic resource for handling the events of Life & World, flows out
into the world. [ti÷na du/namin e¶ceiß pro\ß th\n crhvsin 3 aujtou].
From dunamis
derives the English word dynamite. But, instead of translating dunamis with a passive noun, such as a
faculty or capacity, or even Ms. Carter’s ‘abilities’—each of which are
actually non-‘things’ [notwithstanding the popularity of this model, see
another example here],
Phrontisterion has chosen to activate
dunamis by adding the verbal idea of
‘finding’ the ability or energy [dunamis].
Epictetus’ Proairesic Animal does not have the static, and therefore necessarily metaphysical
dimensions that we encounter so regularly in Christianized philosophical
discourse, which has long framed the human animal in terms of substantive ‘things’ that it ‘has’, from the religious capax of the Scholastic philosophers to the Kantian Fakultät, and spanning all the intellectual space in-between the
arguments for having a soul, to having a conscience, to having a mind.
This brief
excursus into the dynamic ‘innards’ of the human animal takes us back to the
importance of con-version for Epictetus, of turning inward to consult our
dynamic, interpreting, deliberative self even as it is engrossed in interacting
with the unyielding and dramatic intensity of World, whose full-time job, in
turn, seems to be to throw its infinitely elusive curve and spit balls at us.
Epictetus turns
to the question of conversion quite regularly in his thinking in the Enchiridion. We have recently seen, for
example, in § 7, SeaFaring Ways, in the segment entitled §
Twistings, Turnings, and Other Conversions, that
For antiquity, the idea of ‘conversion’
is extremely rich in implications and ramifications, both in terms of Stoic
philosophy and, later, of the Christian religion. The classic study of the
question in antiquity is, of course, Arthur Darby Nock’s Conversion (Oxford University Press,
reprint 1972). In “An Existential Moment,” Phrontisterion
gave the following description for the process of conversion: The individual Turns Away From one path, and Turns
Toward (con + vertere) a new path – there is a changing of the mind, which has
application to my actions. So in all its various contexts, conversion is an
ordering of the mind around a philosophical anchor, a very deliberate turning
toward a different fundamental and organizing idea or principle.
On this question of conversion, our
passage of specific interest from § 7 of Epictetus’ Enchiridion
was from lines 4 and 11, that, while you are busy collecting memorabilia on the
beach, you also
needed
(4) to keep your attention riveted on the ship, to be constantly on your guard (5)
for when the captain summons to re-embark.
[…] Return to the ship, having returned all the things you gathered up along
the way—and not (11) having always been
constantly on your guard;
In line 4 of Epictetus’ parable we
learn that being constantly and tediously on your guard for the ship’s
departure during a temporary layover, is akin to philosophical rubbernecking,
where the always-turning-head risks serious neck and back injury, simply
because it cannot settle itself in upon its own deliberate thinking.
But in line 11 we understand that a
more desirable, indeed a philosophical disposition of mind, is where we do not
have to remind ourselves that,
for this special and very brief occurrence, we must be constantly on our guard.
The mind that is philosophically prepared does not have to be constantly
turning around, as does the seafarer who is unprepared for the call to re-board
ship, because our attention never strays too far from the inevitability of the
up-coming call to board, and we have been attentive to never get too far away
from our anchor, which is the philosophical awareness of our seafaring
situation.
Finally, there is the last line in §
10 (ln. 6), where Epictetus tells us that, after we establish the habit or
routine of looking inward toward ourselves, first, to discover our own
resources for handling what the world hands us, that
you shall free yourself from the World’s deceptions. [kai«
ou¢twß 6 e˙qizo/meno/n se ouj
sunarpa¿sousin ai˚ fantasi÷ai].
Our
special word of interest in line 6 is fantasiai.
Epictetus’
use of fantasia is fairly simplistic and
not overly relevant to the more technical considerations that might be found in
other early philosophers, and especially Aristotle. Likewise,
it is a term that will especially interest later philosophers on questions of impressions and mental states and intentionality.
But this usage does not seem overly relevant to Epictetus in this text.
Already
in § 6 of Epictetus’ Enchiridion, which Phrontisterion
entitled “On Receiving Compliments, On Possessions, & On What is Rightfully Yours,” we had
the opportunity to take a careful look at this expression, fantasia, because it gets to the heart of Epictetus’ layered
architecture of the deliberating individual.
In the deepest, most fundamental layer of
Epictetus’ notion of the Self, there are qualities or virtues that are
profoundly us, that demarcate what we are by nature [kata
phusin - kata» fu/sin].
Epictetus distinguishes these natural virtues of Self, from traits or accidents
[per Aristotle] that “belong” to us only very casually, and which accompany us
on our journey through Life as shallow or superficial baggage [para
physin - para» fu/sin]—including
those obviously incidental qualities such as weight, baldness, height, eye and
hair color, physical beauty or ugliness, possessions, etc. Epictetus then
reconfirms his levels of fundamental rootedness for the Self, by again
highlighting the contrast between the natural virtue or attribute or quality [kata»
fu/sin], which is deeply
rooted in us, and the more superficial properties, which, he says, are only
skin-deep appearances [en chresei phantasiwn - e˙n crh/sei
fantasiw◊n].
What then is actually yours? In a world
cobbled together of outward surfaces & façades, what this means is that you
should hold fast to your own real or natural qualities—in which case you are
rightfully praised. (7) For then you shall accept praise for some quality that
belongs rightfully to you.
Further reading:
Further reading for 10:
Per fantasia:
