What is and is not in our power
We all have our guiding lights. Petrarch had Cicero, Harry has James and Lily Potter, and my dad has the King’s Heralds. I have Epictetus.
Epictetus
Not even Zeus can conquer my power of choice.
For those who’ve never heard of him, Epictetus lived during the 1st and 2nd century AD, was banished from Rome by the emperor Domitian in 93 AD, founded a philosophical school in Nicopolis, but never wrote anything. What we know him comes from his student Arrian who wrote down what he said “in order to safeguard [Epictetus’] way of thinking and candor.” In this way, he’s a little like Jesus and Socrates minus the execution part.
There are three sections of his “writings”: the Discourses, Fragments, and Handbook, which is a collection of sayings attributed to him. The Discourses are his Gospels in that they’re the shorthand form of lectures he gave or interactions with his students. On occasion, there’s an interested spectator who seems to have dropped by much like the rich young ruler of Luke 18. It’s entertaining, especially once you begin to recognize his sense of humor.
For all of the apparent randomness in the Discourses—i.e., the order in which the lectures appear—the opening chapter is foundational to reading Epictetus. In 1.1, he identifies a perspective that’s key to understanding everything else: what is and is not in our power of control. What’s not in our power amounts to what he calls “impressions.” Epictetus uses an example where one person threatens to lock up another who won’t divulge some information. “I’ll chain you up,” he says, to which Epictetus—in the guise of the second—says, “What do you mean you’ll chain me up? You can chain my leg, but not even Zeus can conquer my power of choice.” Again, imagine a person saying this wearing a wry smile.
If it sounds a tad extreme, perhaps even something to discount as nothing more than a thought experiment, I get it, but there’s reason to believe Epictetus did not just teach this principle. Tradition holds that he began life as an enslaved person in the Roman empire. Starting life at the bottom of the food chain was not merely an inconvenient lot to occupy in life; it was torture. Origen explains that Epictetus was disabled by his master. Seeing the human condition with all of its apparent (but false!) sense of control contributed to the young Epictetus concluding our station in life has no real bearing on what we can control. His teacher, the Roman Socrates named Musonius Rufus, affirmed this perspective. Spend your energy on what’s in your power without giving a second thought to what’s not. Every material possession is simply a gift from God for you to manage. You’ll give them all back, including your physical body.
Photo by Siddhesh Mangela on Unsplash
The goal of each day, according to Epictetus, is to make the right use of the impressions we encounter. Think of what we worry about: what people think of us, what people can do to us, natural disasters, etc. All of these are beyond our control and amount to impressions. We might be able to act in such a way that influences how people perceive us, but their responses are not ours. Misunderstandings happen often in face-to-face interactions; they’re pervasive on Facebook.
Furthermore, modern technologies can help us feel like we’re in more control than we really are. Weather stations tell us to the best of their abilities of storms coming, and then there’s the derecho that hit eastern Iowa on August 10th, 2020 to remind us that Mother Nature is full of surprises. A friend shows me how she can turn her vehicle on with an app on her phone, and I’m impressed. I adjust the temperature in my house by pushing buttons on the thermostat. My one-year-old can help herself see more clearly by flipping a light switch. All fine and good. Until the WiFi disconnects, a gas valve malfunctions, or a transformer down the street blows.
Gratefulness
The most salient manifestation of what’s in our power of control.
What Epictetus teaches is that these moments of realized powerlessness are gifts that remind us not just of what we can’t do but of what we can. It certainly requires us exercising our mindfulness muscle, but that’s a healthy development. Okay, so a windstorm knocked out the electricity. That’s okay, I’ll get a flashlight. We don’t have batteries? That’s okay, I’ll light a candle. We don’t have candles? Okay, I’ll be grateful for the fact that Iowa experiences fifteen hours of daylight in August. At the moment we reach a state of gratefulness, we’ve identified one of the most salient manifestations of what’s in our power of control.
As I head out into town today, I find courage remembering that gratefulness cannot be taken from me.
