Discourses and Selected Writings (Penguin Classics)

Product Information

Again, Epictetus mentions his oil lamp being stolen, and pitying the thief who did this, since now he has forfeited his honesty as a person. It's an immortal classic that will never grow old - not getting familiar with it is a mistake to be fixed. The Discourses argue that happiness lies in learning to perceive exactly what is in our power to change and what is not, and in embracing our fate to live in harmony with god and nature. The didactic style of a lecturer offers less practical knowledge compared to the works of Marcus Aurelius or Seneca. However, individuals are responsible for their own actions, which they can examine and control through rigorous self-discipline.

We have a father and this social role, like all the social roles we perform, comes with a particular sets of duties - we should listen to him, honour him and not badmouth him to others. While that is true from a logical perspective, why should people mute themselves in this act of self-control when they lose nothing from their complaints? The practice of distinguishing between mind or reason on the one hand—our share of divinity and the seat of our selfhood—and morally-indifferent “externals” on the other—not altogether different from the Vedantic concept of viveka: discrimination between self and non-self—became the kelson of Epictetus’s entire ethical system and made him a natural Stoic. I guess only on the condition that you believe in the existence of an immortal soul - cut this metaphysical notion from the system and becomes self-contradictory.Our team is made up of book lovers who are dedicated to sourcing and providing the best books for kids. If I was setting about to learn Stoicism over again, I would read Epictetus first before moving on to Marcus Aurelius and Seneca and then to the more modern works. In time, you will grow to be confident that there is not a single impression that you will not have the moral means to tolerate.

Instead of learning from it and preventing a similar thing from happening again (through strengthening yourself, punishing the offender, or whatever), you pity the man who did it since he degenerates himself by his acts. To Epictetus, all external events are determined by fate, and are thus beyond our control, but we can accept whatever happens calmly and dispassionately.If the emperor adopts you, no one will be able to put up with your pretension; but knowing that you are the son of God, shouldn’t your pride be that much greater?

I did enjoy the “sphere of choice” exercise: think whether all judgments you pass are within the sphere of choice or not; whether you can actually do anything about your complaints or about anything you hear.Yet all our fears are nothing but 'hobgoblins', masks we wear that enslave us, with our own selves acting as slavemaster. He knows that deep down you still envy your ex-classmates who had better jobs, better cars, your good looking colleagues, the seemingly perfect life of your superiors, he knows that you still blame fortune for not giving you this opportunity or that, anxious about what others think of you, fearing to fail to meet the social expectations of your group. Epictetus' perfect philosopher is very much the vagabond sage modeled on Socrates and Diogenes who has denounced all material and social ties and lives purely for virtue.

When applying this to myself, I experimented with reading God as fate, destiny, chaos, and simply the universe. We have to expect and prepare ourselves for disappointment and remain indifferent to things that are not in our power and are beyond our control. Don’t you know that in isolation a foot is no longer a foot, and that you likewise will no longer be a human being? His owner, Epaphroditus, was himself a former slave who rose to become a secretary in the imperial courts of Nero and Domitian.Each of these roles requires certain standards of behaviour; Epictetus is arguing for civic virtue as well as personal disregard of material possessions and other worldly benefits. It is ultimately like Tolstoy's Ivan Ilych wailing in pain in his deathbed, as if such tantruming could fend off death's arrival.