“How Came I Hither?”

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  “I observed in the herbage a number of weather-worn stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were broken, covered with moss and half sunken in the earth. Some lay prostrate, some leaned at various angles, none was vertical. They were obviously headstones of graves, though the graves themselves no longer existed as either mounds or depressions; the years had leveled all. Scattered here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous tomb or ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion. So old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained—so neglected, deserted, forgotten the place, that I could not help thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose very name was long extinct. Filled with these reflections, I was for some time heedless of the sequence of my own experiences, but soon I thought, “How came I hither?”” An Inhabitant of Carcosa B...

Enchiridion 38: Protect Your Mind

"When walking, you are careful not to step on a nail or turn your foot; so likewise be careful not to hurt the ruling faculty of your mind. And, if we were to guard against this in every action, we should undertake the action with the greater safety." (Epictetus, Enchiridion 38)

Recently I saw a post where a barefoot runner asked his neighbors to clear the acorns off the sidewalks that lined his running route. His neighbors responses were (how shall we say), "insightful," such as "try wearing shoes" and the like. As a trail runner myself, I am tempted to contribute a thought or three, but my opinion is only that: an opinion (such as "embrace the suck, buddy. That's the joy of barefoot running.").


I recall visiting the Cayman Islands as a boy (above, napping after snorkeling in the cove) and how we had to wear shoes near the waterfront due the exposed coral that jutted it's sharp black teeth upward. No sand along the shore: just coral. How was it my friends could walk barefoot on the same ground that would destroy my tender feet? And that sand was hot! Their feet were tough. Calloused. Mine were not. It did not matter where they stepped, but I had to be careful. But they did too. No sense in stepping foolishly, no matter how tough the feet.

Then there's the proverbial (and not-so-proverbial) "pebble in the shoe." The other day my wife's walk across campus became tortuous as a tiny pebble found it's way into her shoe. Removing her shoe, she was amazed at how such a tiny grain could cause so much discomfort. The very next day a student entering her lab, removed his shoe and shook out a small rock.

I have a well-worn pair of running shoes that have a small tear in one side. Each time I go trail running, something gets into my shoes. So how do I fix the problem? I could not go trail running, or I could get a new pair of shoes. Same with how you use your mind. Perhaps you need not "go there" anymore and keep injuring our mind. Perhaps you need to change our mind about a matter altogether in order to protect it.

Why are you more likely to protect your feet, watching your steps, clearing rocks from your shoes, but when it comes to the mind you do so without care? If you were to think as you walk, wouldn't you keep our mind safe? Or maybe you like pebbles in your shoes.

You must take care how you use the mind, where you take it. 

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