Remember The Lost
Enchiridion 3: Do Not Be Disturbed (On: The Nature Of A Thing)
"With regard to whatever objects give you delight, are useful, or are deeply loved, remember to tell yourself of what general nature they are, beginning from the most insignificant things. If, for example, you are fond of a specific ceramic cup, remind yourself that it is only ceramic cups in general of which you are fond. Then, if it breaks, you will not be disturbed. If you kiss your child, or your wife, say that you only kiss things which are human, and thus you will not be disturbed if either of them dies." (Epictetus, Enchiridon 3)
We have a dedicated space for coffee cups, and believe me when I say, "it's full." Cups stacked upon cups. There's a pic on the left. Every morning I get up, open the cupboard and find a red mug. Always the red one. I don't know why, I just do. I don't use any of the Superhero cups because they're not mine (except Captain America--that one's mine) and I shy from the ones with flowers or have cute Grandma sayings on them. My favorite mug is in my desk: a reproduction of Egyptian hieroglyphs. But I never use it. Its for decoration. No, my morning coffee starts in the red mug then I leave the house with my Yeti cup.
But that's all they are: cups. If one breaks, I can grab another. I should treat my Egyptian cup the same way, but I'm not sure how to replace it. But it's just a cup, so why be disturbed? Aren't people more precious than cups? People are not replaceable.
If we are averse to things we have no power to change, then we are wretched. Why? Because we cannot escape. People come and go. They do--that's how it is. We can't control that.
What do we do? Love them, enjoy them while you have them, but let them go when they go. There's no getting them back. It's part of being human. Desiring the presence of one who is gone is futile. Sure, he or she can be missed, but we have no power to bring them back. What we do have power over is how we respond and I chose not to be disturbed.
Loss happens.
Popular posts from this blog
The Smooth-flowing Life
Legend has it that the astronomer Ptolemy (1st century A.D.) suggested that falling stars were caused by the gods moving in the heavens, thus knocking stars out of their places. Somehow people reasoned that that if the gods were moving, they must be getting close to earth so they would lift their "prayers" or "wishes" (literally, "desires") whenever they saw the stars falling in hopes the gods would notice and grant a favorable answer. But how does one wish on falling star? Once you see it, it's gone before the wish or prayer can be made! The answer is simple: meteor shower. That's how to get your wish. Mrs. Ann Hodges had a wish fall right into her lap. Sort of. In 1954 Mrs. Hodges was sleeping on the couch when a 8 1/2 pound meteorite fell through her house and into her living room where it bounced off the radio and struck her left hip leaving her with a bruise. Not sure what she was wishing, but that's not how to do it. Epictetus hel
A Reflection in Plato’s “Republic” Book 2
Early in Book 2 of Plato’s “Republic,” the discussion turns into the story of a man named Gyges who finds a ring that makes him invisible. Using the powers of the ring, he reports to the court of his king, seduces the queen “and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and took the kingdom.” What would happen if there were two rings, one worn by an unjust man and the other by a just man? The story attempts to make the case that a just man will act unjustly if given the opportunity to think he is doing right, if only by himself. But what if he doesn’t? What if there was no ring, and what if there was a perfectly unjust man and a perfectly just man and both had everything they needed in life? The unjust man must cover his steps in order to be distinguished and succeed. In the eyes of others, he appears to be just. But what about the just man, who appears to be unjust? “They will tell you that the just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound-will have hi
Three New Additions To My Desk
Actually, it’s an ad-duck-tion. I missed the perfect opportunity to say, “and they’re in a row, too!” Silly goose.