Stop Caring About What Isn't Yours: Epictetus’ Lessons from My Novel
Stoic philosopher Epictetus didn’t sugarcoat anything. He was direct and told the listener exactly how it was – at least, from the Stoic perspective. His no-nonsense approach, which becomes apparent when reading what’s left of his lectures, is why I love Epictetus. He was the first Stoic I read, inspired many of my videos, and got me hooked on Stoic philosophy years ago. Epictetus’ philosophy also inspired me to write a novel set in the era of Epictetus, The Urge: Fall of a Stoic, which I have just released. This novel isn’t a Stoic manifesto. If anything, it challenges Stoicism, as it presents a different, anti-philosophical way of approaching life.
The story revolves around Titus, a young Roman from a wealthy family who, after his banishment from Rome, is sent to Nicopolis by his father to look after the family’s real estate. During his first years of residing there, he falls in love, marries, and has two sons. His life is good until his father passes away, the family breaks apart, and its capital is squandered. As a consequence, Titus is forced to sell most of his real estate and can just get by. Not long afterward, his wife cheats on him and leaves him for the wealthy snob named Alcander Cassius, who, with his influence, wins custody over Titus’ two sons. When Titus realizes that there’s nothing he can do to stop Alcander and his ex-wife, he turns to Stoic philosopher Epictetus on the advice of his friend Arrian of Nicomedia.
In this video, I present a reading from my novel, The Urge: Fall of a Stoic. The Urge is available at the crazy introductory price of 0.99 for the ebook, and both of my Stoicism eBooks are available FOR FREE on Amazon until Sunday. So, get them while you can. Also, become a Patreon supporter and protect this channel from the merciless algorithm. You’ll get to enjoy ALL Einzelganger videos ad-free, get access to the Epictetus Audio series, and, depending on your pledge, you’ll receive free merch. Thanks a lot for your support.
Chapter 9: Epictetus
Things weren’t going well for him. Remus had visited every legal advisor in Nicopolis by now, but the response was always the same: suing Alcander Cassius was doomed to fail unless one had enough money to bribe almost the entire judiciary of Nicopolis and its surroundings. And since Alcander had made himself virtually untouchable through bribery, Titus could do little against that rich snob through legal means. Once that realization sank in, he decided to give that philosopher Arrian was so enthusiastic about a chance. Arrian welcomed Titus with joy.
Epictetus didn’t have a fixed place where he held his lectures. Often, he and his students gathered in the city park, sometimes even by the large oak just outside the city. But, as Arrian explained, in recent months the wealthy patron Caius Aelius Octavianus had opened one of his properties for Epictetus’ lectures. The property, near the forum, was regularly used for meetings and educational purposes. And since the patron himself was a Stoic student, he hosted the philosopher and his students for free, as long as he could have a front-row seat. Arrian admitted it wasn’t very Stoic, but it provided Epictetus and his students with a temporary location.
The lecture hall on the ground floor was huge, fitting a hundred people. The ceilings were high, and the walls decorated with paintings, with columns on either side separating the main hall from the corridors. The hall had four doors, two leading to the hallway and the other two to a large patio. Well before the lecture began, people eagerly filled the wooden benches, which even had backrests. The hall was packed. The audience included craftsmen, intellectuals, aristocrats, and politicians. Even slaves were welcome, if their masters permitted them. Caius Aelius Octavianus sat in the front with a proud smile in his finest toga, accompanied by his two teenage daughters whom he intentionally exposed to Stoic philosophy from a young age. Then there was the noisy quaestor Tiberius Sellus who had come all the way from Rome and had previously interrupted Epictetus during lectures. Arrian and Titus managed to get a second-row seat.
Then he finally entered through the door as if a demigod was entering, but one on crutches. Nobody knew exactly why Epictetus limped, and nobody dared to ask him. The majority claimed his former master had broken his leg in anger; others believed he suffered from rheumatism. Epictetus slowly hobbled to the lectern. He carefully surveyed the audience.
“A large gathering. Is that a good sign? It depends. Are you here because you want to become rich or famous? Or maybe to vent about your neighbor or your master or slave, or perhaps even about Zeus himself? Or are you here to learn how to be free? And no, by being free, I don’t mean that you can do whatever you want. By being free, I mean that you’re not dependent on things that are beyond your control. If you want to be free, you’re welcome. If not, you’re better off staying away.”
Titus stood up. His heart pounded in his throat. His hands trembled. He swallowed several times before he spoke. “I… am new here. I come to seek your advice.” From inside his chiton, he pulled out a piece of papyrus with notes that fluttered between his fingers and landed on the floor. He left the notes on the ground. “I’ve been through a lot lately. I don’t know how to move forward. I… I don’t come to complain, but I want to share my story so you can help me.”
With a lump in his throat, he recounted how he lost his wealth, his wife left him, took his children and went on vacation to Olympia with Alcander Cassius, and also how his reputation was ruined by false rumors. The philosopher interrupted him. “Why do you complain about things that are unimportant? You’re upset over the loss of what was not yours in the first place. What did you expect? That you would be inseparable into the underworld? Do you really think, like the fools among us, that everything you cherish will never disappear? Don’t be so silly. If your former wife was to be with you for eternity, she would still be by your side. Your wife, your children, your house, your reputation, your precious metals, and even, yes, even your body are not your possessions. Zeus has lent them to you. He takes them back whenever he wants. This is the feast of the gods. They lead the universe well and justly. So don’t call it a tragedy or a catastrophe, but accept it with contentment.”
“But what do I have left if all these things are taken from me?” Titus wiped his tears on his chiton. “The gods have made us humans to be happy and balanced. Zeus has given us the means to do so. He has given us things that are ours, and things that are not ours. That your wife leaves you is not up to you. But how you deal with this event is indeed up to you. That you feel miserable about this situation is not someone else’s fault; it’s due to your own deficiency.”
“Wait, this is not right!” Titus said with a trembling voice. “Now you’re blaming the victim! Isn’t my wife to blame at all? And what about that scoundrel? They caused all this, didn’t they? It certainly wasn’t me who committed adultery. It wasn’t me who spread all sorts of lies. Come on, philosopher. This makes no sense. I miss any form of justice!”
Titus felt his heart raging like a group of Spartan soldiers on the battlefield outnumbered by the enemy. “Why do you call yourself a victim? You are suffering for your unreasonableness. Why should she suffer because you consider what belongs to another as your own? Things like wealth, fame, power, relationships, and even fair treatment are ultimately up to the gods; they are beyond your control. The only thing within your control is how you deal with these circumstances. If you remain undisturbed by these things, then you will also experience no sorrow. But if you keep lamenting about things that don’t concern you, then you are nothing more than a slave.”
Cheers came from the back of the hall, followed by the rest of the attendees. Titus sat down and stared blankly ahead. Epictetus turned to his audience and explained that if you let your happiness depend on things that are not yours, you’re in an unreliable position. Arrian added, unasked, that Lady Fortuna just needs to take these things away from you, and she’s gotten a rise out of you.
“Or she brings you joy by giving you what you desire. And so, you are dependent on her whims, and she plays you like a puppet. If you focus on what’s not within your control, suffering is inevitable sooner or later,” said Arrian. Although the lecture was over, aspiring philosophers filled the hall to the brim. Tiberius Sellus, who, to everyone’s surprise, had remained silent during the entire lecture, finally contributed his aphorisms and fallacies. Caius Aelius Octavianus proudly walked through the crowd with Epictetus by his side, trying to quickly resolve some personal issues. Soon, Arrian joined in the conversation, to the irritation of the host.
Titus walked into the patio. Not a cloud in the sky. The sound of an owl echoed through the courtyard, sending shivers down his spine. A scorpion hurried across the courtyard. Titus took a few steps back and waited until the creature disappeared under a crack in the old stone wall. Among the conifers, he saw a man standing with his back to him by the fountain in the middle of the patio, surrounded by a sea of withered plants. Just like the man he had encountered the previous day in the woods, he wore a dark red toga and hood, shielding him from the fierce sun. The man turned around. Titus’ heart skipped a beat.
“That Epictetus is quite a phenomenal speaker, isn’t he?”
Titus examined the man from head to toe. Now he was sure. It was the same guy as in the woods. He still seemed familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he knew him from, or who he was, for that matter. His face was too smooth for a gladiator, but too rough for a politician. His skin seemed to see little sunlight. His eyes had the depth of a well, but also the sparkle of the lagoon on a sunny afternoon. Titus made brief eye contact and glanced at the tops of the conifers towering over the walls surrounding the patio.
“Arrian was right,” said Titus. “Epictetus’ words are useful. I feel better now.”
“Fantastic. I think I heard him say that a true philosopher does not wish for life to go as he wants, but as it goes. Did I hear that correctly?”
Titus stared at the fountain. A brief burning sensation appeared in his stomach. He thought about how deeply he wished life had turned out differently, that he had never lost his fortune, that his father was still alive, that his wife had never deceived him, that he had finally discovered the secret to turning stone into gold and thus being carried on the hands of the Roman people along the Tiber. He felt small, insignificant, powerless. How could I wish for all this? Sighing deeply, he shook his head. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“Ah.” The man frowned, dipped his hands into the fountain, and took a sip of water. “So, you should accept in contentment that your wife commits adultery and falsely accuses you of being a pimp, right? Zeus has taken back your wife and children and assigned them to another.”
“That seems to be the gist of it, yes.” As if struck by a stray arrow, Titus cast a blank stare ahead. The tops of the conifers danced like courtesans in the brothels near the forum. The sound of crickets drowned out the nonsensical background chatter. Titus imagined himself watching impassively as his former wife strolled hand in hand with Alcander Cassius through the sacred precincts of the gods in Olympia, or as he himself walked undisturbed through the marketplace in Nicopolis while the people laughed and scorned him. Again, a burning sensation filled his stomach, spreading to his chest and throat. His legs felt heavy, as if Sisyphus had placed his boulder on his shoulders.
“Are you suggesting Epictetus is wrong?”
“Oh, not at all. I wouldn’t dare. Perhaps I’m completely mistaken. But I do wonder if we truly must accept everything that Epictetus claims is ‘not up to us’ with contentment, especially those things that deeply revolt us inside.” Titus sighed deeply, his fingers and toes curling as the burning sensation seemed to climb into his hands and feet. Hoping for relief from these unpleasant sensations, he pushed his body up and down with his calves.
“But what else can we do? Whether the gods are good or bad, or not gods at all, many things are not within our control. Epictetus is entirely right about this. My wealth, my wife, even my children are not mine. The gods can apparently take them away from me. As long as I’m attached to these things, I’m vulnerable. So, what I really need to do is let go of all this.”
“Is that so? Look, according to the Stoics, we should focus on things within our control and not desire things beyond our control, like fame, wealth, or even our loved ones. If we do, Lady Fortuna plays us like puppets—I get that. But aren’t the many things beyond our control precisely the fine things in life? What would life be worth without walks with your loved ones through the olive groves, the sight of the temple of Zeus, the enjoyment of a Falernian wine? Following the Stoics might create inner peace, but it also stops you from truly living.”
Titus remained silent. After a glance at the dancing conifers, the man walked back inside, looked around, and left the building. Titus stayed in the patio for a while longer, staring at the fountain, until Arrian called him back inside. I hope you enjoyed this reading from my novel. If you’re interested in reading the full story, please follow the link in the description. I’d be very happy if you gave it a try. You can get the eBook for 99 cents and both of my Stoicism eBooks FOR FREE on Amazon until this Sunday. Thank you for watching.