I no sooner arrived in Washington, D.C., for Christmas than the sister I was traveling with came down with Covid and the sister we were visiting developed a non-Covid virus. Other family members became sick as well. (Miracle of miracles, I never got Covid.) On my return, I had a sinus attack that has left me tired, which is why this New Year’s post is so tardy. Apologies, dear readers.
As I sat alone at breakfast in the hotel, shuttling between drop-offs for the Covid sister in the room next to mine and visits to the non-Covid sister, I had an opportunity to read a book that has had a profound effect on my life and that I believe can help you navigate the world as well.
“The Art of Living: The Classical Manuel on Virtue, Happiness, and Effectiveness” (HarperOne< $19.99, 126 pages) is philosophical writer and performing musician Sharon Lebell’s superb contemporary reinterpretation of the writings of the Roman Stoic philosopher Epictetus (Epic TEE tus). He was a slave born in what is now Turkey around the year 55, one with a talent for philosophical thinking. His master, Epaphroditus — the Emperor Nero’s administrative secretary — recognized his intellectual abilities and sent him to Rome to study with Gaius Musonius Rufus, a Stoic teacher who believed in the equality of the sexes.
Eventually freed, Epictetus went on to teach philosophy until the year 94 when the Emperor Domition, fearing philosophy’s growing influence, banished him to Nicopolis in northwestern Greece, where he established a school. His most famous pupils were Marcus Aurelius, the later Roman emperor whose virtuous approach to life and “Meditations” would have another moment with the 2000 release of the movie “Gladiator,” and Arrian, the military commander/historian/philosopher we have to thank not only for preserving Epictetus’ teachings but for writing “The Anabasis of Alexander,” the best source on the campaigns of Alexander the Great.
Epictetus’ connection to my beloved Greece reinforced for me that nothing happens in the universe by chance. I was not entirely a stranger to him. Thirteen years ago, when the adored aunt who raised me died, a wise curator at The Metropolitan Museum of Art sent me a saying by Epictetus that still sits on my desk: “Do not demand that things happen as you want but wish that they happen as they do and you will get on well.”
That is easier said than done. Consider all the tragedies in the world — disasters natural and manmade, war, assaults on democracy, untimely deaths, accidents in which the driver who caused the disaster walks away without a scratch while the other party is dead or maimed. Why do we suffer and grieve?
But Epictetus would say that is not the question. Rather the question is what should be our response to suffering and grief? How do we live a good, that is a virtuous and thus happy, life amid the chaos that surrounds us? For Epictetus, who saw philosophy as a pragmatic practice for all rather than a theoretical enterprise for academics, the answer lay in control, not in control of or power over others but in control of our attitude toward others and the circumstances in which we find ourselves. To be a Stoic is not to be stoic with a stiff upper lip. It’s to understand that getting emotionally involved in things that you can’t control will only ensure that you won’t effectively respond to them.
This part is hard for those of us who’d like to rail against new House Speaker Kevin McCarthy, who can get all worked up about President Joe Biden having classified documents that his people have brought forth but doesn’t care that fabricating Republican congressman George Santos won his election in Nassau County under fraudulent circumstances. Epictetus is hard when you want to tell right wingers that Prince Harry is wrong not because he is “woke” and advocates for mental health and racial justice, but because he couldn’t see the royal opportunity that lay before him and his wife.
Epictetus would say change what you can — and don’t take any of it personally. Putting his book into immediate practice, I could’ve railed about our ruined Christmas vacation and all those family get-togethers marred by illness. Instead, once I determined I was not contagious, I decided to make the most of it. Mask in place, I went out in the community surrounding the hotel. I walked. I shopped. I arranged and rearranged my Christmas gifts, a bounty for which I am grateful. I did yoga every morning while watching Mass on TV. I watched movies with the non-Covid sister. I walked around Washington and museum-hopped with my Museum Buddy nephew, with whom I always share a fabulous lunch.
I thanked the hosting sister for making the best of a bad situation and, when it came time to come home, I thanked the now-Covid-free sister for her driving and enjoyed a lovely lunch with her in Wilmington, Delaware.
Epictetus died in 135 at age 80, a long life back then. I have realized in life that our time on this earth may be shorter than we’d like. No one is guaranteed the hour. All the more reason to enjoy it.