On the one hand, my opinions are influenced by other people through what I read, or hear, or discuss. As for my impulses, desires, and aversions, many of them seem to spring up naturally and instinctively, and all I have available is some veto power when it comes to translating a thought into action. (Confirming my thought, I was distracted at that very moment by some gorgeous-looking gelato in a shop window, but I didn’t need it, and it wouldn’t have been good for my waistline, so I refrained from getting it.) On the other hand, I can certainly take care of my body by, say, going to the gym and eating healthy food; I can decide what to acquire, within my financial limits; and my reputation is also something I can work on, with colleagues, students, friends, and family. Moreover, even though I do not hold public office, the decision would certainly be mine if I were to seek it, as would my efforts to put myself forth as a candidate and work on a campaign to gather votes.
I was in the midst of articulating all this to my Stoic master when I suddenly realized that my twenty-first-century smugness had caught up with me. Of course Epictetus knew all this. He was no intellectual slouch. He must have meant something different from the literal reading of his words. I’m not sure why this surprised me, since all texts need to be interpreted against some background information. One needs guidance to provide some context, and luckily I had the best one available right next to me during my walk in the Forum. I asked him: “How do you make sense of my objection?” Epictetus’s answer came, as it often does, by way of an analogy: “We act very much as if we were on a voyage. What can I do? I can choose out the helmsman, the sailors, the day, the moment. Then a storm arises. What do I care? I have fulfilled my task: another has now to act, the helmsman. If the weather is bad for sailing, we sit distracted and keep looking continually and ask, ‘What wind is blowing?’ ‘The north wind.’ What have we to do with that? ‘When will the west wind blow?’ When it so chooses, good sir.”