Exploring Encheiridion 7 – Episode 38

When you are on a voyage and the boat is at anchor, if you disembark to get water, you may pick up a little shellfish and vegetable on the way, but you need to keep your mind fixed on the boat and keep turning around in case the captain calls; and if he does call, you must drop all those things, to avoid being tied up and stowed on board like the sheep. That’s how it is in life too. If you are given a little wife and child, instead of a little vegetable and shellfish, that will not be a problem. But if the captain calls you, run to the boat and leave all those things without even turning around. And if you are old, never go far from the boat in case you are missing when he calls. (Ench 7)

This parable is interesting, and I cannot find a similar story anywhere in Stoic texts. However, the fact that Arrian would include it in his Handbook for Stoic practitioners tells us its meaning would have been clear to the students of Epictetus. Since no story like this appears in other surviving Stoic texts, Epictetus is likely drawing on a commonly understood cultural reference. I am not an expert in Greek culture, literature, or history. Nevertheless, I found the following connections that appear to add some meaning to this passage.

The imagery in Encheiridion 7 is similar to that of the ancient Greek myth of Charôn, the ferryman. He transported the souls of the deceased over the river Styx to the underworld. The Greek poet Euripides, who was writing almost 500 years before Epictetus, has his character Alcestis say:

I see him there at the oars of his little boat in the lake, the ferryman of the dead, Kharon (Charon), with his hand upon the oar and he calls me now. ‘What keeps you? Hurry, you hold us back.’ He is urging me on in angry impatience. (Euripides, Alcestis 252)

Likewise, Machon, a writer of comedies, who was writing approximately 300 years before Epictetus, wrote the following in his Philoxenus:

But since Timotheos’ Kharon (Charon), the one in his Niobe, does not let me dally but shouts that the ferry-boat is leaving, and gloomy Moira (Fate), who must be obeyed is summoning me. (fragment 786)

Machon, the writer of this passage, is quoting from a work by Timotheus of Miletus titled Niobe, written approximately 200 years earlier and 500 years before Epictetus. Note the reference to a piece titled Niobe. There are several versions of the myth of Niobe, the bereaved mother whose children were killed by Apollo as punishment for her hubris. The story of Niobe is not essential for our discussion; however, as I will point out in a minute, the reference to Timotheus’ Niobe is important. First, I also want to point out that Seneca references Charon, the ferryman of the river Styx, several times in his literary writings. This supports the idea this imagery was commonly used and understood during the time of Epictetus.

So, how does all of this relate to Encheiridion 7? I think you’ll begin to see the connections after I tie it all together in an often-overlooked passage by Diogenes Laertius’ on the death of Zeno, the founder of the Stoa:

The manner of his death was as follows. As he was leaving the school he tripped and fell, breaking a toe. Striking the ground with his fist, he quoted the line from the Niobe: I come, I come, why dost thou call for me? and died on the spot through holding his breath. (DL 7.28)

I’m going to set the details of Zeno’s manner of death aside because that is relevant to our discussion. However, Zeno’s response to his imminent death is noteworthy. We can infer two different attitudes from Zeno’s words in this story of his death. First, we could infer some resistance to death from his last words: “why are you calling me?” Alternatively, we can infer an attitude of bewilderment. The Greek word used in this passage means to “cry out, shout, call aloud.” Therefore, Zeno could have been saying, “I’m coming, of course, I’m coming; there’s no need to shout at me?” Zeno’s broken toe likewise provides some interesting symbolism, which may suggest he couldn’t move as fast as the Captain may like. Based on the totality of Stoic teaching and his reputation as the founding Scholarch, I think we have good reason to assume Zeno exhibited the later attitude upon receiving his call from the Captain.

While Encheiridion 7 may initially appear obscure, the general meaning becomes more apparent when applying these ancient references. Epictetus is using this parable to highlight the fact our life is a transitory stop on a voyage that can end at any moment when the Captain calls us to return to the source of our existence. Let’s look closer at each of these aspects.

Life as a transitory stop

The transitory nature of human life is discussed frequently in the Stoic texts. Marcus Aurelius wrote,

In human life, the time of our existence is a point, our substance a flux, our senses dull, the fabric of our entire body subject to corruption, our soul ever restless, our destiny beyond divining, and our fame precarious. In a word, all that belongs to the body is a stream in flow, all that belongs to the soul, mere dream and delusion, and our life is a war, a brief stay in a foreign land, and our fame thereafter, oblivion. So what can serve as our escort and guide? One thing and one alone, philosophy; and that consists in keeping the guardian-spirit within us inviolate and free from harm, and ever superior to pleasure and pain, and ensuring that it does nothing at random and nothing with false intent or pretence, and that it is not dependent on another’s doing or not doing some particular thing, and furthermore that it welcomes whatever happens to it and is allotted to it, as issuing from the source from which it too took its origin, and above all, that it awaits death with a cheerful mind as being nothing other than the releasing of the elements from which every living creature is compounded. Now if for the elements themselves it is nothing terrible to be constantly changing from one to another, why should we fear the change and dissolution of them all? For this is in accordance with nature: and nothing can be bad that accords with nature. (Meditations 2.17)

Seneca wrote an extended essay on the topic titled, On the Shortness of Life. He opened with these lines:

Most of mankind, Paulinus, complains about nature’s meanness, because our allotted span of life is so short, and because this stretch of time that is given to us runs its course so quickly, so rapidly—so much so that, with very few exceptions, life leaves the rest of us in the lurch just when we’re getting ready to live. (On the Shortness of Life, 1.1)

Then, a paragraph later, he argues:

It’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it’s been given to us in generous measure for accomplishing the greatest things, if the whole of it is well invested. But when life is squandered through soft and careless living, and when it’s spent on no worthwhile pursuit, death finally presses and we realize that the life which we didn’t notice passing has passed away. (On the Shortness of Life, 1.3)

Collecting Indifferents

How is it that life seems to pass by and leave us in a lurch if, as Seneca argues, we have plenty of time? Here we come to one of the main lessons of Encheiridion 7. While we are ashore during this transitory stop we call life; we will necessarily seek out some preferred indifferents like water and food. We may even choose other preferred indifferents like a spouse or a child. Nevertheless, Epictetus reminds us our primary responsibility is to focus our attention on the divine—represented by the ship and its Captain—while we engage with preferred indifferents to develop our moral character and prepare for the inevitable return of our constituent parts to their cosmic source—the rational, creative fire (divine logos). We are not here to simply drink water, eat, and procreate. That is not the purpose of human life. Yes, it is part of our human experience, but it is not our purpose. As Epictetus reminds us,

It is thus shameful for a human being to begin and end where the irrational animals do. Rather, he should start off where they do and end where nature ended with regard to ourselves. Now it ended with contemplation, and understanding, and a way of life that is in harmony with nature. Take care, then, that you don’t die without having contemplated these realities. (Discourses 1.6.20-21)

I think it’s interesting to note the items used in Encheridion 7 as possible distractions from our primary purpose. He used high-value preferred indifferents. Food and water are necessary for life, and child-rearing is needed to perpetuate humankind. He could have used more frivolous examples. Epictetus could have said,

If you disembark to see the sights, you may search for gold, and gather some beautiful shells on the way, but you need to keep your mind fixed on the boat and keep turning around in case the captain calls.

Instead, he used preferred indifferents necessary for life (food and water) and some that help us develop our moral character (a spouse and child).

Nevertheless, Epictetus warns us not to let these preferred indifferents, even a spouse and child, distract us from our primary task—to keep our eyes on the divinity and develop our moral excellence, so we are ready when the Captain calls us back. As Epictetus warns us:

But as things are, although we have it in our power to apply ourselves to one thing alone, and devote ourselves to that, we choose instead to apply ourselves to many things, and attach ourselves to many, to our body, and our possessions, and our brother, and friend, and child, and slave. And so, being attached in this way to any number of things, we’re weighed down by them and dragged down. (Discourses 1.1.14-15)

Again, as I noted in the last episode, the Stoics did not prohibit the acquisition of preferred indifferents. They certainly didn’t prohibit marriage and the raising of children, and Musonius Rufus encouraged it. However, the Stoics warned us about desiring and becoming attached to any external to the extent we lose sight of our purpose—which is to develop a morally excellent character (virtue).

Later in the same Discourse about things that are in our power and those that are not, Epictetus admonishes us:

What are we to do, then? To make the best of what lies within our power, and deal with everything else as it comes. ‘How does it come, then?’ As God wills. (Discourses 1.1.17)

Pay Attention to the Captain

None of us knows when the Captain will call. Zeno couldn’t have known his call would come as he exited his school on that fateful day. However, it appears he was prepared to go. Marcus refers to this preparation for death when he reminds himself to live each moment as if it was his last. He wrote:

At every hour devote yourself in a resolute spirit, as befits a Roman and a man, to fulfilling the task in hand with a scrupulous and unaffected dignity, and with love for others, and independence, and justice; and grant yourself a respite from all other preoccupations. And this you will achieve if you perform every action as though it were your last, freed from all lack of purpose and wilful deviation from the rule of reason, and free from duplicity, self-love, and dissatisfaction with what is allotted to you. (Meditations 2.5)

In his commentary on this passage, Pierre Hadot wrote:

When we view things from the perspective of death, it is impossible to let a single one of life’s instants pass by lightly. If, like Marcus and the Stoics, we believe that the only good thing is moral action and a perfectly good and pure intent, then we must transform our way of thinking and of acting in this very instant. The thought of death confers seriousness, infinite value, and splendor to every present instant of life. “To perform each of life’s actions as if it were the last” means to live the present instant with such intensity and such love that, in a sense, an entire lifetime is contained and completed within it.^[1]

If we live each moment as if it’s our last, we will be ready to run to the ship when the Captain calls. We will remain ever willing to accept our fate in a providentially ordered cosmos. As Epictetus proclaimed:

I must die; so must I die groaning too? (Discourses 1.1.21)

In this parable, Epictetus warns us if we don’t quickly and willingly heed the Captain’s call, we will be “tied up and stowed on board like the sheep.” Again, the symbolism here evokes another Stoics metaphor; that of the dog tied to the cart as told by Hippolytus:

When a dog is tied to a cart, if it wants to follow it is pulled and follows, making its spontaneous act coincide with necessity, but if it does not want to follow it will be compelled in any case. So it is with men too: even if they do not want to, they will be compelled in any case to follow what is destined. (Refutation of all heresies 1.21)

In Encheiridion 53, we will look at Epictetus’ metaphor formulation in his often-repeated prayer derived from Cleanthes Hymn to Zeus.

Lead me, O Zeus, and you, O Destiny, Wherever you have ordained for me. I will follow unflinching. But if, grown bad, I should refuse, I will follow none the less. (Encheiridion 53)

Why should we respond to our death this way? Because, to paraphrase Marcus from Meditations 4.23, everything that happens in the cosmos is part of the design. Nothing is too early or too late. Everything happens in its season. Everything proceeds from the cosmos, everyone subsists in the cosmos, and to that rational cosmos, we all must return. It’s the cycle of life. As Epictetus taught:

What is death? A bogey. Turn it round and you’ll find out; look, it doesn’t bite! Sooner or later, your poor body must be separated from its scrap of vital spirit, just as it was formerly. Why be upset, then, if it should come about now? If it is not separated now, it assuredly will be. For what reason? So that the cycle of the universe may be accomplished; for it has need of what is presently in existence, and what will come to be, and what has completed its course. (Discourses 2.1.17-18)

Marcus echoes the same in Meditations 4.14:

You entered the world as a part, and you will vanish back into that which brought you to birth; or rather, you will be received back into its generative reason through a process of change.

I want to draw your attention to two phrases in these last two passages. Epictetus referred to a “scrap of vital spirit” that must be separated from our body, and Marcus claims we will be “received back into” the “generative reason” of the cosmos “through a process of change.”

No, the Stoics were not dualists who believed our soul is separated from the body and remains as some form of a “Self” or individual agent after death. However, I think the Stoic conception of the cosmos does entail some exciting implications about what happens after death. No, there’s no eternal afterlife in Stoicism; however, our knowledge of quantum physics and a currently emerging model of consciousness, called panpsychism, shed new light on the Stoic conception of the cosmos and our connection to it.

For now, I’ll leave you with this to ponder. If, as the Stoics claim, we each possess a fragment divine reason, a god within, as our rational faculty, and all of our constituent parts must return to their source when we die, what becomes of that fragment of the divine? I will have more to say on this topic in future episodes.

We cannot know when our call from the Captain will come. We may get a warning in the form of a decline in our health and have some time to contemplate our death. Alternatively, our life can end in the blink of an eye when a drunk driver runs a red light at an intersection. Are you ready to leave when the Captain calls?

The Stoics did not write about death so often because they were worried about it—quite the opposite. In Letters 61, Seneca told Lucilius he was ready for death. He continued by claiming the reason he could enjoy life was because he was “not too concerned about how long all this is going to last.” Seneca suggests:

…dying well is dying willingly. (ibid)

Then, Seneca encouraged Lucilius with the following instruction:

So let us arrange our minds in such a way that whatever circumstances require is what we want—and especially that we think about our own end without sadness. (ibid)

That is the reason Epictetus instructs us to keep our minds fixed on the boat. That boat serves as a constant reminder that our life on earth is a transitory stop on a voyage that can end at any moment when the Captain calls us to return to the source of our existence. Are you preparing your mind to go willingly when the Captain calls? According to Seneca, being ready to go willingly enables us to enjoy life here and now.

Therefore, living a Stoic life inspired by the divine creative fire of the cosmos prepares us to return to that divine creative fire when the Captain calls.