The Art of Living

The other day a friend told me about the philosophy and writings of Epictetus (pronounced epic-TEE-tus). Epictetus (A.D. 55-135) taught in Rome until the year 94 when Emporer Domitian banned philosophers from the city. In exile, he established his distinguished school of philosophy. Sharon Lebell presents a very nice translation of his work in a book called The Art of Living: The Classical Manual on Virtue, Happiness, and Effectiveness. From the back of the book:

Epictetus was born into slavery about A.D. 55 in the eastern outreaches of the Roman Empire. Sold as a child and crippled from the beatings of his master, Epictetus was eventually freed, rising from his humble roots to estabish an influential school of Stoic philosophy. Stressing that human beings cannot control life, only how they respond to it, Epictetus dedicated his life to outlining the simple way to happiness, fulfillment, and tranquility. By putting into practice the ninety-three witty, wise, and razor-sharp instructions that make up The Art of Living, readers learn to successfully meet the challenges of everyday life and face life’s inevitable losses and disappointments with grace.

Epictetus’ teachings rank among the greatest wisdom text of human civilization. Sharon Lebell presents this esteemed philosopher’s invaluable insights for the first time in a splendidly down-to-earth rendition. The result is the West’s first and best primer for living the best possible life—as helpful in the twenty-first century as it was in the first.

I highly recommend it.

Posted 28 January 2005 | Link to This Entry | View Comments (0)

A Warm Thanks

I arrived at our cabin in the mountains at 4:40 p.m. I parked on the street, climbed over the snowplow berm, and trudged through knee-high snow up to the cabin. It was 34 degrees (F) inside the cabin, so I turned on the heat. Then I grabbed the shovel and went back to the street. I usually shovel out a path 20 feet long and 3 feet wider than the car on each side. However, it was already getting dark, so all I expected to do was shovel enough to get the SUV off the street so I wouldn’t get a ticket and the snow plow wouldn’t hit the SUV.

The berm was hard as ice. I was hoping it was just a thin crust, but it was hard all the way through. After 20 minutes of chopping at it, I hadn’t made much progress, and it was getting pretty dark. I decided to do the “manly thing.” I would get into my 4-wheel drive SUV, take a running start and plow over the berm and into the soft snow on the other side. In the morning, I could shovel out around the SUV and remove the berm when I had more time.

The plan worked fine until I was half way over the berm and the SUV bottomed out. I spun my wheels (all 4 of them), but it didn’t do much good since they weren’t touching the ground. I was perched on top of the berm. I got out of the SUV and tried shoveling out the berm from underneath the SUV. It turns out that chopping that berm was a lot easier when the SUV wasn’t in the way.

After about an hour of chopping under the SUV, a good Samaritan drove by and asked if I needed help. I conceded that I did. He got out of his truck. He was wearing shorts. He had just arrived from San Diego. After about 15 minutes of chopping berm with him, he said that we weren’t making much progress. He found a rope in his truck which he attached between my SUV and his truck. His truck pulled. The SUV jerked and moved about one foot. His truck pulled again, but the SUV was stuck again. The tires on his truck were spinning on the asphalt road. He had chains on and sparks were flying.

We took turns shoveling again and after awhile we hooked up the rope again. His truck pulled. The SUV jerked and moved another foot. Then his tires started spinning and the sparks were flying again.

Once again we shoveled, and once again we hooked up the rope. Once again his truck pulled, and once again the SUV jerked and moved. This time it kept moving. It got pulled off the berm and into the street. He stopped his truck. I applied the brakes to the SUV, but the street was icy, and the SUV slid toward his truck. It finally stopped less than an inch from his truck. Whew!

I thanked him profusely and offered him $20. He refused the money, wished me good luck and drove away.

Now I was back in the same place that I was at 4:40 - in the street and needing to shovel out a place for the SUV. I took the time to do it right. I chopped the top of the berm down until I felt that it wasn’t so high that it could perch the SUV again. This time, when I plowed over it, I made it to the other side.

— Darren G.

Posted 2 January 2005 | Link to This Entry