"Did Your Child Die? It Was Given Back"

 There was an interesting passage in our reading of Epictetus. It read:

“Never say about anything, “I have lost it,” but instead, “I have given it back.” Did your child die? It was given back. Did your wife die? She was given back (…) As long as he gives it, take care of it as something that is not your own, just as travelers treat an inn.”

My reading of Epictetus was conflicted. There were parts I agreed with him and parts I couldn't fathom his reasoning behind. This passage in particular struck me in it's lack of regard for human emotion. We're not supposed to concern ourselves over our own death and conversely we're not supposed to concern ourselves with the death of other people.

The relationships Epictetus cites are fundamental relationships anchored in importance. According to his proposition we're not supposed to care. We're not supposed to invest ourselves in people. There's a certain level of detachment that he wants us to practice.

The way Epictetus wants us to live our lives is in this dead pan emotion and I just can't agree with that. His concept makes sense. By not caring or really digging ourselves into the people we're supposed to care about, there is less pain. With less pain there is more pleasure. It just doesn't work for me. To not experience and care about something seems to deny what is innately human. This detachment is useful for not being hurt, but not in living. To never be effected by something and to just embrace everything as it comes is an idyllic concept that has no hope in being fulfilled.

Depending on what you want to optimize and minimize in your life, Epictetus's advice makes coherent sense. It does however seem impossible to living your life as a wayward wind that never settles down. The pace Epictetus wants us to lead our life is that of a Sade track.