Festival: A Stoic Mindset

When you're alone you should call this condition tranquility and freedom, and think of yourself like the gods; and when you are with many, you shouldn't call it a crowd, or trouble, or uneasiness, but festival and company, and contentedly accept it.

 -Epictetus

When I'm in public, I'm at a festival. It's a mindset, one that is hugely important to my daily stoic practice. In fact, festival is a personal rallying cry. It reminds me of everything that matters in my philosophy. Festival reminds me of what is in my control. Festival demands that I live in a state of attention. Festival pokes me and says, all these people are family. I haven't run across other stoics who promote the festival mindset specifically, though I'm sure it would fit naturally in their practice and may go by other names.

First, some background. I've dealt with overwhelming anxiety since middle school. Crowds, loud parties, football games, and such have never been my favorite environments. In fact, over time I built up quite a misanthropic view of public gatherings. I had to struggle for a long while (and keep up the good work) to learn a better way to think. That's why Epictetus' quote resonates so strongly with me. The festive approach to life has freed me to enjoy more of my time and more of the world.

You'll notice that Epictetus expects us to re-frame our circumstances.  You're not in a crowd, you're at a festival. Stoics believe in personal accountability for everything that is in our control. Our opinions are one of the categories that falls under our control. You can check out the first chapter of Epictetus' Handbook for more on that, or you can recall old Will Shakespeare's, there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. The much older Epictetus agreed. He said, People are not disturbed by things, but by the view they take of them.

We give a lot of grace to the people we're intentionally hanging out with. We've all been to an enjoyable party. Good friends having good times. Chances are, many of your pals were loud, maybe obnoxious, and yet you still had a great night. This is not because your friends are decent people who know how to party correctly. It's because your expectations were in line with partying.  

I was at a cocktail bar a month ago. I sat at the bar to read. Behind me, at least twenty five people were at tables being very loud constantly and Justin-Beiber-concert loud at random intervals. I wasn't concerned. I went to the bar expecting noise and I'd already said festival under my breath to keep my bearing. Half way into a second cocktail, my bartender came up and said, "you know, there's an engagement party going on directly behind you." I think he wanted to let me know why no one was taming the crowd. The info didn't change my already happy mood, but it lent some context. Now, the reason I'm sharing this is because about ten minutes later a couple on a date sat down at the bar next to me. As I transitioned to cocktail number three (I like cocktails with my Kindle reading) I noticed that my new neighbors were agitated. They were doing the whole, head turn and stare-at-the-loud-people-until-they-are-shamed thing that most of us have done ourselves at one time or another. I leaned over and said, "yeah, they're having an engagement party over there." The guy next to me replied, "oh, that's cool then," and they went back to their conversation and never seemed agitated again. That's how we operate. Oh, there's a reason? Fine. And the thing is, there is always a reason when it comes to humans. Maybe it's a foolish or horrible reason, but it's there. For Stoics the onus is on us to make the adjustment. We don't expect the world to be any different than it actually is. To keep my Epictetus quote streak rolling, let me add this one.

It is impossible that happiness, and yearning for what is not present, should ever be united.

I recently read one of those ubiquitous quote posters that are plastered on every website. It said, Don't get between my personality and my attitude because my personality is ME and my attitude depends on YOU  (emphasis, the poster). This statement should make any stoic cringe. Well, I suppose a good stoic wouldn't cringe...but you get what I'm saying. My attitude depends on me and only me. Final Epic quote, this one from chapter 28 of the Handbook.

If a person gave your body to a stranger you met on the way, you would certainly be angry. And do you feel no shame in handing over your mind to be confused and mystified by anyone who verbally attacks you? 

Here, Epictetus is addressing a personal attack. The guys in the corner of the bar cheering for a touchdown? They aren't even thinking of us. How much stranger that we take it personally.

Festival. The word reminds me that my attitude is a choice. It reinvigorates me when the chaos of the day starts to affect my mood. It reminds me that the Discipline of Action calls me to care about everyone.  Most importantly, it rescues my day from myself. Who would have thought that enjoying my day is more fun than not enjoying it? Developing a festive mind takes work, but it pays well.

Iteration or Something Like It

Habits begin to form at the very first repetition. After that there is a tropism toward repetition, for the patterns involved are defenses, bulwarks against time and despair...Of course there was no such thing as a true repetition of anything; ever since the pre-Socratics that had been clear, Heraclitus and his un-twice-steppable river and so on. So habits were not truly iterative, but pseudoiterative. The pattern of the day might be the same, in other words, but the individual events fulfilling the pattern were always a little bit different. Thus there was both pattern and surprise, and this was Wahram's desired state: to live in a pseudoiterative. But then also to live in a good pseudoiterative, an interesting one, the pattern constructed as a little work of art. 

-Kim Stanley Robinson, 2312

I'm working on a stoic daily routine. Exciting, I know. I guess I could say daily ritual and gain the patina of ancient spirituality that "ritual" implies, but I'm willing to stick with the less grandiose term. A routine is necessary if I'm ever going to build consistency into my view of the world around me, and stoicism is all about point-of-view.

I'm already a fan of a patterned day. I'm big on easing into the morning. Wake up, make breakfast, sip coffee, shave (slowly with a straight razor if I have the time), shower, drink more coffee while perusing Google News, etc... It shouldn't be that difficult to add some intentional meditation, a mantra, the sacrifice of a goat to Zeus (not actually a thing), or some other helpful device to keep my attention focused during the day.

Evenings are covered. The ancient stoics pretty consistently recommend retrospection at the end of the day. Before going to sleep, I can review how I used my hours. I can look at both my failures and my triumphs and seek to learn from them. I've practiced this on and off and found it helpful. It's calming and, when I wake up, I remember, "Hey, X got under my skin yesterday so I better be prepared if it happens again today."

My mornings are more up in the air. I usually remind myself of a Marcus Aurelius quote,

When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: the people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous and surly. They are like this because they can't tell good from evil. But I have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own - not of the same blood and birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine.

Stoics are big on remembering that obstacles are going to be there whether you're prepared or not, so it's better to be prepared. I have a variety of other quotes stored in Evernote and I take time to review them as well. What I haven't decided is if I want to set aside fifteen minutes or half an hour just to center myself. Also, I have no idea how I would go about centering myself.

I opened with the Robinson quote because I love that view of life, the pseudoiterative. Like the character Wahram, I also want my day to be a little work of art. Stoicism gives me the tools I need to live that out. I just need to use them more consistently.

The Invincible Stoic

First Published in 2011 on Trustocracy.com.

But if you suppose that only to be your own which is your own, and what belongs to others such as it really is, then no one will ever compel you or restrain you. Further, you will find fault with no one or accuse no one. You will do nothing against your will. No one will hurt you, you will have no enemies, and you will not be harmed. 

-Epictetus

Epictetus claims I can become invincible. It's an appealing notion. I can't claim to be a fan of pain. Few people are. The thought of leaving stress, anxiety, and hurt behind me resonates with a comfort seeking self. There's a reason I don't go to the gym enough, and it isn't a love of body fat. I've been told I live in a culture of comfort. Perhaps, but it seems more reasonable to admit that I come from a species of comfort-seekers. Which is also to say, I am simply a living being.

As I said, I'm not a fan of pain. However, I am a student of pain. Pain is the reason I never became a Buddhist. I respect much about that philosophy, but unlike Siddhartha I believe that pain is a feature, not a bug, in this universe. It is pain and struggle that shaped the world. Speciation exists because a billion habitats were not comfortable enough for a million billion stressed out ancestors of everything on this earth. So when Epictetus tells me to become impervious to my environment, I wonder if he's also asking me to cease developing. That's not my style. I remember the former me, a lot of them, and I always enjoy present me more. I figure by the time I'm 120 I'll be pretty damn fantastic. The thought of freezing into a mid-30s mindset is not very appealing.

So when I approach Epictetus, I need him to convince me that his Stoicism engages the world. I have no time for viewpoints that flee from it. Which brings me to his most famous line. Some things are in our control and others not. There, in a nutshell, Epictetus lays out the foundation that he built his stoic practice on. The more complete opening goes like this,

Some things are in our control and others not. Things in our control are opinion, pursuit, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever are our own actions. Things not in our control are body, property, reputation, command, and, in one word, whatever are not our own actions.

If I understand Epictetus, he equates control over things with ownership of those things. I find this reasonable. Possession is nine tenths of the law, and the other tenth involves me begging a more powerful force to get my bauble back. From that premise, Epictetus goes on to claim that I only own myself. Particularly, I only own my mental self. Notice that even my body isn't included in the ownership list. I accept this point as well. At present, my body is pretty much in sync with my mind. It does what I want it to do. If I were to talk to Michael J. Fox, however, we might have quite a conversation about the trustworthiness of the body. So here I am, saying that the only things I can effect with certainty are my own opinions of the world, my desires in the world (and the other side of the coin, my aversions) and my choice whether of not to pursue those desires.

A final Epictetus quote, this one from the Discourses. I will show the nerves of a philosopher. "What nerves are these?" A desire never disappointed, an aversion which never falls on that which it would avoid, a proper pursuit, a diligent purpose, an assent which is not rash. These you shall see. The nerves of a philosopher. To show nerve, you need something to steel them against. So there is a struggle here. It's the struggle to be invincible. Epictetus is wrestling with himself. He grapples with his intellect, trying to force it to pay attention to the right things and dismiss the rest. The struggle is internal but it is about his approach to the external world. His imperviousness, after all, ends with an assent which is not rash.

Stoicism engages with the world, but it refuses to struggle with it. Epictetus asks me to accept that I can't control my environment, but that I can control my reaction to it. Ideally, I will apply 100% effort towards only those things which I can control and in so doing I will act powerfully; free from fear, anger, and other burdens. Instead of struggling, I'm striving. The world can't wrestle me to the ground because I'm untouchable. Yet I'm still challenged to put one foot in front of the other to reach my goals. I will continue to develop under these terms. I can even thrive. I might not ever become invincible. I'm not sure Epictetus ever felt he got there either. Still, we can both agree that it's worth the effort.