November

20th
BEHOLD, NOW AS EVER

“If you’ve seen the present, you’ve seen all things, from time immemorial into all of eternity. For
everything that happens is related and the same.”
—MARCUS AURELIUS, M EDITATIONS, 6.37

T he events that will transpire today are the same as the things that have always occurred. People living
and dying, animals living and dying, clouds rolling in and rolling out, air sucked in and sucked out, as
it has for aeons. This moment right now, to paraphrase Emerson, is a quotation of the moments that have
come before and will come ever after.
This idea is expressed nowhere more beautifully than in the Christianity hymn Gloria Patri. “As it
was in the beginning, and now, and always, and to the ages of ages.” This thought is not supposed to be
depressing or uplifting. It’s just a fact. However, it can have a calming, centering effect. No need to get
excited, no need to wait on pins and needles. If you haven’t seen this before, someone else has. That can
be a relief.
 November 21st
ONCE IS ENOUGH, ONCE IS FOREVER

“A good isn’t increased by the addition of time, but if one is wise for even a moment, they will be
no less happy than the person who exercises virtue for all time and happily passes their life in
it.”
—CHRYSIPPUS QUOTED BY P LUTARCH IN M ORALIA: “ AGAINST THE STOICS ON COM M ON CONCEPTIONS,” 1062 (LOEB, P. 682)

P erhaps wisdom and happiness are like winning a medal in the Olympics. It doesn’t matter whether
you won a hundred years ago or ten minutes ago, or whether you won just once or in multiple events.
It doesn’t matter whether someone beats your time or score down the road, and it doesn’t matter whether
you never compete again. You’ll always be a medalist, and you’ll always know what it feels like. No one
can take that away—and it would be impossible to feel more of that feeling.
The Juilliard-trained actor Evan Handler, who not only survived acute myeloid leukemia but also
severe depression, has talked about his decision to take antidepressants, which he did for a deliberately
brief time. He took them because he wanted to know what true, normal happiness felt like. Once he did,
he knew he would stop. He could go back to the struggle like everyone else. He had the ideal for a
moment and that was enough.
Perhaps today will be the day when we experience happiness or wisdom. Don’t try to grab that
moment and hold on to it with all your might. It’s not under your control how long it lasts. Enjoy it,
recognize it, remember it. Having it for a moment is the same as having it forever.
 November 22nd
THE GLASS IS ALREADY BROKEN

“Fortune falls heavily on those for whom she’s unexpected. The one always on the lookout easily
endures.”
—SENECA, ON CONSOLATION TO HELVIA, 5.3

T here is a story of a Zen master who had a beautiful prized cup. The master would repeat to himself,
“The glass is already broken.” He enjoyed the cup. He used it. He showed it off to visitors. But in his
mind, it was already broken. And so one day, when it actually did break, he simply said, “Of course.”
This is how the Stoics think too. There is supposedly a true story about Epictetus and a lamp. He
never locked his house, and so his expensive lamp was stolen. When Epictetus replaced it, he replaced it
with a cheaper one so he could be less attached to it if it were stolen again.
Devastation—that feeling that we’re absolutely crushed and shocked by an event—is a factor of how
unlikely we considered that event in the first place. No one is wrecked by the fact that it’s snowing in the
winter, because we’ve accepted (and even anticipated) this turn of events. What about the occurrences
that surprise us? We might not be so shocked if we took the time to consider their possibility.
 November 23rd
ATTACHMENTS ARE THE ENEMY

“In short, you must remember this—that if you hold anything dear outside of your own reasoned
choice, you will have destroyed your capacity for choice.”
—EPICTETUS, DISCOURSES, 4.4.23

A ccording to Anthony de Mello, “there is one thing and only one thing that causes unhappiness. The
name of that thing is Attachment.” Attachments to an image you have of a person, attachments to
wealth and status, attachments to a certain place or time, attachments to a job or to a lifestyle. All of those
things are dangerous for one reason: they are outside of our reasoned choice. How long we keep them is
not in our control.
As Epictetus realized some two thousand years before de Mello, our attachments are what make it so
hard to accept change. Once we have them, we don’t want to let go. We become slaves to maintaining the
status quo. We are like the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland—running faster and faster to stay in the
same place.
But everything is in a constant state of change. We have certain things for a while and then lose them.
The only permanent thing is prohairesis, our capacity for reasoned choice. The things we are attached to
can come and go, our choice is resilient and adaptable. The sooner we become aware of this the better.
The easier it will be to accept and adapt to what does happen.
 November 24th
TRAIN TO LET GO OF WHAT’S NOT YOURS

“Whenever you experience the pangs of losing something, don’t treat it like a part of yourself but
as a breakable glass, so when it falls you will remember that and won’t be troubled. So too,
whenever you kiss your child, sibling, or friend, don’t layer on top of the experience all the
things you might wish, but hold them back and stop them, just as those who ride behind
triumphant generals remind them they are mortal. In the same way, remind yourself that your
precious one isn’t one of your possessions, but something given for now, not forever . . .”
—EPICTETUS, DISCOURSES, 3.24.84–86a

A t a Roman triumph, the majority of the public would have their eyes glued to the victorious general at
the front—one of the most coveted spots during Roman times. Only a few would notice the aide in
the back, right behind the commander, whispering into his ear, “Remember, thou art mortal.” What a
reminder to hear at the peak of glory and victory!
In our own lives, we can train to be that whisper. When there is something we prize—or someone that
we love—we can whisper to ourselves that it is fragile, mortal, and not truly ours. No matter how strong
or invincible something feels, it never is. We must remind ourselves that it can break, can die, can leave
us.
Loss is one of our deepest fears. Ignorance and pretending don’t make things any better. They just
mean the loss will be all the more jarring when it occurs.