This translation of the Manual isn't very good, in my opinion. I've only heard of it as being called the handbook of Epictetus and not the manual, also. The word handbook has a lot different connotations than Manual, so I have to say I really don't agree with the decision to translate it that way. I'll refer to it as the Manual for the sake of consistency with the title, though.<p>My favored translation of the first line is: Some things are up to us, and some things are not up to us.<p>The Manual is a great introduction (and perhaps largest contribution) of the Stoic school of ancient philosophy. It's also by by far the most practical of any philosophical document that I've ever read, though it's a bit light on pragmatic responses and, perhaps, realism.<p>After reading the Manual, it's hard not to live by its suggestions. In particular, my favorite suggestion is to relish good moments by pausing and remarking to yourself explicitly what makes the moment good. I believe the example Epictetus picks to illustrate this concept is a child, but perhaps it's a bowl or woman in actuality; when Epictetus notices the positive emotions that looking at his child/bowl/woman gives him, he stops and professes something along the lines of, "my child/bowl/woman is wonderful, and I am happy to have experienced my time with him/it/her. I love this child/bowl/woman."<p>It's a good way to appreciate what you have, and to reject negativity when it's not something you can control.<p>The primary hazard of Stoicism is passivity, of course. A trend of declaring some things as up to you and other things as not up to you can feed onto itself, leading you to write off responsibility when it isn't directly and unmissably yours. Conversely, a control-freak would endlessly fret about the things that are "up to him" when in reality they might be only tangentially or abstractly so.<p>I definitely recommend everyone read the Manual. At a minimum, it's a new and orderly perspective on how to experience life and deal with the good and bad. There's some conceptual overlap with Buddhism from what I understand.
By the way, next week is Stoic Week, an online event (a course) organised by Exeter University, about applying Stoicism to daily life. More details here:<p><a href="http://blogs.exeter.ac.uk/stoicismtoday/stoic-week-2014/" rel="nofollow">http://blogs.exeter.ac.uk/stoicismtoday/stoic-week-2014/</a>
A classic, to be sure. Epictetus' style still served as a model for "guide-books" 16+ centuries later. Two of my favorites from the second millenium which bear such influence are Thomas à Kempis' <i>The Imitation of Christ</i> (~1420) [1] and Lorenzo Scupoli's <i>The Spiritual Combat</i> (1589) [2], both classics in their own right.<p>[1] <a href="https://archive.org/details/imitationofchris012486mbp" rel="nofollow">https://archive.org/details/imitationofchris012486mbp</a><p>[2] <a href="http://www.ecatholic2000.com/combat/spirit.shtml" rel="nofollow">http://www.ecatholic2000.com/combat/spirit.shtml</a>
Wonderful book. Epictetus is the man. If you enjoy this sort of stuff, also look up Seneca "Letters of a Stoic", Marcus Aurelius "Medtations", Admiral James Stockdale "Thoughts of a Philosopher Fighter Pilot", and Buddhist philosophy/teachings.
ok... uh... It was a different time?<p>XL. Women forthwith from the age of fourteen are called by the men mistresses (dominae). Therefore since they see that there is nothing else that they can obtain, but only the power of lying with men, they begin to decorate themselves, and to place all their hopes in this. It is worth our while then to take care that they may know that they are valued (by men) for nothing else than appearing (being) decent and modest and discreet.