Stoicism On Fire

This podcast episode refers to the blog post on The Discipline of Action, which is currently being updated. If you are looking for an exceptional way to jump-start your Stoic practice, consider the Theory & Practice Course offered by The College of Stoic Philosophers. This course is a mentor-guided, four-month-long course that provides an excellent foundation in both Stoic theory and practice.

This podcast episode refers to the blog post on The Discipline of Action, which is being completely updated. Blog posts referenced in this episode: The Connection Between Physics and Ethics Retaining the Soul of Stoicism

Does the cosmos have a purpose that gives human life inherent meaning? Or do we live in an accidental universe that lacks any inherent purpose and thereby makes our lives as potentially futile as that of the mythological Sisyphus, who is compelled for eternity to roll a boulder to the top of a hill only to have it roll down again? This question has puzzled and haunted the minds of numerous thinkers for many millennia; however, to seriously entertain the possibility that the cosmos has an inherent purpose today one must step outside the spirit of our time, which operates on the mostly unspoken and unprovable assumption that the universe is accidental and purposeless and the only meaning in human life is that which we create for ourselves. Stoicism stands staunchly opposed to that assumption. The Stoic worldview is so different from that of our secular age that most people who are interested in Stoicism today ignore the concept of a providential cosmos, and question or deny any difference it can make in the life of a practitioner. That is unfortunate. Originally, I intended this episode of Stoicism On Fire to move on to the spiritual exercise known as the discipline of action, which falls within the field of ethics. However, I think more attention needs to be focused on a distinction covered in the last episode before we move on. In episode eleven, I offered the following meme: Bear and forbear only gets us half the way there My goal in offering that meme was to highlight the vast gulf between the common caricature of a stoic as one who bears and forbears all the events in life with equanimity, and what we see in the Stoic texts. The accurate portrait of a Stoic presents a person who loves the events of nature and expresses gratitude for them—all of them. The Stoics were renounced for their resilience to the events of life. They considered it irrational to want things to happen differently than they do. However, Stoic practice did not stop there. If it did, the caricature of the Stoic as emotionless and detached would be justified. Yet, Epictetus said: I shouldn’t be unfeeling like a statue, but should preserve my natural and acquired relationships, as one who honours the gods, as a son, as a brother, as a father, as a citizen. (Discourses 3.2.6) Throughout the writings of Seneca, the Discourses of Epictetus, and the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, we see more than a grin and bear it acceptance of events. The point of Stoicism is not to tolerate events that occur; although, that is a significant step in the right direction. The ultimate goal of Stoic practice is more than bear and forbear. Again, as I said in the last episode: Bear and forbear only gets us half the way there The proper Stoic attitude is to love all events that occur as if we wished for them. In his lecture “On Contentment” (Discourses 1.12), Epictetus opens One who is still being educated should approach his education with this aim in view: ‘How may I follow the gods in everything, and how can I act in a way that is acceptable to the divine administration, and how may I become free?’ For someone is free if all that happens to him comes about in accordance with his choice and no one else is able to impede him. (Discourses 1.12.8-9) Here is a key point that is too frequently overlooked in Stoicism. Freedom does come from making ourselves psychologically immune from external things and events. Neither does it come from being the master of our fate and overcoming all of the obstacles placed between us and our goals. True freedom only occurs when everything happens in accordance with our choice. Only then are we unimpeded. That state of freedom only occurs when our choices are in accordance with what actually happens rather than what we wish happened.  Epictetus makes it quite clear that our human freedom rests on our understanding of what is and is not “up to us” and our practice of the discipline of desire. If we desire and fear those things and events in life beyond our complete control, we will end up just where Epictetus warns: We will have a reason to lament, we will have a troubled mind, and we will find fault with both gods and human beings.[1] Epictetus opens this passage with a question. He asks, Is it, then, only in this most grave and important matter, that of freedom, that it is possible for me to desire according to my whim? (Discourses 1.12.15) Epictetus’ Response to the question: In no way, but rather true education consists precisely in this, in learning to wish that everything should come about just as it does. And how do things come about? As the one who ordains them has ordained. (Ibid) In other words, Stoic education and training, which leads to true freedom, teaches us to accept all things and events as if they come from a providentially ordered cosmos. But how? How can a person go beyond “bear and forbear” for seemingly tragic events like the death of a loved one or a stage four cancer diagnosis? In truth, “bear and forbear” may be the best we can do with some life events—we are not sages. Nevertheless, it is important to understand that Stoicism does provide a path beyond “bear and forbear” that can teach us to praise providence for everything that happens in life. Yes, I said everything. Here is what Epictetus has to say about it: From everything that happens in the universe it is easy to praise providence, if one has within him two things: the faculty of taking a comprehensive view of the things that happen to each person and a sense of gratitude. For, otherwise, one will either fail to recognize the usefulness of what has come about,or else fail to be truly grateful if onedoes in factrecognize it. (Discourses 1.6.1-2) Consider what Epictetus did not say. He did not say, “From everything that happens in the universe it is easy to tolerate misfortune if one has within him two things. Likewise, he did not say: “From everything that happens in the universe it is easy to bear and forbear, if one has within him two things. He said: From everything that happens in the universeit is easy to praise providence,if one has within him two things: the faculty of taking a comprehensive view of the things that happen to each person and a sense of gratitude. (Discourses 1.6.1) That is the whole point of this episode: To make certain our sights on the correct target of Stoic practice. Our goal is not a grim acceptance of events; our goal is much greater than bear and forbear, even if that is all we can achieve on occasion. Our ultimate goal is a loving agreement with the events in nature. Our goal is to learn to love them and agree with them, even while those around us are distraught, anguished, angered, and destroyed by those same events because they view them as something “bad.”. As A.A. Long, a respected scholar of Stoicism points out, resignation to the deterministic events of a mechanical universe does not get us to the “rationality and dignity” the Stoics claimed were part of human potential. He writes, The deterministic thesis explains why Stoics find it irrational and pointless to wish that things might be otherwise than what they actually experience. But if that were all, Stoicism would be largely an attitude of mere realism, fatalism, or resignation. The crucial step is the combination of determinism with providence. If the situations in which we find ourselves are providentially determined, and if, further, we are equipped with minds that can understand this dual aspect of things, then we have reason not only to accept everything that happens as inevitable but also to regard whatever impinges on our individual selves as the allotment that is right for us and as the requisite opportunity for us to discover and play our human part in the cosmic plan. Hence committed Stoics will interpret circumstances that are conventionally regarded as misfortunes as challenges to be accepted and even welcomed because they give them the means of proving and showing their rationality and dignity as fully-fledged human beings.[2] In this quote, A.A. Long is emphasizing a point he repeatedly makes in his scholarship. Providence is an essential part of Stoic theory and practice. In fact, he argues it is acceptance of providence that allows us the means of “proving and showing” our “rationality and dignity as fully-fledged human beings.” That’s a pretty powerful assertion coming from one of the most prominent, if not the most prominent scholar of Stoicism in the last century. The goal of Stoic practice is not to train us to “grin and bear” or “bear and forbear” the events of life. Instead, the goal is to love them. Ok, you ask, but how do we get there? Fortunately, Epictetus provides the answer. He tells us we must have two things within ourselves to arrive at that place of loving acceptance of all things and events. First, we must develop the ability to taking a comprehensive view of events that happen. Second, we must possess an attitude of gratitude. A Comprehensive View of Events The cosmic viewpoint allows us to escape our human-centered view of events and the judgments associated with that limited view. Once we understand the nature of the cosmos and our place in it, we can begin to see that external events cannot affect our moral character in either a “good” or “bad” way because they are beyond our control. The only things that affect our character and well-being are those we can control—our judgments. Epictetus makes this point succinctly: It isn’t the things themselves that disturb people, but the judgements that they form about them. (Enchiridion 4) Pierre Hadot considers the cosmic viewpoint the beginning of Stoic practice. He writes, Putting theory into practice begins with an exercise that consists in recognizing oneself as a part of the Whole, elevating oneself to cosmic consciousness, or immersing oneself within the totality of the cosmos. While meditating on Stoic physics,

This podcast episode refers to the blog post on The Discipline of Desire, which is being completely updated.

This podcast episode provides a new theoretical foundation for my previous blog post on The Discipline of Desire, which is being completely updated. Make sure to come back for the next episode where the spiritual exercise of the Discipline of Desire will build upon the theory of this episode.

This episode is a continuation of Episode 8, which covered the theoritical aspect of the this spiritual exercise. This episode cover the practice of this spiritual exercise. The Discipline of Assent blog post is currently being rewritten to reflect the material covered in these two podcast episodes.

This podcast episode provides a new theoretical foundation for my previous blog post on The Discipline of Assent, which is being completely updated for the release of Episode 9 of Stoicism on Fire. Make sure to come back for the next episode where the spiritual exercise of the Discipline of Assent will build upon the theory of this episode.

Today’s podcast is an introduction to the concept of Stoic spiritual exercises. Over the next few episodes, I will be covering three Stoic spiritual exercises: the discipline of assent, the discipline of desire, and the discipline of action. These three exercises or disciplines are the core of what I call the path of the prokopton. In episode 5, I covered the concepts of attention (prosoche). In episode 6, I covered what is and is not “up to us,” which is commonly called the dichotomy of control. As I noted in that episode, Pierre Hadot refers to these as the fundamental Stoic spiritual attitude and the fundamental rule of life respectively. Together, they constitute what Hadot calls the Stoic moral attitude, which is the attitude a prokopton takes toward all the events that occur in life. The Stoic spiritual exercises are the practices that develop that moral attitude and lead us farther along the Stoic path toward an excellent character and well-being. Those who are familiar with the writing of the French philosopher Pierre Hadot will recognize the concept of spiritual exercises. It is a constant theme in his books. He did not invent it; however, he applied the term to ancient philosophical practices and thereby illuminated the meaning and significance of these exercises. Before Hadot, the idea of philosophy as a way of life had largely been lost. Modern academic philosophy deviated so far from the concept of philosophy as a way of life that a 2016 critique was able to highlight the “pathologies” of contemporary academic philosophy and point out its complete abandonment of the philosophical practices of Socrates. The authors of that critique write: Universally venerated by contemporary philosophers, the actual philosophic practice of Socrates is rejected or ignored. Socrates could never get a position today in a philosophy (or any other) department.[1] This divergence from the philosophical practices of Socrates is important to twenty-first-century practitioners of Stoicism for two reasons. First, Socrates in the grandfather of Stoicism, and his way of life served as a model for the Stoics. As I noted in episode 4, Zeno, the founder of Stoicism, was inspired to follow the philosophical way of life after reading about the life of Socrates in Xenophon’s Memorabilia. That portrait of Socrates inspired Zeno to ask, “Where can I find men such as these? ”Second, because the path of the Stoic prokopton is a spiritual practice—it relies on the transformational power of these spiritual exercises that are largely, if not wholly, ignored by modern academic philosophers. Even where Stoicism is taught in academic environments, it is unlikely that any attention will be paid to these practices. Modern academia has little if any tolerance for anything considered spiritual. That is why it was necessary for Pierre Hadot to reintroduce the modern world to the spiritual nature of the ancient philosophical way of life. Philosophy as a way of life is so radically different from the mind-numbing, logic-chopping positivism that turns many people away from philosophy, we can argue it belongs in a different category. As Michael Chase wrote in the introduction of a published set of essays honoring Hadot: Hadot’s work, written in a plain, clear style that lacks the rhetorical flourishes of a Derrida or a Foucault, represents a call for a radical democratization of philosophy. It talks about subjects that matter to people today from all walks of life, which is why it has appealed, arguably, less to professional philosophers than to ordinary working people, and to professionals working in disciplines other than philosophy.[2] If you doubt the difference between Hadot’s approach to the ancient Stoics and that of modern academia, here is an experiment. Read and compare two books, both published in English in 1998 and both dealing with the application of Stoicism in the life of practitioners. The first book, written from the perspective of modern academia, is Lawrence Becker’s A New Stoicism. The second book is Pierre Hadot’s The Inner Citadel. The contrast between these views of Stoicism highlight the problem with modern academic philosophers attempting to apply Stoicism to daily life. Becker abandons the worldview of the Stoics because from his academic perspective, “a credible work of ethics” cannot include the Stoic teleological (providential) worldview.[3]In contrast, Hadot writes, What defined a Stoic above all else was the choice of a life in which every thought, every desire, and every action would be guided by no other law than that of universal Reason. Whether the world is ordered or chaotic, it depends only on us to be rationally coherent with ourselves. In fact, all the dogmas of Stoicism derive from this existential choice. It is impossible that the universe could produce human rationality, unless the latter were already in some way present within the former.[4] The idea that universal Reason exists and provides us with human rationality and the laws that serve as a guide for our ethics is anathema to a modern academic like Becker. Therefore, instead of approaching Stoicism and its practice as the ancients intended, he demands that Stoicism conforms to the worldview that holds sway over modern academic philosophy and makes it irrelevant to most moderns. The philosophical way of life is not primarily aimed at knowing, although that is certainly an essential aspect of it. Instead, the philosophical way of life is aimed at a mode of being; its goal is the transformation of the Self into the best possible human beings we are capable of becoming. The Greeks called this state of human excellence arete. We translate that word as virtue in English; however, virtue does not fully express the concept of arete, which encompasses the whole human being rather than just ethical behavior. Hadot not only reintroduced the modern world to philosophy as a way of life, he also revived the practice of spiritual exercises, which predate the Christian conception of those practices attributed to Ignatius of Loyola. Interestingly, Hadot argues the spiritual exercises of Ignatius are “a Christian version of a Greco-Roman tradition”[5] that emphasized askesis(philosophical practice or exercise). So, what does Hadot mean by the term spiritual exercise? Why did he choose to call them spiritual exercises instead of philosophical exercises or something else? In defense of his use of the adjective “spiritual,” Hadot writes, The expression is a bit disconcerting for the contemporary reader. In the first place, it is no longer quite fashionable these days to use the word "spiritual." It is nevertheless necessary to use this term, I believe, because none of the other adjectives we could use –"psychic," "moral," "ethical," "intellectual," "of thought," "of the soul''–covers all the aspects of reality we want to describe.[6] In the passage that follows the one above, Hadot addresses three reasonable alternatives that might come to mind and explains why they are inadequate to fully describe the scope of these exercises. Thought Exercises Hadot argues, ‘the word "thought" “does not indicate clearly enough that imagination and sensibility play a very important role in these exercises.’ Intellectual Exercises He claims ‘we cannot be satisfied with "intellectual exercises," although such intellectual factors as definition, division, ratiocination, reading, investigation, and rhetorical amplification play a large role in them.’ Ethical Exercises Hadot concedes that ‘“ethical exercises”is a rather tempting expression, since, as we shall see, the exercises in question contribute in a powerful way to the therapeutics of the passions,  and have to do with the conduct of life. Yet, here again, this would be too limited a view of things. All of these are inadequate because these exercises “correspond to a transformation of our vision of the world, and to a metamorphosis of our personality.” They address more than the practitioner’s mere thoughts, they entail “the individual's entire psychism.” Therefore, according to Hadot, the word "spiritual" “reveals the true dimensions of these exercises” because by means of them, “the individual raises himself up to the life of the objective Spirit; that is to say, he re-places himself within the perspective of the Whole ("Become eternal by transcending yourself")."[emphasis added][7] Our Place Within the Whole This concept of replacing our own personal perspective with that of the Whole is a primary goal of Stoic practice. This theme if repeated frequently within the pages of Marcus Aurelius’Meditations. Providence permeates the works of the gods; and the works of fortune are not dissociated from nature, but intertwined and interwoven by all that is ordered by providence. Everything flows from there; but necessity is implicated too, and the benefit of the whole universe of which you are a part. Now for every part of nature, the good is that which universal nature brings, and which serves to sustain that nature; and the universe is sustained not merely by the changes of the elements, but also by the changes of the bodies compounded from them. Let these doctrines, if that is what they are, be enough for you. As for your thirst for books, be done with it, so that you may not die with complaints on your lips, but with a truly cheerful mind and grateful to the gods with all your heart. (Meditations 2.3) Everything suits me that suits your designs, O my universe. Nothing is too early or too late for me that is in your own good time. All is fruit for me that your seasons bring, O nature. All proceeds from you, all subsists in you, and to you all things return. (Meditations 4.23) All things are interwoven, and the bond that unites them is sacred, and hardly anything is alien to any other thing, for they have been ranged together and are jointly ordered to form a common universe.

Epictetus, the freed slave turned Stoic philosopher and teacher, said the following: Some things are within our power, while others are not. Within our power are opinion, motivation, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever is of our own doing; not within our power are our body, our property, reputation, office, and, in a word, whatever is not of our own doing. (Enchiridion 1) In episode 5 of the Stoicism On Fire podcast, I covered the practice of attention (prosoche), which is, according to the philosopher Pierre Hadot, the fundamental Stoic spiritual attitude.[1] In this podcast, I will cover the category of things to which we are to pay attention—those are the things that are within our complete control. The popular term for this concept is the Dichotomy of Control, which Epictetus distinguished as what is and is not“up to us” (eph’ hêmin). Pierre Hadot called this distinction the fundamental rule of life for the Stoic practitioner.[2] Therefore, when we focus our attention on what is “up to us”, we combine the fundamental Stoic spiritual attitude with the fundamental rule of life and end up with what Hadot calls the fundamental Stoic attitude or Stoic moral attitude. This attitude is what enables us to make progress along the Stoic path—the path of the prokopton. Hadot defines this fundamental Stoic attitude in detail. Referring to Enchiridion1.1, Hadot writes: Here, we can glimpse one of the Stoics' most fundamental attitudes: the delimitation of our own sphere of liberty as an impregnable islet of autonomy, in the midst of the vast river of events and of Destiny. What depends on us are thus the acts of our soul, because we can freely choose them. We can judge or not judge, or judge in whatever manner we please; we can desire or not desire; will or not will. By contrast, that which does not depend on us—Epictetus lists our body, honors, riches, and high positions of authority—is everything that depends upon the general course of nature. Our body, first: it is true that we can move it, but we are not completely in control of it. Birth, death, sickness, involuntary movements, sensations of pleasure or of pain: all these are completely independent of our will. As for wealth and honors: we can, to be sure, attempt to acquire them, yet definitive success does not depend upon us, but upon a series of human factors and events which are exterior to us; they are imponderable and do not depend upon our will. Thus, the Stoic delimits a center of autonomy—the soul, as opposed to the body; and a guiding principle (hegemonikon) as opposed to the rest of the soul. It is within this guiding principle that freedom and our true self are located.[3] The key phrase in that passage from Hadot’s book The Inner Citadel is “the impregnable islet of autonomy.” As we consider what is and is not “up to us” it is easy to see this fundamental rule of life as limiting. However, throughout the Discourses and Enchiridion, Epictetus teaches this rule for the opposite reason. It is by understanding what is and is not “up to us” that we can find true freedom. It is not an accident that Epictetus, a freed slave, emphasizes this rule and the freedom it provides—he understood the nature and value of true freedom as a result of high life experience. The Stoics understood that externals cannot bring us the well-being we seek. Possessing them is indifferent with regard to our moral character; however, desiring them and pursuing them is the path to psychological anguish. Why? Because they can all be taken away in a moment—in a fire, a life-threatening illness, a hostile take-over of a company, a layoff, a market crash, a divorce, a terrible accident, etc. They may make us temporarily happy, but that is not what the Stoics meant by the Greek word eudaimonia. The eudaimonia of the Stoics was the sense of well-being that comes from the pursuit of virtue, or human excellence in the areas of wisdom, courage, justice, and moderation. The Stoics teach us it is possible to live an excellent (virtuous) human life, and thereby experience well-being, under any circumstances. That includes being imprisoned, enslaved, and even tortured. That is an entirely novel concept to most moderns. We tend to measure our happiness by externals—what we own, our health, job, relationships, etc. The Stoic argument against this measurement of happiness is really quite simple: Our human excellence (virtue) and resulting well-being cannot be dependent on anything we do not have complete control over. Otherwise, to use Epictetus’ language, we are a “slave” to those externals. What Is “Up to Us”? Enchiridion 1.1 makes it quite clear what is “up to us” and the list is quite short: Focus on the contents of the circle in the diagram above for a moment. That is our unimpeded circle of control. Nothing, no one, not even God can influence what is inside that circle. Epictetus teaches us that we have complete control over all three items in that circle—we are the master of that inner domain. Unfortunately, we typically desire to control those things outside of that circle—what the Stoic called “externals” or “indifferents.” We desire good health, some wealth, a good reputation, etc., and we fear sickness, poverty, low social status, etc. Epictetus repeats one profound truth throughout the Discourses and the Enchiridion, and it is quite easy to understand; however, most of us refuse to consider it. What is that truth? We spend most of our lives desiring and fearing things that are not “up to us” because we consider them “good” or “bad,” and that leads to our misery. Meanwhile, we neglect the things that are wholly within our control: our judgments, desires and aversions, and impulse to act. How important is this distinction between what and is not “up to us”? Epictetus mentions it in fifty of the ninety-six chapters of the Discourses, and sixteen of the fifty-three chapters of the Enchiridion. Chapter 1 of the Discourses is focused exclusively on the topic. In Enchiridion1, Epictetus draws a sharp contrast between two paths, and it serves as both a promise and a warning. Indifferents There is a lot of confusion about “indifferents” in Stoicism. It is a mistake to assume the Stoic practitioner—prokopton—is indifferent to all externals, if by ‘indifferent’ we mean a total lack of interest in them and no pursuit of them. Food, water, and shelter are “indifferents” in Stoicism. However, we will not survive long without them. It is a natural human impulse to survive; therefore, we will pursue food, water, and shelter. Additionally, Stoicism teaches us that we are social animals and it is our duty to be involved in society. If we misinterpret a life in agreement with nature, and misunderstand indifferents, we could easily turn Stoic practice into the ascetic life of a renunciate hermit. That is most certainly not what the Stoics had in mind. If you are living a life in isolation from as many externals as possible, including other humans, how will you develop your virtue? What would a life of wisdom, courage, justice, and moderation even look like without externals? The practice and development of virtue requires externals. Therefore, as a Stoic prokopton, we cannot deny all externals. The question that naturally arises then is this: What did the Stoics mean when they categorized all externals as indifferents? They meant they have no inherent moral value. They are neither “good” nor “bad” in the sense that possessing them makes us more or less virtuous. If we had a scale to measure value and we placed wisdom, courage, justice, and moderation on one side, that side of the scale would immediately drop as the value of virtue is immense. Now we start stacking indifferents on the other side—health, wealth, reputation, a house, high office, a long life, friends, family, a just government, etc. We keep stacking and stacking, but the scale doesn’t even budge. Why? Because none of those externals has any inherent value when measured against those virtues. Image adapted from - WorldArtsMe Nevertheless, there is an extremely important point that is frequently misunderstood about externals or “indifferents” (I use the words “externals” and “indifferents” interchangeably because all externals are indifferents): While they do not have any inherent value, many of them do have practical value. That means we can and must use some indifferents in our daily life—the Stoics labeled them “preferred indifferents.” These are indifferents that may be useful in the development of our human excellence (virtue). Therefore, our task as a Stoic prokopton is not to deny that indifferents have any value. Instead, our training must lead us to the realization that indifferents will not bring us happiness. Equally important is the understanding that desiring externals will bring us the opposite of virtue and happiness: It will result in psychological distress. Living Between Denial and Desire That brings us to where the rubber meets the road in our daily lives, where we must make choices about indifferents. Again, the Stoics were not renunciates; they did not renounce property, money, public office, social relationships, etc., as the ancient Cynics did. The Stoics did not deny the value of externals entirely; they denied their inherent value. The Stoic message is quite clear: Virtue is the only good; therefore, if we seek externals as a good, we will be hindered, we will lament, we will have a troubled mind, and ultimately, we will blame gods and humans for our distress (Enchiridion1). Nevertheless, we do choose some externals in our daily life as a part of being a social creature and fulfilling our duties. Epictetus uses the analogy of a banquet to drive this point home. Remember that you should behave in life as you do at a banquet. Something is being passed around and arrives in front of you: reach out your hand and take your share politely.

This episode of Stoicism On Fire kicks off a series I call the path of the Prokopton. A prokopton is someone who is making progress along the Stoic path. This podcast is about the practice of Attention. The Stoics called it prosochē in Greek, and that word signifies an attitude and practice of attention. Pierre Hadot considered prosochē the fundamental Stoic spiritual attitude.[1] It is a state of continuous, vigilant, and unrelenting attentiveness to oneself—to the present impressions, present desires, and present actions, which shape our moral character (prohairesis).[2] My aim in this episode is to help you understand why it is so important to practice attention while on the path of the prokopton. When you relax your attention for a while, do not fancy you will recover it whenever you please; but remember this, that because of your fault of today your affairs must necessarily be in a worse condition in future occasions. (Discourses 4.12.1) Prosochē is essential for the prokoptōn to practice the three Stoic disciplines prescribed by Epictetus (Discourses 3.2.1-5). Constant attention is necessary to live in agreement with Nature. Once one embarks on the path of the prokoptōn, the attitude of prosochē serves as an ever-present, vigilant watchman to ensure we continue to make forward progress. As Epictetus warns, relaxing our attention (prosochē) is not only dangerous because of the faults which may be committed in the present, but he further warns that “because of your fault today your affairs must be necessarily in a worse condition on future occasions” (Discourses 4.12.1). The attitude and practice of prosochē focus our attention and provides the foundation for the Stoic disciplines, whose aim is a life of excellence (aretē) lived in accordance with Nature, wherein we experience human flourishing or well-being (eudaimonia). Attention - Not Perfection Before further discussion about the Stoic concept of prosochē, which can appear onerous at first glance, it is helpful to understand that progress in Stoicism does not require perfection. Yes, to be a Stoic sage does require perfection, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. This episode is about making progress toward that ideal of the sage. It is unlikely any of us will ever become sages. Nevertheless, we can make progress—we can be a Stoic prokopton. Epictetus is clear on this issue, “So is it possible to be altogether faultless?  No, that is impracticable..” (Discourses 4.12.19). The practice of Stoicism requires attention, not perfection. The goal of the prokoptōn is continual progress toward the perfection of the sage, without the expectation that he will ever achieve it. The Stoic sage serves as an ideal which we attentively focus our mind on as we practice the disciplines of assent, desire, and action. Again, according to Epictetus, the practicable goal of Stoicism is not perfection; instead, it is “to strive continuously not to commit faults” with the realistic hope that by “never relaxing our attention, we shall escape at least a few faults” (Ibid). So, what are we to do when we fail in our practice? What do we at those moments when we fail to live our Stoic principles? Epictetus provides us with a clear answer: In this contest, even if we should falter for a while, no one can prevent us from resuming the fight, nor is it necessary to wait another four years for the next Olympic Games to come around, but as soon as one has recovered and regained one’s strength, and can muster the same zeal as before, one can enter the fight; and if one should fail again, one can enter once again, and if one should carry off the victory one fine day, it will be as if one had never given in. (Discourses 3.25.4) There are two important points here that we have to balance. First, we have to pay attention to our thoughts, desires, fears, intentions, and actions. That means we’re going to have to focus on some area in our thinking that is less than ideal. We are going to fail occasionally. There is no question about that. When we do, we have to keep in mind that we do not have to be perfect to make progress. Our failure is only momentary. However, we have to stay on the path. If you have a bad moment, a bad day, if you get knocked down, don’t sit there and ruminate about it. Get up and get back in the fight. Learn from your failure and move on. Remember; attention; not perfection. What is Prosochē? Pierre Hadot, the French philosopher who helped reintroduce the concept of philosophy as a way of life wrote the following: Attention (prosoche) is the fundamental Stoic spiritual attitude. It is a continuous vigilance and presence of mind, self consciousness which never sleeps, and a constant tension of the spirit. Thanks to this attitude, the philosopher is fully aware of what he does at each instant, and he wills his actions fully. Thanks to his spiritual vigilance, the Stoic always has "at hand" (procheiron) the fundamental rule of life: that is, the distinction between what depends on us and what does not.A “fundamental attitude” of “continuous attention, which means constant tension and consciousness, as well as vigilance exercised at every moment.”[3] [T]he fundamental attitude of the Stoic philosopher was prosoche: attention to oneself and vigilance at every instant. For the Stoics, the person who is " awake" is always perfectly conscious not only of what he does, but of what he is. In other words, he is aware of his place in the universe and of his relationship to God. His self-consciousness is, first and foremost, a moral consciousness. A person endowed with such consciousness seeks to purify and rectify his intentions at every instant. He is constantly on the lookout for signs within himself of any motive for action other than the will to do good. Such self-consciousness is not, however, merely a moral conscience; it is also cosmic consciousness. The "attentive" person lives constantly in the presence of God and is constantly remembering God, joyfully consenting to the will of universal reason, and he sees all things with the eyes of God himself.[4] Obviously, the practice of prosochē is not easy. To use an old, worn-out adage, “If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.” The adjectives used to describe prosochē (tension, vigilance, self-consciousness, etc.) are enough to deter mere mortals. However, it is not as daunting as it first appears if we remember Epictetus taught us that perfection is “impracticable.”  Our goal is to focus on the continuous practice of attention, rather than the perfection may likely never achieve. Moreover, Marcus Aurelius offered some practical advice which further reduces the perceived burden of prosochē by limiting the span of our attention to the present. Attention to the Present In Meditations 7.54 Marcus Aurelius applies the focus of his attention on the present. Everywhere and all the time it lies within your power to be reverently contented with your present lot, to behave justly to such people as are presently at hand, and to deal skilfully with your present impressions so that nothing may steal into your mind which you have not adequately grasped. According to Marcus, it lies within our power: To be reverently contented with our present lot – the discipline of desire To behave justly to such people as are presently at hand – the discipline of action To deal skillfully with our present impressions – the discipline of assent Since we are dealing with attention to the present, it is interesting that time does not exist in Stoicism; it only subsists, which means it is less real than corporeal reality. Time is a passing moment. Time is like the Heraclitan river that is perpetually changing. In the same way that we can never step into the same river twice; we cannot experience the same moment twice. Therefore, when we dwell on the past, we are ruminating on something that no longer exists in reality. The past only exists in our mind and only to the extent that we relive it mentally. Nevertheless, many people struggle to relinquish their compulsion to ruminate over the past and worry about the future. That creates mental anguish for us. If we want to travel the path of the prokoptōn, we must relinquish the past and future as externals over which we have no control. They are not up to us. We cannot make progress if we remain scattered and constantly distracted. The fleeting attention most of us give to the events of our lives epitomizes the attitude of mindlessness—not prosochē. As a prokoptôn, we must constantly apply the fundamental rule of life—the distinction between ‘what is up to us’ and what is ‘not up to us’—and that is accomplished by focusing our attention on that which is within our control at this present moment. Additionally, through the practice of attention, we begin to see the connection between our inner world of beliefs, desires, fears, and intentions, which constitute our moral character, and the outer world of action. Awareness of that connection exposes the causal web (or chain) where our moral character plays a causal role in the world. Our thoughts shape our desires, which molds our character, and then generates the impulses of our will toward action. Recognizing that sequence and taking responsibility for the judgments and thoughts that generate it is necessary to make progress on the Stoic path. Practicing Prosoche in the Present Seeing the World Anew Seneca, in Letters 64.6, writes about the inspired attitude a mere glimpse of virtue brings him. Even though he spends a great deal of time absorbed in thought about wisdom, he writes that he is no less astonished by her than when he looks up into the heavens as if seeing them for the first time. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, and during the summers I spent many nights on what we called sleepouts.