Lemons, Stoic Smirks, and Taoist Tranquility
My Journey with Epictetus and Lao Tzu
As a self-professed philosophy nerd and seeker of ancient wisdom, I often find myself in the company of the great minds of yesteryear, specifically those old rock stars, Epictetus and Lao Tzu.
You might wonder, “How did me, this chocolate brotha, end up at a metaphysical crossroads between a Stoic slave and a mysterious Taoist sage?” Well, let me tell you, it’s been quite the sacred ride, fueled by coffee espresso shots and existential queries.
First, let’s sketch out our players. Epictetus, born around 50 AD in the land that is now Turkey, was your typical Greek philosopher... except that is, he was born a slave, which isn’t so typical. He eventually gained his freedom, which seems only fair since he was busy teaching Rome’s elite how to be free in their mind.
His big hit, “The Enchiridion,” is essentially a manual on how to do life efficiently — think of it as the ancient equivalent of “Life Hacks for the Existentially Perplexed.”
Jumping over to China, around the 6th century BC, Lao Tzu was penning his work “Tao Te Ching,” and basically founding Taoism. Picture him as the mystical dude who rides around on a water buffalo, dropping cryptic wisdom bombs that make you go “Aha!” three days later.
Lao Tzu’s work focused on the art of living by aligning with the Tao, or “the Way,” which is the natural order of things — kind of like flowing water that manages to be soft and powerful at the same time.
Now, you may ask, how do the musings of a former slave and an ancient Chinese mystic converge in the life of a modern-day philosophy buff? It’s all about the serenity mantra: “Control what you can control, and leave the rest.” In other words both Epictetus and Lao Tzu preach the gospel of knowing where your influence begins and ends, albeit in slightly different dialects.
Epictetus is all about the internal locus of control. He’d say, “Don’t sweat it if someone steals your sandals; they can’t steal your ability to sing the blues about your bare feet.” His approach teaches resilience and the power of response over circumstance. If life hands you lemons, according to Epictetus, don’t just make lemonade—ponder the existential essence of the lemon.
Lao Tzu, on the other hand, would probably look at the lemons and say something like, “Observe the lemons’ effortless existence, how they simply are, without striving.” His teachings encourage a harmonious existence with the world by understanding the natural flow of life and one's place within it. If Epictetus gives you the strategy, Lao Tzu hands you the philosophy of atmosphere.
In my life, these two are like the angel and devil on my shoulders, except both are angels. For instead of advising me on whether to steal cookies, they’re whispering philosophical strategies on how to deal with a hectic day writing or doing my next podcast.
I find myself channeling Epictetus when I’m deciding not to be infuriated by someone who ghosts me. “It’s outside my control,” I mutter, and imagine him nodding approvingly.
Then there’s Lao Tzu, guiding me to be more like water when I’m stuck in a long grocery line. “Water never rushes, yet it accomplishes everything,” he murmurs, and I try to embody that calm, only to be jolted back to reality when it’s finally my turn to unload the cart.
Together, Epictetus and Lao Tzu have turned me into a semi-Zen, Stoically-minded chap who tries to see the big picture. And by big picture, I mean the interplay of ancient philosophies in a modern world where control is often just an illusion, flavored with a sprinkle of existential comedy.
Their teachings remind me to embrace the chaos of existence with the poise of a Stoic and the ease of a Taoist, balancing life’s lemons with a philosophical equilibrium that keeps me smiling, or at least smirking, at the absurdity of it all.
So, there you have it, my enchanting journey through the minds of two philosophical giants, guiding me to not sweat the small stuff, and reminding me that in the grand scheme of things, it’s mostly small stuff.
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Thanks for making philosophy fun to read.