The Practicing Stoic. Ward Farnsworth

those things – the carefulness of one devoted to material things, and the steadiness of one who is indifferent to them – but it is not impossible; otherwise happiness would be impossible. It is like planning a sea voyage. What can I do? I can choose the captain, the sailors, the day, the right moment. Then a storm comes upon us. At this point, what concern is it of mine? My part is done. The problem belongs to another – the captain.

      Epictetus, Discourses 2.5.9

      Detachment from externals should not be confused with withdrawal from the world. As the last part of Chapter 11 will illustrate, Stoicism calls for involvement in public life, not retreat from it. But in all circumstances one can draw lines between the decisions that are up to us and the ones that aren’t.

      Material things are indifferent; how we use them is not. How then may a man maintain not only steadiness and calm, but also the state of mind that is careful and neither reckless nor negligent? He can act like people playing a board game. The game pieces are neither good nor bad, nor are the dice. How can I know what the next throw of the dice will be? But to use the throw carefully and skillfully, this belongs to me. In life, too, then, the principal task is this: to distinguish and separate things, and say: “Externals are outside my power: my choices are within my power. Where shall I seek the good and the bad? Within, in the things that are my own.” But in what depends on others, call nothing either good or bad, benefit or harm, or anything else of the kind. “What then? Does this mean we shouldn’t care how we use them?” By no means. That would be a wrongful use of our faculty of choice, and so contrary to nature. External things should be used with care, because their use can be good or bad. But at the same time you should keep your composure and your calm, because the things themselves are neither good nor bad.

      Epictetus, Discourses