Fate’s wind can be cold it is true.
What is the wind to you
But an impression of wind
A phantasia
As Epictetus puts it
In his Handbook
A fact you must weather
Like any other fact
Such as daylight adultery taxes
And naturally death.
Face the facts.
They do not matter.
What matters is the use
You put them to.
The Iliad consists of nothing but facts.
Epictetus wipes his nose
And explains this
To the students growing restless at his feet.
Fact prompted Paris.
Fact prompted Helen to follow.
If fact had prompted Menelaus
To count his blessings
In the face of Helen’s absence
Not only the Iliad
Would have been lost to us
But the Odyssey too.
When the wind blows
Do not long for warmer climes.
Epictetus puts it
In plain Greek.
Wipe your nose
And do not accuse God.
If all is fire
You may warm your hands
By thrusting them here
Into this burning book.
from The IrrationalistFind more by Suzanne Buffam at the library
Copyright © 2010 Suzanne Buffam
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.