Borrowed Time Given Back

Loss is one thing that every human being has to deal with. It is one constant throughout the entirety of our existence. Because of this, there are infinite interpretations of death, the afterlife, and how to handle the grief of loss. While it is admittedly morbid, I often find myself drawn to these explanations and conclusions. How a philosopher approaches death is one of the first things I look into when researching.

When reading The Enchiridion, I found Epictetus’s viewpoint on death and loss intriguing. Section 11 is as brief as it is straightforward. Nothing is ever truly lost; it has only been returned to where it came from. In this sense, everything a person has is only ever borrowed. Epictetus invokes the analogy of people being travelers in an inn. When you are given something, then you must “take care of it as something that is not your own” because the only thing you truly own is yourself (57).

I can see how this perspective could be a comfort. If you begin a relationship knowing that it will end in some way eventually, then you are braced for its loss. However, this could also make you distant and unable to fully connect, which would then lead to that ending all too soon. While Epictetus emphasizes enjoying what you have when you have it, it is easy to feel that his philosophy is clinical or emotionless. Many see grief as the proof that you fully loved someone or something. Therefore, a lack of grief or upset at loss, as Epictetus aims for, is incompatible with many people’s beliefs.

While I find beauty in the sentiment that nothing is lost, only given back, I do not believe I could fully embrace this philosophical worldview. Loss is painful, but I believe that disregarding any pain or upset is not the path to a good life. Humanity is hard-wired to care about people and that means we sometimes have to deal with the hurt of their absence.