” . . . freedom isn’t secured by filling up on your heart’s desire but by removing your desire.” – Epictetus, Discourses, 4.1.175
Sometimes I think I’ve learned more from my children than what I’ve taught them. Often I come home and my daughter is singing in her room (she’s a vocal student at a local art school). My son is presently on Spring Break in Oregon, visiting his friends who work on a farm. He’s working for the week and doing some rock climbing. These are their desires, and while they have a passion for them it does not own them. I worry that it’s so because they are still young, and not soured by the world like this writer. I write the latter with a comedic tone.
My point is, and maybe this is what the youth can remind us, that the moment is what is special. We can have our goals. We can let our passions drive us. We can allow our desires to give us character. What we cannot do is let them own us to the disposal of all else.
Earlier in section 4.1, Epictetus writes:
 “For that which is not in your power to procure or keep as you wish is not your own.”
It is a common them, but surely important enough to be repetitive. The future is undetermined. One cannot lose what one never had.
When I was driving my son to Orlando for his flight we had the misfortune of getting stuck behind an accident that left us motionless on the interstate for over an hour. By the time the accident was cleared, and all involved were taken to be cared for, we had no hope of making the flight. In spite of the facts limiting us by physics, my vehicle, and the laws of Florida, we continued, arriving just as the plane’s doors were closing. While we were stopped I thought about my Stoic readings. I reminded myself that this could have both happened and not happened. That did not completely suppress the frustration at the circumstance. Was this event caused by a true accident, or was someone texting and driving?
While quietly in thought my son spoke. “If I had just arrived on time we would have missed this. But I hope everyone is ok. Someone may have lost someone they loved. I just missed a plane.” My reply: “Had we left earlier it might have been us.”
He booked another flight, and two days later I dropped him off at the airport. We did, however, leave an extra hour early. That gave me a total of 6.5 hours in a car with my son who I don’t see as often as I’d like. That made me feel very rich from the experience.