Epictetus & Resilience 

February 2025 

The year was 2010. I was living in Grenoble, having just wrapped up my master’s studies, and with nothing but time to kill over the summer. Mornings were slow, filled with endless cups of coffee, the crisp Alpine air rolling in through the open kitchen window, and the quiet hum of a life with no urgent plans.

That morning was no different—until my hostel mates dropped by, their voices breaking the stillness. They were planning a hike to Croix de Belledonne, one of the peaks in the French Alps. I had no plans, no responsibilities—just the desire to explore as much during my stay. “I might as well join,” I said, gulping down my coffee and rushing to my room to throw some clothes into a backpack.

On my way out, I spotted a book lying in the foyer. Enchiridion by someone with a strange, ancient-sounding name—Epictetus. I had never heard of him, but the book was small, just the right size for a hiking trip. I stuffed it into my bag without much thought, thinking it might be something to leaf through while resting on the mountainside.

That hike was my initiation into Stoicism. Between the sharp ascent, the biting mountain air, and the rhythm of our footsteps on the rugged trail, I cracked open Enchiridion. The words felt weighty, timeless. “It isn’t the things themselves that disturb people, but the judgments that they form about them.” It struck me—how often had I let things beyond my control dictate my emotions? The book became my silent companion as we climbed, a conversation between me and a philosopher from centuries past. Since that day, Epictetus has never left my side. That book, picked up on a whim, became a lifelong companion—a reminder on some basic tenets of resilience.

Resilience and the Wisdom of Epictetus

It was Epictetus who led me to Stoicism, a school of thought that has profoundly shaped my perspective on life. Founded in Athens during the 3rd century BCE by Zeno of Citium, Stoicism offers a powerful framework for navigating life’s uncertainties. At its core, it is a philosophy of action—one that champions self-control, resilience, and inner strength in the face of adversity. The Stoics believed that while we cannot control external events, we possess complete authority over how we respond to them. Our perception shapes our reality, and more often than not, our suffering arises not from circumstances themselves, but from our emotional reactions to them.

Unlike abstract philosophies designed for intellectual debate, Stoicism is deeply practical. It teaches individuals to master their emotions, endure hardships with grace, and focus their energy only on what is within their control. Its principles have guided some of history’s greatest minds: Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor who applied Stoic wisdom to leadership and personal discipline; Seneca, whose writings continue to inspire seekers of wisdom; and Epictetus, a former slave whose teachings endure as a beacon for those navigating life’s trials.

Among these great thinkers, Epictetus occupies a unique place. Born into slavery, he spent his early years in servitude before gaining his freedom and establishing a philosophy school in Rome. Despite the limitations of his past, he became one of the most influential teachers of his time. Students from all walks of life sought him out, drawn by his ability to distill Stoic wisdom into clear, practical guidance. He did not speak in vague theoretical terms; his words were sharp, direct, and often provocative, challenging his listeners to confront uncomfortable truths about themselves.

"Of all existing things, some are in our power, and others are not in our power. In our power are thought, impulse, will to get and will to avoid, and, in a word, everything which is our own doing. Things not in our power include the body, property, reputation, office, and, in a word, everything which is not our own doing." (Enchiridion, Chapter 1)

Epictetus’s teachings lie in a fundamental principle: the distinction between what is within our control and what is not. Our thoughts, judgments, and actions belong to us, while external events—fate, the choices of others, and the unpredictability of life—do not. True freedom, he argued, comes from focusing only on what is within our power and accepting the rest with equanimity. His wisdom resonates across time because it speaks to the universal human experience. Whether we face personal struggles, professional setbacks, or global crises, his philosophy provides a blueprint for maintaining dignity, autonomy, and inner peace.

One of his most enduring insights is this: “It isn’t the things themselves that disturb people, but the judgments they form about them.” This simple yet transformative idea reminds us that strength does not come from controlling the uncontrollable, but from shaping our own perceptions and reactions. For those who embrace it, Stoicism is more than just a philosophy—it is a way of life, a path to tranquility through discipline, wisdom, and self-awareness. It teaches that resilience is not merely about enduring hardship but about transforming it into an opportunity for growth.

Critics might argue that Stoicism oversimplifies life’s challenges, ignoring systemic barriers such as discrimination that limit personal control. However, Stoicism does not turn a blind eye to injustice. Rather, it redirects energy toward actionable responses, such as advocacy or cultivating personal resilience, rather than becoming consumed by futile resentment. Through the cultivation of virtue—excellence of character—Stoicism fosters an unshakable inner strength, enabling individuals to remain untroubled even in the darkest of times.

He reminds us that external events do not harm us—our judgments about them do. An insult has no power on its own; only the meaning we assign to it determines its effect. Misfortune does not crush us; rather, it is our resistance to it that creates suffering. The chief task in life, he argues, is to discern what we can control and what we cannot. This distinction forms the foundation of resilience. When we accept what is beyond our power and focus solely on our own actions, we unlock true endurance.

Consider a simple example: being insulted. The words of another are outside our control, but how we respond is entirely within our power. To let anger consume us is to surrender control; to remain calm and unshaken is to assert mastery over ourselves. This is the art of acquiescence—not weakness, but wisdom. There is a larger picture we cannot see, a grand design of which we are only a part. Accepting this does not make us powerless; rather, it makes us unstoppable, for we no longer waste energy resisting the inevitable.

The Stoics called this acceptance amor fati—the love of fate. It is not enough to merely tolerate what happens; one must embrace it. Every experience, even suffering, shapes us into the person we are meant to become. Hardship is not an obstacle; it is training. “We must undergo a hard winter’s training and not rush into things for which we have not prepared,” Epictetus teaches. This is why Stoics cultivate a love for challenges—within adversity, they see opportunities to strengthen themselves. The world will throw hardships at us—this is certain. But resilience is built not by avoiding difficulties, but by facing them, practicing endurance, and preparing our minds for whatever may come. One must be careful that the Stoic embrace of amor fati may lead to passivity in the face of adversity rather than active engagement in improving one’s circumstances. Accepting what happens might discourage efforts to challenge injustice or work toward personal growth. What is required is the ability to discern uncertainty and risks so that they can be actively managed.

Every crisis presents two handles: one by which it can be carried, and one by which it cannot. The choice is always ours. When adversity strikes, do we grasp the handle of despair and self-pity, or the handle of strength and opportunity? Do we see a burden or a lesson? The have to, or the get to? Even in the worst of times, when we feel powerless, we retain the ability to choose our response—our attitude, our perspective, our creativity, our emotions. This faculty of choice is our greatest human power, the one thing no misfortune can take from us.

And so, when hardship arrives, as it inevitably will, the Stoic does not waste time lamenting. Instead, they ask: What is within my control? What lesson does this offer me? How can I use this to grow? They understand that there is always some good within the bad. One must only be willing to look for it and seize it. This is how one thrives in life—not by avoiding suffering, but by transforming it into meaningful growth. At times, the greatest strength lies in letting go. Some things are simply not up to us, and clinging to them only leads to frustration. When we recognize this, we learn to release, to move on, to walk forward with grace. In doing so, we cultivate not just resilience, but freedom—the kind that allows us to live unshaken, no matter what storms may come.

The Stoic Foundations of Resilience

Dichotomy of Control - This fundamental idea, central to Stoic thought, reminds us that some things are within our power, while others are not. The key to emotional well-being, then, is learning to distinguish between the two.

When we fixate on what lies beyond our control—external events, the opinions of others, or material possessions—we invite frustration, confusion, and blame. But when we accept that these things are not ours to command, we free ourselves from unnecessary suffering. In this acceptance lies true liberation:

"No one will ever put compulsion or hindrance on you; you will blame none, you will accuse none, you will do nothing against your will, no one will harm you, you will have no enemy, for no harm can touch you."

The Power of Purpose and Inner Virtue

For the Stoics, a meaningful life requires a clear sense of purpose—an anchor in the midst of life’s chaos. Epictetus teaches that defining one’s purpose transforms overwhelming challenges into manageable steps, allowing us to move forward with confidence and determination.

"Difficulties show a person's character. Once you identify your purpose, it acts as an anchor, grounding you amidst the chaos. Colossal challenges become small steps in the journey towards your ultimate purpose."

Yet purpose alone is not enough. The Stoics regard virtue as the sole good. External factors—wealth, power, reputation—are fleeting distractions. True fulfillment lies in cultivating wisdom, justice, courage, and temperance. If we truly understand the nature of things, we will not suffer when they behave according to their nature.

"If you properly understand the real nature of things, you will not suffer when they act according to that nature."

The Role of Judgment in Suffering

Our suffering does not stem from events themselves but from our judgments about them. A Stoic does not see death, hardship, or misfortune as inherently dreadful; rather, the distress they cause comes from flawed perceptions.

“What disturbs men’s minds is not events but their judgments on events. For instance, death is nothing dreadful, or else Socrates would have thought it so. No, the only dreadful thing about it is men’s judgment that it is dreadful.”

Reframing challenges is essential to Stoic resilience. By recognizing our role in assigning meaning to events, we reclaim power over our emotions. We must train ourselves to pause before reacting and ask: Is my distress truly warranted, or am I merely perceiving an illusion?

Acceptance, Detachment, and Letting Go

Stoicism teaches that all things are impermanent—possessions, status, relationships. Everything we cherish is ultimately transient. To suffer from their loss is to resist the fundamental nature of existence.

“Never say of anything, ‘I lost it,’ but say, ‘I gave it back.’ Has your child died? It was given back. Has your wife died? She was given back. Has your estate been taken from you? Was not this also given back?”

Detachment does not mean indifference—it means embracing life fully while understanding that nothing is truly ours to keep. Loss, change, and uncertainty are inevitable; we only control how we respond to them.

The Power of Will and Self-Control

Stoicism's core lies an unwavering belief in the power of will. While we may not control circumstances, we always control our responses. This realization grants us autonomy, dignity, and strength.

"It is not possible for him to follow what seems good to you, but only what seems good to him. So that, if he has bad judgments, he is the one who is hurt, inasmuch as he is deluded."

Self-restraint and discipline are not constraints but the key to true freedom. Through rigorous self-awareness, we train ourselves to master our desires, impulses, and reactions.

"Practicing self-restraint requires self-awareness and discipline."

Embracing Stoic principles isn't just about learning a philosophy—it’s about adopting a mindset that helps us navigate life with resilience, inner peace, and a deep sense of freedom. Challenges will always come, but with wisdom, purpose, and self-mastery, we can meet them—not with fear, but with a calm and steady mind.

Unlike many ancient philosophies, Stoicism isn’t just an abstract theory; it’s a way of living. The Stoics didn’t simply discuss ideas—they practiced them, day in and day out. They engaged in daily reflections, mental exercises, and even voluntary hardships to prepare themselves for whatever life might bring.

Pierre Hadot, a modern scholar of Stoicism, put it best:

"In ancient philosophy, philosophy was not just teaching an abstract theory or just the exegesis of text but rather the art of living—a concrete attitude and determinative lifestyle which engages the whole of existence."

From morning meditations to nightly self-examinations, from practicing discomfort to mentally preparing for adversity, Stoics didn’t just think about virtue—they lived it.

Epictetus taught that every experience—good or bad—is an opportunity to practice virtue. Life will always be unpredictable, but there is one thing we can control: how we respond. And in that response lies our power. By accepting this, we build resilience, cultivate wisdom, and find a deep sense of tranquility.

Is Stoicism the perfect solution to life’s problems? No philosophy is. But its strength lies in its practicality. It doesn’t promise an easy path—it offers a way to navigate chaos with clarity and purpose.

As Epictetus reminds us:
"First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do."