The philosophers

Epictetus

Roman-era Greek Stoic · c. 55–135 AD

A committed Stoic. Born a slave and later freed, he became one of the great Stoic teachers. He wrote nothing himself; his pupil Arrian wrote down his teaching in the Discourses and a short handbook, the Enchiridion.

A humble room with a glowing clay oil lamp, a small handbook and a wooden walking staff

Epictetus began life as a slave. He was not free to choose where he lived or what he did, and yet he spent his life teaching about freedom, the kind no one can take from you, because it lives in how you meet what happens. Later, freed, he became one of the most loved teachers of his age. He never wrote a word himself. A student named Arrian wrote down his lessons, and one small handbook of them, the Enchiridion, still fits in a pocket.

His whole teaching turns on one idea, and it’s a good first idea for a child.

Some things are up to us, and some are not

In his own words

Some things are in our power, and others are not.
— Epictetus, Enchiridion 1

The weather and what someone else decides: those aren’t ours. Our own effort and how we answer: those are. Children carry a lot of frustration that comes from pushing on the first kind, the part they can’t move. Epictetus gently turns them toward the part they can move. They can’t stop the rain, but they can choose where to spread the blanket. They can’t set the score, but they can decide how they play.

It isn’t the thing that upsets us, it’s how we see it

In his own words

Men are disturbed not by things, but by the principles and notions which they form concerning things.
— Epictetus, Enchiridion 5

The dark room is the same room it was at lunchtime. The shape on the door is a coat. What changed is the story the mind told about it. This doesn’t make the fear silly. It feels real to the child. And it can be met by looking again, together, at what is there.

Every trouble has two handles

In his own words

Everything has two handles: one by which it may be carried, and one by which it cannot.
— Epictetus, Enchiridion 43

When something goes wrong, there’s usually more than one way to pick it up. “My brother wrecked my tower on purpose” is a handle that’s very hard to carry. “My brother knocked my tower, and he’s still my brother” is one you can. Epictetus doesn’t want the child to pretend nothing unfair happened. He wants them to see that they have a say in which handle they hold.

For a small person, that’s an enormous gift: real power over their own corner of the world.

Old ideas, gently told.

Stoic Sprout turns thinking like this into calm stories a child can actually hear. A few are free to try.