DE Weekly: Epictetus, Amor Fati, & Memento Mori
Below is an archived email originally sent on October 13, 2025.
Epictetus, Amor Fati, & Memento Mori
“There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.” This quote comes to us from Epictetus, the Greek Stoic philosopher who lived in first century Rome.
Epictetus was a teacher of philosophy who, under the Emperor Domitian, was banished for teaching philosophy. He later founded a school of philosophy in Nicopolis.
He taught that the foundation of philosophy is self-knowledge; he believed that we can learn logical reasoning through philosophy, but we must further that knowledge by using it for practical needs.
Epictetus argued all external events in life are beyond our control, and we should accept whatever happens to us with dignity and without protest. Instead of focusing on how it happened, we must choose our response to the situation and act accordingly.
This is the same thought that led to the likes of Marcus Aurelius and, long after, Friedrich Nietzsche.
I wrote a few months ago about Nietzsche’s admiration of the concept of Amor fati, a concept pioneered by Epictetus himself.
Amor fati means “love of one’s fate,” and beckons us to accept what happens to us in life. This doesn’t mean we must “like” it when negative things happen; it means we should learn to embrace it, as there is no other way to face adversity other than by accepting it.
We can’t control what happens to us, but we can control how we react to it. Sometimes, that’s the only thing we can control.
Whether we are laid off from our job, diagnosed with a terminal illness, or banished from Rome for teaching philosophy, we must focus more on our response than on the event itself.
The other concept Epictetus fathered was Memento mori, or “remember you must die.”
Memento mori invites us to contemplate our mortality, so that we might be inspired to live each and every day intentionally, without fear, and find meaning in our lives.
Contrary to how some may view meditating on our own mortality, it’s not meant to strike fear into us; rather, it’s meant to help us acknowledge the impermanence we all grapple with, and to appreciate the here and now.
If this sounds to you like a precursor to existentialist thought, you’d be exactly right.
These two concepts of loving your fate and remembering your own death played a huge role in the development of existentialism nearly two millennia after Epictetus wrote about them.
In existentialism, we are called to embrace amor fati by embracing the finite existence we inhabit and acting on it with each choice we make.
Nietzsche would write that loving one’s fate means “one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backwards, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it…but love it.”
In the same way, existentialists called us to embrace memento mori by confronting our mortality through revolt: through striving to create meaning despite our finite existence.
It’s one thing to say that we believe in Epictetus’s concepts of amor fati and memento mori, but how do we embody them in everyday life? How do we live according to these principles to create meaning?
We must first understand that we have been born with the freedom to create meaning––the same radical freedom Jean-Paul Sartre said we are “condemned” to.
We can do this by living authentically and living in the present moment.
Instead of getting caught up in trivial pursuits such as money, fame, and anything else fleeting, we can focus on the connections and experiences we make and have each day, choosing to appreciate the richness that they offer.
This is why Marcus Aurelius, in his Meditations, laid out arguments for why we must choose to get out of bed in the morning rather than stay in where it’s warm and comfortable:
“At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: ‘I have to go to work — as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for — the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?’”
At the end of the day, all of us have the agency to do what we please. It’s up to us, then, to accept the responsibility that demands and take the steps to shape a life we are proud to live.
In doing this, Nietzsche argues, we undergo a radical self-creation whereby we establish our own values, our own narrative.
Taking responsibility for your life and for your choices, even when they are limited due to outside circumstances, cultivates gratitude within us toward whatever our lot in life is.
Banished from Rome, never to return lest you be arrested and face execution? Make lemonade, as they say.
Embrace the present. Build resilience as you advance through your life. Overcome your fears. Make your own meaning, no matter the circumstances.
“How long are you going to wait before you demand the best for yourself and in no instance bypass the discriminations of reason? You have been given the principles that you ought to endorse, and you have endorsed them. What kind of teacher, then, are you still waiting for in order to refer your self-improvement to him? You are no longer a boy, but a full-grown man. If you are careless and lazy now and keep putting things off and always deferring the day after which you will attend to yourself, you will not notice that you are making no progress, but you will live and die as someone quite ordinary.
From now on, then, resolve to live as a grown-up who is making progress, and make whatever you think best a law that you never set aside. And whenever you encounter anything that is difficult or pleasurable, or highly or lowly regarded, remember that the contest is now: you are at the Olympic Games, you cannot wait any longer, and that your progress is wrecked or preserved by a single day and a single event. That is how Socrates fulfilled himself by attending to nothing except reason in everything he encountered. And you, although you are not yet a Socrates, should live as someone who at least wants to be a Socrates.” ― Epictetus, The Enchiridion (Section 51)
Thanks for reading.
Sincerely,
Brandon J. Seltenrich
P.S.––
Sorry for the super long quote to end the newsletter, but I thought it was all too good to cut out any of it. Hope you enjoyed it.
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