Preparing for Loss Before It Happens — The Enchiridion

Anything that delights you, helps you, or sits close to your heart can become a future wound if you forget what it is. Epictetus tells you to rehearse that truth on purpose, starting with the smallest objects before you touch the largest loves.

Take a favorite cup. Say plainly that it is only a cup you happen to like. If it breaks, you can bear the loss because you never treated the mug as part of your identity. That is the training ground, not the lesson's end.

Then scale up to what hurts. When you embrace your child or your wife, remember that you embrace a mortal. If either dies, you can bear it, not because grief vanishes, but because you refused the fantasy that what you hold was ever guaranteed forever. The exercise is cold only if you skip the love; with the reminder in place, you can cherish people and things fully while knowing their nature in advance.