The most famous line in Stoic philosophy opens Epictetus’s Enchiridion: some things are within our power, and some things are not. This single distinction — the dichotomy of control — is the foundation of everything that follows. Marcus Aurelius builds on this with amor fati, the love of fate: not merely accepting what happens, but embracing it as necessary. Together, these two ideas form the beating heart of Stoic practice.
What the Stoics Said
Remember that to change your mind and to accept correction are free acts too. The action is yours, based on your own will, your own decision—and your own mind.
Meditations 8.16
Frightened of change? But what can exist without it? What’s closer to nature’s heart? Can you take a hot bath and leave the firewood as it was? Eat food without transforming it? Can any vital process take place without something being changed?
Can’t you see? It’s just the same with you—and just as vital to nature.
Meditations 7.18
Let it happen, if it wants, to whatever it can happen to. And what’s affected can complain about it if it wants. It doesn’t hurt me unless I interpret its happening as harmful to me. I can choose not to.
Meditations 7.14
Have you ever seen a severed hand or foot, or a decapitated head, just lying somewhere far away from the body it belonged to … ? That’s what we do to ourselves—or try to—when we rebel against what happens to us, when we segregate ourselves. Or when we do something selfish.
You have torn yourself away from unity—your natural state, one you were born to share in. Now you’ve cut yourself off from it.
But you have one advantage here: you can reattach yourself. A privilege God has granted to no other part of no other whole—to be separated, cut away, and reunited. But look how he’s singled us out. He’s allowed us not to be broken off in the first place, and when we are he’s allowed us to return, to graft ourselves back on, and take up our old position once again: part of a whole.
Meditations 8.34
Remember that what pulls the strings is within—hidden from us. Is speech, is life, is the person. Don’t conceive of the rest as part of it—the skin that contains it, and the accompanying organs. Which are tools—like a carpenter’s axe, except that they’re attached to us from birth, and are no more use without what moves and holds them still than the weaver’s shuttle, the writer’s pencil, the driver’s whip.
Meditations 10.38
As you kiss your son good night, says Epictetus, whisper to yourself, “He may be dead in the morning.”
Don’t tempt fate, you say.
By talking about a natural event? Is fate tempted when we speak of grain being reaped?
Meditations 11.34
What is divine is full of Providence. Even chance is not divorced from nature, from the inweaving and enfolding of things governed by Providence. Everything proceeds from it. And then there is necessity and the needs of the whole world, of which you are a part. Whatever the nature of the whole does, and whatever serves to maintain it, is good for every part of nature. The world is maintained by change—in the elements and in the things they compose. That should be enough for you; treat it as an axiom. Discard your thirst for books, so that you won’t die in bitterness, but in cheerfulness and truth, grateful to the gods from the bottom of your heart.
Meditations 2.3
When a person was reading the hypothetical arguments, Epictetus said, ‘This is a law concerning hypotheses, that we must accept what follows by way of conclusion. Even more cogent is the law of life that obliges us to act in accordance with nature. [2] If we mean to obey it in every area, on every occasion, clearly we must never allow what nature prescribes to escape us, and allow into our lives what runs contrary to nature.
Discourses 1.26.1
Frequently Asked Questions
What is the dichotomy of control?
The dichotomy of control is the foundational Stoic teaching, stated by Epictetus in the opening line of the Enchiridion: some things are within our power, and some things are not. Within our power are our opinions, desires, aversions, and actions — in short, everything that is our own doing. Not within our power are our bodies, possessions, reputations, and positions — everything that is not our own doing. The entire Stoic practice flows from this one distinction. When you focus your energy only on what you can control, anxiety, anger, and frustration lose most of their grip.
What does amor fati mean?
Amor fati means “love of fate.” It is the Stoic practice of not merely accepting what happens but embracing it as necessary and good. Marcus Aurelius expresses this throughout the Meditations when he writes about welcoming whatever nature brings and seeing every event as part of a larger order. It goes beyond resignation: where acceptance says “I can live with this,” amor fati says “this is exactly what I needed.” The practice transforms obstacles into opportunities and setbacks into material for growth.
How do you practice the dichotomy of control?
Epictetus teaches a simple daily exercise: whenever something disturbs you, pause and ask, “Is this within my control?” If it is — your effort, your response, your judgment — then act on it. If it is not — another person’s behavior, the weather, the outcome of an event — then let it go. Marcus Aurelius practiced this constantly in the Meditations, reminding himself to focus on the present task rather than worrying about future outcomes. The key is making this a habit through repetition: every frustration is a chance to practice the distinction.
Who created the dichotomy of control?
The dichotomy of control is most closely associated with Epictetus, who placed it at the very beginning of the Enchiridion as the starting point for all Stoic practice. However, the concept runs through earlier Stoic thought as well. Marcus Aurelius applies it throughout the Meditations without always naming it explicitly — he constantly returns to the insight that he controls his own mind and nothing else. Epictetus gave the concept its clearest formulation, but it belongs to the Stoic tradition as a whole.
Is amor fati a passive acceptance?
No. Amor fati is often misunderstood as passive resignation, but Marcus Aurelius demonstrates the opposite. He loved his fate while simultaneously leading armies, governing an empire, and making difficult decisions every day. Amor fati does not mean doing nothing; it means not wasting energy fighting reality. You accept what has already happened — because you cannot change it — and then you act on what is within your power. Epictetus teaches the same: accepting that the past is fixed frees you to focus entirely on the present, where your choices still matter.
How do you practice amor fati?
Marcus Aurelius practiced amor fati by reframing every difficulty as useful. When he encountered ungrateful people, he used it to practice patience. When he faced loss, he used it to practice acceptance. His method was to find in every setback the opportunity to exercise a virtue. Epictetus teaches a complementary practice: when something bad happens, immediately ask what virtue the situation calls for. Over time, this reframing becomes natural, and you begin to see every event — welcome or unwelcome — as material for becoming the person you want to be. That shift from resistance to embrace is amor fati in practice.