Many times an old man has no other evidence besides his age to prove he has lived a long time.
—Seneca, On Tranquility Of Mind, 3.8b
How long have you been alive? Take the years, multiply them by 365, and then by 24. How many hours have you lived? What do you have to show for all of them?
The answer for many people is: not enough. We had so many hours that we took them for granted. All we have to show for our time on this planet are rounds of golf, years spent at the office, time spent watching mediocre movies, a stack of mindless books we hardly remember reading, and maybe a garage full of toys. We’re like the character in Raymond Chandler‘s The Long Goodbye: “Mostly, I just like time,” he says, “and it dies hard.”
One day, our hours will begin to run out. It would be nice to be able to say: “Hey, I really made the most of it.” Not in the form of achievements, not money, not status—you know what the Stoics think of all that—but in wisdom, insight, and real progress in the things that all humans struggle against.
What if you could say that you really made something of this time that you had? What if you could prove that you really did live [insert number] years? And not just lived them, but lived them fully?
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
Do you then ponder how the supreme of human evils, the surest mark of the base and cowardly, is not death, but the fear of death? I urge you to discipline yourself against such fear, direct all your thinking, exercises, and reading this way—and you will know the only path to human freedom.
—Epictetus, Discourses, 3.26.38-39
To steel himself before he committed suicide rather than submit to Julius Caesar‘s destruction of the Roman Republic, the great Stoic philosopher Cato read a bit of Plato‘s Phaedo. In it, Plato writes, “It is the child within us that trembles before death.” Death is scary because it is such an unknown. No one can come back and tell us what it is like. We are in the dark about it.
As childlike and ultimately ignorant as we are about death, there are plenty of wise men and women who can at least provide some guidance. There’s a reason that the world’s oldest people never seem to be afraid of death: they’ve had more time to think about it than we have (and they realized how pointless worrying was). There are other wonderful resources: Florida Scott-Maxwell‘s Stoics diary during her terminal illness, The Measure of My Days, is one. Seneca‘s famous words to his family and friends, who had broken down and begged with his executioners, is another. “Where,” Seneca gently chided them, “are your maxims of philosophy, or the preparation of so many years’ study against evils to come?” Through out philosophy there are inspiring, brave words from brave men and women who can help us face this fear.
There is another helpful consideration about death from the Stoics. If death is truly the end, then what is there exactly to fear? For everything from your fears to your pain receptors to your worries and your remaining wishes, they will perish with you. As frightening as death might seem, remember: it contains within it the end of fear.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
Think of the whole universe of matter and how small your share. Think about the expanse of time and how brief—almost momentary—the part marked for you. Think of the workings of fate and how infinitesimal your role.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 5.24
The amount of matter in the universe is immense—on the order of trillions of atoms. What percentage of that matter does one human body constitute?
The earth, as far as science tells us, is some 4.5 billion years old and shows no sign of ending soon. Our time on the earth, on the other hand, will be what? Several decades, maybe?
Sometimes we need to have the facts and figures spelled out in front of us to fully realize the scale at which humans happen to exist in the big scheme of things.
Consider this the next time you feel self-important, or like everything rises and falls on what you do next. It doesn’t. You’re just one person among many, doing your best among many. That’s all you need to do.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
Both Alexander the Great and his mule-keeper were both brought to the same place by death—they were either received into the all-generative reason, or scattered among the atoms.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 6.24
In a world that is in many ways becoming more and more unequal, there aren’t many truly equalitarian experiences left. When Benjamin Franklin observed that “in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes,” he couldn’t have known how good some people would get at avoiding their taxes. But death? That’s still the one thing that everyone experiences.
We all face the same end. Whether you conquer the known world or shine the shoes of the people who do, at the end death will be a radical equalizer—a lesson in abject humility. Shakespeare had Hamlet trace out the logic in stark terms for both Alexander and Julius Caesar:
“Imperious Caesar, dead and turn’d to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!”
The next time you feel yourself getting high and mighty—or conversely, feeling low and inferior—just remember, we all end up the same way. In death, no one is better, no one is worse. All our stories have the same finale.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
Death lies heavy upon one
who, known exceedingly well by all,
dies unknown to himself.
—Seneca, Thyestes, 400
Some of the most powerful and important people in the world seem to have almost no self-awareness. Although total strangers know endless amounts of trivia about them, celebrities—because they are too busy or because it hurts too much—appear to know very little about themselves.
We can be guilty of the same sin. We ignore Socrates‘s dictum to “know thyself”—often realizing we have done so at our peril, years later, when we wake up one day and realize how rarely we have asked ourselves questions like: Who am I? What’s important to me? What do I like? What do I need?
Now—right now—you have the time to explore yourself, to understand your own mind and body. Don’t wait. Know yourself. Before it’s impossibly late.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
I tell you, you only have to learn to live like the healthy person does … living with complete confidence. What confidence? The only one worth holding, in what is trustworthy, unhindered, and can’t be taken away—your own reasoned choice.
—Epictetus, Discourses, 3.26.23b-24
As the Stoics say repeatedly, it’s dangerous to have faith in what you do not control. But your own reasoned choice? Well, for now that is in your control. Therefore, it is one of the few things you can have confidence in. It’s the one area of health that can’t suddenly be given a terminal diagnosis (except for the one we all get the day we’re born). It’s the only one that remains pristine and never wears down—it’s only the user who quits it; never will it quit the user.
In this passage, Epictetus points out that slaves and workers and philosophers alike can live this way. Socrates, Diogenes, and Cleanthes live this way—even while they had families and while they were struggling students.
And so can you.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
This is the mark of perfection of character—to spend each day as if it were your last, without frenzy, laziness, or any pretending.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 7.69
The Stoics didn’t think that anyone could be perfect. The idea of becoming a sage—the highest aspiration of a philosopher—wasn’t realistic. This was just their Platonic ideal.
Still, they started every day hoping to get a little closer to that mark. There was much to gain in the trying. Can you actually live today like it is your last day? Is it even possible to embody completeness or perfection in our ethos (character), effortlessly doing the right thing for a full twenty-four hours? Is it possible for more than a minute?
Maybe not. But if trying was enough for the Stoics, it should be enough for us too.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
Soon you will die, and still you aren’t sincere, undisturbed, or free from suspicion that external things can harm you, nor are you gracious to all, knowing that wisdom and acting justly are one and the same.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 4.37
From what we understand, Marcus wrote many of his meditations later in life, when he was suffering from serious illnesses. So when he says, “Soon you will die,” he was speaking frankly to himself about his own mortality. How scary that must have been. He was staring at the real possibility of death and not liking what he saw in these last minutes.
Sure, he’d accomplished many things in his life, but his emotions were still the cause of discomfort, pain, and frustration. He knew that with his limited time left, better choices would provide relief.
Hopefully, you have a lot more time left—but that makes it even more important to make headway while you still can. We are unfinished products up until the end, as Marcus knew very well. But the earlier we learn it, the more we can enjoy the fruits of the labor on our character—and the sooner we can be free (or freer) of insincerity, anxiety, ungraciousness, and un-Stoic-ness.
* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman
