Walk the long gallery of the past, of empires and kingdoms succeeding each other without number. And you can also see the future, for surely it will be exactly the same, unable to deviate from the present rhythm. It’s all one whether we’ve experienced forty years or an aeon. What more is there to see?
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 7.49

All things die. Not just people but companies, kingdoms, religions, and ideas—eventually. The Roman Republic lasted 450 years. The Roman Empire, of which Marcus Aurelius was considered to be one of the “five good emperors,” lasted 500 years. The longest recorded life of a human being is 122 years. The average life expectancy in the United States is a little over seventy-eight years. In other countries, in other eras, it has been more and it has been less. But in the end, we all succumb, as Marcus said, to the rhythm of events—of which there is always a final, determined beat. There is no need to dwell on this fact, but there is no point in ignoring it either.

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman

As Cicero says, we hate gladiators if they are quick to save their lives by any means; we favor them if they show contempt for their lives.
—Seneca, On Tranquility Of Mind, 11.4b

Lyndon Johnson‘s college classmates used to tell an embarrassing story about him. Johnson apparently had a big mouth and felt he had to constantly dominate and intimidate others. Yet his biographer, Robert Caro, makes it clear that when someone stood up to young Lyndon, he proved himself to be a complete coward. In one instance, during an argument over a poker game, instead of fighting, Johnson threw himself on a bed and “began kicking his feet in the air with a frantic, windmilling motion … like a girl.” He shouted, “If you hit me, I’ll kick you! If you hit me, I’ll kick you!”

Later in his life, Johnson also worked extremely hard to avoid serving in World War II and lived it up in California while other soldiers fought and died abroad. He later claimed to be a war hero. It was one of his most shameful lies.

We do not need to disregard our physical safety or engage in wanton acts of violence to be brave. But nobody respects a coward. Nobody likes a shirker of duty. Nobody admires a person who puts too high a price on their own comfort and needs.

That’s the irony of cowardice. It’s aimed at self-protection, but it creates shameful secrets. Self-preservation is hardly worth it because of everything it costs in return.

Be brave. Be dignified.

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman

I say, let no one rob me of a single day who isn’t going to make a full return on the loss.
—Seneca, On Tranquility Of Mind, 1.11b

People spend a lot more money when they use credit cards than when they have to pull out actual cash. If you ever wondered why credit card companies and banks push cards so aggressively, this is why. The more credit cards you have, the more you’ll spend.

Do we treat the days of our lives like we treat our money? Because we don’t exactly know how many days we’ll be alive, and because we try our hardest not to think about the fact that someday we’ll die, we’re pretty liberal with how freely we spend our time. We let people and obligations impose on that time, only rarely asking: What am I getting in return here?

Seneca‘s maxim is the equivalent of cutting up your credit cards and switching to cash. He says to put real thought into every transaction: Am I getting my money’s worth here? Is this a fair trade?

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman

Were all the geniuses of history to focus on this single theme, they could never fully express their bafflement at the darkness of the human mind. No person would give up even an inch of their estate, and the slightest dispute with a neighbor can mean hell to pay; yet we easily let others encroach on our lives—worse, we often pave the way for those who will take it over. No person hands out their money to passersby, but to how many do each of us hand out our lives! W’re tight-fisted with property and money, yet think too little of wasting time, the one thing about which we should all be the toughest misers.
—Seneca, On The Brevity Of life, 3.1-2

Today there will be endless interruptions: phone calls, emails, visitors, unexpected events. Booker T. Washington observed that “the umber of people who stand ready to consume one’s time, to no purpose, is almost countless.”

A philosopher, on the other hand, knows that their default state should be one of reflection and inner awareness. This is why they so diligently protect their personal space and thoughts from the intrusions of the world. They know that a few minutes of contemplation are worth more than any meeting or report. They also know how little time we’re actually given in life—and how quickly our stores can be depleted.

Seneca reminds us that while we might be good at protecting our physical property, we are far too lax at enforcing our mental boundaries. Property can be regained; there is quite a bit of it out there—some of it still untouched by man. But time? Time is our most irreplaceable asset—we cannot buy more of it. We can only strive to waste as little as possible.

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman

It’s better to conquer grief than to deceive it.
—Seneca, On Consolation To Helvia, 17.1b

We’ve all lost people we were close to—a friend, a colleague, a parent, a grandparent. While we were suffering from our grief, some well-meaning person did their best to take our mind off it or make us think about something else for a couple hours. However kind, these gestures are misguided.

The Stoics are stereotyped as suppressing their emotions, but their philosophy was actually intended to teach us to face, process, and deal with emotions immediately instead of running fro them. Tempting as it is to deceive yourself or hide from a powerful emotion like grief—by telling yourself and other people that you’re fine—awareness and understanding are better. Distraction might be pleasant in the short term—by going to gladiatorial games, as a Roman might have done, for example. Focusing is better in the long term.

That means facing it now. Process and parse what you are feeling. Remove your expectations, your entitlements, your sense of having been wronged. Find the positive in the situation, but also sit with your pain and accept it, remembering that it is a part of life. That’s how one conquers grief.

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman

Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 7.56-57

We have an irrational fear of acknowledging our own mortality. We avoid thinking about it because we think it will be depressing. In fact, reflecting on mortality often has the opposite effect—invigorating us more than saddening us. Why? Because it gives us clarity.

If you were suddenly told you had but a week to live, what changes would you make? If you died but were resuscitated, how different would your perspective be?

When, as Shakespeare‘s Prospero puts it, “every third thought shall be my grave,” there’s no risk of getting caught up in petty matters or distractions. Instead of denying our fear of death, let’s let it make us the best people we can be.

Today.

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman

Don’t behave as if you are destined to live forever. What’s fated hangs over you. As long as you live and while you can, become good now.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 4.17

There is an ancient story of a courtier who had made light of the responsibilities of his king. To prove he was mistaken, the king arranged to switch places with the courtier so he could experience what it was like to be a king. The king made one other adjustment: he hung a sword by a hair over the throne to illustrate the peril and burden of kingship as well as the constant fear of assassination. We call that dangling reminder of death and difficulty the Sword of Damocles.

The reality is that a similar sword hangs over all of us—life can be taken from us at any moment. And that threat can send us in one of two directions: we can fear and dread it, or we can use it to motivate us. To do good, to be good. Because the sword is dangling, and there’s nothing else to be concerned with. Would you rather it catch you in the middle of some shameful, selfish act? Would you rather it catch you waiting to be good in the future?

* Source: The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman