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Stoic Joy

Trust me, real joy is a serious thing. Do you think someone can, in the charming expression, blithely dismiss death with an easy disposition? Or swing open the door to poverty, keep pleasures in check, or meditate on the endurance of suffering? The one who is comfortable with turning these thoughts over is truly full of joy, but hardly cheerful. It’s exactly such a joy that I would wish for you to possess, for it will never run dry once you’ve laid claim to its source.
—Seneca, Moral Letters, 23.4

We throw around the word “joy” casually. “I’m overjoyed at the news.” “She’s a joy to be around.” “It’s a joyous occasion.” But none of those examples really touches on true joy. They are closer to “cheer” than anything else. Cheerfulness is surface level.

Joy, to Seneca, is a deep state of being. It is what we feel inside us and has little to do with smiles or laughing. So when people say that the Stoics are dour or depressive, they’re really missing the point. Who cares if someone is bubbly when times are good? What kind of accomplishment is that?

But can you be fully content with your life, can you bravely face what life has in store from one day to the next, can you bounce back from every kind of adversity without losing a step, can you be a source of strength and inspiration to others around you? That’s Stoic joy—the joy that comes from purpose, excellence, and duty. It’s a serious thing—far more serious than a smile or a chipper voice.

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

A Cure For The Self

The person who has practiced philosophy as a cure for the self becomes great of soul, filled with confidence, invincible—and greater as you draw near.
—Seneca, Moral Letters, 111.2

What is “a cure for the self”? Perhaps Seneca means that, through nature and nurture, we develop a unique set of characteristics—some positive and some negative. When those negative characteristics begin to have consequences in our lives, some of us turn to therapy, psychoanalysis, or the help of a support group. The point? To cure certain selfish, destructive parts of ourselves.

But of all the avenues for curing our negative characteristics, philosophy has existed the longest and helped the most people. It is concerned not just with mitigating the effects of a mental illness or a neurosis, but it is designed to encourage human flourishing. It’s designed to help you live the Good Life.

Don’t you deserve to flourish? Wouldn’t you like to be great of soul, filled with confidence, and invincible to external events? Wouldn’t you like to be like the proverbial onion, packed with layers of greatness?

Then practice your philosophy.

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

Check Your Privilege

Some people are sharp and others dull; some are raised in a better environment, others in worse, the latter, having inferior habits and nurture, will require more by way of proof and careful instruction to master these teachings and to be formed by them—in the same way that bodies in a bad state must be given a great deal of care when perfect health is sought.
—Musonius Rufus, Lectures, 1.1.33-1.3.1-3

At the end of a frustrating exchange, you might find yourself thinking, Ugh, this person is such an idiot. Or asking, Why can’t they just do things right?

But not everyone has had the advantages that you’ve had. That’s not to say that your own life has been easy—you just had a head start over some people. That’s why it is our duty to understand and be patient with others.

Philosophy is spiritual formation, care of the soul. Some need more care than others, just as some have a better metabolism or were born taller than others. The more forgiving and tolerant you can be of others—the more you can be aware of your various privileges and advantages—the more helpful and patient you will be.

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

Where Is Anything Better?

Indeed, if you find anything in human life better than justice, truth, self-control, courage—in short, anything better than the sufficiency of your own mind, which keeps you acting according to the demands of true reason and accepting what fate gives you outside of your own power of choice—I tell you, if you can see anything better than this, turn to it heart and soul and take full advantage of this greater good you’ve found.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 3.6.1

We’ve all chased things we thought would matter. At some point, we all thought that money would be the answer, that success was the highest prize, that the undying love of a beautiful person would finally make us feel warm inside. What do we find when we actually attain these scared objects? Not that they are empty or meaningless—only those who have never had them think that—but what we find is that they are not enough.

Money creates problems. Climbing one mountain exposes another, higher peak. There is never enough love.

There is something better out there: real virtue. It is its own reward. Virtue is the one good that reveals itself to be more than we expect and something that one cannot have in degrees. We simply have it or we don’t. And that is why virtue—made up as it is of justice, honesty, discipline, and courage—is the only thing worth striving for.

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

When Good Men Do Nothing

Often injustice lies in what you aren’t doing, not only in what you are doing.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 9.5

History abounds with evidence that humanity is capable of doing evil, not only actively but passively. In some of our most shameful moments—from slavery to the Holocaust to segregation to the murder of Kitty Genovese—guilt wasn’t limited to perpetrators but to ordinary citizens who, for a multitude of reasons, declined to get involved. It’s that old line: all evil needs to prevail is for good men to do nothing.

It’s not enough to just not do evil. You must also be a force for good in the world, as best you can.

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

What’s On Your Tombstone?

When you see someone often flashing their rank or position, or someone whose name is often bandied about in public, don’t be envious; such things are bought at the expense of life…. Some die on the first rungs of the ladder of success, others before they can reach the top, and the few that make it to the top of their ambition through a thousand indignities realize at the end it’s only for an inscription on their gravestone.
—Seneca, On The Brevity Of Life, 20

Sometimes our professional commitments can become an end unto themselves. A politician might justify the neglect of his family for his office, or a writer might believe her “genius” excuses antisocial or selfish behavior. Anyone with some perspective can see that, in fact, the politician is really just in love with fame, and the writer enjoys being condescending and feeling superior. Workaholics always make excuses for their selfishness.

While these attitudes can head to impressive accomplishments, their cost is rarely justified. The ability to work hard and long is admirable. But you are a human being, not a human doing. Seneca points out that we’re not animals. “Is it really so pleasant to die in harness?” he asked. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn put it better: “Work is what horses die of. Everybody should know that.”

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

Somewhere Someone’s Dying

Whenever disturbing news is delivered to you, bear in mind that no news can ever be relevant to your reasoned choice. Can anyone break news to you that your assumptions or desires are wrong? No way! But they can tell you someone died—even so, what is that to you?
—Epictetus, Discourses, 3.18.1-2

A well-meaning friend might ask you today: “What do you think about [insert tragedy from the other side of the world]?” You, in your equally well-meaning concern, might say, “I just feel awful about it.” In this scenario, both of you have put aside your reasoned choice without doing a single thing for the victims suffering from the actual tragedy. It can be so easy to get distracted by, even consumed by, horrible news from all over the world. The proper response of the Stoic to these events is not to not care, but mindless, meaningless sympathy does very little either (and comes at the cost of one’s own serenity, in most cases). If there is something you can actually do to help these suffering people, then, yes, the disturbing news (and your reaction to it) has relevance to your reasoned choice. If emoting is the end of your participation, then you ought to get back to your own individual duty—to yourself, to your family, to your country.

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

Receive Honors And Slights Exactly The Same Way

Receive without pride, let go without attachment.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 8.33

In the midset of the breakdown of the Roman Republic, during the civil war between Pompey and Caesar, Pompey made the decision to give control of the military fleet to Cato. It was a massive honor and hugely powerful position. But then a few days later, responding to the protests of his jealous inner circle, Pompey reversed his decision and took the command away.

It could have been seen as an enormous public humiliation—to be given a promotion and then have it taken away. The record shows that Cato’s reaction was basically nothing. He responded to the honor and the dishonor the same way: with indifference and acceptance. He certainly didn’t let it affect his support for the cause. In fact, after the snub, he worked to rally the soldiers before battle with inspirational speeches—the very men who should have been under his command.

That’s what Marcus is saying. Do not take the slights of the day personally—or the exciting rewards and recognitions either, especially when duty has assigned you an important cause. Trivial details like the rise and fall of your position say nothing about you as a person. Only your behavior—as Cato’s did—will.

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