The Daily Stoic

Here’s the simple recipe for improvement and for happiness. It comes from Marcus Aurelius and the fact that it came from such a busy man with so many obligations and responsibilities should not be forgotten. “If you seek tranquillity,” he said, “do less.” And then he follows the note to himself with some clarification. Not nothing, less. Do only what’s essential. “Which brings a double satisfaction,” he writes “to do less, better.” Follow this advice today and everyday. So much of what we think we must do, so much of what we end up doing is not essential. We do it out of habit. We do it out of guilt. We do it out of laziness or we do it out of greedy ambition. And then we wonder why our performance suffers. We wonder why our heart isn’t really in it. Of course it isn’t. We know deep down there’s no point. But if we could do less inessential stuff, we’d be able to better do what is essential. We’d also get a taste of that tranquillity that Marcus was talking about. A double satisfaction. See Privacy Policy at

No matter what your profession is, there are things you can say that will cost you. Speaking up against somebody’s pet project can get an officer passed over for promotion. Voicing a certain political viewpoint can cost you fans or endorsements. Challenging the status quo can bring a hail of critics and haters.And in those situations, what should we do? The answer to the Stoic is pretty simple: Speak the truth. Yes, howls may follow. Recriminations can as well. And? And what?Nassim Taleb’s rule of thumb is worth remembering always: If you see fraud and do not say ‘fraud,’ you are a fraud. But that’s worth broadening a bit:If you know the truth and decline to speak the truth, you are not living truthfully.There are some exceptions to this rule, of course. Seneca speaks of a man whose son was executed by the emperor and then forced to dine with the tyrant after. The emperor was goading the obviously pained father to acknowledge who was the source of that pain (he wanted to see the pain he had caused, he wanted

Slavery is one of the most common metaphors in Seneca’s writing. He talks about people who are slaves to sex and slaves to work. He talks about people who are slaves to their anxiety. He even mentions-—without much self-awareness for such a generally compassionate person—about his fellow slave owners who are slaves to their slaves.So it might seem strange that there was something he said we should be a slave to. As always, this counter-intuitive observation came from one of his favorite thinkers to hate, Epicurus, who said:“If you would enjoy real freedom, you must be the slave of philosophy.”What does Seneca mean to say by quoting that line? It’s not that we should slave away reading endless amounts of books on philosophy. It’s not that we should work ourselves to the bone writing or researching or getting advanced degrees. Seneca talked quite negatively about people who did all of that.He meant that we had to obey philosophy. That is, the words from these wise Stoics weren’t things to just nod our heads to

How do you know you’re making progress in this philosophy? It’s a question that every person has struggled with at some point in their practice, including Seneca. When he was writing his famous letters, he meditated on this theme. What does getting better look like? How do you know any of this is working?Quoting one of his favorite philosophers, Hecato, Seneca comes up with a pretty good metric:“What progress, you ask, have I made? I have begun to be a friend to myself.”What a wonderful way of putting it. Not, “I am richer.” Not, “I am more famous.” Not even, “I sleep more soundly” or “I am handling a crisis well.” Sure those things are nice, and possibly even important. But to the Stoics, the point of this work was something simpler and more earnest: to be comfortable in your own skin; to be enough; to be a good friend to yourself.A person who is a friend to themselves, Seneca wrote, is an aid to all mankind. They are kind. They are calm. They have empathy—for themselves and for others. They aren’t desperate

Epicurus’s final letter begins with a rather remarkable sentence: “On this happy day, which is the last day of my life, I write the following words to you.” While the letter briefly touches on the painful symptoms of the disease that would soon kill him, Epicurus doesn’t dwell on that. Instead, he speaks of the joy in his heart—not caused by his impending death, obviously, but by the memories he has accumulated of the friend he is writing to. Then, before concluding the letter and his life, Epicurus gives final instructions on how to care for one of his young pupils that has shown promise. What a way to go out! What strength, courage, and poise emanating from a man whose life was supposedly all about pleasure!Remember, the point of philosophy is to prepare us for exactly this moment (To philosophize is to learn how to die). That’s why we do this reading, that’s why we carry these memento mori medallions, that’s why we think about this scary subject in advance. So that when it happens—today or in a hundred yea

A few weeks ago, we ran an email about Austin Murphy, the former Sports Illustrated writer whose thirty year career (which included interviewing presidents and champions) somehow ended in a gig delivering packages for Amazon.There is always a variety of reactions to these kinds of stories. Some people feel a wave of pity for the person on the short end of it. Others politicize it—Look how terrible these big tech companies are, this is why we need more [insert policy]. Others react by trying to poke holes in the story or to blame the subject—He says that he had to get the job in order to qualify for refinancing his house, sounds like he was living outside his means. Or, what kind of stupid journalist doesn’t see the disruption his industry was facing?!?All of these reactions are wrong in their own ways. Austin Murphy doesn’t need your internet pity. Nor should he be a pawn in your politics. And what good is blaming him for his circumstances? Does that make you feel better about yourself? No, the Stoic response

In Meditations, Marcus speaks passionately about escaping the “indelible stain” of power, of being changed by the purple cloak that the emperor traditionally wore. It is a timeless warning for anyone in a position of authority or acclaim: Be careful lest you be changed by your newfound bounty. But let’s talk about a different indelible stain that is spoiling and ruining many people today: radicalization rather than imperialization. In the the early 2000s, after the heinous attacks of September 11th, the radicalization of young men (and women) by their exposure to extremist Islamic views, became a major topic of discussion at Senate subcommittee hearings and on cable news roundtables. It’s both sad and ironic that for all this focus, the same officials and pundits missed the rising threat of homegrown right wing radicals—young men (also women, but mostly men) who were being turned into extremists by their exposure to misleading and inflammatory materials online. Indeed, these numbers have been rising to the po

Our newest Daily Stoic coinSummum Bonum is an expression from Cicero, Rome’s greatest orator. In Latin, it means “the highest good.” And what is the highest good? What is it that we are supposed to be aiming for in this life?To the Stoics, the answer is virtue. If we act virtuously, they believed, everything else important could follow: Happiness, success, meaning, reputation, honor, love. The Stoics didn’t claim this path was easy, or that it would always be recognized or appreciated by those closest to us, only that it was essential. And that the alternative—taking the easy route or the shortcut even if unethical or immoral—was considered only by cowards and fools. As Marcus Aurelius writes in Meditations,“Just that you do the right thing. The rest doesn't matter. Cold or warm. Tired or well-rested. Despised or honored. Dying...or busy with other assignments.”To the ancients, if we let virtue lead the way, every step we take will be safe. In Greek mythology, Arete was the goddess of virtue. The model for us

In the winter of 1824, things were not looking good for Simon Bolivar. He was at one of the lowest points of his decade-plus long revolution of South America. Many of the countries he had freed from Spanish rule were in chaos or at risk of being re-conquered. His own health had begun to fail from so many hours in the saddle on campaign. He was haggard and gaunt--skeletal, really. Would he give up? Would he die? Would all this turn out to be for naught? With this in mind, a man asked Bolivar, as it appeared that he neared rock bottom, “What will you do now?”The great liberator didn’t pause, he didn’t hesitate. All his charisma returned in an instant and he answered simply and definitively, “Triumph!”It’s one of those scenes from history that sends chills down our spine. It’s Napoleon shouting, “There will be no Alps!” It’s the Spartans retorting to the Persians who claimed the arrows of their overwhelmingly superior forces would blot out the sun, “Then we shall fight in the shade.” It’s Churchill, “We shall go

Epictetus’s most powerful line is about how it’s not things that upset us, but what we think about things that does all the damage. What he really meant is that our sense of what an obstacle or a disadvantage or a trial is—our subjective understanding—is more powerful than the objective reality. For instance, if you tell yourself that you were failed by your teachers and that’s why you’re not as smart as other people, for the rest of your life you’re going to have trouble learning and understanding things. It may be true that your teachers were less than adequate, but this story you’ve chosen to tell yourself is the true failure (and you can see how a person who tells themselves a different story about the same facts—’I attended underperforming schools but my hunger for learning allowed me to rise above it’ or ‘My street smarts make up for what I lack in education’—will do much better in life). As Epictetus said: “Sickness is an impediment to the body but not to the will unless the will wants to be impeded. L

Seneca wrote constantly about time. One of his most compelling observations was about how people are protective of their money, their property, their possessions, yet careless with the one thing they can’t get back. “It’s not that we have a short time to live,” he said, “but that we waste a lot of it. Can you imagine what he would say about the fact that today people average more than 5 hours a day on mobile devices? That’s 52 days a year—one-seventh of our lives—murdered! Cal Newport’s excellent new book Digital Minimalism, which just released this week, is an attempt to change that--to focus on limited time on the things that matter (deep work, family, being present, even the study of philosophy). In our interview with Cal for DailyStoic.com, he explained the two reasons why this is increasingly easier said than done. The first is that there are really smart computer scientists specifically engineering these devices and social media platforms to foster compulsive use. The second: “It fills a void. Life is h

Seneca was a very rich man. He accumulated that fortune largely due to his service to Nero’s corrupt and broken regime, and then he put that money to work in Rome’s British colonies. In fact, he made so many enormous loans to colonists in Britain, that when the debt was called in around 60 AD, it set off a rebellion in which tens of thousands of people ultimately died. A few short years later, Seneca would learn just how painful it can be on the other side of an unpayable debt. Realizing, alarmingly late, just how deranged Nero was, Seneca tried to walk away from politics. Nero wouldn’t let him. Seneca tried to turn over to Nero everything Nero had ever given him. Even this was not enough--because Seneca, in working for such a man, had, in a sense, pledged him his life. In 65 AD, Nero, paranoid and cleaning house of potential enemies, called in the chit, and Seneca was forced to commit suicide. The lesson: Be wary of debt. Because it is not simply a financial matter. It can be a spiritual matter as well. For

No one would ever call Winston Churchill a quitter. His whole reputation is built on his instinct to fight. He was the lone objector when appeasement toward Hitler reigned as policy in the 1930s. He was the one strong enough to inspire the British people to hold out against the Nazi bombardment and a potential invasion until America entered the war. His personal motto was KBO...Keep Buggering On.You may have even heard the first part of his famous speech which he gave to the boys at the Harrow School, which he had attended as a child, “Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty.”But did you know there was a second part to it? That Churchill wasn’t saying to hold out forever in every circumstance? This is the full quote:“Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty. Never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.”So there you have the famous never-quitter explaining the conditions under which you should quit or give

Near the end of the Eisenhower Administration, the speechwriter James C. Humes was asked to help the president write a short address. After submitting a draft, Humes was called to Eisenhower’s office to discuss. As soon as he stepped into the room, he could tell that Eisenhower had a problem with what he’d written. “What’s the QED* of this speech?” Eisenhower said to him with only a little patience. Humes was confused. “QED,” he said, “what’s that?” “Quod Erat Demonstrandum,” Eisenhower barked. “Don’t you remember your geometry? What’s the bottom line? In one sentence!” Eisenhower was a brilliant man, but a simple and a straightforward one after years in the Army. He didn’t have time to beat around the bush and so he didn’t put up with rambling or equivocation. He wanted his speeches to have a point and he wanted everyone who worked for him to know the message. This is a good lesson for anyone and everyone when it comes to communication. (You may remember our earlier email: If It’s Not Simple, It’s Bullshit).

The motto of the United States—seen imprinted on its currency and its buildings—is e pluribus unum: “Out of many, one.”It happens that this is also more or less the aim of Stoicism too, to take the many parts of a person and turn them into a unified, coherent soul. Each of us is made up of competing desires and impulses and needs, yet all of this is part of who we are. More importantly, with work and study, philosophy is designed to integrate and order all of this into its proper place within us.On a larger level, Stoicism—as a kind of civic religion in Rome—was designed to take the many and turn them into one thing, a Roman. Seneca was from Cordoba. Epictetus was fromHierapolis. Marcus was from Rome proper. These are diverse and far flung places, each had their own spin and their own style, yet they became part of a larger whole of Stoicism and the Roman empire. It was their notions of duty and responsibility and their sense of right and wrong that made this happen, that aligned interests and beliefs and lif

Just a few weeks ago, the writer Austin Murphy wrote an insightful, revealing article for The Atlantic that personalized the changing nature of the economic and technological landscape in the 21st century western world. Murphy is one of the most successful sportswriters of his generation. He worked for Sports Illustrated for 33 years. He penned some 140 cover stories. He’d published 6 books. He’d interviewed 5 presidents. And yet—and this is the subject of the piece—now he finds himself delivering packages for Amazon for a living. A job is a job, of course, but the man whose job used to involve trips to France with an expense account to cover the Tour de France now had a job where he struggled to find places to use the bathroom during the day. The most interesting part of the piece is that it’s not a criticism of Amazon or a pity party for the author. In fact, it’s quite philosophical. Particularly this passage:“Lurching west in stop-and-go traffic on I-80 that morning, bound for Berkeley and a day of deliver

If a close friend had their home broken into, you’d comfort them and tell them that it was only stuff that had been stolen. If your child broke their favorite toy, you’d tell them that these things happen and try to get them to play with something else. If a waiter spilled on your friend, you’d calm them down by saying it was an accident. Basically, when stuff happens to other people, we’re able to see it clearly with some perspective and some detachment. But when our stuff breaks or is lost, it’s always so much different. It’s suddenly a tragedy, or worse, a deliberate misdeed that has been wrongly inflicted upon us. I lost so much. But I really loved that toy. You ruined my favorite shirt. You meant to do that.  We take it personally, because it is personal--it happened to us. And then we’re miserable. That’s why the Stoics try to practice detachment. Not in the sense that they don’t love other people or that they avoid relationships or possessions, but in the sense that when something happens to one of tho

In Richard III, Shakespeare has a scene where Brackenbury is handed orders from Richard by two men who clearly plan to murder the King’s brother. His response echos down through the ages as an example of willful and cowardly ignorance. As he replies after reading the orders:I am in this commanded to deliverThe noble duke of Clarence to your hands.I will not reason what is meant herebyBecause I will be guiltless from the meaning.This idea that we can close our eyes to the implications of something and therefore remain unstained by it is common. Shakespeare knew this. It’s the story of Seneca tutoring Nero in the arts of persuasion and strategy and then pretending that he did not know that he was putting a loaded weapon in the hands of a madman. It was the many leaders before the Second World War who read Hitler’s works but refused to take them seriously—to tell themselves they didn’t know what he would do when he had power. It’s the bosses (and investors) at Uber and Facebook who knew their respective companie

Confucius was once asked by a student if there was a single word to to live by, a word that would always provide guidance and truth. He thought about it for a minute and replied with the word chu, which translates roughly into “forbearance.”This is interesting because Epictetus was once asked which words would help a person live a life of peace and goodness. The two words, he said, were ἀνέχου (bear) and ἀπέχου (forbear). (Another translation puts it at: Persist and Resist). Again, it’s remarkable how two wise men living in the ancient world some 5,000 miles apart from each other, raised in different cultures and very different circumstances, speaking very different languages, in very different philosophies, could come to express the same concept. But that’s why we must take it to heart. There is universality in their simple formula (though it’s not an easy one): We resist giving in, resist temptation, resist despair, and resist degradation. We persist in our efforts, we persist in trying to be a good example

Believe it or not, there’s a pretty magical way to start making better decisions. It’s a secret that will also make you feel better, look better, and live better. You’ll live longer, think more clearly, and do less that you regret. What is it?Stop drinking. Or, at least, drink less. Heraclitus’s line was that “a dry soul is wisest and best.” He’s right. Have you ever done anything you’re really proud of while drinking? Is anyone their best selves while drunk? Of course not. The best you can hope to say after a hard night of partying is that you didn’t make a fool of yourself. Now, the Stoics are mixed when it comes to drinking. Cato was said to like to relax with drinking. Seneca clearly liked a good dinner party, but at the same time he wrote critically of people who obsessed over wine or bragged about how well they could hold their liquor. Marcus and Epictetus probably drank the least of the Stoics, though they did not say too much about the subject. So while we can’t say that the Stoics were hardline teeto