Embracing the Stoic Mindset

Remember that when it withdraws into itself and finds contentment there, the mind is invulnerable. It does nothing against its will, even if its resistance is irrational. And if its judgment is deliberate and grounded in logic …? The mind without passions is a fortress. No place is more secure. Once we take refuge there we are safe forever. Not to see this is ignorance. To see it and not seek safety means misery.

The conjunctive argument is indifferent, but how you handle it is not indifferent; it is tantamount to knowledge, opinion, or ignorance. In the same way, life is indifferent, but the use we make of it is not indifferent. [2] So when you hear that even life and the like are indifferent, don’t become apathetic; and by the same token, when you’re advised to care about them, don’t become superficial and conceive a passion for externals.

To live a good life: We have the potential for it. If we can learn to be indifferent to what makes no difference. This is how we learn: by looking at each thing, both the parts and the whole. Keeping in mind that none of them can dictate how we perceive it. They don’t impose themselves on us. They hover before us, unmoving. It is we who generate the judgments—inscribing them on ourselves. And we don’t have to. We could leave the page blank—and if a mark slips through, erase it instantly. Remember how brief is the attentiveness required. And then our lives will end. And why is it so hard when things go against you? If it’s imposed by nature, accept it gladly and stop fighting it. And if not, work out what your own nature requires, and aim at that, even if it brings you no glory. None of us is forbidden to pursue our own good.

Impressions come to us in four ways: things are and appear to be; or they are not, and do not appear to be; or they are, but do not appear to be; or they are not, and yet appear to be. [2] The duty of an educated man in all these cases is to judge correctly. And whatever disturbs our judgement, for that we need to find a solution. If the sophisms of the Pyrrhonists and the Academics are what trouble us, we must look for the antidote. [3] If it is the plausibility of things, causing some things to seem good that are not, let us seek a remedy there. If it is habit that troubles us, we must try to find a corrective for that.

Character and self-control.

It is essential that we remember this, so that, when troubles arise, we will know that it’s time to exhibit what we’ve learned. [34] A student fresh out of school who gets into diffculty is like someone practised in the solving of syllogisms; if anyone gives him an easy one, he says, ‘Give me a knotty one instead, I want a bit of practice.’ In the same way, athletes don’t like to be paired with pushovers. [35] ‘He can’t lift me,’ one says, ‘this other guy is better built.’ No, when the crisis comes, we groan and say, ‘I wanted to keep on learning.’ Keep learning what? If you didn’t learn these things in order to demonstrate them in practice, what did you learn them for?

People who feel hurt and resentment: picture them as the pig at the sacrifice, kicking and squealing all the way. Like the man alone in his bed, silently weeping over the chains that bind us. That everything has to submit. But only rational beings can do so voluntarily.

Compassion. Unwavering adherence to decisions, once he’d reached them. Indifference to superficial honors. Hard work. Persistence. Listening to anyone who could contribute to the public good. His dogged determination to treat people as they deserved. A sense of when to push and when to back off. Putting a stop to the pursuit of boys. His altruism. Not expecting his friends to keep him entertained at dinner or to travel with him (unless they wanted to). And anyone who had to stay behind to take care of something always found him the same when he returned. His searching questions at meetings. A kind of single-mindedness, almost, never content with first impressions, or breaking off the discussion prematurely. His constancy to friends—never getting fed up with them, or playing favorites. Self-reliance, always. And cheerfulness. And his advance planning (well in advance) and his discreet attention to even minor things. His restrictions on acclamations—and all attempts to flatter him. His constant devotion to the empire’s needs. His stewardship of the treasury. His willingness to take responsibility—and blame—for both. His attitude to the gods: no superstitiousness. And his attitude to men: no demagoguery, no currying favor, no pandering. Always sober, always steady, and never vulgar or a prey to fads. The way he handled the material comforts that fortune had supplied him in such abundance—without arrogance and without apology. If they were there, he took advantage of them. If not, he didn’t miss them. No one ever called him glib, or shameless, or pedantic. They saw him for what he was: a man tested by life, accomplished, unswayed by flattery, qualified to govern both himself and them. His respect for people who practiced philosophy—at least, those who were sincere about it. But without denigrating the others—or listening to them. His ability to feel at ease with people—and put them at their ease, without being pushy. His willingness to take adequate care of himself. Not a hypochondriac or obsessed with his appearance, but not ignoring things either. With the result that he hardly ever needed medical attention, or drugs or any sort of salve or ointment. This, in particular: his willingness to yield the floor to experts—in oratory, law, psychology, whatever—and to support them energetically, so that each of them could fulfill his potential. That he respected tradition without needing to constantly congratulate himself for Safeguarding Our Traditional Values. Not prone to go off on tangents, or pulled in all directions, but sticking with the same old places and the same old things. The way he could have one of his migraines and then go right back to what he was doing—fresh and at the top of his game. That he had so few secrets—only state secrets, in fact, and not all that many of those. The way he kept public actions within reasonable bounds—games, building projects, distributions of money and so on—because he looked to what needed doing and not the credit to be gained from doing it. No bathing at strange hours, no self-indulgent building projects, no concern for food, or the cut and color of his clothes, or having attractive slaves. (The robe from his farm at Lorium, most of the things at Lanuvium, the way he accepted the customs agent’s apology at Tusculum, etc.) He never exhibited rudeness, lost control of himself, or turned violent. No one ever saw him sweat. Everything was to be approached logically and with due consideration, in a calm and orderly fashion but decisively, and with no loose ends. You could have said of him (as they say of Socrates) that he knew how to enjoy and abstain from things that most people find it hard to abstain from and all too easy to enjoy. Strength, perseverance, self-control in both areas: the mark of a soul in readiness—indomitable. (Maximus’s illness.)