Is it Possible to be Happy and a Stoic?

Reflections on nearly a decade of Stoicism and my struggle to find meaning in a Stoic life.

God, grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time,

enjoying one moment at a time;

accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;

taking, as Jesus did,

this sinful world as it is,

not as I would have it….

A lot of people think that the Serenity prayer was in the bible; it’s not. The prayer dates to 1951 and was created by Reinhold Niebuhr, an American theologian. Niebuhr was a practitioner of “Christian realism” and a former minister, who would speak on areas ranging from politics to economics. While you probably have never heard of Niebuhr, it is likely you have heard his prayer if you or anyone in your family has ever struggled with addiction.

While I am not an alcoholic, nor a Christian realist, the words of this prayer have always resonated with me. It’s perhaps why in my early 20s the practice of Stoicism was so appealing. Much like the Serenity prayer, Stoicism focuses on the power of acceptance and self-control to navigate the unruly nature of the world we inhabit.

While far from mainstream, there has in fact been a post-modern resurgence of Stoicism in today’s culture. From Ryan Holiday to Tom Brady there is a growing list of those who will preach the value of Stoic principles in best-selling books and viral social media clips. While it is a vast philosophy, at its core Stoicism is the mastery of oneself through four core tenants: courage, justice, temperance, and wisdom.

My journey into Stoicism started roughly in 2015 when I read the book “The Obstacle Is the Way” on a recommendation from a friend. At the time I was a recent college graduate, and like most 22-year-olds I was putting on weight, drinking a bit too much, and still figuring out what my career should be. Life was getting harder, and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. To be frank, I kind of felt kind of like a loser.

Stoicism felt akin to a come-to-Jesus’ moment for me. In many ways it was a positive force as it provided me a structure in life and a system for decision making. It gave me courage in times of uncertainty, and helped me embrace the challenges of becoming a man.

I tried to emulate the lifestyle of ancient Stoics. I walked, I wrote, I spent time alone and I challenged myself to try new things. Hard things, that would test me and help me to keep pushing forward towards what I thought was my “true purpose”.

Stoicism by it’s nature is a lonely practice. It’s a lot of self-reflection and working towards accepting things that don’t seem to make sense in the moment. In many ways it can feel cold, like you are shutting down a piece of yourself. A constant battle with the nature of man, without a magic bullet to turn to for answers. Stoicism isn’t easy and isn’t a perfect science of what to do and how to do it, differentiating it from the often-stern rule sets of religion. I find this opaqueness frustrating, but also recognize in it is the true beauty of Stoicism as a practice.

It's in this opaqueness that I think my problems began.

The fact of the matter is that sometimes in life quick and emotional decisions must be made. No amount of contemplation can tell us how to be happy or how to love. To be truly present we must be open with ourselves and others, we must be vulnerable. It’s this rawness that I struggle to place in the realm of Stoicism.

The older I get the more I realize life forces us to change our priorities as we age. We have less time for ourselves and spend more supporting others. I think about becoming a family man, and how I can take Stoic principles into a life built around others. I know I will have to forgo solitude and become a gentler man, but I wonder if this means sacrificing the Stoic life I have built all together.

I had a manager once tell me her friends stopped coming to her with problems because she would only respond with solutions. I was taken aback by the idea that someone could take pride in friends feeling uncomfortable coming to them, before realizing, I may be no better.

For context, I was the friend that would run at 6am with my buddies in their time of need and spend hours talking to them about the power of self-discipline and acceptance. We would operationalize recovery and work together as they reached their goals. I thought feeling better was a choice, and that through discipline we could make that choice together.

In hindsight, I am sure some of my friends saw me as being arrogant or cold. While discipline and keeping busy may distract from problems, it is not the sole answer to healing a wound.

It was once said by Marcus Aurelius (a prominent stoic and Roman emperor) that “All men die, but that not all men die whining”. I used to idolize this mindset. It’s a great mindset to have when you are alone in the weight room, or in the office grinding out that report. Less so when someone is coming to you for help.

At its core Stoicism would break down for me when I realized not everyone is interested in becoming a Stoic

Perhaps this is why extremely religious people spend so much time spreading the faith and practicing conversion; it’s just easier when everyone is on the same page. Deep down I do believe that if more people embraced Stoic principles they would be happier, but also realize Stoicism is not for everyone, nor an answer to every situation.

The Stoics famously argue that the virtuous agent feels no passions (pathê) and, so, that the happy life is entirely passion-free (apathês). While this may be correct in a vacuum, it sure does suck to explain to a lover or friend in need. While a society of Stoics may be a fair and equitable one, based on values and merit, I am unsure if it would be sustainable to many humans.

The philosopher Nietzsche criticizes the Stoics for their belief that emotions and passions are irrational and should be suppressed, arguing that they underestimate the value of pain, excitement, and passion. While emotions can blur our decision making, I do agree that to control them to the point of suppression is not healthy.In my quest to control emotion I found myself using Stoicism as a justification to avoid emotions, not in the name of logic or courage, but fear.

I learned that there is a thin line between accepting what you cannot change and denying yourself emotional honesty all together. When I would get emotional, I would shut it down. I didn’t want to burden others with my emotions because I knew I could work through them and find a path forward. I viewed emotion as the enemy and encouraged others to do the same. I would come to learn that this wasn’t Stoicism, but avoidance.

While I still practice Stoicism in my daily life, it does not consume me like it once did. I do believe you can find happiness in life while embracing a Stoic mindset, but also think it is far from a perfect framework. I know now that being a Stoic is not a full-time job. It’s ok to let it go for the benefit of others and decide to just feel, even if it’s “unhelpful”. Temperance to the point of suppression is the great pitfall of Stoicism, and by doing so we are not only violating our own human experience, but the values of Stoicism all together.

Emotions and passions can inform us just as much as logic and justice. Stoicism at its extreme can isolate us from society and dull our experiences. It can make us a worse friend and trick us into thinking we know the natural order of the universe and what is to be accepted, when in fact we are in a constant state of change. While taming our emotions can lead to a better life of action and perseverance, it can also lead to suffering and regret. So, tread carefully fellow Stoics and push forward, but do not forget what makes us human.

---

Non-sponsored advertisement: Want to learn more about Stoicism? Checkout Ask Marcus a free ChatGpt agent programmed to answer questions as if it were Marcus Aurelius.