A philosophy taught by a former slave, practiced by statesmen and an emperor, and now sold as a morning routine. Twelve essays on what is actually in it — the sorting, the gate, the counting, the part you add — and on the places where it has been used badly, including by people quoting it at you.
Stoicism arrived in my life the way it arrives for most people now, which is through the marketing — the executive morning routine, the quote cards, the general impression of a man being stern with himself before dawn. Most of that is noise. Underneath it there are about a dozen ideas, several of which are among the most useful things anyone has written down.
These twelve essays take one idea each and ask the same two questions of it: does this hold up, and what would it change on a Wednesday? I read the philosophy alongside the psychology where the two overlap, which is more often than you would expect — one of these ideas is the direct ancestor of cognitive therapy, by the acknowledgement of the people who built it.
What this is not. I am not a scholar of the tradition, and this is a school with genuine internal disagreement, a long history, and a political record worth knowing about — it has consoled the powerful about arrangements they could have changed, and its emphasis on the interior gets turned outward as a reason to leave the exterior alone. I have tried to say so wherever it applies rather than collecting the objections in a footnote. Quotations are given with their source; where I paraphrase, I say I am paraphrasing.
Two of these essays carry warnings about who should skip them. I meant those.
Read them in order if you want the argument, which runs from a filing system to a question about character. Or take whichever title describes your week.