One of the most mind-blowing experiences of my life happened on a porch in East Austin. I had brought George Raveling, then 80, to visit with Richard Overton, then 111.

It struck me as ​these two kind and wise men​ chatted that I was in a sort of human wormhole.

When George was born in 1937 (he writes about this in his beautiful new book ​What You’re Made For​ that I was lucky enough to play a small part in getting published), the Golden Gate Bridge had just opened, the Great Depression ravaged America and Pablo Picasso was putting the finishing touches on his haunting, heartbreaking anti-war mural, “Guernica” as Europe plunged itself back into violence.

When Richard Overton was born in 1906, just a few miles down the road from my ranch, Theodore Roosevelt was president. As a child in Texas, he remembered seeing Civil War veterans walking around. Not many, but they were there—men who had fought for a Confederacy that had enslaved his ancestors. When he was a kid, Henry L. Riggs, a veteran of the Black Hawk War, was still alive. Riggs was born in 1812. And when Riggs was born, Conrad Heyer—a Revolutionary War veteran and the earliest-born person to ever be photographed—was still alive.

It’s easy to forget how little time separates us from what we think of as “history.” Richard plus two other people takes you back to before America was a country. He was a teenager during WWI, served in WWII, and then lived long enough to be the nation’s oldest living veteran at 112 and to hold my son, who, born in 2016, might live to see the 22nd century.

Here’s my son with Richard Overton

It’s easy to see history as this distant thing that happened to other people–people on the page or in old portraits. George played college basketball against Jerry West…the man who became the NBA logo. George Raveling was there the day of the March of Washington in 1965. Martin Luther King Jr. came down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and handed him the copy of the speech he gave that day. And then just a few decades later, George helped bring a young rookie named Michael Jordan to Nike, beginning a process that would turn Jordan into a billionaire. George would meet six or seven presidents starting with Truman. Richard would be flown to the White House to meet Obama.

Just two guys and you have a good chunk of American–and world–history. Just two guys shaking hands or witnessing or taking part in events and people that resound to this day.

History isn’t something distant or abstract. It’s just a few handshakes away. Just a few degrees of separation, it turned out, from one of my neighbors.

The past is not dead and distant, Faulkner observed. It’s not even past.

Did you know that England’s government only recently paid off debts it incurred as far back as 1720 from events like the South Sea Bubble, the Napoleonic wars, the empire’s abolition of slavery, and the Irish potato famine? For more than a decade and a half of the twenty-first century, there was still a direct and daily connection to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Even today, the United States continues to pay pensions related to the Civil War and the Spanish-American War.

Did you know that in 2013 they discovered living whales​ born​ before Melville published ​Moby Dick​? Or the world’s oldest tortoise, Jonathan, lives on an island in the Atlantic and is 192 years old? Or that President John Tyler, born in 1790, who took office just ten years after little Jonathan was born, still has living grandchildren?

And that’s all relatively ‘modern’ history. The woolly mammoth was still roaming the earth while the pyramids were being built. Cleopatra lived closer to our time than she did to the construction of those pyramids. When British workers dug the foundations for Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square, they found the bones of actual lions—creatures that had once roamed the exact spot they were standing on. History isn’t some far-off, untouchable thing. It’s right under our feet.

When we were doing a small construction project at the bookstore recently, we moved an old antique bar and found some paint on the wall, covered in plaster. Carefully scraping it away, we found a date and a kind of sign–January 16, 1922. What was happening in the world that day? Who were the people who stood there and supervised it being painted? A young Richard might have walked by and looked at it (from the outside, of course, as it was probably segregated).

When I lived in New Orleans, my apartment was partitioned out of a 19th-century convent. I’d head uptown ​to write what became my first book​, hopping on the longest continually running streetcar in the world, the St. Charles Avenue Streetcar Line. A train that has traveled the same tracks for nearly 200 years. How many millions of people have ridden those same rails? Sat, even, in the same seat? Tennessee Williams, Walker Percy, Shelby Foote, George Washington Cable, Edgar Degas—could have looked out those very windows. They, along with so many others not as easily remembered, lived and struggled just as I did. Just as you do.

In Goethe’s ​The Sorrows of Young Werther​ (a favorite of Napoleon’s), there is a scene in which Werther writes to a friend about his daily trip to a small, beautiful spring. He sees the young girls coming to gather water and thinks about how many generations have been doing that—have come and had the same thoughts he is having.

“When I sit there,” he explains, “I see them all. The ancestral fathers, making friends and courting by the spring, I sense the benevolent spirits that watch over springs and wells. Oh, anyone who cannot share this feeling must never have refreshed himself at a cool spring after a hard day’s summer walking.”

I think about the things that happened in George’s life. I think about the horrible things that happened during Richard’s. I think about the progress made in both. I think of how much has changed…and how much has remained the same. I remember as I sat there on the porch, as Richard told me about a tree he had planted that was, some seven decades later, pushing up the foundation of the house, thinking of the Bible verse that Hemingway opens his book, ​The Sun Also Rises​, with: “One generation passeth, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever. The sun also riseth, and the sun goeth down, and resteth to the place where he arose.” It was this passage, his editor would say, that “contained all the wisdom of the ancient world.”

Richard Overton on his porch (2017)

The view from Overton’s porch

And what wisdom is that? One of the most striking things about history is just how long human beings have been doing what they do. Though certain attitudes and practices have come and gone, what’s left are people—living, dying, loving, fighting, crying, laughing.

Instability. Uncertainty. Danger. Division.

This is one of the most consistent themes of the Stoics and particularly of ​Meditations​, the way that events flow past us like a river, the way the same things keep happening over and over again. That’s what history was, Marcus Aurelius said, whether it was the age of Vespasian, his own, or some time even more distant—it was “people doing the exact same things: marrying, raising children, getting sick, dying, waging war, throwing parties, doing business, farming, flattering, boasting, distrusting, plotting, hoping others will die, complaining about their own lives, falling in love, putting away money, seeking high office and power.”

From this angle, human life looks very small. But also a connection with the past can make you feel very big–like you’re a part of something. That we are much more interconnected and closer to the center of things than it sometimes feels.

Indeed, these wormholes, illustrating the “great span” as they do, give us perspective. They remind us how many have been here before us and how close they remain. That even though we are small, we are also a piece of this great universe.

“Look at the past,” Marcus Aurelius writes in ​Meditations​, “and from that, extrapolate the future: the same thing. No escape from the rhythm of events.”

There’s something lovely about intersecting with the past, about connecting with it.

I’ll cherish that day with Richard and George, as long as I live.

Hopefully, that will be a long time in the future…but even if it’s not, I feel like by spending time with them my life has already stretched far enough back in time.

I can’t predict the future, but I feel pretty confident in predicting that the next four years are going to be crazy.

For political reasons, sure, but we don’t need to agree about that. I know I am right because you can’t find a four-year period in history that wasn’t filled with chaos, upheaval, and uncertainty. Never forget, Seneca reminds us, Fortune has a habit of behaving exactly as she pleases. Why would the next four years be an exception to this rule? There is no normal in this life…except disruption, change, and surprise.

And yet, I do think these next four years are going to be particularly challenging. We’re five weeks into the year and there have already been horrendous wildfires, intense political fighting, earthquakes, wars dragging on, a terrorist attack. My kids have already been sick. And 2025 is yet young!

Need I remind you what happened from 2020-2024? Or 2016-2020? Or 1940-1944? How about the first four years of Marcus Aurelius’ reign, which saw a brutal war with Parthia, a devastating plague that killed millions, and one of the worst floods in Rome’s history, leaving the city in famine?

The question, then, is not how we can avoid these challenges but how we can prepare for them.

Does that mean I am building a bomb shelter? Stockpiling supplies? Fleeing to a foreign country?

No, I’m not doing anything quite so severe. But I am future-proofing myself. Not with panic, paranoia, or an escape plan, but with a handful of ideas and practices—many from the Stoics—that have carried people through uncertain and turbulent times throughout history…

I’m focusing on what I can control. Epictetus described this as our “chief task in life.” We have to get real clear about what’s up to us and what isn’t. What Putin does? Inflation? Tariffs? My mother’s health? The weather? Not up to me. My attitude? My emotions? My wants? My desire? My focus? My response to these things? That is up to me. Who I am is up to me. So that’s what I am focusing on.

I’m reading old books, not watching the news. If you want to understand current events, don’t rely on breaking news. Find a book about a similar event in the past. Read history. Read psychology. Read biographies. Go for information that has a long half-life, not something that’s going to be contradicted in the next week. As I said, 2025 will be crazy and weird and tough. But probably not any more than the year 1925. Or the year 25 AD. That means there are lots of books, lots of ideas, lots of history that can help us with what lies ahead…because it will rhyme with what lies behind us. Whether we’re navigating personal trials, global upheavals, or moments of inspiration, books remain one of the most reliable tools to help us prepare for what’s to come. They challenge us, ground us, and offer us the wisdom of centuries. I put together a list of books for my Reading List Newsletter (​sign up here for my monthly book recommendations​) that might be helpful for you to read this upcoming year. Books like ​Address Unknown​, ​It Can’t Happen Here​, ​Man’s Search For Meaning​, ​Thoughts of a Philosophical Fighter Pilot​– all books that I will certainly be returning to this year. ​Check out the full list here​.

I’m reminding myself what my job is. Things don’t always go the way we want. There will always be uncertainty, upheaval, unfairness. So when the dust settles—after a crisis, a setback, a disappointment—you might find yourself glued to the news, caught in endless speculation, wondering: What happens next? What if it gets worse? You’re not wrong to ask these questions. But you’d be mistaken to think that any of it changes what’s expected of you. The Stoics understood this. No matter what happens—good times or bad, fair or unfair, order or chaos—our job remains the same. It doesn’t matter who is in charge, what obstacles appear, or how much the world changes. Your job is still your job. Your obligation is still your obligation. “Whatever anyone does or says, for my part I’m bound to the good,” Marcus Aurelius wrote. “An emerald or gold or purple might always proclaim: ‘Whatever anyone does or says, I must be what I am and show my true colors.’” Helvidius Priscus understood this. When Emperor Vespasian warned him to stop speaking out, he refused. “It is in your power not to allow me to be a member of the Senate,” he said, “but so long as I am, I must say what I think right.” Vespasian warned him again: “If you do, I shall put you to death.” Helvidius answered simply, “You will do your part, and I will do mine.” Our job—today, tomorrow, always—is to be good, to be wise, to stand up for what’s right, to resist what is wrong. The stakes may change. The consequences may change. The duty does not.

I’m trying to raise my kids well. One of my favorite things to do each day is sit down and write the ​Daily Dad email​. It’s one piece of wisdom—drawn from history, science, literature, and other ordinary parents—that goes out to about 100,000 parents around the world. But really, I’m writing it for myself. I’m reading, researching, and collecting the best ideas because I want to be a better parent. I want to be more patient. I want to set a good example. I want to give my kids the wisdom and resilience they’ll need to navigate the world. Raising kids is the most important thing I’ll ever do. So I study it the way I study philosophy, history, or business—because I want to do it well. If you want to have a multi-generational impact, if you want to make the future better—raise your kids right.

I’m keeping a journal. The Stoics lived through turbulent, chaotic times–through Nero and Domitian and Claudius yet they remained clear-headed and principled. How? The answer is, as it is for most things, hard work. The Stoics worked hard to maintain their perspective, to shake off the misinformation and the noise, to find the truth, to maintain control over the greatest empire—themselves. “To see what is in front of one’s nose needs a constant struggle,” Orwell wrote of living through totalitarianism and authoritarianism. One thing that helps toward it,” he said, “is to keep a diary, or, at any rate, to keep some kind of record of one’s opinions about important events.” If you don’t examine your own mind, who will? If you’re not dumping your frustrations out on the page, who are you dumping them on instead? If you’re not using your journal to gain self-awareness, to cut through noise and illusion, how will you ever see what’s right in front of you? You have to do this. Every day. (​Here’s a video on how I journal using Stoic practices.​)

I’m using my platform to support what I think is important. I have a platform, and I want to use it well. That means amplifying ideas, voices, and causes that matter—not just whatever gets the most clicks. Plenty of podcasters will put anyone on their show, no matter how ridiculous or toxic, just because controversy drives views and downloads. I’m not interested in that. I’m not giving a megaphone to trolls, conspiracy theorists, or bad actors—no matter how much engagement it might generate. My goal isn’t just to get attention…there are things I value a lot more than money. We don’t control what other people spread and say, sure, but we can all say, “Not through me.” And better yet, we can put out good and helpful and essential stuff ourselves.

I’m focusing on the things that don’t change. In his 1997 letter to shareholders, Jeff Bezos said, “We believe that a fundamental measure of our success will be the shareholder value we create over the long term.” For companies—as is the case for individuals—there are always pressures to be narrow in our focus and vision. Bezos, unlike most business leaders, refused to play that game. “Rather than short-term profitability considerations or short-term Wall Street reactions,” Bezos said, the real value lies in thinking decades ahead. His maxim for business opportunities is just as relevant for navigating uncertainty in life: “Focus on the things that don’t change.” A lot of people will spend the next four years fixated on trends, fads, and momentary crises. I’m focused on what will still matter in five, ten, fifty years. Character. Discipline. Patience. The value of hard work. These are constants—no matter who’s in office, no matter what’s happening in the headlines. That’s why I structure my life and work around things that stand the test of time. In my writing, I try to study and share wisdom that has endured for thousands of years. In my business, I invest in ideas that create lasting value. In my personal life, I prioritize family, health, and relationships over fleeting distractions. The world will always be chaotic. There will always be noise. The only way to stay grounded is to focus on what actually lasts.

I’m treating people well. I don’t control the cruelty in the world. I don’t control how others act, how unfair or thoughtless or selfish they can be. But I do control how I run my team. How I show up for my family. How I treat strangers. The world will always have its share of rudeness, dishonesty, and indifference. That doesn’t mean I have to contribute to it. Kindness, patience, fairness—these are always within my control.

I’m prioritizing stillness. The next four years are going to be noisy. Chaotic. Overwhelming. If I want to navigate them well, I need to be able to think clearly—not reactively, not emotionally, but with perspective and intention. This requires stillness. Randall Stutman has been a coach to some of Wall Street’s biggest CEOs for decades. His clients have included Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, and Bank of America. His consulting and advising agency, CRA, has worked with thousands of executives at hundreds of hedge funds and banks. These are people whose entire livelihood depends on them being perpetually ready to respond to the daily, hourly, sometimes even minute-by-minute volatility. Stutman surprised me when he told me that he often asks these very busy executives how they recharge, given the all-consuming nature of their work. The best, he found, have at least one hobby that gives them peace—things like sailing, long-distance cycling, listening quietly to classical music, scuba diving, riding motorcycles, and fly fishing. There is a surprising commonality between all the hobbies: an absence of voices. In a noisy world, a couple of hours without chatter, without other people in our ear, where we can simply think (or not think), is essential. I can’t control the chaos of the world, but I can control whether I get sucked into it. If I want to be steady, clear-headed, and effective over the next four years, I need time to step back. To think. To reset. That’s why I’m making stillness a priority. (Lots of other great bits of wisdom in my conversation with Randall Stutman, ​which you can listen to here​.)

I’m contributing to my community. America’s communities have been hollowed out. Big box stores replaced small businesses. Digital replaced physical. So much of modern success is subtractive—extracting, optimizing, squeezing more for less. I’m trying to do the opposite. In 2021, my wife and I bought ​Tracy’s Drive-In Grocery​, a little place that’s been in business in our small, rural town since 1940. We also opened ​The Painted Porch​, a small-town bookstore down the street. Neither of these are the most rational business decisions—it’s risky, expensive, and deeply local. But what’s the point of success if you only spend it trying to be more successful? We like these things because they matter. Because they are real.

I’m not always having an opinion. It’s possible, Marcus Aurelius said, to not have an opinion. ​You don’t have to turn this into something​, he reminds himself. You don’t have to let this upset you. You don’t have to think something about everything. Do you need to have an opinion about the scandal of the moment–is it changing anything? Do you need to have an opinion about the way your kid does their hair? So what if this person likes music that sounds weird to you? So what if that person is a vegetarian? “These things are not asking to be judged by you,” ​Marcus writes​. “Leave them alone.” Especially because these opinions often make us miserable! “It’s not things that upset us,” Epictetus says, “it’s our opinions about things.” The fewer opinions you have, especially about other people and things outside your control, the happier you will be. The nicer you’ll be to be around, too. Of course, this is not to say that we shouldn’t have any opinions at all, but that we should save our judgments for what matters—right and wrong, justice and injustice, what is moral and what is not. If we spend our energy forming opinions about every trivial annoyance, we’ll have none left for the things that actually matter.

I’m picking up the half-dead crow. I’m helping the starfish. In Milan Kundera’s ​The Unbearable Lightness of Being​, Tereza, the sensitive, compassionate female protagonist, tells her husband: “It is much more important to dig a half-buried crow out of the ground than to send petitions to a president.” Of course, politics matter. But so do the small, easily overlooked acts of kindness. The Jains of India wouldn’t make pilgrimages during the rainy season for fear of trampling new grass—a simple, beautiful reminder that even the smallest choices ripple outward. Gandhi’s nonviolence grew from this reverence for life. The Stoics, too, sought to expand the definition of who we owe justice and kindness to. There’s the famous story of the boy and the starfish. Thousands are stranded on the beach, dying. The boy starts throwing them back, one by one. A bystander scoffs, “You’ll never make a difference.” The boy tosses another: “It matters to this one.” We tend to think in grand solutions, sweeping reforms—ignoring the power of small, immediate acts. But no change is possible without that first step, that first act of care. That’s why I’m focusing on what’s right in front of me. The people I can help. The burdens I can ease. The kindnesses I can extend. One of the ways we do that for ​Daily Stoic​ is through a partnership with Feeding America (​which you can donate to here​) and GiveDirectly (​donate here​).

I’m refusing to become cynical. In ​Courage is Calling​, I quote General Mattis who said cynicism is cowardice. It takes courage to care. Only the brave believe, especially when everyone else is full of doubt. Losers have always gotten together in little groups and talked about winners. The hopeless have always mocked the hopeful.

I’m looking for the helpers. There’s a quote from Mr. Rogers I love: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” We decide what we look for in life. If you focus on chaos, dysfunction, and selfishness, that’s all you’ll see. But if you look for the people who step up, you’ll find them everywhere. The firefighters battling wildfires in California. The doctors and nurses working through exhaustion. The neighbor who quietly steps in to help. Their presence restores your faith in humanity. Not that I’m sitting on the sidelines, watching. The point of looking for the helpers isn’t to take comfort in their existence—it’s to look for ways to follow in their footsteps, however we can.

I’m grabbing the sturdy handle. Every event has two handles, Epictetus said: “one by which it can be carried, and one by which it can’t. If your brother does you wrong, don’t grab it by his wronging, because this is the handle incapable of lifting it. Instead, use the other—that he is your brother, that you were raised together, and then you will have hold of the handle that carries.” This applies to everything. When bad news comes, do I grab the handle of despair or the handle of action? When I’m slighted, do I grab the handle of grievance or the handle of grace? When things feel uncertain, do I grab the handle of fear or the handle of preparation? I don’t get to choose what happens. But I do get to choose how I respond. And if I want to carry the weight of whatever comes next, I have to grab the handle that’s strong enough to hold.

I’m focusing on my expertise. Every morning, ​the Daily Stoic email​ goes out to over one million people around the world. That’s where I can make a difference. Not in random comment sections or text threads, drowning in endless, useless debates about everything wrong in the world. I can have an impact in my work, sharing ideas that help people navigate uncertainty and live better lives. Our work—whatever it is—has the power to shape the world far more than our opinions do. So I focus on that, doing it well for as long as I can.

I’m not letting the sonsofbitches turn me into a sonuvabitch. This might be the hardest task in the world right now—to not let assholes turn you into an asshole. To not let cruelty harden you, to not let stupidity make you bitter, to not let outrage pull you down to its level. “The best revenge,” Marcus Aurelius wrote in ​Meditations​, “is to not be like that.” I am disappointed by some of the things people I know are saying and doing; I am more focused on making sure I don’t follow suit.

I’m doing difficult things. The Stoics kept themselves in fighting shape, they liked to say, not for appearance’s sake, but because they understood life itself was a kind of battle. They knew that when we feel awful, we act awfully. A person disgusted with themselves has less patience for others. A person who easily loses their breath more easily loses their temper or their courage or their self-control. During COVID, I got in good shape by running, biking, and walking at least a couple thousand miles. Lately, I’ve been running or swimming in the morning. I’ve been biking more than I used to ​because of an ankle injury​. I’ve been doing more weight training, too. I try every day to keep my practice because, as the Jews say of the Sabbath, it keeps me. Regardless of the time, place, or distance, it’s never a bad idea to find out what your body is capable of. I like the way legendary coach Phil Jackson practices this with his players: “Once I had the Bulls practice in silence; on another occasion I made them scrimmage with the lights out. Not because I want to make their lives miserable but because I want to prepare them for the inevitable chaos that occurs the minute they step onto a basketball court.”

I’m choosing to be philosophical. Not just in the sense that I’m reading philosophy—though I am—but in how I’m thinking. I’m taking the long view. Have there been bad leaders before? Have there been moments of chaos? Have people felt like the world was unraveling? Of course. This is what living through history looks like. The 1960s were filled with war, assassinations, and unrest. Have you read Bryan Burrough’s ​Days of Rage​? In 1968, there was a flu epidemic…and TWO THOUSAND terrorist bombings in the United States! The Great Depression left millions in despair. It wasn’t fun to live through Watergate, the Six-Day War, the 1973 oil embargo, or the Cuban Missile Crisis. Nobody wanted to experience the Reformation, the Cultural Revolution, or one of the countless civil wars of the past. It was scary. It was weird. It was confusing. That’s what history is. It’s only the passage of time that turns down the volume on these moments, reducing them to a neat passage in a book. The fall of Rome must have felt like the end of the world. And yet, people endured. We don’t get to choose whether we live in normal times or not. We only get to choose how we respond. The Stoics remind us that history is cyclical—chaos is the rule, not the exception. But they also remind us that through reason, courage, and discipline, we can rise above it. So I focus on what I can control. I do my work. I refuse to be broken by things beyond my power.

I can’t predict the future, so I don’t know what the year will bring, but I feel pretty confident in predicting that 2025 will be challenging.

First of all, because what year hasn’t brought challenges? Never forget, Seneca reminds us, Fortune has a habit of behaving exactly as she pleases. Why would 2025 be an exception to this rule? There is no normal in this life…except disruption, change and surprise.

Second, because it already is challenging. We’re three weeks into the year and there have already been fires and wars, political dysfunction, attacks and earthquakes. My kids have already been sick. And we’re just getting started.

The question, then, is not how we can avoid these challenges but how we can prepare for them. One of my favorite quotes, inscribed across the back of ​my bookstore​, comes from Walter Mosley: “I’m not saying that you have to be a reader to save your soul in the modern world. I’m saying it helps.”

2025 will be crazy and weird and tough. But probably not any more than the year 1925. Or the year 25 AD. That means there are lots of books, lots of ideas, lots of history that can help us with what lies ahead…because it will rhyme with what lies behind us. Whether we’re navigating personal trials, global upheavals, or moments of inspiration, books remain one of the most reliable tools to help us prepare for what’s to come. They challenge us, ground us, and offer us the wisdom of centuries.

With that in mind, here are some books—some timeless, some timely—that I recommend for 2025. Each one offers something unique to help you grow, reflect, and thrive. ​You can also get this collection at my bookstore, The Painted Porch​.

​Slow Productivity: The Lost Art of Accomplishment Without Burnout​ by Cal Newport
As we head into 2025, the pressure to do more, to be constantly busy, to fill every moment with productivity and progress feels more intense than ever. In ​Slow Productivity​, Cal Newport, one of my favorite writers and thinkers, rethinks what productivity can and should mean, making a strong case for the power of doing less but doing it better. It’s funny, people think I work a lot, but I don’t. I’m much closer to Cal’s outline in ​this book​. I take my kids to school every day. I get home well before dinner every night. I take a lot of walks (​here’s Cal and I talking about the power of walks for idea generation​). I just do this steadily and consistently. When Cal came on the podcast (​watch here​), we talked about this idea of Festina lente—make haste slowly—that is my philosophy for the most part.

​​The Choice: Embrace the Possible​ by Dr. Edith Eva Eger
Dr. Eger is a complete hero of mine. At 16-years-old, she’s sent to Auschwitz. And how does this not break a person? How do they survive? How do they endure the unendurable? And how do they emerge from this, not just not broken, but cheerful and happy and of service to other people? The last thing Dr. Eger’s mother said to her before she was sent to the gas chambers was that very Stoic idea: even when we find ourselves in horrendous situations, we can always choose how we respond to them, who we’re going to be inside of them, what we’re going to hold onto inside of them. Dr. Eger quotes ​Frankl​, who she later studied under, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” It was this idea that allowed Dr. Eger to not only endure unimaginable suffering but to find meaning in it. I’ve had the incredible honor of interviewing Dr. Eger twice (​here​ and ​here​) and the joy and energy of this woman, this 95-year-old Holocaust survivor, is just incredible.

​Montaigne​ by Stefan Zweig
We did a video right after the election​ about what a Stoic should be thinking about in times like these. It might be of use to you. Me? I picked up my copy of Zweig’s little book on Montaigne, which has been of solace and strength since I read it back in 2016. There are two kinds of biographies: Long ones which tell you every fact about the person’s life, and short ones which capture the person’s essence and the lessons of their life. This biography is a brilliant, urgent and important example of the latter. It is what I ​would call a moral biography​—that is, a book that teaches you how to live through the story of another person. If you’ve been struggling with the onslaught of negative news and political turmoil, read this book. It’s the biography of a man who retreated from the chaos of 16th-century France to study himself, written by a man fleeing the chaos of 20th-century Europe. When I say it’s timely, I mean that it’s hard to be a thinking person and not see alarming warning signs about today’s world while reading this book. Yet it also gives us a solution: Turn inward. Master yourself. This book helped me get through 2024, no question. ​Plutarch’s Lives​ is another one I’d add to the moral biography genre, which I used to help me write ​Right Thing, Right Now​.

​The Years of Lyndon Johnson​ by Robert A. Caro
As much as I love those short, moral biographies, there is nothing I love more than door-stopper biographies. You know those magisterial, epic books that seem like they couldn’t possibly be worth reading, but somehow you’re riveted on every page? If you want to try one of those this year, start with Robert Caro. Just these four books alone could tie you up for the whole year, and that alone would be well spent. It’s unquestionable to me that Caro is one of the greatest biographers to ever live. His intricate, complicated, sprawling investigation into Lyndon Johnson will change how you see power, ambition, politics, personality and justice. If there is one line that sums up the whole series it’s this: It’s that power doesn’t only corrupt. That’s too simple. What power does is reveal.

​A Calendar of Wisdom: Daily Thoughts to Nourish the Soul, Written and Selected from the World’s Sacred Texts​ by Leo Tolstoy
Tolstoy said that his most essential work was not his novels but his daily read, ​A Calendar of Wisdom​. Before he wrote it, he dreamed of creating a book composed of “a wise thought for every day of the year, from the greatest philosophers of all times and all people… Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Lao-Tzu, Buddha, Pascal.” As he wrote to his assistant, “I know that it gives one great inner force, calmness, and happiness to communicate with such great thinkers… They tell us about what is most important for humanity, about the meaning of life and about virtue.” As you can imagine, I am a big fan of daily devotionals. Check out ​dailystoic.com​ and ​dailydad.com​ for the free daily email versions I do.

​Of Boys and Men: Why the Modern Male Is Struggling, Why It Matters, and What to Do About It​ by Richard Reeves
I’ve got two young boys (thus the ​Daily Dad email​), so I’ve been following Richard Reeves’s work for some time. This book could so easily have been culture war fodder, but thankfully, he is so much above and beyond that. The gains society has made for women–especially in America–have been utterly unprecedented. But men are struggling, or rather, young boys are struggling. How do we help them? How do we show them a better path? How do we teach them to fulfill their potential and contribute their unique contribution to society? Given my work with Stoicism, I think we’ve gone too far in describing masculinity as ‘toxic’ (​check out a recent video I did about Stoic lessons on masculinity​) but I would say there are many toxic examples (and thinkers) out there who are misleading young men (​which I talk about in this video​). If you’re a parent or a teacher or a policy maker, you have to read this book. ​Check out my conversation with Richard Reeves here​.

​Bright Shining: How Grace Changes Everything​ by Julia Baird
So when I was in Australia, I sat down with Julia to talk about her new book, ​Bright Shining​, which is all about the idea of grace (​watch that episode here​). We are wicked people living amongst wicked people, Seneca said, that’s why we need to be patient with each other, why we need to forgive each other. I would say this is especially true coming out of the pandemic and the recent election.

​The Children​ by David Halberstam
I was deeply moved, in some cases to tears, by David Halberstam’s ​The Children​, when I first read it in 2022. It tells the story of the early days of the Civil Rights Movement from the perspective of the young activists who played pivotal roles in the struggle for racial equality and grew up to lead the movement. It’s an incredibly powerful book about youth and social change–and how it comes from brave young people. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I first read it. Trust me, ​pick it up this year.​

​Parting the Waters: America in the King Years 1954-63​, ​Pillar of Fire: America in the King Years 1963-65​, and ​At Canaan’s Edge: America in the King Years 1965-68​ by Taylor Branch
Another long biography series…I was blown away by Taylor Branch’s epic three-part biography on Martin Luther King Jr. when I first read it back in 2020—it was truly life-changing for me. I was once again profoundly impacted by this series as I picked it back up to do research for ​Right Thing, Right Now​. This trilogy does a phenomenal job of revealing the ways that an individual person really can have an impact on the collective. It’s a masterpiece of a series, made even better by the fact that Branch began the series when his son was born, and finished it with the help of that same son years later (​read more about that here​).

​Same as Ever: A Guide to What Never Changes​ by Morgan Housel
Too often, we give way too much attention to what is shiny and new or urgent and timely instead of focusing on what truly matters—the things that are perennial and enduring. Morgan (​who I had a great conversation with Morgan on the podcast​) put together a great book of anecdotes and musings on the constants of human nature and history. In a world that seems to change faster every year, ​this book​ reminds us of the things that stay the same—and why they matter. If you loved Morgan’s ​The Psychology of Money​, this book is a natural next step. It’s not just about what we know—it’s about what we understand about ourselves, our behavior, and the world we live in. ​This is a book to read​, reflect on, and revisit.

​​The 48 Laws of Power​ by Robert Greene
Speaking of things that never change—there are some awful people and awful movements on the march around the world. This feels new, but of course, it’s not–these people have always existed. The problem is they are just not well understood. Worse, good people are not often armed with the tools (or the cunning) to defeat or to effectuate change. If you want to live life on your terms, climb as high as you know you’re capable, and avoid being controlled by others—you need to read ​this book​. You’ll leave not just with actionable lessons, but an indelible sense of what to do in many trying and confusing situations. Is there a darkness to this book? Yes. But there is a darkness to life, too. You have to understand it and be able to defend against it. If you don’t want to read it because you think it’s ‘immoral,’ well then you definitely need to read it, ​as I explain in this video​.

​​It Can’t Happen Here​ by Sinclair Lewis
One of my reading rules is: If you want to understand current events, don’t rely on breaking news. Find a book about a similar event in the past. It’s also true that fiction helps us understand the human heart and the events of history more than nonfiction can. ​This book​ will make you so uncomfortable you’ll probably pick it up and put it down several times. One of America’s most famous writers wrote a bestselling novel in 1935 about an appalling populist demagogue who won the presidency of the United States. Life imitates art. Change the dates, places and names and it’s no longer fiction, it’s real. If you don’t read the book, at least please read about it. Because you need to know. It can happen here.

​Address Unknown​ by Kathrine Kressmann Taylor
This is another timely book to pick up this year. It’s a short but important read about a series of letters between two business partners (one Jewish, one not) during the rise of Hitler in Germany. One is slowly corrupted by the events happening around him, his heart closing to the people and ideas he once believed in. It’s a heartbreaking but eye-opening look at the banality of fascism. People don’t just suddenly become evil or awful. It’s a process, a slide, even a response to incentives. It can happen to anyone. We should all be careful! I first read ​Address Unknown​ years ago, but I was reminded of it again when I read ​84, Charing Cross Road​ by Helene Hanff last summer which is about a New York TV writer and a British bookseller exchanging letters in the aftermath of WWII. Read ​Address Unknown​ and then follow it up with ​84, Charing Cross Road​.

​​The Expanding Circle​ by Peter Singer
Even though Stoicism is a ruggedly individual philosophy, at the core of it is this idea of “the circles of concern.” Our first concern, the Stoics said, is ourselves. Then our family, our community, our country, our world, all living things. The work of philosophy is to draw these concerns inward—to learn to care about as many people as possible, to do as much good as possible. I dedicated an entire chapter in my book ​Right Thing, Right Now​ to this idea, titled “Expand The Circle” (​you can listen to an excerpt of that chapter here!​). So when I had ​Peter Singer on the podcast​ and mentioned this book, he said he only chanced on a similar metaphor, not knowing its Stoic origins. ​The Expanding Circle​ is a great book about expanding our focus on the welfare of family and friends to include, ultimately, all of humanity—animals, the environment, all of it.

​Atomic Habits​ by James Clear
A perennial favorite because it works. It’s when things are chaotic and crazy, when the world feels like it’s falling apart, that we most need to develop good habits. I think about James Clear’s concept of atomic habits on a regular basis. To me, this is a sign of a ​great book​—that even just thinking about the title has an impact on you. I love the double meaning of the word atomic—not just meaning explosive habits, but also focusing on the smallest possible size of habit, the tiniest step you can take to start the chain reaction that can in fact lead to explosive results.

​Bushido: The Samurai Code of Japan: With an Extensive Introduction and Notes by Alexander Bennett​ by Inazō Nitobe
I can’t remember which subscriber emailed me about this book, but I really liked it. Written in 1905, ​Bushido: The Samurai Code of Japan​ was the first book written for a Western audience about the code of conduct that governed the lives of Japan’s ruling class. It gets to “the soul of Japan” by answering the question of why certain ideas and customs prevail. It was a huge sensation in the U.S. when it came out. I believe Theodore Roosevelt read it. It’s a lovely peon to the virtues of an ancient tradition and deserves to be read up there with ​The Book of Five Rings​ and ​Zen in the Art of Archery​ (two other favorites of mine). Fictionally, there is also ​Rules for a Knight​, which is another great read.

​How to Think Like Socrates: Ancient Philosophy as a Way of Life in the Modern World​ by Donald Robertson
I remain as ever a big fan of Donald Robertson. His biography of Marcus Aurelius is one of the best books I’ve read and I loved his other book on Marcus Aurelius, ​How to Think Like a Roman Emperor​. There’s a hilarious quote by Macaulay that I used in the Wisdom book (just finishing it): “The more I read about Socrates the less I wonder that they poisoned him.” Because while the dialogs are fun to read now, they weren’t fun for the people he was making a fool of. Socrates considered himself the ‘gadfly’ of Athens. People hate flies! ​When Donald came on The Daily Stoic Podcast​, this was one of the things I wanted to ask him about–that for all Socrates’ wisdom, he seemed to lack social intelligence. Emily Wilson talks about this in her book ​The Death of Socrates​ quite a bit (a good companion to Donald’s book). Fascinating book about a guy who, like Cicero, I can’t decide if I like.

​​Meditations​ by Marcus Aurelius
This will always be my ultimate book recommendation. No matter who you are, where you live, how old you are, or how many times you’ve already read Marcus Aurelius’ ​Meditations​, it’s time for you to read it. I’m a champion of the ​Gregory Hays translation​, but if you are re-reading it, I’ve found that a new translation of a book you’ve read (or love) is a great way to see the same ideas from a new angle…or find new ideas you missed on the previous go-arounds. So if you haven’t read ​Robin Walterfield’s edition, check that one out​. There’s a reason this book has endured for almost twenty centuries (​here are some lessons​ from me having read ​Meditations​ more than 100 times). If you haven’t read Marcus Aurelius or if you have…you should ​read this book​ and then read it again.