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.
