It’s the hardest thing.
Especially right now.
Not making money in this economy. Not climbing a mountain. Not running a marathon or writing a book or building a business. Not dealing with the high interest rates or the technological disruption.
No, right now and indeed for all time–the hardest thing in the world is to not be infected by what’s happening around you. To not lose your mind…or your decency…or your sense of what matters.
Look around. You see it everywhere. People melting down on airplanes and in traffic. Social media turning into a cesspool of rage and conspiracy theories. Families estranged. The news cycle ping-ponging between crisis and catastrophe. Real awful things happening.
I remember a couple of years ago, I interviewed Mike Duncan about his fascinating book The Storm Before the Storm and he was telling me about some Stoics who lived during the tumultuous years of 146-78 BC, a period that set the stage for the fall of Rome. Their attitude, he said, was this:
The winds may howl, but I will not be swept away.
That may well be one of the best definitions of Stoicism I have ever heard.
The world seems to be going crazy… and it’s trying to take you with it.
But here’s the thing: You can’t let it.
I’m reminded of Marcus Aurelius, who faced what might have been even darker times than our own: A devastating plague killing millions. A coup attempt by one of his most trusted generals. The empire literally crumbling at its edges. Yet, in his private writings, we see him constantly reminding himself: Don’t let it infect you. Don’t lose your humanity. Don’t go crazy with the craziness.
“No matter what anyone says or does,” he wrote, “my task is to be good. Like gold or emerald or purple repeating to itself, ‘No matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be emerald, my color undiminished.’”
Think of Montaigne, retreating to his study. Think of Stefan Zweig (whose biography of Montaigne I have been giving out since 2016) discovering Montaigne in a cellar as a refugee from Germany in 1941. Think of Cicero and Cato having to get out of Rome for a while. Think of Chrysippus who liked to see that the whole point of being a philosopher was to not join in with the mob and the rabble.
It’s not that they were disengaged—they were very engaged. It’s that they strove, however, not to be consumed by the passions that had wrecked their society. Lincoln had to strike a very similar balance: He knew that slavery was wrong. He knew that a good chunk of people were hell-bent on destroying the country. He also understood that he could not afford anything other than calmness, foresight, clarity. He could not lose his humanity. He could not lose his mind.
Neither can you.
When you see that inflammatory post on social media? When someone cuts you off in traffic? When the news makes your blood boil?
Don’t let the crazies make you crazy.
Again, this isn’t to say you’re indifferent to injustice–it’s that you can’t let it break you, you can’t let it make you despair, you can’t let it distract you from your own work for justice.
Stay good. Stay focused. Keep your eyes on the prize.
When tensions are high, when political dysfunction spills out into the street, when anger and frustration abound…When misinformation and extremism and utter nonsense pervade…When cruelty and meanness become acceptable…
…treat it not as disaster, but as opportunity.
This is what Marcus was talking about in the line that inspired The Obstacle Is the Way: “The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.” Since the book came out a little over ten years ago (check out the new 10th anniversary edition), that line has inspired millions to do remarkable things—entrepreneurs pivoting during downturns to build thriving businesses, athletes turning injuries into remarkable comebacks, artists transforming hardship into their finest work, and so on.
But do you know what Marcus was really talking about when he wrote those words? It wasn’t success. He was talking about dealing with the world, seeing it as an opportunity for virtue–even the frustrating, disappointing, even disgusting things that happen.
“In a sense,” goes the full passage, “people are our proper occupation. Our job is to do them good and put up with them…Our actions may be impeded by them, but there can be no impeding our intentions or our dispositions. Because we can accommodate and adapt. The mind adapts and converts to its own purposes the obstacle to our acting. The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”
The conspiracy theorist in your Facebook feed. The politically radicalized family member. The angry stranger looking for an argument. Crazy people and crazy situations are opportunities to practice virtue. To show courage by standing firm in your principles. To demonstrate justice by treating them fairly despite their unfairness to you. To exercise temperance by controlling your emotions when they’re trying to provoke you.
To insist on what’s right. To fight for change where you can. To put your efforts where they make a positive difference.
Is this easy? Of course not. That’s why I said it might be the hardest thing you’ll ever do.
We don’t control what other people do. We don’t control the news cycle or the political climate or the general level of sanity in the world.
What we control is ourselves. We control whether we let bad times turn us into bad people. We control whether we maintain our humanity when others are losing theirs. We control whether we carry the fire—as Cormac McCarthy would put it—or join in the darkness.
The winds may howl, but we must not be swept away.
The world may go mad, but we must remain sane.
This is our job. This is our proper occupation. This is the most important thing for these crazy times.
