“Where is happiness?” For years this was my driving question. Perhaps yours, too.
The question proved persistent—not because it was stubborn, but because I was. I insisted on looking in all the wrong places. I looked in so-called accomplishments—law school, publishing, test scores. I looked in others—friends, girlfriends, family. I looked in objects—video games, books, movies. At my lowest points, I looked in the easy lull of alcohol or other ersatz vices.
And yet, this thing—happiness—rarely appeared. Every now and then I’d grab hold of it. But like a hand-caught fish it would quickly squirm away. Because—and here’s a cliché that’s easy to recall yet difficult, so difficult, to live—happiness is not outside. Happiness is inside.
Happiness lies in the one thing none of us can ever give up: The ability to choose how we respond to any given situation.
It is not things that trouble us, but our interpretations of those things. We’ve forgotten that this great power of interpretation resides within us, and so we go begging outside ourselves for happiness. But what is external is by nature tenuous; the only lasting happiness comes from declaring one’s independence from things, people, and events. Things do not trouble you. People do not trouble you. Events do not trouble you. Your interpretations of them trouble you.
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Three years ago, I stumbled upon the broad outlines of this answer in the works of the ancient Stoics, yet—only human—I resisted the realization. I resisted when I read the works of the slave Epictetus, who was happy despite all the encroachments enslavement brings. I resisted when I read the personal journal of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who often found himself anxious, melancholy, and adrift in regret despite (or because of) his position ruling a world. I resisted when I read the letters of Seneca, a tutor to emperors, who faced a death sentence in a manner that rendered my anxious anticipation of the bar exam ridiculous.
Needless to say, all of these men are long dead. And yet—as reflected by hundreds of recent works like as Ryan Holiday’s The Daily Stoic—their knowledge is very much alive. Like Eastern wisdom, this neglected pre-Christian wisdom of the West has much to offer. At the least, it offers an outline to be content under tough circumstances.
I’m not perfect; neither is Stoicism. Despite the life experiences of some modern Stoics, who are facing challenges like cancer and war, I’m not so sure Stoicism would save me from despair in such dire circumstances. The everyday rigors of my relatively fortunate life already feel at times like too much to handle. But at the very least, Stoicism offers a lasting foundation.
As Marcus Aurelius once encouraged:
Be like the cliff against which the waves continually break; it stands firm and tames the fury of the water around it.
The recent revival of Stoicism is a good thing. If you’re like me, books like The Obstacle is the Way, A Guide to the Good Life, the Meditations, and the Enchiridion will do more good for your happiness—your true happiness, that transcending mere chemistry—than any drug.
So, want happiness? Become a practicing Stoic.
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Originally published on Huffington Post. Republished with permission.
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