Is Stoicism all about being strong and serious? Is it too pessimistic and always looking for where things can go wrong, where the next challenge or struggle is? Today I want to talk about the softer side of Stoicism, and how many of the tools the Stoics teach us can actually lead us to joy.
“To live happily is an inward power of the soul.” — Marcus Aurelius
ACT 1: The Problem
The Misconception
This a question that I was asked the other day, and I’m sure it’s a question that a lot of my listeners carry quietly: "I've been studying Stoicism, I feel more grounded, more resilient — but sometimes it all feels a little… joyless. Is that just the trade-off?"
That's the trap. Most people encounter Stoicism through the lens of endurance — the grimly determined soldier, the (lowercase) stoic man who shows no emotion, the philosophy that's always preparing you for the next thing to go wrong. And yes, the Stoics absolutely teach us to prepare for adversity. But that's not the whole picture. Not even close.
The problem is that this distorted version of Stoicism attracts people who are already emotionally suppressed and validates that suppression. You came to Stoicism to get stronger. But if you walked away thinking strength means feeling less, you've misread the whole thing.
The Stoics weren't joy-suppressors. They had a specific word for the good emotional life — eudaimonia — usually translated as happiness, but better understood as flourishing. They also had a category of healthy emotions called eupatheiai, literally "good feelings." One of those was chara — joy. This was something the Stoics actively cultivated.
Today, I want to make the case that the very tools Stoicism gives us — the ones that look like discipline and restraint from the outside — are actually pathways to some of the deepest, most durable joy available to us.
ACT 2: THE PHILOSOPHY
What the Stoics Actually Taught
Objectivity
One of the key aspect of Stoicism is to use our rationality, and be a little more objective in our perspective. Now, many people think that objectivity is cold and unfeeling. But Stoic objectivity is about suspending your judgments about things, which allows you to be more compassionate.
“It is in our power to have no opinion about a thing and not to be disturbed in our soul; for things themselves have no natural power to form our judgments.” — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations VI.52
When we get emotional about something it’s because we made a judgment about it. We’re telling ourselves a story about it.
We gave it meaning, and we’re the ones in charge of what meaning we give to something.
Marcus Aurelius wrote:
“The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.” — Marcus Aurelius
It’s important see things clearly, for what they are. To separate out the reality of a situation and the judgments and emotions that we have about it. Then we can focus on the facts, and respect the emotions.
Self-Acceptance
The Stoic practice of objectivity, of seeing things clearly — without ego distortion, wishful thinking, or catastrophizing — is usually applied outward, to problems and obstacles. But turn that same clear gaze on yourself, and something surprising happens: you stop being at war with who you are.
Most self-criticism isn't honest. It's distorted. We judge ourselves by impossible standards, compare our insides to other people's outsides, and treat every mistake as evidence of a fundamental flaw. Stoic objectivity cuts through that.
Marcus writes:
"If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it." — Marcus Aurelius
That same standard applies to the story you tell about yourself. Seeing yourself clearly — neither inflating nor tearing down — creates the conditions for genuine self-acceptance.
Compassion
And that clarity naturally extends outward. Marcus had a morning practice of reminding himself that the people he'd encounter would be difficult, ignorant, or unkind — and then immediately reframing: they are this way because they don't know better. Maybe they haven't done the work. Maybe they’re stuck in their own bias and distortions. Maybe they're struggling too.
“When a man has done you wrong, immediately consider with what opinion about good or evil he has done wrong. For when you have seen this, you will pity him, and will neither wonder nor be angry.” —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, VII.26
That's compassion born of clear seeing, not naivety.
Emotional Regulation → Genuine Calm
The Stoic goal was never to suppress emotion — it was to not be ruled by it. There's a world of difference between someone who never feels fear and someone who feels fear, names it, and chooses their response.
The first person is numb.
The second is courageous.
Viktor Frankl captured it:
"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response." Stoic practice builds that space. And when you're less reactive, something genuinely pleasant emerges — you stop living in the maelstrom.
Dichotomy of Control and Presence
Epictetus grounds the whole philosophy here: "Some things are in our control and others not."
Once you internalize that distinction, a huge percentage of daily anxiety simply loses its grip. What remains isn't numbness. It's steadiness. And steadiness is what allows actual joy — because you're no longer in survival mode.
By understanding clearly what you have control over and what you don’t, you let go of the things outside of your control. And two things you can’t directly control are the past and the future.
“Putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future. The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow, and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune's control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.” ― Seneca
Think about it:
- The past has already happened and is unchangeable.
- The future is unknown and its outcome is uncertain.
- Worrying about either is an exercise in futility.
And Seneca reminds us:
“Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life.” — Seneca
All you have is the present.
Gratitude
Most people don't know that Marcus Aurelius opens Meditations not with philosophy or discipline, but with gratitude. Book One is almost entirely a list of what he received from the people in his life — his grandfather's good character, his father's humility, his teachers' honesty. It reads like a gratitude journal.
Epictetus teaches us to be content and appreciate what we have:
"He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has." — Epictetus
And Seneca writes that gratitude enriches our feeling of wellbeing:
“…the reward for all the virtues lies in the virtues themselves. For they are not practiced with a view to recompense; the wages of a good deed is to have done it….I feel grateful, not because it profits me, but because it pleases me." – Seneca
Gratitude is an easy way to enjoy life immediately. Just take a moment and think about the things you are grateful for: family, friends, having enough food, a guilty pleasure, even the simple fact that you are alive and that you even exist at all. How does that not improve your mood?
Premeditatio Malorum
Another way to practice gratitude is one that seems counterintuitive. The Stoic practice of premeditatio malorum — imagining loss — is usually framed as preparation for hardship. But the byproduct is profound gratitude. When you genuinely sit with the thought that the people you love, the work you find meaningful, even small daily pleasures — that none of it was guaranteed — you start actually experiencing the life you already have instead of moving through it on autopilot. Seneca puts it plainly:
"True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future, not to amuse ourselves with either hopes or fears but to rest satisfied with what we have, which is sufficient, for he that is so wants nothing." — Seneca
By imagining what you could lose, you appreciate what you have.
Cosmopolitanism — Love of Neighbor
The Stoics, held a radical idea about humanity: we are all kosmopolites — citizens of the world. Not primarily members of a tribe or nation, but members of a universal human community held together by shared reason.
Marcus returns to this idea constantly:
"What injures the hive injures the bee." — Marcus Aurelius
And:
"We were made for cooperation, like feet, like hands, like eyelids." — Marcus Aurelius
Seneca teaches us that we should always be looking for ways to serve our neighbors:
"Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for a kindness." — Seneca
This isn't soft sentiment — it's a philosophical foundation for genuine love of neighbor. And it turns out to be a prescription for a richer life. Research on wellbeing consistently shows that people who feel connected to something larger than themselves — a community, a shared purpose — report significantly higher life satisfaction. Caring about the people around you, and acting on that care, generates real joy.
Virtue — The Clear Conscience
The Stoics held that virtue is the only true good. Everything else — wealth, reputation, health — is a preferred indifferent. Nice to have, but not worth compromising your character for. In daily life, what this produces is a clear conscience.
When your intentions are genuinely good, when you're doing your honest best to act rightly, you carry an inner peace that external circumstances can't easily disrupt. You're not managing a web of small dishonesties. You're not performing for approval and dreading the day the performance fails.
And owning your mistakes is part of this. Seneca describes his teacher Sextius's evening review — asking himself each night, "What weakness did I master today? How am I better?" Not shame. Not self-flagellation. Just the honest, gentle accounting of someone who cares about growing. When you can own your mistakes without drowning in them, you stay in integrity. And that — quietly, consistently — feels genuinely good.
ACT 3: THE PRACTICE
Putting It to Work
Each of these Stoic tools has a practical entry point:
For objectivity and self-compassion: Try applying the same standard to yourself that you'd apply to a close friend. When you make a mistake, ask: "What would I say to someone I care about who just did this?" Kristin Neff's research on self-compassion shows that people who do this are more resilient and more motivated — not less — than those who rely on harsh self-criticism.
For emotional regulation: When you notice a strong reactive emotion rising, practice naming it before acting on it. Not suppressing it — naming it. "I'm feeling anxious about this." That single act of labeling creates Frankl's space between stimulus and response. Over time, the space grows.
For gratitude: Try Marcus's approach — start a day or a week by listing what you received from the people in your life. Not what you accomplished. What you were given. It reorients you immediately.
For cosmopolitanism: The next time someone frustrates or disappoints you, try Marcus's reframe: "This person is struggling too. They're doing the best they know how to do." You don't have to agree with them or excuse the behavior. But seeing their humanity clearly changes how you carry the interaction.
For virtue: Adopt a version of the evening review. At the end of the day, ask yourself two questions: Did I act in line with my values today? And: Where did I fall short, and what would I do differently? Keep it brief. Keep it honest. Let it be about growth, not punishment.
Conclusion
The Beautiful Life
The Stoics weren't building people who could endure a joyless existence with grim determination. They were building people who could actually experience the life they have — with clear eyes, steady hearts, and genuine connection to the world around them.
The discipline isn't the point. The beautiful life it makes possible is the point.
And here's what I find most compelling: every single tool we've talked about today works because it removes an obstacle to joy rather than manufacturing something artificial. Objectivity removes the distortion of self-attack. Emotional regulation removes the static of reactivity. Gratitude removes the numbness of taking things for granted, and finding appreciation in everyday life. Cosmopolitanism removes the loneliness of isolation. Virtue removes the quiet corrosion of living out of alignment with your values.
The Stoics trusted that if you cleared away those obstacles, what was left would be good. That the human being, living clearly and well, would naturally find life worth inhabiting.
I think they were right. And I think that's worth working toward—your beautiful life.
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