Posts Tagged ‘stoicism’

What happens when what you want most is not growth, but relief from the shame of not being enough?

The Daily Grind That Isn’t Growth

You wake up early. You do the cold shower. You skip the sugar, push through the workout, and tick the boxes on your habit tracker. You’re doing all the right things.

But instead of feeling strong, you feel… hollow. Irritable. Tired in a way that no amount of achievement fixes.

This is discipline turned sour.

We praise self-discipline like a holy grail of self-improvement, but discipline without self-awareness can quietly morph into self-punishment. If we’re not careful, we use growth language to justify internal violence.

“If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it.” — Marcus Aurelius

True Stoic discipline is about clarity and integrity, not white-knuckling our way through routines that no longer serve us. It’s about sovereignty, not suppression.

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Shame Disguised as Structure

Sometimes we’re not pursuing excellence; we’re fleeing inadequacy.

Behind a rigid structure often hides a fragile self-worth. We believe if we slip, we’ll lose everything. That rest equals regression. That easing up means failure.

This is not resilience. This is fear in a productivity costume.

“The game is not about becoming somebody, it’s about becoming nobody.” — Ram Dass

We are not machines. You cannot shame your way into wholeness. Discipline born from fear will always come at the cost of inner peace.

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Rethinking Strength: The Real Stoic Resilience

We often misunderstand Stoicism as emotional suppression or masochistic toughness. But real Stoicism is about discerning what is within our control — including the choice to care for our inner life.

Real strength is not forcing action — it’s aligning action with wisdom.

When discipline disconnects us from presence, it defeats its purpose.

“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” — Carl Rogers

We are not here to grind ourselves into worthiness. The deepest change comes not from judgment, but from understanding.

The Biology of Burnout

Modern neuroscience shows us that how we treat ourselves biologically shapes how we show up mentally and emotionally.

Discipline that constantly triggers our stress response erodes our capacity to regulate, reflect, and recover. Over time, chronic cortisol dulls creativity, undermines motivation, and can even shrink brain regions tied to memory and empathy.

Self-compassion activates the brain’s caregiving system (increased oxytocin and decreased cortisol), creating a more sustainable motivation than self-criticism. — Gilbert, 2009

Sustainable change happens not through pressure, but through presence.

Returning to Yourself: The Discipline of Care

So, how do we tell the difference?

Ask: Is this action rooted in fear or care?

Discipline aligned with love feels sustainable, nourishing, and honest. Discipline rooted in fear feels brittle, exhausting, and empty.

“Be here now.” — Ram Dass

True discipline doesn’t beat you into shape. It meets you where you are and walks with you toward what matters.

You don’t need to push harder. You need to listen deeper. Let your structure be soft enough to bend, strong enough to hold you, and wise enough to know when to stop.

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The act of beginning again is itself the practice — not a flaw in the process, but the process. We tend to think of starting over as something reserved for mistakes or failures, as if it’s a sign we’ve strayed off course. But what if beginning again is actually the most honest course we can take?

Every breath is a reset. Every day we wake up alive is a quiet invitation to try once more — this time with a little more clarity, a little more compassion, a little less ego. We are not meant to stay in motion uninterrupted. We are meant to pause, to question, to recommit. To begin again is not weakness. It’s wisdom.

This idea — that beginning again is not a detour but the path itself — is something the Stoics understood deeply. To them, each moment was a fresh opportunity to align with reason, virtue, and the present.


“You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” — Marcus Aurelius


The urgency here isn’t morbid — it’s motivational. It’s a call to reset with intention, without needing a grand reason. Just the present moment is reason enough. Focusing on what I have control over, in the present moment, and then taking action with a sense of urgency is a balanced approach to life that Stoicism has brought to my attention many times.

Where Stoicism urges us to meet the moment with discipline, Taoism invites us to meet it with ease. If the Stoics offer a firm hand on the tiller, the Tao offers an open palm to the wind.


“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” — Lao Tzu


There’s wisdom in allowing our return — our beginning again — to unfold naturally, like water finding its path downhill. Taoism helps to take the weight off our backs and reduce the pressure we put on ourselves.

Photo by Tatiana Rodriguez on Unsplash

Taoism teaches us to flow, but Buddhism teaches us to see. To see the moment clearly, without clinging or resistance. In the Buddhist view, every beginning is just part of the great cycle of arising and passing away. The breath in. The breath out. There is no need to carry the weight of yesterday when the present is already enough.


“Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.” — Buddha


These ancient philosophies of nature and simplicity feel more vital than ever in a world shaped by constant productivity, curated identities, and hustle culture. Internally and externally, we’re pressured to do more, be more, and prove our worth through performance.

That pressure often leads to stagnation, analysis paralysis, and burnout. But revisiting these timeless teachings — ones that predate democracy and capitalism — offers calming reassurance. It reminds us that what we’re feeling isn’t failure. It’s human. And it makes beginning again feel not only acceptable, but natural.

Returning to the present — the Stoic, Taoist, and Buddhist invitation to simply be — also finds support in modern psychology and neuroscience. Where ancient wisdom speaks in metaphors and mantras, contemporary science offers data and neural pathways.

Dr. Andrew Huberman often reminds us that real change begins not with motivation, but with action. Tiny, repeated actions reshape the brain through neuroplasticity. So even when the mind says, “Why bother starting over?” the body can respond, “Because this is how we grow.”

Science may explain how we change, but philosophy still asks us why. Why return to a craft, a calling, a version of yourself you once abandoned?

The answer, I’ve found, is rarely logical. It’s personal. It’s emotional. Because I’m a person and people aren’t logical, we are emotional beings.

Sometimes it’s a whisper — other times a reckoning. But whatever shape it takes, it’s a form of recommitment. Not to some imagined perfection, but to the values and curiosities that make us feel most alive.


“You’re under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.” — Alan Watts


All of this — the philosophy, the science, the stillness — eventually brought me back to something simple but easy to forget: the quiet power of recommitment. Not a dramatic restart. Not a brand-new version of me. Just a returning.

A choice to keep showing up, to remember what matters most, and to walk toward it again, even if slowly. I’ve realized it’s not about being perfectly consistent. It’s about being consistently willing to try — to give whatever effort you have in you, in the moment.


There will always be reasons to delay the return — doubt, fear, the feeling that we’ve waited too long. But the truth is, we don’t need permission to begin again. Not from others, and not even from our past selves.

The beginner’s mind is the bravest mind. The moment we choose to return — to a habit, a purpose, a part of ourselves — we’re already on the path. Whether it’s through meditation, journaling, movement, or simply pausing to take a breath, there are so many ways to come home to yourself. Whichever path you take, just know this: beginning again doesn’t make you a beginner. It makes you human. It makes you brave.



Inner peace is a term that has been used and abused over the years for a variety of reasons. It’s become a cliche and a buzzword, which in the everything-is-content-for-influencers era seems to be inevitable. But having inner peace or seeking inner peace in times of outer chaos is something that everyone can get behind.

One’s life experience is enough to know this: no matter what you do, life is better with some inner peace. Inner peace leads to better decisions, empathy, and deep conversations. It also improves active listening.

“Peace is not the absence of conflict. It is the ability to handle conflict with skillfulness.” — Thich Nhat Hanh

Inner peace lets us exercise courage, discipline, ambition, and restraint. It helps us engage with life instead of being jerked around by it. Inner peace isn’t just for yogis, meditation practitioners, and philosophy students. It is for everyone, and it is as important as cultivating physical health and critical thinking skills.

In my experience, I have found that inner peace is often confused with external peace. Inner peace is not a lack of strife, stress, or challenges. Inner peace is a calm state of being within ourselves, regardless of what is happening around us.

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Stoicism is rooted in identifying what is within our control and what is outside of our control. Learning of that concept helped me a lot. But, the idea of equanimity has been a lifesaver. It means accepting what we can’t control.

Accepting what we can’t control flows right into accepting the impermanent nature of life. I love how philosophical practices can flow into spiritual concepts which can flow into humanistic techniques.

  • Practicing mindfulness
  • Gratitude
  • Detachment
  • Acceptance
  • Congruence
  • Meditation
  • Journaling
  • Building meaningful relationships.

Are those the strategies of philosophy, spirituality, or humanism?

The answer is all of the above. After almost 20 years of study, I find a constant. The similarities in these systems, or disciplines, are a metaphorical pressure release valve.

Not a hack, a magic pill, a quick fix, or a miracle cure because no such thing exists. Rather a clear path to inner peace. Being able to take a deep breath in knowing what I’m going through isn’t new or unique.

“The chief task in life is simply this: to identify and separate matters so that I can say clearly to myself which are externals not under my control, and which have to do with the choices I actually control. ” — Epictetus

I am a human being going through what the majority of human beings go through. Knowing that there have been people for thousands of years experiencing similar internal and external challenges and have created systems, disciplines, strategies, and techniques to deal with the obstacles of existence.

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That harmony among the ancient teachings helps to cultivate inner peace before one acts on the wisdom. The symmetry between Stoicism, Taoism, Buddhism, and Humanism removes an inner fear of isolated deficiency within me. The confusion of what to do is taken away. The immature hope for a quick fix dissolves.

The what to do is there. It is simply a matter of doing. And the simpler we can make living, the more likely we are to cultivate inner peace for ourselves.

I thought I had to wait until I was ready. But the truth is, readiness comes after the return — not before.

The act of beginning again is itself the practice — not a flaw in the process, but the process. We tend to think of starting over as something reserved for mistakes or failures, as if it’s a sign we’ve strayed off course. But what if beginning again is actually the most honest course we can take?

Every breath is a reset. Every day we wake up alive is a quiet invitation to try once more — this time with a little more clarity, a little more compassion, a little less ego. We are not meant to stay in motion uninterrupted. We are meant to pause, to question, to recommit. To begin again is not weakness. It’s wisdom.

Photo by Tatiana Rodriguez on Unsplash

This idea — that beginning again is not a detour but the path itself — is something the Stoics understood deeply. To them, each moment was a fresh opportunity to align with reason, virtue, and the present.

“You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” — Marcus Aurelius

The urgency here isn’t morbid — it’s motivational. It’s a call to reset with intention, without needing a grand reason. Just the present moment is reason enough. Focusing on what I have control over, in the present moment, and then taking action with a sense of urgency is a balanced approach to life that Stoicism has brought to my attention many times.

Where Stoicism urges us to meet the moment with discipline, Taoism invites us to meet it with ease. If the Stoics offer a firm hand on the tiller, the Tao offers an open palm to the wind.

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” — Lao Tzu

There’s wisdom in allowing our return — our beginning again — to unfold naturally, like water finding its path downhill. Taoism helps to take the weight off our backs and reduce the pressure we put on ourselves.

Taoism teaches us to flow, but Buddhism teaches us to see. To see the moment clearly, without clinging or resistance. In the Buddhist view, every beginning is just part of the great cycle of arising and passing away. The breath in. The breath out. There is no need to carry the weight of yesterday when the present is already enough.

“Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.” — Buddha

These ancient philosophies of nature and simplicity feel more vital than ever in a world shaped by constant productivity, curated identities, and hustle culture. Internally and externally, we’re pressured to do more, be more, and prove our worth through performance.

That pressure often leads to stagnation, analysis paralysis, and burnout. But revisiting these timeless teachings — ones that predate democracy and capitalism — offers calming reassurance. It reminds us that what we’re feeling isn’t failure. It’s human. And it makes beginning again feel not only acceptable, but natural.

Returning to the present — the Stoic, Taoist, and Buddhist invitation to simply be — also finds support in modern psychology and neuroscience. Where ancient wisdom speaks in metaphors and mantras, contemporary science offers data and neural pathways.

Dr. Andrew Huberman often reminds us that real change begins not with motivation, but with action. Tiny, repeated actions reshape the brain through neuroplasticity. So even when the mind says, “Why bother starting over?” the body can respond, “Because this is how we grow.”

Science may explain how we change, but philosophy still asks us why. Why return to a craft, a calling, a version of yourself you once abandoned?

The answer, I’ve found, is rarely logical. It’s personal. It’s emotional. Because I’m a person and people aren’t logical, we are emotional beings.

Sometimes it’s a whisper — other times a reckoning. But whatever shape it takes, it’s a form of recommitment. Not to some imagined perfection, but to the values and curiosities that make us feel most alive.

“You’re under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.” — Alan Watts

All of this — the philosophy, the science, the stillness — eventually brought me back to something simple but easy to forget: the quiet power of recommitment. Not a dramatic restart. Not a brand-new version of me. Just a returning.

A choice to keep showing up, to remember what matters most, and to walk toward it again, even if slowly. I’ve realized it’s not about being perfectly consistent. It’s about being consistently willing to try — to give whatever effort you have in you, in the moment.

There will always be reasons to delay the return — doubt, fear, the feeling that we’ve waited too long. But the truth is, we don’t need permission to begin again. Not from others, and not even from our past selves.

The beginner’s mind is the bravest mind. The moment we choose to return — to a habit, a purpose, a part of ourselves — we’re already on the path. Whether it’s through meditation, journaling, movement, or simply pausing to take a breath, there are so many ways to come home to yourself. Whichever path you take, just know this: beginning again doesn’t make you a beginner. It makes you human. It makes you brave.

Photo by Karsten Würth on Unsplash

“Your life is a message to yourself. What is it saying?” — Ram Dass


Personal power can come across as a nausea-inducing cliche. The collateral damage of the toxic positivity movement of retro self-help gurus and modern influencers. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. A concept as important and helpful as personal power, like most good things, seems fated to be used as a tool to take for the few, rather than give to the many.

Self-control and self-discipline don’t have much if any of an eye-roll factor. They may have an ick factor for the general folks. Ick factor as in, “ick I don’t want to deploy self-control/self-discipline in this situation, I’ve earned my treat.” I know I’ve been that way more times than I would care to count or remember.


“As long as you live, keep learning how to live.” — Seneca


Personal power isn’t a buzzword because it isn’t a one-and-done, miracle-cure, magic pill. Personal power is the result of the process of living life, utilizing self-control one step at a time, and deploying self-discipline one choice at a time. It is a gradual process, not an instant achievement. It is a process we are either strengthening or decaying with our actions until the day we die.

We all exercise personal power more than we think in our day-to-day lives. Regardless of background, age, sex, economic status. If we all as a society, as a species, didn’t possess a high level of personal power then we wouldn’t have societies or cultures period. So when talking about personal power, self-control, and/or self-discipline the first thing to do is often the most overlooked which is to give ourselves some credit.

But we know internally, silently, when we’re alone, when we look at ourselves in the mirror that we can do more and be better. Not in some pie-in-the-sky way, but measured against our past actions and against our future goals. I know I can’t be the only one who has felt and feels that way. It’s not that I’m trying to be Superman or what influencers pretend to be on social media. It’s when I do the right things, give the right effort, and consistently take the right action but then fall off and seemingly forget how to do it and that I did it.


“Waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be.” — Alan Watts


So what do we do? How do we get better? We know we have to do, try, take action, and put forth effort but we as humans need to be taught everything. We would be crawling on all fours, urinating, and defecating ourselves if we weren’t taught to walk and potty trained. So something like growing one’s power through self-discipline and control needs to be taught and unfortunately, schools would rather teach us algebra and dodgeball. So it’s up to us to teach ourselves. Luckily there are philosophical ideas, spiritual concepts, and humanistic approaches that can provide us with simple, pragmatic steps for growth. Simple, not easy…as is life.

Personal power is often thought of and referred to as an external thing but it is completely created from the inside out from doing internal work. We can’t control if we influence other people or situations. But we can control what we do to cultivate our inner strength, our inner peace, the strength of our character, our self-control, and our self-discipline. This is the Stoic Dichotomy of Control. Our pursuit of self-mastery is always within our control. Stoicism has been an immense help to me in introducing me to the concepts of what is within and what is outside of our control.


“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.” — Epictetus


Pursuing external personal power may have an eye-roll factor, but pursuing internal self-mastery is as universally noble of a purpose and life’s work as there is, since there is nothing harder or more complex for the average person like myself to seek. Philosophy can help create awareness and identify what we need to focus on. Journaling was probably the first productive habit I cultivated as an adult and is a Stoic exercise that helps us to reflect and look ahead through the lens of timeless principles.

Photo by Levi XU on Unsplash

Spirituality-based practices like meditation and yoga can guide us along the way by also giving us things to do to cultivate self-control and self-discipline on the path. Mindfulness meditation has been a lifesaver for me over the past decade and a half. Self-improvement can turn to self-punishment early and often. Day-to-day living can be a challenge. Meditation has helped me cultivate greater awareness and compassion for myself in the face of internal and external challenges.

Habitualizing a consistent yoga practice has taken a tremendous amount of self-control and self-discipline over many years for me. I find regular yoga practice helps my body feel the way regular meditation practice helps my mind and heart feel. Feeling good through consistent, active action rather than passive escapism is a path to self-mastery and personal power.


“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” — Gautama Buddha


Ultimately cultivating our personal power starts with the humanistic belief in our inherent goodness and potential. Stoic journaling and resilience combined with Buddhist mindfulness as well as the Taoist principle of getting into and being in harmony with nature is a combination that works for me. I find these concepts and practices help level out the disjointed nature of modern living for me. This allows me to find stillness and space within myself to harvest beneficial habits of thought, perception, and emotion internally which produces the right action externally.

The journey is different for everyone. We all have to walk our path. But some timeless principles and paradigms will outlive us all that can make life a little less complex, a little easier, and help us harvest our personal power a little more. Doing so can make our individual lives and the world we live in a better place.


“Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.” — Lao Tzu