How to Be a Stoic (2016)

When I come across stoicism and read about it, I realized he has been living like a stoic his whole life. His way of approaching life is so aligned with the concept. And yet he has never read or heard about Epicteus.

I have been reading a lot of books about philosophy lately, but I realise the most you can learn is from people around you.

The books are often contradictory. In the exact same situation, a book titled why zebras don't get ulcers, the author claims venting out is much healthier to reduce stress. There was a study done which indicated people who vent out on the spot are less likely to be stressful (less stress harmone).

Observing how others deal with situations and picking the best out of them works out well for me.

When I come across a friend who managing a heated argument and is calm after ward, I try to learn from him. Understand why he is able to do so.

It shouldn't detract anyone from looking at stoicism though. You can get everything you need from it for free, although a few books and helping the Patreon of a few philosophers who work on making it accessible is still a worthy cause to spend some money on.

> (2) The Way of the Disillusioned "Sensible Man."—He soon decides that the whole thing was moonshine. "Of course," he says, "one feels like that when one's young. But by the time you get to my age you've given up chasing the rainbow's end." And so he settles down and learns not to expect too much and represses the part of himself which used, as he would say, "to cry for the moon." This is, of course, a much better way than the first, and makes a man much happier, and less of a nuisance to society. It tends to make him a prig (he is apt to be rather superior towards what he calls "adolescents"), but, on the whole, he rubs along fairly comfortably.

>It would be the best line we could take if man did not live for ever. But supposing infinite happiness really is there, waiting for us? Supposing one really can reach the rainbow's end? In that case it would be a pity to find out too late (a moment after death) that by our supposed "common sense" we had stifled in ourselves the faculty of enjoying it.