In 2015, I picked up an old copy of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations on a whim. I was a fledgling entrepreneur at the time, juggling a teaching job and frequent travels. Little did I know, this Roman emperor’s private journal would spark a profound personal journey.
Marcus’s reminders like “you may depart from life at once; act and speak and think accordingly” jolted me awake. It was as if he spoke across 18 centuries, urging me to stop procrastinating and start living with purpose.
That year marked the beginning of my Stoic practice: dawn meditations on what’s in my control, late-night journal entries examining my day, and a growing sense of resilience in the face of life’s curveballs.
But Meditations was just my gateway. To really understand Stoicism, I had to travel back to its origin on an ancient Athenian porch and trace its development through the ages. What follows is both a chronological history of Stoicism – from Zeno to its modern resurgence – and a reflection on how insights from each era have shaped my mindset and daily practices.
Zeno’s Painted Porch: The Birth of Stoicism (3rd Century BCE)
Zeno of Citium is said to have founded the Stoic school in Athens around 300 BCE. The name “Stoicism” itself comes from the Greek stoa poikile, meaning “painted porch” – the public colonnade where Zeno and his students gathered for discussions.
Zeno was not originally a philosopher by trade; he was a merchant. In fact, Stoic lore holds that his philosophical journey began only after calamity struck. Zeno survived a shipwreck as a young man, losing his cargo at sea, and found himself stranded in Athens around age 22. Rather than viewing this disaster as ruinous, it seems he saw it as a stroke of fate. He discovered writings about Socrates, and was instantly hooked on philosophy.
He later joked, “I made a prosperous voyage when I was shipwrecked,” presumably meaning that losing everything was the best thing that ever happened to him. But this isn’t just a witty remark – it’s an early example of a Stoic teaching in action: that events themselves aren’t good or bad, but our perspective can make misfortune fruitful. Zeno literally turned a shipwreck into the foundation of a new life.
Zeno went on to study under Crates the Cynic and other philosophers, blending their ideas into something unique. His philosophy was deeply influenced by Socrates and the Cynics – emphasizing virtue, simplicity, and living according to nature.
Zeno argued that “argued that virtue, not pleasure, was the only good and that natural law”. The Stoics taught that a life led by reason and virtue is in harmony with nature’s order – in other words, a “life according to nature.” In practical terms, this meant training oneself to desire only what is good (virtue) and to view externals (like wealth or hardship) as indifferent.
We don’t know too much about Zeno (there are no complete works from early Stoics still intact) but one thing I love about the origin of Stoicism is how relatable it is. Here was a man who literally lost everything in a shipwreck, yet he responded by seeking wisdom.
It’s a powerful example that echoes through Stoic teachings: we can’t control what happens, but we can control how we respond. When I face setbacks in my own life – a failed business deal, a sudden travel snafu – I often think of Zeno on that shipwreck. Instead of mourning his losses, he built a new philosophy that would guide millions of lives. It inspires me to ask, “How can I turn this obstacle upside down?” In Stoic fashion, the impediment becomes the way forward.
The Roman Stoics: Practical Wisdom for Turbulent Times (1st–2nd Century CE)
By the first century BCE, Stoicism had travelled from the Greek porches to the heart of Rome. Unlike the early Greek Stoics, whose writings survive only in fragments, the Roman Stoics left us complete works that focus on ethics and practical advice.
These works are the reason Stoicism is so accessible to us today. Three names stand out:
- Seneca – a Roman senator, dramatist, and tutor to Emperor Nero, who wrote dozens of Letters and essays on how to live well.
- Epictetus – a former slave turned philosopher, who taught that while we do not control external events, we do control our own judgments and actions. His student compiled his teachings in the Discourses and the Enchiridion (a short handbook).
- Marcus Aurelius – the philosopher-king of the Roman Empire. As emperor, Marcus penned his private reflections (now known as Meditations) while leading armies on the frontier.
It think it’s fair to say these Roman Stoics lived in turbulent times – court intrigues, exile, wars, and personal tragedies – and it seems they turned Stoicism into a lifeline of practical wisdom. Their writings brim with down-to-earth advice, psychological insights, and comfort for life’s hardships.
For example, Epictetus begins his Enchiridion with a simple truth:
“Some things are up to us and some are not up to us. Our opinions are up to us, and our impulses, desires, aversions—in short, whatever is our own doing. Our bodies are not up to us, nor are our possessions, our reputations, or our public offices, or, that is, whatever is not our own doing. The things that are up to us are by nature free, unhindered, and unimpeded; the things that are not up to us are weak, enslaved, hindered, not our own.” (this is just one translation of many but you get the idea).
This, known as dichotomy of control, became my daily mantra. As a traveler, flights get delayed; as an entrepreneur, clients back out – but Epictetus reminds me that only my own responses truly belong to me. “What disturbs men’s minds is not events but their judgements on events,” he said, highlighting that it’s not the turbulence of life, but how we think about it, that upsets us. I’ve taped that quote to my laptop for perspective: if I feel frustrated by something, I check whether it’s my perception at fault. Nine times out of ten, it is.
Seneca, for his part, wrote letters that read like personal coaching sessions for the soul. I often imagine him as a mentor whispering in my ear. He advised his friend Lucilius (and by extension, all of us) that we suffer more in our imagination than in reality. “There are more things likely to frighten us than to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality,” Seneca writes (Moral letters to Lucilius/Letter 13). I think about this whenever anxiety about the future creeps in – whether it’s a looming business deal or an upcoming long journey.
In my journal, I sometimes deliberately envision a plan going wrong – a project failing, or an important lecture going poorly – and then remind myself that even then, I could endure and find alternatives. This “negative visualization” (as it’s now called) stems right from Stoicism. Far from making me pessimistic, it has made me calmer and more appreciative of whatever actually happens (which is usually better than the dire scenario I imagined!).
Marcus Aurelius, the emperor, has been my constant companion since 2015. I find his Meditations so comforting because they were his private pep talks, never meant for publication. There’s something incredibly humanizing about a powerful man writing to strengthen his own character.
Marcus reminds himself to get out of bed in the morning to do his duty, to be patient with irritating people, and to live each day as if it could be his last. “Brief is the life of each of us,” he notes bluntly, “and yours is nearly finished, yet you do not honor yourself but hand your well-being over to others’ opinions.” That struck me hard – how often do we waste our short life worrying about what others think?
Marcus’s historical context was a series of wars and a devastating plague, yet he strove to remain upright and empathetic, repeating to himself that people who wrong or annoy us often do so out of ignorance rather than malice. “People exist for the sake of one another,” he wrote, “teach them or bear with them.” In my own role as a teacher, I echoed this line before stepping into class. If a student acted out, I would try to channel Marcus’s patience: I’m here to guide them (teach them) or, if that fails, to tolerate them kindly (bear with them).
Despite their different backgrounds, the Roman Stoics shared a focus on ethics as a daily practice. Philosophy, to them, wasn’t an academic exercise – it was a “medicine for the soul.” They gave practical exercises: Marcus journaled each night; Seneca examined his conscience daily; Epictetus is said to have had students practice hardship (like walking barefoot in winter) to build resilience.
One of my favorite analogies from this period comes from Seneca: life’s challenges, he said, are like the blows a boxer receives in training – they toughen us up. “No prizefighter can go with high spirits into the fight if he’s never been beaten black and blue,” Seneca wrote, “for he leaves himself unsure whether he can take a hit.” In my entrepreneurial life, when I encounter a major setback – a deal falls through or a venture flops – I recall Seneca’s image. This setback isn’t the end; it’s “sparring practice” for the next bout. It’s amazing how a 2,000-year-old line can reframe a modern problem. I’ve learned to see difficulties as part of the Stoic training regimen life has enrolled me in.
After Antiquity: Stoicism’s Quiet Influence through the Middle Ages and Renaissance
Stoicism as a formal school faded after the 2nd century CE. Within a few hundred years, the Roman Empire fell and Christianity became the dominant worldview in Europe.
One might think Stoicism disappeared – but it didn’t. It survived, quietly, like embers hidden in ashes, influencing thinkers through the Middle Ages and flaring up again in the Renaissance. As I delved into Stoicism’s history, I was surprised and delighted to discover how these ancient ideas kept resurfacing, guiding minds in very different eras.
During the Middle Ages, Stoic ideas found refuge in the writings of Christian philosophers and churchmen. The early Christian theologian St. Augustine, for instance, was initially sympathetic to Stoic ethics (though he later critiqued some Stoic ideas).
More tangibly, Stoic moral insights were used in monastic settings – a fact I found fascinating. In medieval monasteries, monks would read an adapted version of Epictetus’ Enchiridion (with any pagan references swapped out for Christian ones).Think about that: a Stoic handbook written by a former slave was being copied and studied in cloisters by men devoted to God!
Personally, learning about Stoicism’s influence in the Middle Ages gave me a sense of comfort – it reinforced that these principles are universal. You can change the religious or cultural context, but the idea of moderating your passions, being courageous and just, and focusing on inner virtue appeals to our shared humanity.
Fast forward to the Renaissance (14th–16th centuries), and Stoicism literally had a rebirth. With the revival of classical learning, scholars and humanists rediscovered Stoic texts that had been preserved. A scholar named Justus Lipsius published De Constantia (On Constancy). Lipsius essentially created a hybrid “Neo-Stoicism,” blending Christian piety with Stoic principles, arguing that Stoic virtues could steady people in tumultuous times.
Isn’t it poignant that in an era of plagues and conflict (not unlike Marcus Aurelius’ time or even our own in the pandemic), thinkers turned to Stoicism for stability.
By the 17th and 18th centuries (Enlightenment era), Stoicism’s threads were woven into the tapestry of modern philosophy. Baruch Spinoza, a philosopher, was heavily influenced by Stoicism. Adam Smith – yes, the economist – was also said to be influenced by Stoicism.
For me, the lesson from this long period is that Stoic wisdom is timeless and adaptable. Whether you’re a monk in a medieval abbey, a statesman in Renaissance Antwerp, or a tech worker in 2025, the core Stoic insights can be integrated into your life.
Circumstances change, languages change, but the human condition doesn’t – we all deal with fear, anger, loss, hope. If monks, nobles, and philosophers across time found value in Stoicism, maybe we should pay attention as well.
Stoicism’s Modern Resurgence: From the 20th Century to Today
In recent decades, Stoicism has burst back into public consciousness – a revival few could have predicted. When I first started with Meditations, I had no idea there was an entire modern Stoic movement blooming.
But here we are in the 21st century, and Stoicism is everywhere: best-selling books in airport bookstores, quotes flooding social media, Stoic meditation apps, and global conferences like “Stoicon”. It’s even been called “America’s leading nonreligious doctrine”.
As someone who has lived with these ideas for a while, I find this both exciting and sobering. Exciting, because there’s a wealth of new resources and communities to learn from. Sobering, because popularity can dilute or distort ideas – and part of my Stoic practice now involves sifting the genuine principles from any hype.
Perhaps the most visible figure in the modern Stoic revival is Ryan Holiday, a former marketer turned Stoic author. His books The Obstacle is the Way, Ego is the Enemy, and The Daily Stoic have introduced Stoicism to a broad audience. Holiday certainly has a talent for repackaging Stoic insights through vivid historical anecdotes, making the ancient philosophy feel fresh and actionable.
I’ll admit, at first I was wary – as a long-time student, I worried Stoicism was being reduced to motivational slogans. But I’ve come to appreciate that Holiday and others have done much to make Stoicism accessible, especially to younger people and entrepreneurs.
Some of my own business colleagues, who would never read Seneca’s Letters, got their first taste of Stoicism from a Holiday book or quote and then dug deeper. And often, they come to me excited: “Mal, have you heard of this Stoicism thing? It’s helping me cope with stress so much better!” I just smile and think, Welcome to the Porch.
Social media, for better or worse, is awash with Stoic maxims. On Instagram, accounts share snippet quotes like Marcus’s “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one.” that get thousands of likes.
The pandemic era seems to have intensified interest in Stoicism: in 2020, sales of Meditations and Seneca’s works skyrocketed (Meditations sales in 2020 were up 28% from 2019, and Letters from a Stoic up 42%).
Looking at history, it seems clear that in uncertain times, people gravitate to Stoic reassurance and resilience. The idea of focusing on what you can control and meeting fate with calm courage has mass appeal when the world feels chaotic.
Of course, with popularity comes pitfalls. Some worry that “pop Stoicism” is becoming a kind of macho, emotion-suppressing lifehack, stripped of nuance. The ancient Stoics valued reason and emotional temperance, yes, but they didn’t exactly encourage being unfeeling robots or selfish achievers.
As a self confessed “Stoic”, I feel a responsibility to present Stoicism in its full depth: it’s not about suppressing all feelings, but about not letting negative and destructive emotions dominate us. It’s also very much about community – Marcus Aurelius, for instance, writes extensively about kindness, empathy, and duty toward others. Stoicism isn’t just an ancient form of personal therapy; it’s a guide to being a better friend, partner, citizen, and human being.
Takeaway from Modern Stoicism: Stoicism is a Living Philosophy – Use It, Don’t Abuse It
The practical takeaway for me is to make Stoic practice habitual: I use tools like a Stoic journal and meditation on Stoic quotes in the morning.
One exercise I picked up from modern Stoic groups is the “Stoic pause” – when something provocatively good or bad happens, take a moment to pause and remind yourself, “Is this in my control? What would a wise response be?” It’s a simple habit that can prevent impulsive reactions.
Modern Stoicism also reminds me to guard against cherry-picking or misusing Stoic ideas. Stoicism isn’t about being invincible or dominating others; it’s about mastering yourself and contributing to the common good. As Marcus Aurelius wrote, “What does not benefit the hive is not benefit to the bee.” When used properly, Stoicism is a powerful framework to navigate life’s challenges with grace. When distorted, it loses its soul.
So, I strive to be a critical Stoic: reading the original sources (Seneca, Epictetus, Marcus) alongside modern interpretations, and testing the ideas out in real situations. The ultimate test is a practical one: Is this helping me become a better person and live a more meaningful, tranquil life? If yes, then Stoicism is serving its purpose.
Conclusion: From the Porch to Our Lives
Stoicism’s long journey – from Zeno’s painted porch in ancient Athens, through imperial Rome, slipping quietly through medieval monasteries, reborn in Renaissance studies, and now trending on podcasts and social media – speaks to something constant in the human condition. We all seek inner stability in a volatile world, and we all wonder how to live a good life. Stoicism offers answers, not as dogma, but as tried-and-tested insights: focus on what you can control, align with nature and truth, do your duty to others, prepare for adversity, and cherish the present moment. These principles have guided me since 2015, and I feel like a small link in a very long chain of Stoic practitioners.
To anyone intrigued by Stoicism, I encourage you to treat it as a personal journey. Read the Stoics, old and new, but more importantly, apply them. Start your morning with Marcus’s reminder that you could leave life right now, and see how your priorities sharpen. When you get upset, recall Epictetus and ask, “Is this thing itself actually harming me, or is it my opinion of it?” When fear of the future looms, use Seneca’s tactic of imagining the worst-case scenario and realizing you have the strength to endure it.
And when you feel alone, remember that countless others – from emperors to slaves, monks to modern CEOs – have walked this path and stand ready to offer guidance through their writings.
What would Marcus Aurelius say?
Unsure what to do next in your career? Struggling to move on from a failed relationship? Searching for more meaning in life?
Marcus Aurelius can tell you how to face your challenges in a more Stoic way.
Simply ask your question, and Marcus Aurelius will answer.
