Gratitude isn’t something the Stoics talked about much in the cheesy, Instagram-quote kind of way. They didn’t walk around journaling about their blessings while sipping overpriced turmeric lattes.
But make no mistake: gratitude was baked into their worldview. And it wasn’t just some feel-good emotional bandage.
It was a discipline.
A way of seeing clearly.
A strategy for living well.
When I first read Meditations, I was struck by how often Marcus Aurelius reflected on the qualities of others. He wasn’t just listing names—he was soaking up their strengths. Their courage, their patience, their wisdom. As he put it:
“Whenever you desire to cheer yourself, think upon the merits of those who are alive with you; the energy of one, for instance, the modesty of another, the generosity of a third, of another some other gift.”
That, to me, is Stoic gratitude. It’s not just a list of things to be thankful for. It’s the practice of noticing what’s right in front of you and understanding the value it adds to your life.
So how do we bring this into our day-to-day?
Let’s break it down.
1. Start with perspective
There’s a classic Stoic technique that I still use almost daily: imagining the absence of what I currently have.
Seneca put it bluntly:
“We live unthankfully in this world, and we go struggling and murmuring out of it, dissatisfied with our lot, whereas we should be grateful for the blessings we have enjoyed.”
It hits hard because it’s true. We’re wired to adapt quickly to what we have, which means we take a lot for granted. That daily walk. That friend who always checks in. The fact that your legs work and the sun came up again.
As Aurelius wrote:
“Do not think of what are absent as though they were not existing, but ponder on the most fortunate of what you have got, and on account of them remind yourself how they would have been missed, if they had not been here.”
When you really feel into that—not just intellectually, but viscerally—you start to notice the abundance you’re already living in.
Gratitude, then, is just a shift in perception. It’s not about pretending everything’s perfect. It’s about recognizing that even within imperfection, there’s a lot to be thankful for.
2. Practice “Premeditatio Malorum”
Most people wake up and immediately brace for the day’s tasks, maybe checking their phones for bad news or urgent emails. But the Stoics did something different. They didn’t shy away from thinking about what could go wrong—they leaned into it.
This wasn’t about pessimism. It was preparation.
“Premeditatio malorum,” or “premeditation of evils,” is the practice of imagining negative events before they happen. They would mentally rehearse obstacles he might face: interruptions, criticism, pain. Not to make himself miserable—but to be ready. To not be blindsided. To say, “Ah, here it is. I knew this might come.”
I know this sounds strange but gratitude can build on this.
Before your day starts, take two minutes with your coffee and think about what might go sideways today: the traffic, the meeting that might go long, the person who might flake. Then, flip it. Realize how much isn’t going wrong. Appreciate the health you still have, the quiet morning, the hot coffee in your hand.
This practice puts you in a position of strength. It shrinks entitlement. And ironically, it makes you more resilient and more thankful.
3. Choose discomfort on purpose
Here’s a question: when was the last time you deliberately made your life a little harder?
Sounds counterproductive, right? But for the Stoics, this was a core habit—one designed not to punish, but to strengthen.
Seneca called it voluntary discomfort—the idea of occasionally exposing yourself to mild hardship on purpose so you’re not mentally wrecked when real hardship inevitably arrives. It’s a kind of psychological inoculation. Like a mental vaccine.
“Set aside a certain number of days, during which you shall be content with the scantiest and cheapest fare, with coarse and rough dress, saying to yourself all the while: ‘Is this the condition that I feared?’”
The point isn’t masochism. It’s perspective. By choosing discomfort, you remind yourself that comfort is not a guarantee—and that you can survive without it.
Now, this doesn’t mean you need to sleep on the floor or fast for three days (unless you want to). Voluntary discomfort can be simple, and low-drama:
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Take a cold shower instead of a hot one.
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Walk somewhere you’d usually drive.
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Skip a meal and notice the difference between hunger and actual suffering.
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Leave your phone at home for a few hours and feel the itch of disconnection.
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Say no to the small luxury you’re used to (that $6 coffee, the Uber, the extra streaming subscription).
These tiny acts do something powerful: they train your mind to stop fearing discomfort. You realize, “Oh, I’m actually okay without this.”
And from there? More freedom, more resilience, and yes—more gratitude.
Putting it all together
Gratitude isn’t passive. It’s not just journaling three nice things (though this can help) and hoping your mindset shifts. It’s a daily discipline—one that requires perspective, preparation, and sometimes a little pain.
The Stoics didn’t practice gratitude just to feel better. They did it to see better. To sharpen their awareness. To strengthen their character. To strip life down to what really matters—and appreciate the hell out of it.
You don’t need incense or a journal to start. Just a shift in attention. A willingness to see clearly. And maybe, once in a while, a cold shower.
No fluff. No sugarcoating. Just the real stuff.
Because sometimes, the most powerful form of gratitude is simply not taking your life for granted.
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.
