If I told you that one of the most useful mental tools for living in 2025 was forged two thousand years ago by a Roman emperor sitting alone with his thoughts, you might roll your eyes. And I’d understand. We live in an age of AI-generated noise, dopamine-driven distraction, and algorithmic anxiety. The idea that anything from the first century could help sounds improbable. But that’s exactly what I discovered when I cracked open Meditations ten years ago—and why I keep returning to Stoicism today, more urgently than ever.
Back in 2015, I was chasing too many things and anchoring myself in none. Starting businesses, trying to build a life with meaning and momentum—and burning out in the process. Stoicism wasn’t a trendy escape or productivity hack. It was the first thing that spoke to the part of me that was tired of chasing outcomes and wanted instead to find a stable ground. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “External things are not the problem. It’s your assessment of them. Which you can erase right now.” It hit me with the force of a hard truth I already knew but had never dared to live by.
Now, in 2025, I look around and see more people than ever caught in the same trap I was. Not because they’re weak or undisciplined, but because we’ve built a world where distraction is the business model and outrage is the currency. We check the news not to be informed, but to be inflamed. We open apps to connect, but leave feeling lonelier. We’ve somehow convinced ourselves that worry equals responsibility and that control can be won with enough information.
And that’s where Stoicism lands its first and most crucial blow. It reminds us that what matters is not the chaos around us, but the clarity within us. The Stoics don’t tell us to ignore the world’s problems. They simply insist we stop letting those problems define the limits of our peace.
That message isn’t just timeless—it’s surgically precise for this moment. Think about how many things today feel engineered to provoke helplessness: climate doom, political division, global instability. Every scroll brings another reason to catastrophize.
Epictetus wrote, “It’s not things that upset us, but our judgement about things.” This wasn’t abstract philosophy. It was a call to reclaim agency. The world doesn’t have to be calm for you to be. Your peace doesn’t need a permission slip from the headlines.
That doesn’t mean passivity. It means realism. It means understanding that resistance to reality only adds suffering to pain. I could get angry that a deal fell through or that someone misread my intentions—or I could ask, “What’s within my control right now?” That’s the core muscle Stoicism builds: attention to where your influence ends and where your freedom begins.
In 2025, the need for this muscle isn’t theoretical. It’s existential. Every day, we are overwhelmed with choice, overstimulated by noise, and pulled in a hundred directions by forces that profit from our distraction. The Stoics would say this is the perfect training ground. We don’t need ideal conditions. We need to remember who we are and what we’re responsible for. As put by Seneca “manliness gains much strength by being challenged.”
That quote sits above my desk, not because it sounds poetic, but because I’ve lived its truth. When a creative project collapses, or when I feel buried under client demands, I ask: What if this is the training? What if every difficulty is not a signal to escape, but an invitation to apply the principles?
That’s the part of Stoicism that continues to deepen with practice—it doesn’t promise comfort. It leads to clarity. And with clarity comes courage. When you stop demanding the world conform to your preferences, you’re free to act within your sphere of influence with everything you’ve got.
And this isn’t just for entrepreneurs or digital nomads. I’ve met people who stumbled into Stoicism while dealing with job loss, family drama, or just trying to stay sane in the chaos of parenting toddlers and paying rent. These aren’t philosophers sitting on mountaintops—they’re regular people trying to keep it together and maybe grow a little in the process.
In a time when a lot of us are tired of being told what to think, sold quick fixes, or overwhelmed by everyone shouting all the time, Stoicism feels like a quiet friend in the corner—waiting, not pushing, just offering tools that actually help when life gets messy.
It’s not magic. But it’s solid. And in 2025, when things often feel upside down, that kind of grounded wisdom goes a long way.
It won’t go viral on TikTok. It won’t promise quick hacks. It won’t soothe your ego with easy affirmations. But it will sharpen your perception, toughen your will, and remind you—daily—that peace isn’t something you find out there. It’s something you forge in here.
So yes, I believe we need Stoicism now more than ever. Not as a retro fad or intellectual curiosity, but as a practical guide for those of us still trying to live deliberately when everything around us seems designed to make that impossible.
We don’t need more information. We need more orientation. We need to remember that serenity is not surrender. That resilience is not resistance. That presence is not passivity.
We need Stoicism—not because it’s ancient, but because it’s alive.
And we need to keep practicing—not because it’s easy, but because it’s true.
Stay centered,
Mal
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.
