The Stoic's Journal

“Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of the mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering." — Saint Augustine We’ll stare at the Grand Canyon for hours. We’ll hike up mountains, drive to the ocean, lie under the stars and feel something stir in our souls. And yet, we rarely turn that same sense of awe inward. That’s what Augustine was getting at. We’re wired to marvel at creation, but not the creator within. Not the mind. Not the soul. Not the one doing the wondering. We don’t stand in front of a mirror and think, How incredible that I’m alive… that I can think, choose, love, create, and change. We rush right past ourselves to catch a sunset. Here’s the irony: all that outer beauty only matters because there’s someone here to witness it. You. You are the one who feels the wind on your face and translates it into meaning. You ...

Ecclesiastes begins with a gut punch: “Vanity of vanities... all is vanity.” The Stoics might nod in agreement. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “Soon you will have forgotten everything. Soon everything will have forgotten you.” Bleak? Not really. Both are clearing the clutter to make space for what matters. What Does 'Vanity' Mean? In modern language, we think of vanity as pride or obsession with appearances. But in Ecclesiastes, vanity (from the Hebrew hevel ) means something more like vapor, breath, or mist. It’s not about arrogance—it’s about emptiness, impermanence, and chasing after what slips through your fingers. So when Solomon says “all is vanity,” he means that much of what we strive for—wealth, status, power—is fleeting and ultimately hollow. The Illusion of Control: Ecclesiastes reminds us that time, chance, and death come for all. “The race is not to the swift... nor riches to men of understanding.” The Stoics say: don’t try to control the storm. Control your respo...

  When to Speak… and When to Shut Up The Stoic Journal | By Andrew Wells There are moments when saying what’s on your mind feels like the right move. You’re frustrated. You’re sure you’re right. You’ve got something to say. But just because something can be said doesn’t mean it should be. I’ve learned (often the hard way) that there’s strength in restraint. Saying nothing isn’t weakness—it’s composure. It’s awareness. It’s strategy. When I was younger, I’d let words fly without thinking about the cost. Sometimes it felt good in the moment. But looking back, a lot of those moments were about ego, not truth. The Stoics knew this. Epictetus said, “We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak.” In practice, that means you don’t always need the last word. You don’t need to win every argument. You don’t need to blurt out what you’re thinking just to make a point. Sometimes, the quietest guy in the room has the clearest mind. And...