I recently finished reading a collection of books that I bought that are essentials for Stoic philosophy, which include
- The Discourses and Handbook of Epictetus,
- The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius,
- Pierre Hadot’s The Inner Citadel, and
- The Moral Letters of Seneca.
While studying this philosophy, I felt more personal permission to be very sloppy with practicing it, rationalizing an unpolished set of habits as stepping stones leading towards some sort of idealized ritual. In the moments just after finishing the last of Seneca’s letters, I found myself quickly wracked with doubt, and lacking in direction. Like… minutes afterwards. I had turned my daily readings and associated journaling into the goal, and now that it seemed that the goal was accomplished, I felt an urgency to latch onto some other goal. Instead of doing that, I read over some of my older posts and felt pathetic. How could I have thought that I could give advice when even at that point, I had no clue what I was doing. I still think the advice is sound, but it wasn’t what I wrote, necessarily, that bothered me. I suppose it was just a critical stance, looking at my former posts and scoffing internally, writing my former self off as stupid. I was having a little bit of an existential crisis. Not uncommon for me, but still unwelcome.
After blankly staring at the wall for a bit, with rain sounds drowning out the background noise of snow plows and such, I collected myself and remembered that what I’m doing is not a procedure to follow, or a checklist to complete, but a change in my mindset, adopting this philosophy as a way of life, not just a party trick to deal with adversity.
Looking at my past and hating it, or thinking about the future and fearing it, is a great way to neglect what’s going on for you in the present moment. Sometimes I have this weird view of mindfulness that is unrealistic, thinking that I need to have laser focus at each instant in time, never wavering, else my inner parent shakes its head at me and mutters some shit under its breath. Sometimes it can be like that, if all goes well, but for most tasks, I prefer to consider being present to just mean a short duration, beginning just before this instant in time, and ending perhaps just slightly after. Writing that down, it seems obvious. Of course, we can’t live exactly in each instant. Our minds wander. We have to think somewhat tactically. There’s planning to do and anticipation of things just about to happen, but I think one of our biggest concerns with the idea of staying present is having too strict of criteria for ourselves. We set the bar too damn high, and then chastise ourselves for failing to live up to our unrealistic expectations. Best to just relax, and give yourself a break, you know? I don’t know, but I’m still learning.
Do your best. Fix what you can, in the present moment, and be patient with yourself along the way.