Lives of the Stoics: The Art of Living From Zeno to Marcus Aurelius

We hope these pages contribute to the unbroken chain of influence that these Stoics’ lives have had, an influence that remains active to this day. Indeed, one of the most difficult choices made here was the decision not to profile any so-called “modern Stoics” who are continuing to wrestle with, practice, and exemplify Stoic principles in their own lives.

Whether that’s media titan Arianna Huffington, who carries a laminated note card of a Marcus Aurelius quote in her purse at all times, or General James Mattis, who has carried Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations with him on military campaigns for decades, Stoicism is alive and well in the modern world—with all the same brilliance, boldness, and humanness. There are writers like Tim Ferriss who have helped popularize Stoicism to millions, and Laura Kennedy, whose thoughtful “Coping” column runs in The Irish Times, and Donald Robertson, who specializes in the treatment of anxiety and the use of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT).

Chrysippus had been an elite athlete and a Stoic, while today Stoicism is a daily practice for stars in the NFL, the NBA, MLB, World Cup rugby and soccer. Michele Tafoya of Sunday Night Football is an active student of the philosophy, which would make Musonius Rufus smile. On the wall of the clubhouse of the Pittsburgh Pirates is a quote from Epictetus: “It’s not things that upset us. It’s our judgement about things.” Zeno and Seneca and Cato and Cicero were Stoics who oversaw enormous fortunes and large business ventures, just as today Silicon Valley entrepreneurs like Kevin Rose and Wall Street billionaires like Thomas Kaplan maintain their own Stoic practices alongside their businesses. Right now in Washington, D.C., there are senators who get together each morning in the Capitol building and discuss Stoicism, just as their counterparts did in Rome thousands of years ago and the founding fathers did in 1776. May the spirit of Helvidius Priscus grow in that chamber.

As was true in the ancient world, there are also countless other Stoics with less glamorous occupations, who nevertheless experience trials and tribulations that they endure thanks to the wisdom these philosophers helped discover. They are parents. They are citizens. They are teachers. They are mortals with the same desires and fears, hopes and dreams as everyone who has ever lived.

Like you, like Seneca, like Epictetus, like Posidonius, they are trying to do the best they can. They are trying to be the best version of themselves they can be. They are reading and practicing, trying and failing, getting back up and trying again.

As we all must do.

And they will ultimately and inevitably—as all the Stoics in this book did—come to the end of their life at some point. Every one of us dies, the Stoics said, but too few of us actually live. Too many of us die before our time, living—unthinkingly—the kind of life that Seneca described as hardly being different than death.

The irony of this book is that while it is about the lives of the Stoics, in many cases, the most interesting and significant act in the lives of these men and women was their death.

To the Stoics, all of life was a preparation for death. As Cicero had said, to philosophize is to learn how to die. Seneca, even at the height of his powers, was preparing for the close of life. So was Cato. So was Thrasea. So was Zeno. That’s how they were able to muster—in that terrifying or sad moment—courage and dignity, cleverness and compassion.

Whether a Stoic died at the hands of a tyrant or from laughing too hard at a good joke—as Chrysippus did—they were teaching us, they were applying what they had studied for so long in the most important of settings.

In a way, that is a fitting lesson to conclude with. Many of the Stoics fell short of their philosophy in life, but there are no Stoics in these pages who did not die well.

Except for Cicero, who wavered at the end, who compromised, who fled. And it should be noted—not smugly, but convincingly—that he was the one lover of Stoicism who could not truly commit, who prescribed the medicine but refused to take it himself.

As Epictetus wrote, “Is it possible to be free from error? Not by any means, but it is possible to be a person stretching to avoid error.”

That’s what Stoicism is. It’s stretching. Training. To be better. To get better. To avoid one more mistake, to take one step closer toward that ideal. Not perfection, but progress—that’s what each of these lives was about.

The only question that remains for us, the living heirs to this tradition: Are we doing that work?

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TIMELINE OF THE STOICS AND THE GRAECO-ROMAN WORLD