“When you are distressed by an external thing, it’s not the thing itself that troubles you, but only your judgment of it. And you can wipe this out at a moment’s notice.”
— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.47
Every hardship carries two parts: what happens, and what we decide it means.
The first is beyond our control; the second is ours entirely.
Our reactions — not the events themselves — create much of our suffering.
Marcus Aurelius writes in Meditations 5.8:
“Whatever happens to you was prepared for you from all eternity, and the thread of causes was spun from the beginning.”
It’s a staggering image. Marcus sees life as a tapestry already woven: what we face today is not an accident but a strand in an immense design. To the Stoic, this design is governed by logos — the rational order of the universe. Things do not simply happen; they unfold, linked by necessity.
“Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.”
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.8“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.”
—Matthew 6:34 (RSV-2CE)
Anxiety about tomorrow is as old as humanity itself. The Romans wrestled with it; first-century Judeans struggled with it; and in our own age of calendars, alerts, and forecasts, we’re still ensnared by it.
Impressionist-style view from Casa Flourish, Yelapa, Mexico – August 2, 2025
There’s something about waking before the world stirs that feels a little like stealing time. This morning, on the southern curve of Yelapa’s bay, I found myself wrapped in that kind of stillness—the kind you can’t manufacture, only discover.
Casa Flourish sits quietly above the water, nestled into the hillside like it’s been waiting for centuries to host mornings just like this. The sky was still dark when I slipped out of bed, long before anyone else in the house stirred. I made my way to the palapa roof, coffee in hand, and took in the moment. There were no distractions—just the rhythm of the water, the gentle clink of moored fishing boats, and the occasional distant crow of a rooster reminding the jungle it was almost time to wake up.