LXVII. February's Stoic Spiritual Exercises
These practices will give us strength in tough times, keep us steady as we improve, and offer comfort when life gets chaotic. They’ll push us to stay on the right path—until the very end.
The ‘Neuroscience-based Tools’, ‘Lead to Win’ & the Le Monde Élégant social skills sections are companions for The Stoic Manual to enhance your physical and psychological health, vitality, stress resilience, discipline, focus, motivation, and refine your people skills, relationships & leadership skills for a distinguished life—by Dr. Antonius Veritas
the spartan woman
The call came late at night.
I almost didn’t answer. My body was heavy with exhaustion, my mind fogged by the kind of tiredness that makes even lifting a phone feel like a task. But something—some instinct buried deep in my chest—made me reach for it.
It was my sister.
Her voice wavered, a sound I had never heard from her before. Not in childhood scrapes, not in the heartbreak of a difficult marriage, not in the relentless, bone-grinding stress of hospital work. This was something else. Something darker.
She told me the diagnosis. Stage IV. Ovarian cancer.
My chest caved in. A deep, raw pressure settled in my stomach, spreading like ink in water. My hands had gone cold. I barely remember mumbling something before the call ended.
I’m a doctor. I knew what Stage IV meant.
I had seen those words in patient charts before. I had spoken them in sterile hospital rooms, watched families crumble under their weight. But never had they been aimed at someone I loved. At her. It felt like a cruel cosmic joke. A punishment without a crime.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if the darkness behind my lids could protect me from reality. The last time I saw her, she had been laughing—tilting her head back, so proud of herself and what she had finally achieved. I wondered if I would ever hear that laugh again.
I gripped my knees, fingernails pressing into the fabric of my bed sheets. My sister—my best friend—was dying. The girl who used to buy me toys and snacks when I was a kid, who could make me laugh until my stomach hurt, who somehow always knew what to say when I was a rebellious teenager. The one who had just started living her dream—working as a nurse, raising her girls, showing up for everyone.
And she had been walking around with this, unknowing.
Nine months of mild pain. Nine months of brushing it off while going to work, picking up groceries, attending school events, tucking her daughters into bed. Nine months before the tumor pressed too hard, before her body finally gave her no choice but to stop. Before she needed emergency laparoscopic surgery for abdominal obstruction.
I pressed my forehead against the cool metal of the stall. A sharp sob clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down.
Why?
Why her? Why now? Why someone so good?
Tears burned behind my eyelids. I squeezed them shut, shaking my head as if I could physically reject the reality of it. But reality has a way of sitting with you, unwelcome, heavy as stone.
And yet—she carried it differently.
Seeing her handle the diagnosis with grace gave me strength. It made me wipe my tears and be strong for her, for our family—because I had no excuse.
It was the way she could still smile at me, still chuckle on phone calls, still help out at the house, still care for and guide her two daughters. No doubt she had moments of despair, especially after a round of chemotherapy when just standing was a struggle. But somehow, she always found her way back—back into who she was. Back into the light within her soul.
Her resilience was the embodiment of Seneca’s words:
"Even if some obstacle comes on the scene, its appearance is only to be compared to that of clouds which drift in front of the sun without ever defeating its light."
She would sometimes chafe at her fate in jest, asking me, "What am I supposed to do? Cry? Haha," reminding me of the legendary wit of Spartan women. If Epictetus were still alive, he would have been proud of her:
"I must die. Must I then die lamenting? I must be put in chains. Must I then also lament? I must go into exile. Does any man then hinder me from going with smiles and cheerfulness and contentment?"
She had hope. She had trust. There was no way, she told me, that she had come this far just to come this far. She would face it all with humor, lightheartedness, honor, and grace, because, as she put it, “it felt like a movie.” And in a movie, you choose the character you play. You decide how to interpret every scene, how to move forward with the plot.
And she had already decided: she would not be the victim. She would be the beau idéal.
But how?
How do you become like that?
How do you look at the worst thing imaginable and smile anyway?
How do you live when death is watching from the corner of the room?
What tools did the Stoics leave us to meet fate with courage?
Tom Wolfe's character, Conrad, in 'A Man in Full,' expresses this attitude best,
“Only Epictetus began with the assumption that life is hard, brutal, punishing, narrow, and confining, a deadly business, and that fairness and unfairness are beside the point.
Only Epictetus, so far as Conrad knew, was a philosopher who had been stripped of everything, imprisoned, tortured, enslaved, threatened with death. And only Epictetus had looked his tormenters in the eye and said, 'You do what you have to do, and I will do what I have to do, which is live and die like a man."
That’s the theme of today’s entry—Stoic spiritual exercises focusing on strength, grace, and endurance. Because if my sister can do it, so can I. And maybe, just maybe—so can you.
Below, we’ll explore the philosophical practices that have remained relevant for over 2,000 years, the ones that have shaped kingdoms, encouraged prisoners of war, slaves and the destitute, guided presidents, turned businesses into empires, and transformed athletes into legends. More importantly, they’re the same exercises that’ll help people like you and me navigate the ups and downs of daily life.
These practices will give us strength in tough times, keep us steady as we improve, and offer comfort when life gets chaotic. They’ll push us to stay on the right path—not just today, but tomorrow, next week, next month—until the very end. And if ever you feel lost, in the blink of despair, you can always return to this post for a reminder of the power you possess, a guide, and a reason to keep going.
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