Living Temperance
Less indulgence equals more contentment and freedom
A Stoic life is not a finish line to be crossed—it is a discipline to be practiced daily. I do not seek a reward at the end; my reward is found in the steady refinement of my character. Each day, I strive to improve, both mentally and physically, by adhering to the values I have chosen and cultivating the resilience needed to endure life’s inevitable hardships.
Lately, I have turned my attention to the virtue of temperance—specifically in how I eat and drink. Some of this is a simple matter of age; what I could get away with at twenty is no longer possible. But more importantly, I have become acutely aware of how external forces shape my behavior. What makes me feel bad? What unconscious triggers drive me to indulge as a response to stress?
The more I internalize Stoic principles, the less I find myself reaching for external comforts. In doing so, I am forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: much of my past indulgence wasn’t even my own choice—it was a script handed to me by society. The message is relentless. Every advertisement for food or drink is wrapped in the promise of happiness. The smiling faces, the warm gatherings, the suggestion that fulfillment comes in a bottle or on a plate.
This is not a lie, but it is not the whole truth either. I still enjoy a good meal and a drink with friends. But I now ask myself: Am I doing this for the connection, or am I using the company—and the indulgence—as a distraction? Was I once seeking solace in food and drink rather than in genuine fellowship? The answer, if I am honest, is yes.
At its core, this impulse stems from a desire to control what I cannot. Stress thrives on illusion—on the belief that if I could just manipulate the uncontrollable, I would find peace. But the moment I stop grasping at the impossible and instead focus on what is within my power—my thoughts, my reactions, my actions—I find that stress loses its grip. And with it, the impulse to medicate the stress disappears.
A Stoic does not escape discomfort; he learns to master it. Temperance is not deprivation—it is freedom.