Last August, I wrote an article for THE STOIC magazine entitled “Temperance as Freedom.” In it, I reflected on the Stoics’ claims that temperance is not a form of deprivation but a source of liberty. By learning to govern our desires rather than becoming governed by them, we free ourselves from a kind of dependence upon external things. At the time, I was thinking primarily about pleasures, comforts, and possessions.
I still think there is truth in that. But over the past year, I have come to suspect that I was only beginning to appreciate the breadth of that particular virtue.
The Invisible Overload
When people speak of temperance, we often default to the obvious examples. We think about food, drink, money, or material goods. The Stoics certainly had much to say about those things. Yet I wonder whether some of the forms of excess that shape our lives are less tangible and therefore easier to overlook.
The world around us assumes that more is generally better. More information, more opportunities, more experiences, more accomplishments. We admire growth and expansion almost instinctively. It can seem strange, perhaps even irresponsible, to question whether everything available to us deserves to be pursued.
Over the past year, I’ve noticed myself asking different questions than I once did. I spend less time wondering what comes next and more time wondering whether I actually want what comes next. Some of that no doubt comes with age, and some of it comes from having watched plans change, work shift, health concerns arise, and priorities rearrange themselves in ways I never anticipated. Things that once seemed terribly important have a way of becoming negotiable. Other things, often smaller and easier to overlook, seem to acquire greater weight.
A Shift in Ambition But Not in Joy
I don’t think this has made me less ambitious. But I do think it has made me somewhat less interested in treating achievement as a good in itself.
In recent years, Greg and I have found ourselves talking more often about what really matters to us and less about what we are supposed to want. We have undertaken what many people at our age do and have significantly downsized. We’ve not just talked about simplifying but actually done it. We’ve also left behind some of the assumptions that quietly shape so much of modern life. We continue to think about and discuss how much space we actually need, how much work is enough, and what kind of days we hope to have if we are fortunate enough to grow old together.
These conversations have not been driven by dissatisfaction. If anything, they arise from gratitude. We have both reached the point where the appeal of endless striving is fading. There are still projects that excite us and work we hope to do –– this pursuit of The Stoic Heart® being one of them. But there is also a growing appreciation for quieter things like a good conversation, an evening walk on the RiverWalk, time to read, and the chance to pursue meaningful work without surrendering every waking hour to it.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons Stoic thinkers regarded temperance as a source of freedom. Appetite does not confine itself to food and drink. We can become just as attached to productivity, recognition, possessions, or the comforting sense that we are indispensable. We can become so accustomed to urgency that we forget to ask whether everything demanding our attention deserves it.
I don’t mean to suggest that there is anything virtuous about having less merely for the sake of having less. I disagree with those who see Stoicism as a philosophy of self-imposed misery or an extension of asceticism. The Stoics were not interested in poverty as an ideal. They were more interested in learning to distinguish between what is necessary and what is superfluous, and in recognizing how often we confuse preferences with necessities.
Shifting Priorities Over Time
That distinction becomes increasingly interesting with age.
There are things I once regarded as indispensable that now seem merely pleasant. There are ambitions I once held tightly that no longer carry the same urgency. And there are ordinary things I once took for granted that have become more precious than I would have imagined.
Perhaps this is simply what happens when enough unexpected things occur. Plans change. Circumstances shift. People become ill. Jobs disappear. New opportunities emerge where old ones close. The future refuses to cooperate with our expectations. And somewhere along the way, we will (or do) discover that much of what we thought we needed was simply what we had grown accustomed to having.
The Stoics believed that temperance makes us free because it prevents us from becoming slaves to our desires. I suspect that insight extends further than I appreciated when I first wrote about it. These days, I find myself less interested in accumulation and more interested in sufficiency. Not because I have arrived at some settled conclusion about what constitutes “enough,” but because the question itself seems worth asking.
And perhaps that question changes throughout the course of a life. Maybe at each stage, we’re meant to ask ourselves questions like, “What does enough look like now? What deserves our attention? What can be set aside without regret?”
I do not know that there are universal answers. I suspect each of us must discover them for ourselves. But I have begun to think that temperance has as much to do with making room as it does with restraint. Making room for what matters. Making room for the people we love. Making room for the ordinary pleasures that are easily crowded out. Making room, perhaps, for a life that feels less hurried and more fully inhabited.
Those are thoughts I have found myself returning to lately. I suspect I will continue to revisit them, and perhaps understand them differently, as time goes on –– and that’s the joy of pursuing study as part of a well-lived life.
The Stoic Heart® helps individuals and couples navigate the complexities of modern relationships using the timeless principles of Stoic philosophy. We provide the tools for disciplined communication, emotional self-mastery, and deeper, more intentional connections in a variety of settings, from home to work to the wider community. We apply Stoic practice to help others live more in harmony with nature.
