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Stop Lying. Most of What I Call "Reasons" are Just Elegant Excuses I recently read the claim that "Only ten percent of our decisions are truly rational, while ninety percent are rationalizations." The idea didn't come from Facebook or TikTok; it's a popular interpretation of decades of psychological and neuroscientific research on how humans actually make choices. Thinkers such as Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman and marketing scholar Gerald Zaltman are proponents of this view.  While the percentages may be debatable, the core message is spot on: We mostly feel first, and think second. Remembering this can help me decide , by being more self-aware of how emotional impulses influence my decisions, which is crucial for personal growth.  I need to stop lying to myself. Most of what I like to call "reasons" are just complicated excuses for bad behavior. I tell myself stories that justify questionable decisions. I am aware of this fallacy in my thinkin...

I s everyone living a superfluous life?  This planet is crawling with billions of us — stressfully going to work, devotedly posting trite photos online, and angrily arguing about the policies and behaviors of self-serving elected officials. On the surface, human behavior can seem very industrious and meaningful. Upon closer examination, however, it bears a striking similarity to scurrying rats.    Most people try to present the impression of being happy and fulfilled. Or at least occupied. Some "find themselves" through religion, by raising a family, or in making sourdough starters; others volunteer for veterans' causes, rescue animals, or collect vintage watches. Some go to therapy, some journal, some hike — these are all excellent distractions from the universal truth that, cosmically speaking, life is entirely pointless. We are mortal. Time is gradually erasing the memory of everything and everyone we see or hear.  Yesterday, I attended a Veterans' Day luncheon...

W hen I’m tired, I catch myself chasing after the right word, like my brain is misfiring just enough to leave me hanging. Usually, I can swap in something close enough, but that “it’s on the tip of my tongue” feeling? It drives me nuts. Am I getting tired more often now? Just the other day, it was just my wife and me, chatting about someone we both know who’s been having a rough time with Parkinson’s disease. For some reason, even though the condition was clear in my mind, the name just vanished. All I could offer was “the shaking disease”—and thank goodness my wife stepped in with the actual word. I recognized it instantly, of course. But not five minutes later, the word “Parkinson’s” slipped away again. So once again, I leaned on her memory. This isn’t the first time. Over the last few months, that particular word keeps playing hide-and-seek with me. Even writing this down, I ended up searching for “shaking disease” so I could find the word “Parkinson’s” to type. It just woul...

A t 67 years old, I’ve decided that serenity isn’t just a pleasant ideal—it’s essential, and it rarely comes without effort. It takes discernment, restraint, and often, a willingness to step back. Peace of mind isn’t up for negotiation—especially around those who thrive on emotional upheaval and/or sincerely believe their unchecked opinions are immutable truths. Some of my family members speak with such absolute certainty that you’d think disagreement was an act of heresy. Every conversation risks a storm, so for years, I did my best to reason with them. I sought common ground, more-or-less embodying Christian and Stoic virtues: patience, understanding, keeping my cool. But, after countless gatherings ending in exhaustion—blood pressure climbing, blood sugar spiking, energy vanishing for days—it's become clear: this isn't just about clashing philosophies or politics; it's about my health, physically and mentally. Stoicism, as I see it, doesn’t demand martyrdom for the sake ...

I 've come to see that most people don't actually want freedom — they want comfort. They say they want freedom, but what they really mean is the freedom to avoid effort . The freedom to eat what they want, watch what they want, sleep in when they feel like it, and call that "living." I used to think that way too. But over time I realized that comfort isn't freedom — it's a kind of slavery. The undisciplined person isn't free at all. They're chained to their impulses, ruled by their moods, and dependent on circumstances to feel okay. Akira the Don's song " Discipline Equals Freedom " (based on Jocko Willink's words) hit me the first time I heard it. The phrase sounds almost contradictory — but it's exactly right. When I live with discipline, I feel freer, lighter, more in control. When I let myself drift, I start to feel trapped — even if nobody's telling me what to do. Ancient Philosophers understood this long before Jocko ...

W hy does the universe seem just right for life? Why are the laws of physics balanced on a razor's edge that allows atoms to form, stars to shine, and organisms like us to exist? Is it the Anthropic Principle ? That's the cosmological concept that says, essentially, the universe must be compatible with conscious life because conscious life is here to observe it. Then there is Modern Stoicism —a philosophy centered on reason, virtue, and accepting what we cannot control to navigate both the mysteries of the universe and the daily mess of being human. The Anthropic Principle comes in a few versions: Weak Anthropic Principle: We observe the universe the way it is because it has to be this way for us to exist and ask the question in the first place. Strong Anthropic Principle: The universe is structured in such a way that the emergence of conscious observers is not just allowed but required . The principle often comes up in discussions about the apparent ...

I am an Introvert. Crowds drain me, small talk is tedious, and quiet reflection and one-on-one connection are my preference. Yet, even so, I tend to thrive in specific social roles. I have stood in front of a room as a supervisor, performed on stage, spoken publicly, and acted as a public spokesperson—and during those moments, I felt fully alive, alert, energetic, and connected. As a supervisor, I enjoyed guiding and helping others. I felt a sense of satisfaction as a performer on stage. I was energized by the chance to represent my organization as a spokesperson. But when the crowd dispersed, the meeting closed, or the applause faded— I retreated, grateful to return to solitude. In his 2025 book , The Gift of Not Belonging , psychiatrist Rami Kaminski introduces the term otrovert—derived from otro, meaning "other" in Spanish—to describe a distinct personality orientation that is not fully captured by the familiar introvert-extrovert spectrum. The term otrovert— someone who...

Any power you have comes to you from far beyond. Everything is fixed, and you can't change it.           — Jesus to Pilate in the musical Jesus Christ Superstar T here’s something both oddly comforting and deeply unsettling about determinism. On one hand, it means you're not to blame for that embarrassing thing you said in 2014. On the other, it means you might not be steering the ship at all. Determinism, a concept that has echoed through the corridors of history, is the idea that everything — your thoughts, your choices, your Spotify Wrapped — is the inevitable result of prior causes. It's a notion that has been pondered by great minds of the past, and if we could rewind the universe and play it forward again, it would unfold exactly the same way. This idea isn’t new. The Stoics were early champions. They believed the cosmos runs on logos — divine reason, a kind of metaphysical cause-and-effect. Their advice? Since you can’t change fate, stop complaining ...

W hen the Stoic philosophers spoke of “God,” they didn’t mean a bearded man on a cloud. Their theos was not a supernatural personality outside of nature, but the totality of existence itself — the rational, ordered, living whole of which we are a part. In this sense, “God” was simply another word for the universe, infused with reason ( logos ), uncreated, eternal, and self-sustaining. Today, 2,000 years later, modern thinkers — whether they call themselves pantheists, naturalists, or just curious human beings — are finding themselves arriving at a similar place. The idea that the universe itself is divine, not because it’s magical, but because it is the total, interconnected reality that produces life, mind, and meaning, has a strange way of persisting. The Stoic View: God as Nature, Nature as God The Stoics, especially thinkers like Chrysippus and Marcus Aurelius, held that God and Nature were the same. The cosmos was a single, living organism, guided by reason ( logos ), and all...