DaveVanAllen.com

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 ...