Okay friends, time to get loose with some words!

The title of this post may not make any sense to you, and it makes all the sense in the world to me! It manifests my deep desire and commitment to embrace and exude healthy paradox, emerging in the form of fun, which I absolutely love. Suspend disbelief and take a dive with me, ya? Maybe you’ll have some fun too:

Stoic: “a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining.” — Oxford Languages

Hedonist: “a person who believes that the pursuit of pleasure is the most important thing in life; a ‘pleasure-seeker'” –also Oxford

I got a lot of ‘stoic’ messages growing up, some healthy and some not so much. I fell onto a sprinkler head while playing in the water one young summer, gouging a dime-sized chunk of flesh out of my knee, the kind of wound that would only heal by filling in scar tissue from the edges over a couple of weeks. As my nurse mom applied medicine, her demeanor was calm and clinical, and she told me to be still, be brave–勇敢 (yong gan). Looking back, there was no shaming or denial of my pain, just reassurance that everything would be okay, and I had it in me to endure. It was validating and encouraging. Years later, as I cried audibly in the theater during the most tragic movie I had seen to date, a male relative pinched my thigh–hard–to get me to stop. I understood that message clearly, and it was neither validating nor encouraging.

Feel it maybe, control it always, show it never. How many of us could identify this, or something similar, as an unspoken mantra in our families of origin? Or in our collective culture today? When someone is sad, or even happy, how (un)comfortable are we with their tears? Or our own? What are the acceptable expressions of emotion? Smiling, laughing, hugging, drinking, yelling, honking, gesturing, throwing, slamming, dismissing, deflecting, turning away–including with/at/from ourselves? What does this cost us in psychic energy, physical health, and most importantly, human(e) connection with self and others? And how is it both useful and harmful?

Contrary to what some may think, stoicism is not about repressing, denying, or expelling emotions. It’s more about a commited self-awareness and self-regulation practice, so as to not let intense emotions hijack us into poor decisions and ruined relationships. It’s about balancing feelings with reason, clearing the path for (inter)acting according to our highest goals and core values. It makes sense, then, that a dedicated practitioner may end up with what we colloquially call the ‘stoic’ demeanor–straight posture, neutral expression, generally undemonstrative carriage. And, not necessarily. I think it’s possible–preferable, actually–for a true stoic to live an expressive life; just not excessively or gratuitously so. And even if not outwardly obvious, an ardent stoic can (and does, in my opinion) still experience, even revel in their deep, powerful, and moving emotions, while still keeping a leash on it all. For many, this may be easier said than done; that is why the sister practice of mindfulness comes in so handy, particularly skills that help us manage difficult emotions. Stoicism, then, is a practice of inner peace.

Life is so full of sensations–movement, sound, temperature, texture, taste (omg all the flavors!!), light, color, mass, frangance–I feel giddy just seeking the words! And all of this in addition to the infinite complexities of emotion, relationship, and community, holy cow! We are here for such a short time, how sad would it be to live an entire life without full and vibrant awareness, attention, and appreciation for all there is to possibly sense and experience? This is why I love the idea of ‘healthy hedonism’–an all-in, sensually fulfilling relationship with pleasure, yes, but really I think it’s about joy–the quintessential manifestation of joie de vivre. Hedonism is not the same as debauchery. I think of it as liberated and exuberant engagement with all that our sensory world has to offer, within healthy boundaries–actually similar to stoicism in its grounded mindfulness of and devotion to a Why–living a full and fulfilling, attuned and connected, self-actualized and purposeful life.

Feel it all, manage it well, effuse it appropriately: A new personal mantra in progress, maybe. Allow the feelings, apply good reason, express for connection. Practice withstanding severe discomfort. Equip myself to plumb my emotional depths with confidence. Be with it, surrender–to pain, joy, love, loss, uncertainty, confusion, awe, outrage, fantasy, all of it–and then self-regulate: Do the work, learn the lessons, and apply in relationship, the ultimate human expression. As I write this, it’s so clear that besides mindfulness, self-compassion is another key skill for a hedonic stoic to practice.

To face all feelings without fearing them, to embrace a full spectrum of sensation and aliveness, and to emanate unfettered joy, all while solidly grounded in an ethos of love and contribution: This is the essential spirt of the hedonic stoic.

Sign me up.