Friday, January 9, 2026
Did the morning gratitude exercise today - the one from Day 9 of the program. I've been skeptical of these kinds of practices. They feel a bit too "live laugh love" for my taste. But I committed to doing the full 30 days, so I sat down with my coffee and actually did it.
Three things I'm grateful for. I started with the obvious: my health, my job, my apartment. But those felt rote. Like I was checking boxes. So I tried again, smaller. What am I actually grateful for right now, in this exact moment?
The warmth of this coffee mug in my hands. The way the morning light is coming through the window, making everything look softer. A text I got last night from my college roommate - just checking in, nothing dramatic, but evidence that somewhere out there, someone was thinking of me.
And here's the thing: my mood actually shifted. Not dramatically. I didn't suddenly become a morning person. But there was this small... opening. Like I'd been looking at my life through a narrow lens and someone had adjusted the aperture slightly. Same scene, more light.
How many mornings have I sat in this exact spot, drinking coffee, watching the same light, and not noticed any of it? How much of life am I missing because I'm too busy rushing to the next thing? The Stoics talked about this, didn't they? Being present. Noticing. Maybe that's not about meditation retreats and breathwork. Maybe it's just about actually being where you are.
Stoic AF Response
Generated at 7:45 AM
"True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future."
You just discovered what Seneca was trying to tell us two thousand years ago: the present moment is the only place where life actually happens. The past is memory, the future is imagination. That warm mug, that light through the window, that text from your friend - those are real. Those are yours. Right now.
The Stoics weren't naive optimists. They knew that the same light that warms your morning coffee will eventually set. That the friend who texted you won't be around forever. That everything you currently have - your health, your apartment, even that mug - will eventually be taken away or transformed. This isn't morbid. It's the truth that makes gratitude possible.
Here's where I want to push you further: Seneca practiced something called negative visualization. Not pessimism - visualization. He would deliberately imagine losing the things he loved. Not to be depressed, but to appreciate them more fully while he had them. To loosen the grip of attachment just enough that he could hold things without being destroyed when they changed.
Try negative visualization: pick one thing from your gratitude list and briefly imagine life without it. Not to create fear, but to sharpen appreciation. What would you miss most? What would you wish you'd noticed more? Then come back to the present, where you still have it. Feel the difference.