Distinguish between objective and subjective

I’ve only shared it with you once since the beginning of the course, and yet… this one sentence holds the very marrow of Stoicism. Everything else? the concepts, the metaphors, the exercises? simply orbit around it, feed it, illuminate it. But it stands on its own, bare and simple. It carries within it centuries of wisdom, whispered from mouth to mouth across time. And what’s fascinating is that millions—maybe even billions—of human beings live it, experience it, sometimes without even knowing it, without ever hearing its source.

You know the sentence, of course. It’s Epictetus’:

“It is not the things themselves that disturb men, but their judgements about these things.” ¹

This sentence by Epictetus alone {{username}}, is the key to your well-being.

It's our judgment, and therefore our subjectivity, that sometimes makes us unhappy.

If you integrate it

and live by this principle,

you'll never know sadness again.

But this is far from easy. As I told you at the beginning of this program, philosophy is a patient craft, a slow construction. You don’t change the way you think by reading a single maxim—any more than you learn to see clearly by hearing just once that you should “be objective.” That’s why, throughout this course, I invite you to rephrase, to reflect, to meditate. Because it’s through repetition, through steady, gentle effort, that, little by little, a new way of seeing begins to take root.

Now, that being stressed once again,

the lesson Epictetus teaches us is to take an objective view of events and all things in life, the view that is the thing itself in its most essential form, free from judgment, as opposed to the subjective view, the one that is stirred up and fueled by our passions. Philosophers call this work of representation "adequate representation", "comprehensive" or "objective". ²

So everything that surrounds you, everything that happens to you, can be viewed objectively or subjectively.

And it is this work on your objectivity that you have to do. Don't we regularly say "objectively considered..."?

Take this example:

Someone criticizes you.
Objectively—what’s really happening? An external person is expressing a judgment about you. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s their perspective, their perception, their opinion. The fact that they’re criticizing you doesn’t mean they’re right. They’re simply sharing their point of view.

But subjectively… you react. You take it badly. You doubt yourself. Maybe, deep down, you fear they’re right—that you’re not good enough, that you should be better. You worry: What if their judgment influences others? You question your abilities, your worth, you start to feel unsettled. And sometimes, you take it a step further: you tell yourself you shouldn’t be criticized like that. That it’s disrespectful. That it’s unfair.

And just like that, from a single fact—a criticism—your mind has built an entire chain of interpretations, secondary judgments, and emotions. That’s the Stoic’s training ground. Not to run from criticism, but to learn not to collapse under the weight we ourselves place on it.

Fundamentally then,
it's just the opinion of an outsider.

Should this opinion worry you?

No—because objectively, an opinion is not reality. It is simply the perception someone has constructed about you, at a given moment. Nothing more. And the moment you choose to give it weight, you step into the realm of the subjective: you adopt their perspective as if it were true.

So make an effort to control your objective self-talk (he/she has an opinion about me) and your subjective self-talk (I don't care about this opinion, it doesn't affect me and doesn't reflect reality, or a more complex reality than this person wants to see).

In Epictetus’ words:

“Bear in mind that it is not the man who reviles or strikes you that insults you,
but it is your judgement that these men are insulting you.
Therefore, when someone irritates you,
be assured that it is your own opinion which has irritated you. And so make it your first endeavor not to be carried away by the external impression; for if once you gain time and delay, you will more easily become master of yourself.” ³

In Marcus Aurelius’ words:

“Always make a figure or outline of the imagined object as it occurs, in order to see distinctly what it is in its essence, naked, as a whole and parts;
and say to yourself its individual name and the names of the things of which it was compounded and into which it will be broken up.” ⁴

What both Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius teach us
— is that we must stick to the true nature of things, reduce them to their simplest, barest definition, stripped of all projection;
— that it is up to us to see reality with clarity, without mixing in our personal judgments, social biases, or emotional and cultural inheritance;
— that, in short, we must unmask the false values we attach to objects or events, as if their importance came from them, and not from us.

So,
am I inviting you to do the same, {{username}}? In part, yes… but not entirely. In any doctrine, we must learn to gather what uplifts—and leave aside what doesn’t resonate.

You see, I believe that stripping certain things of the warmth we invest in them, of our longing, our attachment, of what makes the heart beat, is sometimes to lose what makes life truly precious.
Protecting ourselves, yes. But at what cost? There is a kind of beauty in that ascetic rigor… and at the same time, a boundary I don’t always feel ready to cross. Because I hold on to that vulnerable part of me, the part that quivers with feeling, that hopes, that loves without guarantees.

It’s up to you, {{username}}, on this philosophical path you’re exploring, to decide where you want to draw the line. What kind of discipline you choose to embrace. What kind of freedom you allow yourself.

At its core, it’s a matter of balance. Of discernment. And perhaps more than anything, of staying true to what gives meaning to you.

You don’t have to embrace everything, nor reject it all. Live by the principles you’ve consciously chosen, even if you stray from them at times. Pay attention to what resonates within you. Keep it. Transform it, maybe. And let the rest drift away, without guilt.

As for me, I like to leave room for a touch of subjectivity in life. A crack. A nuance. Something like an inner poetry, fragile, but alive.