Knowing how to belong to oneself

It’s not what others think of you.
Nor the way they judge you,
nor the way they look at your career, your house, your car, your spouse.

The most important thing, the most essential of all?

"The greatest thing in the world?
It is to know how to belong to oneself." ¹

To belong to oneself.

Does this phrase seem obscure to you?
Let me tell you what it means to me. Then, you can reflect on it in your own way.

To belong to oneself is to preserve your nature, your essence, your way of being. It is to follow the path that fate has set for you without distorting it to please or reassure others. It is to live your life—yours, not the one others would have you live. It is to fully embody yourself. It is to love yourself. You already know this. You've seen it in Instagram posts dripping with feel-good sentiments, on the covers of bestselling self-help books stacked at the entrance of the bookstore.
"Love yourself." "Be yourself." And that quote from Oscar Wilde that I love, if only for its sheer musicality: "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."

— Okay, mmmarcus, being myself, fine. But then what? What difference does it make in my life?
— You know it, {{username}}. It starts with stopping the endless worry about what they might think of you.
— They? Who are they?
— Everyone. The entire world.

BUT.
I grant you, staying true to yourself seems like a modest ambition.
Almost too simple.

— You took the words right out of my mouth. Isn’t there something greater, more noble, than just "being oneself"?

In my opinion, within the realm of what is truly achievable—meaning what is within our actual reach—this is one of the hardest challenges of all.

Think about it. Life in society means that you are never fully yourself. That much, you already understand. But let’s dig deeper: are we truly ourselves when we go beyond reason? I have a friend who risks everything to pursue his passion—to be an actor. Is he still truly himself when he struggles to pay his rent, to fill his fridge? And yet, he will tell you that he is. That despite the hardships, despite the anxiety of the unknown, he remains true to himself. Because he is following what makes him come alive, what drives him. But at what cost? Are we still ourselves when we stubbornly chase a dream that is grinding us down? When passion becomes a golden cage we refuse to leave, even at the expense of our well-being? There is a fine line between being faithful to oneself and being blind. Between authenticity and sheer obstinacy. Can we truly be ourselves if we live in constant insecurity, if every month is a struggle, if we can’t even afford the freedom to breathe without fear of tomorrow?

Perhaps belonging to oneself is not simply about following one’s desires at any cost, but learning how to negotiate with them—giving them a little more space than strict Stoicism teaches us. And here, I allow myself a slight departure from the most rigid precepts of the doctrine. Because while Stoicism teaches us to master our desires, to not be enslaved by them, it does not advocate for their total extinction. Seneca himself, in his letters, does not preach a dry, colorless life, but rather an existence in which we consciously choose what we give weight to.

So, I allow myself to add nuance here. To say that perhaps, belonging to oneself is not just about rejecting the grip of passions, but granting them the right to exist—within reason. Like extending a hand to a willful child without giving in to their every whim.

It is in these terms that Stefan Zweig presents this idea in his biography of Montaigne:

“We must not give ourselves entirely; we must only lend ourselves. ‘We must preserve the freedom of our soul and mortgage it only on just occasions.’
We do not need to withdraw from the world or retreat into a cell. However, we must establish a distinction: we may love this or that thing, but we must marry only ourselves. Montaigne does not reject our passions or desires—far from it. On the contrary, he advises us to always enjoy them as much as we can.
If someone takes pleasure in politics, let them engage in politics. If they love books, let them read. If they enjoy hunting, let them hunt. If they love their home, their land, money, or material things, let them devote themselves to them. But above all, one must take as much as one wishes without being taken by those things.
‘In household affairs, in study, in hunting, and in every other activity, one must go as far as the limits of pleasure allow—and stop there, before pain begins to mix in.’
One must not be swept away by duty, by passion, or by ambition beyond the point they originally intended to reach. One must constantly examine the value of things, never overestimate them, and stop where pleasure stops.
To remain awake. To never be drawn in too deeply. To never become a slave. To be free. » ²