Stillness is the Key: An Ancient Strategy for Modern Life

by Ryan Holiday

To be steady while the world spins around you. To act without frenzy. To hear only what needs to be heard. To possess quietude—exterior and interior—on command.

we have car horns, stereos, cell phone alarms, social media notifications, chainsaws, airplanes.

We are always reachable,

We are overfed and undernourished. Overstimulated, overscheduled, and lonely.

Stillness is what aims the archer’s arrow. It inspires new ideas. It sharpens perspective and illuminates connections. It slows the ball down so that we might hit it. It generates a vision, helps us resist the passions of the mob, makes space for gratitude and wonder. Stillness allows us to persevere. To succeed. It is the key that unlocks the insights of genius, and allows us regular folks to understand them.

To thinking clearly. To seeing the whole chessboard. To making tough decisions. To managing our emotions. To identifying the right goals. To handling high-pressure situations. To maintaining relationships. To building good habits. To being productive. To physical excellence. To feeling fulfilled. To capturing moments of laughter and joy.

Anyone who has walked out alone on a quiet street at night as the snow fell, and watched as the light fell softly on that snow and is warmed by the contentment of being alive—that too is stillness.

looking out at the ocean, or really any part of nature, and feeling like part of something bigger than oneself;

We can see in Kennedy’s handwritten notes taken during the crisis, a sort of meditative process by which he tried to do precisely this. On numerous pages, he writes “Missile. Missile. Missile,” or “Veto. Veto. Veto. Veto,” or “Leaders. Leaders. Leaders.” On one page, showing his desire to not act alone or selfishly: “Consensus. Consensus. Consensus. Consensus. Consensus. Consensus.” On a yellow legal pad during one meeting, Kennedy drew two sailboats, calming himself with thoughts of the ocean he loved so much. Finally, on White House stationery, as if to clarify to himself the only thing that mattered, he wrote one short sentence: “We are demanding withdrawal of the missiles.”

We can see in Kennedy’s handwritten notes taken during the crisis, a sort of meditative process by which he tried to do precisely this. On numerous pages, he writes “Missile. Missile. Missile,” or “Veto. Veto. Veto. Veto,” or “Leaders. Leaders. Leaders.” On one page, showing his desire to not act alone or selfishly: “Consensus. Consensus. Consensus. Consensus. Consensus. Consensus.” On a yellow legal pad during one meeting, Kennedy drew two sailboats, calming himself with thoughts of the ocean he loved so much. Finally, on White House stationery, as if to clarify to himself the only thing that mattered, he wrote one short sentence: “We are demanding withdrawal of the missiles.”

Keep strong, if possible. In any case, keep cool. Have unlimited patience. Never corner an opponent, and always assist him to save face. Put yourself in his shoes—so as to see things through his eyes. Avoid self-righteousness like the devil—nothing is so self-blinding.

Keep strong, if possible. In any case, keep cool. Have unlimited patience. Never corner an opponent, and always assist him to save face. Put yourself in his shoes—so

so as to see things through his eyes. Avoid self-righteousness like the devil—not...

“I think we ought to think of why the Russians did this,”

“With his capacity to understand the problems of others, the President could see how threatening the world might have looked to the Kremlin.”

This understanding would help him respond properly to this unexpected and dangerous provocation—and give him insight into how the Soviets would react to that response.

No fighting, no raised voices. No finger-pointing (and when things did get tense, Kennedy laughed it off). Kennedy didn’t let his own ego dominate the discussions, nor did he allow anyone else’s to. When

true leadership

In the tensest moments, Kennedy sought solitude in the White House Rose Garden (afterward, he would thank the gardener for her important contributions during the crisis). He would go for long swims, both to clear his mind and to think. He sat in his specially made rocking chair in the Oval Office, bathed in the light of those enormous windows,

In the tensest moments, Kennedy sought solitude in the White House Rose Garden (afterward, he would thank the gardener for her important contributions during the crisis). He would go for long swims, both to clear his mind and to think. He sat in his specially made rocking chair in the Oval Office, bathed in the light of those enormous windows,

bliss

Yet he lets none of this rush him. None of it will cloud his judgment or deter him from doing the right thing. He is the stillest guy in the room.

He is the stillest guy in the room.

With clear thinking, wisdom, patience, and a keen eye for the root of a complex, provocative conflict, Kennedy had saved the world from a nuclear holocaust.

Careful as someone crossing an iced-over stream. Alert as a warrior in enemy territory. Courteous as a guest. Fluid as melting ice. Shapable as a block of wood. Receptive as a valley.

Clear as a glass of water.

The Daoists would say that he had stilled the muddied water in his mind until ...

The Daoists would say that he had stilled the muddied water in his mind until ...

Be fully present. • Empty our mind of preconceptions. • Take our time. • Sit quietly and reflect. • Reject distraction. • Weigh advice against the counsel of our convictions. • Deliberate without being paralyzed.

We must cultivate mental stillness to succeed in life and to successfully navigate the many crises it throws our way.

Marina, aged sixty-three, her long hair braided and over her shoulder, walked into the cavernous room, sat down in a hard wooden chair, and simply stared at the person across from her. One after another they came, hour after hour, day in and day out, for nearly three months. Each time, she looked down, gathered herself, and then looked up afresh at the new face.

There may be a beautiful sunset, but instead of taking it in, we’re taking a picture of it.

We want to learn to see the world like an artist: While other people are oblivious to what surrounds them, the artist really sees. Their mind, fully engaged, notices the way a bird flies or the way a stranger holds their fork or a mother looks at her child. They have no thoughts of the morrow. All they are thinking about is how to capture and communicate this experience.

Make what you can of what you have been given. Live what can be lived. That’s what excellence is.

We would do well to follow this in our own lives. Jesus told his disciples not to worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will take care of itself.

That’s the nice thing about the present. It keeps showing up to give you a second chance.

A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.

Napoleon made it his habit to delay responding to the mail. His secretary was instructed to wait three weeks before opening any correspondence.

be selective about who and what kind of information got access to his brain.

There is way too much coming at us. In order to think clearly, it is essential that each of us figures out how to filter out the inconsequential from the essential.

There’s too much information, every trivial detail is magnified under the microscope, speculation is rampant—and

the mind is overwhelmed.

Each of us has access to more information than we could ever reasonably use.

Napoleon was content with being behind on his

mail, even if it upset some people

The important stuff will still be important by the time you get to it.

“Eisenhower Box,”

a mile deep on what mattered rather than an inch on too many things.

Marcus Aurelius says, “Ask yourself at every moment, ‘Is this necessary?’ ”

Knowing what not to think about. What to ignore and not to do. It’s your first and most important job.

The way you feel when you awake early in the morning and your mind is fresh and as yet unsoiled by the noise of the outside world—that’s space worth protecting.

Put up barriers.