The Art of Grit

(8 Minutes)
More than two thousand years ago, the Greek philosopher Epicurus made an observation that feels startlingly relevant today: “He who has peace of mind disturbs neither himself nor another.” In our current climate of endless news cycles, economic uncertainty, and social division, these words offer something we rarely encounter—a different way forward.
Most of us have been taught to look outward for peace. We wait for the right election results, the perfect relationship, financial security, or global stability before we allow ourselves to feel truly at ease. It’s a logical approach, isn’t it? Fix what’s broken around us first, then we can finally relax.
Yet here we are, decades into this strategy, and peace feels as elusive as ever. The conditions we’ve been waiting for seem to shift like sand. The political landscape changes, economic markets fluctuate, relationships evolve, and somehow that promised tranquility remains just out of reach.

The Inside-Out Approach
What if we’ve been approaching this backwards? What if peace of mind isn’t the reward we get after everything else falls into place, but rather the foundation from which we engage with an imperfect world?
This isn’t about ignoring real problems or pretending external circumstances don’t matter. They do. Economic hardship is real. Political turmoil affects lives. Broken relationships cause genuine pain. But consider this: two people can face identical external circumstances and have completely different internal experiences. The difference isn’t in what’s happening around them—it’s in what’s happening within them.
When Epicurus spoke of peace of mind, he wasn’t describing a person who had achieved perfect external conditions. He was describing someone who had learned to maintain equilibrium regardless of external turbulence. This person, he observed, “disturbs neither himself nor another”—they become a source of stability rather than additional chaos.

The Ripple Effect
There’s something profound in that second part of Epicurus’s insight. The person with inner peace doesn’t just benefit themselves; they stop contributing to the collective disturbance. Think about your own experience. When you’re feeling centered and calm, how do you show up in conversations? In traffic? In disagreements? Now contrast that with how you engage when you’re anxious, reactive, or seeking peace from external validation.
We often underestimate how much our internal state influences the energy we bring to every interaction. The parent who has found some measure of inner stability creates a different family dynamic than one who is constantly seeking peace through controlling circumstances. The colleague who maintains equanimity during uncertainty becomes someone others can depend on, rather than another source of workplace stress.

Starting Where You Are
This doesn’t mean the path to inner peace is simple or that external circumstances don’t present real challenges. It means recognizing that waiting for ideal conditions to feel at peace is a strategy that has kept us waiting indefinitely.
Instead, we might begin where we are, with what we have. This could look like learning to breathe through uncertainty rather than frantically trying to eliminate it. It might mean developing the capacity to hold difficult emotions without immediately needing to fix, change, or escape them. It could involve questioning the stories we tell ourselves about what needs to happen before we can feel okay.
The political situation may remain complex. Economic conditions may continue to fluctuate. Relationships will have their seasons of harmony and discord. But what if, in the midst of all this, we discovered we could maintain our center? What if we found that peace of mind isn’t something we achieve but something we practice?

A Different Kind of Strength
This approach requires a different kind of courage than we’re used to. It’s not the courage to change the world around us, but the courage to stop waiting for the world to change before we find peace. It’s not passive resignation—people with genuine inner peace often become more effective agents of positive change, not less. But their actions come from a place of stability rather than reactive desperation.
The most challenging part might be letting go of the familiar narrative that peace is somewhere else, waiting for us to arrange the right circumstances to claim it. That story, while understandable, has kept us in a perpetual state of postponement.

The Invitation
Epicurus’s words aren’t just ancient philosophy—they’re an invitation to a quiet revolution. One that starts not with changing everything around us, but with discovering what remains unshaken within us, regardless of external conditions.
In a world that profits from our restlessness and anxiety, choosing to cultivate inner peace becomes both a personal practice and a subtle form of resistance. Not because we stop caring about the world’s problems, but because we learn to address them from a place of clarity rather than chaos.
The peace you’ve been seeking might not be as far away as you think. It might be as close as your next breath, your next choice to respond rather than react, your next decision to find your center before trying to fix everything else.
That’s where the real work begins. And perhaps, that’s where the real change starts too.