Latest news with #Stoics
Barnama
4 days ago
- General
- Barnama
- It's Not About You
Opinions on topical issues from thought leaders, columnists and editors. And yet, we absorb it. Internalise it. Personalise it. That snappy comment from a colleague? It's probably not personal. The cold shoulder from a friend? It could be their own unresolved frustration. The driver who cuts you off, the student who seems disengaged, the person who doesn't return your message – chances are, they're wrestling with something you can't see. There's a quiet kind of freedom that comes from realising this truth: Most of the time, it's not about you. A blue-ticked WhatsApp message doesn't always mean you're being ignored. A sharp e-mail response doesn't automatically signal disrespect. Sometimes it's just a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a life that's fraying at the edges. But here's the thing: people are complex. Messy. Emotionally layered. And most of the time, their reactions say more about what's going on inside them than anything you did or said. We replay the moment again and again in our heads: Did I do something wrong? Did I offend them? Are they upset with me? That mental loop – exhausting, isn't it? Mitch Albom wrote in Tuesdays with Morrie, 'Don't let someone else's behaviour destroy your inner peace.' Simple, yes; but not always easy. And I had to learn this lesson the long way around. Years ago, a senior colleague I respected suddenly became distant. Short in meetings. Cool in conversation. It ate at me. I kept replaying our last few interactions, trying to pinpoint what I had said wrong. I even considered apologising for something I wasn't sure I had done. But then one evening, long after office hours, I saw him still in his room – head in his hands, visibly exhausted. A few days later, I learned he was dealing with a difficult family situation that had been weighing heavily on him for months. It was never about me. I can't tell you how many times I've carried someone else's storm like it was my fault for causing the rain. We all do it, especially when we're wired to care. But over time, I've come to appreciate the emotional clarity that comes from this one practice: pause before taking it personally. Sometimes people are rude because they're tired. Sometimes they're distant because they're anxious. Sometimes they're cold because they don't know how to say, 'I'm not okay.' And sometimes – they're just human. The Stoics knew this well. Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations, 'You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength.' And perhaps that's where real strength lies – not in retaliating, not in overthinking, but in choosing what we allow to take root inside us. The Templar shrug You see, when you take everything personally, you become a sponge for other people's emotional clutter. You carry burdens that were never yours to begin with. You give away your peace in exchange for their problems. But there's another way. I call it the Templar shrug – inspired by Richard Templar, the author of 2015 bestseller 'The Rules of Life'. Throughout his book, Templar comes across as someone who has mastered the art of emotional boundaries. Not because he doesn't care, but because he knows better than to waste energy on things that don't serve him. He writes with the kind of clarity that suggests a quiet confidence: don't take things personally, don't get dragged into unnecessary drama, and most of all, don't give people the power to ruin your day. Templar doesn't say it in so many words, but what he's really advocating for is freedom – the freedom to move through life without collecting other people's emotional baggage. The freedom to shrug off what isn't yours and walk on, lighter. That, to me, is a form of wisdom. So, the next time someone seems off, consider this: What if it has nothing to do with you? What if they're carrying something invisible – and the best thing you can do is not add your own assumptions to the weight? And if you're the one having a bad day, remember: others aren't mind readers either. If you need space, take it. If you need support, ask. But don't let your inner turmoil spill out as stray sharpness – someone else might carry that the whole day, thinking it was their fault. We're all navigating our own quiet battles. Some visible, many not. So be kind. And when someone's edge meets your calm, don't immediately absorb it; shrug and move on. Because most of the time, It's not about you. -- BERNAMA Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri (nahrizuladib@ is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya.
Axios
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Axios
Jim VandeHei to Mel Robbins: Sorry!
Axios CEO Jim VandeHei writes: I owe a huge apology to Mel Robbins, author of the bestselling book in the world. Maybe it was author envy, or bad "blink" instincts, or both. But I must confess to hearing the premise of " The Let Them Theory" and thinking: No shit! "Let Them" argues that we need to stop letting others' actions or words bother and control us. The inner Jim's response: "Duh? If I could just let people be moronic, selfish and make-me-want-to stab-myself annoying, I would — but I can't!" Why it matters: I was wrong, at least about Robbins' book. I went down the Mel Robbins rabbit hole this past week and discovered how valuable her insights are. I get why she has sold 6 million copies in just under eight months — more books in a shorter time than any author in history. I also listened to her on several podcasts, including a visit to Kara Swisher's "Pivot." A few quick takeaways: Robbins' theories are persuasive and impressive. She provides specific tips and tools to flip the script and control things on your terms. Her examples resonate. She's normal and likable. People trust authenticity. She nails this with a mix of cursing, humility and self-deprecation. So much of self-help feels preachy or unrelatable. She listens. This is something most people, often including me, suck at. But she listens to her guests and seems to cling to what they say, without an urge to inject her own smarts or wisdom. It was as if Kara and Mel were talking to me, personally, when they made fun of dopes who dismissed her book as obvious. "The reason this is so successful is because I'm reminding you of what you already know to be true," she told Kara. Robbins gives credit to the Stoics and therapists and scientists who have said the same things in a different context. But there's magic in creating a modern template to put the oldest of thinking into a contemporary plan. "It's very easy to make something complicated," Robbins said. "It is extraordinarily difficult, and takes a lot of rigor, to distill complicated things and do a simple thing that anybody can use and you can remember." The big picture: Some people dismissed our first book, " Smart Brevity," as obvious. But the truth is: Writing shorter, without losing any value, is harder than people think. The book helps. With 350,000 copies sold, it's been a big success. It was self-evidently hypocritical of me to have a "no shit" reaction to Robbins' big idea. As an author who would relish her success, the smart response would be to learn from her. The bottom line: Mel Robbins' advice is useful. At Axios, we're obsessed with usefulness. It's an underrated gift: People listen, act and share something if it's truly useful and actionable. Her book and podcast often frame topics around specific, useful applications. I'll leave you with what she describes as one of the most meaningful conversations she has ever had, with Dr. Jim Doty, a Stanford neuroscientist and bestselling author who died last month. The topic: manifesting the outcomes you want. Three useful steps: Write it. Visualize it. Say it, silently and aloud. The repetition, pulling on — and in — three senses literally creates a neural network to force action. Shift out of fear mode. Fear triggers biological stress and makes it a lot harder to do what you're trying to do. Doty argues you need to downshift to "heart mode," where you are calm and open. If you can, your body has a literal physiological response that vastly enhances your chance of getting what you want. Lose the negativity. Your mind and body react positively if you spend more time thinking good things about yourself and others. No one can do this always. But everyone can do it more. 🎧 The first 30 minutes of the podcast are time very well spent. The full podcast is here.
Time of India
06-07-2025
- General
- Time of India
Tired of toxic office drama? This one-line philosophy can keep you calm and stress-free
'Never attribute to malice what can be explained by stupidity.' This sharp and almost cynical line from writer Robert J. Hanlon may sound dismissive at first, but in an age of rising workplace stress, instant outrage, and constant assumptions, it offers a surprisingly profound survival tool — one that's more relevant today than ever. When Workplaces Turn Into Battlegrounds of Assumption We've all been there. You were left out of a team email. Someone botched your name during a crucial presentation. A colleague seemed to take credit for your idea in front of the boss. The reflex? Anger. The assumption? It must have been deliberate. In high-pressure office environments, it's easy — even comforting — to assume that others are out to get you. But what if they weren't? What if the snub, the oversight, the poor communication wasn't rooted in malice, but in mere forgetfulness, ignorance, or human error? by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like [Click Here] 2025 Top Trending local enterprise accounting software Esseps Learn More Undo That's where Hanlon's Razor steps in — a mental shortcut that urges us to pause, breathe, and reconsider. Originally coined in Arthur Bloch's 1980 book Murphy's Law Book Two, the adage has now become part of digital-age wisdom, especially among techies and cognitive scientists trying to untangle the psychological chaos of human behavior. — sketchplanator (@sketchplanator) A Philosophy with Ancient Roots Although Hanlon popularized it, the logic behind this 'razor' has been echoed through centuries. St. Augustine believed that most wrongdoing was due to ignorance, not evil. The Stoics, like Epictetus, warned against rushing to judgment. Even German writer Goethe, in 1774, lamented that 'misunderstandings and neglect occasion more mischief than wickedness.' You Might Also Like: Are we deciphering 'Ikigai' all wrong? The truth behind Japan's most misunderstood philosophy In the 20th century, science fiction author Robert A. Heinlein captured the same essence in his novella Logic of Empire (1941): 'You have attributed conditions to villainy that simply result from stupidity.' The thread is consistent — more often than not, we misread the intent behind actions because we're viewing them through a narrow, self-centered lens. Why It Matters in the Modern Workplace Today's office culture, marked by Slack pings, overflowing inboxes, and endless meetings, thrives on speed — but also breeds confusion. In such environments, Hanlon's Razor can offer much-needed mental clarity. Instead of jumping to conclusions, it reminds you to consider: Could this be a mistake rather than a personal attack? The Britannica entry on Hanlon's Razor explains it as a heuristic reasoning tool — one that helps individuals avoid harmful assumptions and emotional spirals. The philosophy serves as a counterbalance to cognitive biases such as egocentric bias (assuming others see things your way), confirmation bias (looking only for evidence that supports your suspicions), or the fundamental attribution error (blaming people's character rather than their circumstances). Douglas W. Hubbard, in his 2009 book The Failure of Risk Management, even updated the razor for modern systems thinking: ' Never attribute to malice or stupidity what can be explained by moderately rational individuals following incentives in a complex system. ' In simpler words: not every bad thing at work is sabotage — sometimes it's just the system grinding imperfectly along. You Might Also Like: Stuck in a heated philosophical debate? Here is how 'Straw Man' and 'Steel Man' might just save the conversation But Doesn't This Let People Off the Hook? That's a fair question. Hanlon's Razor doesn't suggest that malice doesn't exist — only that it's not as common as we think. It's not a moral excuse, but a practical mindset. You're still allowed to set boundaries, demand accountability, and call out poor behavior. The difference is in your emotional approach: instead of reacting in rage, you respond with clarity. Think of it as emotional first aid. If someone forgets to schedule you for a meeting or misquotes you in front of a client, jumping to 'they hate me' or 'they're trying to sabotage me' might only harm your own peace. Assuming incompetence or oversight may not only be more accurate, but it also protects your energy and maintains professional composure. Calm Minds, Better Work Lives In the constant churn of modern work, where messages are misread and intentions often lost in translation, Hanlon's Razor offers more than just a mental trick. It gives you a way to choose grace over grievance, and response over reaction. Because let's face it — most people aren't villains in a corporate thriller. They're just trying to make it to 5 PM without spilling coffee on their shirt. And sometimes, the best way to keep your sanity intact is to remember that the messiness around you isn't always personal. It's just… human.
Hindustan Times
27-06-2025
- Business
- Hindustan Times
Stoic in the boardroom: Kashyap Kompella interviews Wall Street mogul Robert Rosenkranz
The Stoics, Ancient Greek philosophers, wrote for a world of tyrants and plagues. . Robert Rosenkranz, a pioneer in the world of private equity, writes for a world of unicorn IPOs and digital assets, overflowing inboxes and social-media detoxes. But the central questions haven't changed: What is in your control? What really matters? What do you owe? What is a life well-lived? There is a straight line to be drawn from Seneca's counsel in the 1st century CE to Rosenkranz's modern reflections in his new book, The Stoic Capitalist: Advice for the Exceptionally Ambitious (Bloomsbury; May). The latter is Stoicism minus the sandals, contextualised for the contemporary world. If this school of thought was born on the stoas or porches of Athens, it lives on today in conference rooms and corner offices. But it is no stiff moral code. Rosenkranz offers it as a kind of mental operating system, one that does not flinch at complexity. In his hands, it isn't just a way to endure hardship, but a method for advancing in the world and wielding power without letting it wield you. That distinction matters more than ever. In a culture where ambition is often mistaken for aggression, and restraint for weakness, he makes a case for self-mastery as a competitive edge. This is a Stoicism that walks beside capitalism without being devoured by it. A version that accepts the pursuit of wealth, provided one remembers that wealth is meant to be a tool, not a number. Rosenkranz, 82, is clear that giving to society doesn't mean 'giving back' because that implies value was stolen in the first place. In his view, successful enterprise is itself an act of contribution, and philanthropy is just another opportunity to do something elegant, something that endures. *** In India, we have a complicated attitude to corporate riches. We simultaneously worship and vilify tycoons, perhaps because of all we know about how such wealth is often obtained. Rosenkranz's message of wealth-creation by following a virtuous path is worth reflecting upon. He resists the sanitised corporate virtue-signalling that dominates so much of business literature. Instead, he points readers toward clarity. Be truthful about what matters. Prioritise reason over emotion. Concentrate fully on what is in front of you. Adapt when the world changes. Make use of your minutes. Beware of anger, for it corrodes judgment. Carefully interrogate received wisdom. Do not outsource your esteem to strangers. These aren't revelations. But in a noisy, distracted age, they feel radical. When I remark that his book is reminiscent of the memoirs of Bertrand Russell and Peter Drucker, Rosenkranz says that's a flattering thought, but he was trying to not write a memoir. 'I think of it more as a work of applied philosophy or applied psychology,' he says. The elements of the personal are meant to serve as illustrations of first principles. The old Stoics didn't say much about ambition and wealth creation. Rosenkranz fills in that gap, not with sweeping theory but with examples from lived experience: deals made, errors owned, mentors remembered, disciplines acquired. The world may no longer speak in the register of philosophy, but his example suggests that maybe it should. *** Rosenkranz was not born into money. What he was born into was stress, and from that stress came ambition. As a boy, he recognised that his parents were doing the best they could, but saw that they were falling behind in the game of life, even though he couldn't yet name the rules. Reading biographies of accomplished people became his escape. Success, he understood, was something that could be engineered, through thought, discipline, rational self-regard. He had acquired the ingredients for Stoicism, before he knew the name for it. When he became a father of two (with his first wife, corporate lawyer Margaret Hill), he didn't want his children to feel that kind of stress. 'But,' he points out, 'my difficulties gave me many things of great worth.' His ambition and smarts led him to Yale and Harvard. He started a career as a tax lawyer and worked at the policy thinktank Rand Corporation before joining the investment bank Oppenheimer & Co. After a successful stint there, he founded Rosenkranz & Co, a private equity firm that grew into the insurance-focused, multi-billion-dollar Delphi Financial Group. He was its CEO from 1987 to 2018. Rosenkranz made his fortune in finance, buying and selling companies in the first phase of his career and later founding, growing and selling the insurance company Delphi. He found love again, and married art curator Alexandra Munroe in 2002. For those of us trying to thread the needle, to be ambitious but not consumed, sceptical but not cynical, successful without forgetting what success is supposed to mean, this book doesn't offer instruction so much as it offers company. *** The book's milieu is the financial world of New York, and it is sprinkled with insight and advice from Rosenkranz's long career, but the themes have much broader appeal. Some chapters read like they were written for young analysts. Many feel aimed at executives with a touch of self-doubt. Still others feel like they were written for Rosenkranz himself, a kind of personal ledger of lessons hard-won. Taken together, they are a reminder that clarity of purpose is possible, that intellectual rigour can be elegant, and that being a capitalist doesn't disqualify one from asking the oldest questions about meaning. 'My strength in business was as an intellectual. I was not a great salesman,' Rosenkranz says. 'As a Stoic, I can't say that reading this book is necessarily going to lead you to a more successful and fulfilled life. But as a capitalist, I can say that buying this book certainly will.' That's the Stoic capitalist, having the last laugh. (Kashyap Kompella, an Indian Stoic, is an industry analyst, author of two books on AI, and organiser of the Bengaluru and Hyderabad BizLitFests) . LIFE, THROUGH MANY LENSES: BUSINESS, ART, PHOTOGRAPHY * Robert Rosenkranz, 82, was a pioneer in the world of private equity in the 1970s. A Yale-Harvard alumnus, he eventually founded his own insurance conglomerate and headed it for over 30 years. He is a philanthropist, patron of the arts, and photographer. He lives in New York, with his wife, art curator Alexandra Munroe. * The nature of debate has always concerned him, Rosenkranz says. In 2006, he founded the US arm of Intelligence Squared, since renamed Open to Debate. The online public forum seeks to revive the lost art of reasoned disagreement and serve as a space where opposing views can be examined with rigour, civility, and the possibility of changing one's mind. Debate episodes air weekly on NPR. * Rosenkranz is currently in the process of setting up Canyon, a museum in New York devoted to immersive video art. A self-described techno-optimist, he sees digital mediums as a new frontier, believing 'that the countless creative decisions offered by tools like Photoshop are themselves a form of artistry'. Canyon, due to open in 2026, aims to give such work the space and seriousness it deserves.
Focus Malaysia
26-06-2025
- General
- Focus Malaysia
Sometimes it's not about you
THERE'S a quiet kind of freedom that comes from realising this truth: Most of the time, it's not about you. That snappy comment from a colleague? It's probably not personal. The cold shoulder from a friend? It could be their own unresolved frustration. The driver who cuts you off, the student who seems disengaged, the person who doesn't return your message? Chances are, they're wrestling with something you can't see. And yet, we absorb it. Internalise it. Personalise it. We replay the moment again and again in our heads: Did I do something wrong? Did I offend them? Are they upset with me? That mental loop—it's exhausting, isn't it? But here's the thing: people are complex. Messy. Emotionally layered. And most of the time, their reactions say more about what's going on inside them than anything you did or said. A blue-ticked WhatsApp message doesn't always mean you're being ignored. A sharp e-mail response doesn't automatically signal disrespect. Sometimes it's just a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a life that's fraying at the edges. Mitch Albom wrote in Tuesdays with Morrie, 'Don't let someone else's behaviour destroy your inner peace.' Simple, yes; but not always easy. And I had to learn this lesson the long way around. Years ago, a senior colleague I respected suddenly became distant. Short in meetings. Cool in conversation. It ate at me. I kept replaying our last few interactions, trying to pinpoint what I had said wrong. I even considered apologising for something I wasn't sure I had done. But then one evening, long after office hours, I saw him still in his room, head in his hands, visibly exhausted. A few days later, I learned he was dealing with a difficult family situation that had been weighing heavily on him for months. It was never about me. I can't tell you how many times I've carried someone else's storm like it was my fault for causing the rain. We all do it, especially when we're wired to care. But over time, I've come to appreciate the emotional clarity that comes from this one practice: pause before taking it personally. Sometimes people are rude because they're tired. Sometimes they're distant because they're anxious. Sometimes they're cold because they don't know how to say, 'I'm not okay.' And sometimes—they're just human. The Stoics knew this well. Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations, 'You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength.' And perhaps that's where real strength lies—not in retaliating, not in overthinking, but in choosing what we allow to take root inside us. You see, when you take everything personally, you become a sponge for other people's emotional clutter. You carry burdens that were never yours to begin with. You give away your peace in exchange for their problems. But there's another way. I call it the Templar shrug—inspired by Richard Templar, the author of 2015 bestseller The Rules of Life. Throughout his book, Templar comes across as someone who has mastered the art of emotional boundaries. Not because he doesn't care, but because he knows better than to waste energy on things that don't serve him. He writes with the kind of clarity that suggests a quiet confidence: don't take things personally, don't get dragged into unnecessary drama, and most of all, don't give people the power to ruin your day. Templar doesn't say it in so many words, but what he's really advocating for is freedom—the freedom to move through life without collecting other people's emotional baggage. The freedom to shrug off what isn't yours and walk on, lighter. That, to me, is a form of wisdom. So the next time someone seems off, consider this: What if it has nothing to do with you? What if they're carrying something invisible—and the best thing you can do is not add your own assumptions to the weight? And if you're the one having a bad day, remember: others aren't mind readers either. If you need space, take it. If you need support, ask. But don't let your inner turmoil spill out as stray sharpness—someone else might carry that the whole day, thinking it was their fault. We're all navigating our own quiet battles. Some visible, many not. So be kind. And when someone's edge meets your calm, don't immediately absorb it; shrug and move on. Because most of the time it's not about you. ‒ June Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. The views expressed are solely of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Focus Malaysia. Main image: Pexels/Seng Lam Ho
