Free Yourself by Monday Steps
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What is true wealth?
If you wish to govern your life according to reason, should you not first ask: what does it mean to be truly rich?
Is wealth stored in vaults, counted in gold, measured by possessions?
Or does it consist in the little that never fails, and the calm mind that no storm can shake?
“If you wish to steer your life with human reason, learn that true wealth means to live with little and with a tranquil mind. The little is never lacking.”
Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
Lucretius begins not with palaces or power, but with simplicity. He tells us that peace of mind is the only foundation on which life can be safely built. The more we chase abundance, the more we build on sand.
But look around: do not most men labor endlessly for more? They toil for possessions, striving to rise higher, and yet their road is lined with dangers. For envy strikes the exalted like a thunderbolt, and those who climb are cast down with scorn into darkness.
Is this not proof that wealth without tranquility is no wealth at all?
Consider this:
When you taste plenty, does the craving end, or does it grow?
When you possess what others admire, do you gain peace, or do you fear envy?
When you rest in little, do you not sometimes feel freer than those who seem to own the world?
Write down what you today call your “wealth.” Then ask: Does this give me calmness of mind, or does it disturb me with new cares?
If you discover that peace lies not in more, but in less, then you have already touched the true treasure. For the man who is content with little is richer than kings.
Does power secure happiness?
If men seek power and glory, do they not believe these will make their lives firm and unshakable?
Is not the throne built high so that its master may look down in safety?
And yet—why do those who rise to rule so often live in fear, looking behind them, restless in their abundance?
“Men have desired power and glory as if these could secure their lives on firm foundations and bring them a tranquil and happy existence. But their labor is vain. In striving to climb so high, they sow the road of life with a heap of dangers.”
Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
Do you hear him? Power promises peace, but delivers peril. For every step upward, a new enemy waits. The throne is not a seat of safety but of anxiety. To rule others is often to be ruled by fear.
But how does this concern us?
Have you not seen a man gain authority, only to grow weary with its burdens?
Have you not known someone who longed to be admired, yet trembled before the opinion of the crowd?
Is it not clear that power binds more tightly than it frees?
Think of a time you longed for influence — in work, in friendship, in family. Did it bring you peace? Or did it burden you with new cares?
True freedom is not on the throne, but in the heart that has no need to rule.
Why does envy strike those at the top?
If it is good to be exalted, why do those who rise highest fall hardest?
Why does envy aim its arrows at the great, while the unnoticed pass by in safety?
What kind of life is it, to be struck down not by enemies, but by the gaze of others?
“From the heights, envy strikes like a thunderbolt, hurling men down with scorn into the black depths of Tartarus. For envy, like the lightning, strikes those who stand out high above the rest.”
Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
Envy is the companion of glory, as shadow is of light. Whoever stands above others becomes a target, not of honor, but of resentment. What men call fame is but an invitation to be struck.
Ask yourself:
Have you not envied those who seem more fortunate than you?
And have you not also felt the weight of others’ envy when you rose in success?
Does this not prove that envy is a storm none can command?
Recall a moment when envy touched your life — either in you, or against you. What peace did it bring?
If the thunderbolt always strikes the tallest tree, is it not safer, and wiser, to dwell in the quiet grove?
Is it better to live quietly than to rule?
If ruling the world brings only dangers, would it not be better to remain unknown?
What profit is there in crowns if they rest upon weary brows?
Should we not choose the life where peace is found, rather than the one where fear is never absent?
“It is better to live quietly than to seek to subject the world to one’s power and govern it as a king.”
— Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
The choice seems plain: quietness is greater than dominion. Yet men often despise the humble path, longing instead for the stage, the crown, the command. But what is command worth, if it enslaves the commander?
Consider this:
The man who rules himself — is he not freer than the one who rules a city?
The one who governs his desires — is he not mightier than the one who governs armies?
Is it not better to walk untroubled than to be celebrated in chains?
Ask yourself: Would I rather live quietly in peace, or loudly in turmoil? Which choice truly brings freedom?
To live unnoticed, yet free, is greater than to live celebrated, yet enslaved.
What is the cost of ambition?
If power is dangerous and glory uncertain, why do men still labor for them?
What do they hope to gain in such endless toil?
And if the reward never matches the struggle, is ambition not the heaviest chain of all?
“In striving for honor and high estate, men waste their days in vain toil, climbing upward only to fall, weary and discontent, into deeper misery. Their desire is endless, and their labor without rest.”
— Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
Ambition is hunger without end. The man who eats is satisfied for a time, but the man who craves honor is never filled. Each step achieved breeds another longing. The ambitious man is like a traveler climbing a hill that has no summit.
Consider this:
Have you not set a goal, reached it, and then immediately asked, “What next?”
Have you not known a man who gained high rank, yet was restless still?
If no height satisfies, is not ambition itself a bottomless pit?
Write down one ambition that has driven you most strongly. Ask yourself: When I achieved part of it, did I feel complete? Or did I only create new desires?
If you see that ambition never rests, let it go lightly. For the man who ceases to climb endlessly already walks on level ground.
Should we trust others, or our own senses?
If kings, riches, and ambition deceive, what then is left to guide us?
Should we trust tradition, sacred tales, or the voices of authority?
Or must we return to the one guide no man can take from us — our own senses and our reason?
“You must guide your life not by the rumors of men, nor by vain ambition, but by what the senses teach, by the reasoning of the mind, by the evidence that stands clear before you.”
— Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
This is the great Epicurean call: look not to temples or thrones, but to the evidence of your own eyes, the testimony of your own reason. For what is seen and tested is more trustworthy than what is told and feared.
But let us ask:
When someone tells you what to think, do you not feel your freedom slipping away?
When you see for yourself, is not the knowledge firmer than a thousand reports?
If truth lives in evidence, why do we chase so many shadows of authority?
Think of one belief you hold only because others have told you it is so. Write it down. Then ask: What evidence have I seen with my own eyes to confirm this?
If you learn to trust your senses and your reason, no man can enslave your mind. For the free soul is guided not by rumor, but by truth.
What are the limits of life?
If we wish to live without fear, should we not first ask: what are the boundaries that nature sets?
Do we not suffer more when we imagine endless needs than when we face real ones?
And if life has limits, can wisdom not teach us how simple it is to be content?
“Whoever understands the limits set by life knows how easy it is to obtain that which removes pain and makes life perfect as a whole. Thus he has no need of things won through rivalry.”
— Epicurus, Principal Doctrines
Epicurus reminds us that nature is kind: to remove pain, little is required. Yet men create false needs and call them essential. They suffer not because life demands much, but because desire does.
Ask yourself:
Is bread not enough to satisfy hunger?
Is water not enough to quench thirst?
Do we not add endless ornaments to simple needs and then suffer when they fail us?
Write down one “need” you pursue that is not truly necessary for life. Could you let it go without harm?
To know the limits of life is to be free from endless striving.
Is poverty always a burden?
Is poverty misery, or does its meaning change if seen through nature’s eyes?
What if the poor man, in needing little, is richer than the one who desires endlessly?
“Poverty, when measured according to the natural end of life, is great wealth. But unlimited wealth, if it does not bring contentment, is great poverty.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
We think the poor lack, yet Epicurus says they may possess more: contentment. The rich man who cannot rest in his riches is poorer than the beggar who sleeps in peace.
Consider this:
Have you not known someone with little who smiled more freely than those with much?
Have you not seen men enslaved by their riches, guarding them with fear?
Is it not clear that wealth without satisfaction is another kind of poverty?
Think of one simple joy that costs nothing — a walk, a breath of air, a shared meal. Could it not be richer than gold?
True wealth is not measured by what is stored, but by what is enjoyed.
Does simplicity also have limits?
If desiring without measure leads to slavery, is all restraint then good?
Or can even simplicity, if taken beyond its natural bounds, become another form of folly?
“Simplicity too has its limit; whoever neglects this suffers something similar to the man who places no limit at all upon his desires.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Here Epicurus warns against extremes. To desire endlessly is slavery; but to deny oneself foolishly is another kind of bondage. Wisdom lies not in austerity for its own sake, but in balance — enough to live, enough to be at peace.
Consider this:
Have you not known someone who denied themselves joy and grew bitter?
Is this freedom, or another prison of pride?
Is not the middle way, between excess and needless severity, the path of harmony?
Reflect: Do I sometimes refuse myself simple pleasures, not out of wisdom, but out of fear or vanity?
To know both the limit of desire and the limit of simplicity is to live free from both excess and emptiness.
When is little enough?
If “little” is never enough, can anything ever be?
And if contentment with little makes life complete, why do we chase what will never satisfy?
“For the man to whom little is not enough, nothing will ever be enough. (Even the man ready to rival Zeus in happiness needs only bread and water.)”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Epicurus pierces the heart of desire. He who cannot rest with little will never rest, even with the whole world. A loaf of bread and water can give the same peace as the throne of Zeus, if the soul is content.
Ask yourself:
Have you ever found joy in something very small — and was it not enough in that moment?
Do you not see that the greatest hunger is not of the body, but of the restless mind?
Write down one “small” thing that could satisfy you today — a walk, a word, a simple meal. Let it be enough.
He who is content with little is wealthier than those who rule the skies.
What is the greatest wealth?
If men call gold, estates, and treasures wealth, why does the wise man call something else the greatest treasure?
Could it be that what enriches the soul is of greater worth than what fills the coffers?
“Self-sufficiency is the greatest wealth.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Here Epicurus names the crown of riches: not possessions, but αὐτάρκεια — the power to live without dependence. For what wealth is greater than freedom? To need little is to own everything, for nothing can be taken from you.
Consider this:
If you depend on fortune, are you not its slave?
If you depend on others, do you not fear their absence?
But if you can live content with what is at hand, do you not already possess the greatest treasure?
Ask yourself: What do I still depend on for my happiness? Could I live well without it?
Self-sufficiency is the only wealth that no thief, no tyrant, no fate can touch.
Does wisdom give or take?
Is the wise man impoverished when limited to the bare necessities?
Or does his wisdom transform necessity into abundance?
Does he live in lack, or does he overflow with generosity?
“The wise man, even when reduced to necessities, knows better how to give than to receive. Such is the treasure of self-sufficiency that he has discovered.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Even when stripped of luxuries, the wise man is rich. Why? Because his wealth is inward, and it overflows outward. He gives because he is not impoverished by having little. He knows that abundance is not counted in possessions, but in the power to share.
Consider this:
Have you not met a poor man who shared more freely than the rich?
Have you not seen that giving multiplies joy, while grasping breeds fear?
Is not the soul that can give even in want the freest of all?
Think: What is one thing I can give today, even if I have little? Write it down and do it.
The wise man is rich not in what he keeps, but in what he gives.
Can we live free and still desire great wealth?
If we say we live free, can we at the same time strive for riches?
Is not the pursuit of great property always bound to chains—of power, of labor, of dependence on others?
Can true freedom ever walk hand in hand with slavery to possessions?
“Living freely, one cannot acquire great wealth, for such things are not easy without servitude to the masses or to authority. Yet one may enjoy abundance of what is sufficient, and if fortune grants much, it is used with modesty and in good will toward others.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Here Epicurus shows us the contradiction: wealth seeks chains, freedom seeks release. To gather much, one must bow to masters. Yet abundance is still possible for the free man—if it comes by chance and is used rightly, without pride or fear.
Consider this:
Is the man who owns little but owes nothing not freer than the one who owns much but bends before rulers?
Is the friend who shares bread with joy not richer than the lord who guards his table with suspicion?
Ask yourself: Does my pursuit of wealth increase my freedom, or reduce it?
The wealth that does not enslave is the only wealth worthy of a free soul.
What is necessity, and must we obey it?
Is necessity a tyrant, or a teacher?
If life sets limits, should we lament them—or learn to walk within them?
“It is a bad thing to live under necessity, but there is no necessity to live under necessity.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Necessity seems heavy, yet Epicurus reminds us: even necessity has no power unless we submit. To know what life requires and nothing more is to remove the sting of fate.
Ask yourself:
Do you call it necessity when you desire what is not needed?
Do you not suffer more from false needs than from true ones?
Write down one “necessity” you feel today. Then ask: Is this truly required by nature, or imposed by custom and desire?
Necessity ends where wisdom begins.
Does fortune rule the wise man?
Does fortune command our lives, or only touch them lightly?
If luck is blind, how can wisdom see?
“Fortune brings small obstacles to the wise man; the greatest and most important matters are governed by reason, and reason will govern his life as a whole.”
— Epicurus, Principal Doctrines
The unwise man blames fortune for all things, but Epicurus teaches: fortune strikes only at the surface, never at the core. A storm may wet the traveler, but cannot take from him the art of walking.
Consider this:
Have you not faced misfortune, yet stood firm within?
Is it not reason, not chance, that decides whether suffering destroys or strengthens us?
Think of one misfortune you endured. Ask: Was I broken by it, or did I endure by my own reason?
Fortune can shake the body, but reason secures the soul
What is the fruit of self-sufficiency?
If self-sufficiency is the greatest wealth, what then is its reward?
What blossoms from the tree of autarkeia?
“The greatest fruit of self-sufficiency is freedom.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Here the teaching comes to its crown: autarkeia (self-sufficiency) does not end in poverty, but in liberty. The man who needs little cannot be enslaved by kings, nor bent by fortune. His freedom is inward and entire.
Ask yourself:
What one dependency could I release today to feel freer tomorrow?
He who is content with little, walks the earth as a free man.
Should we ask from the gods what is in our power?
If the gods are far and serene, should we trouble them with prayers for things within our reach?
Does it not dishonor both them and us to beg for what our own hands can provide?
“It is foolish to pray to the gods for what one can obtain for oneself.”
— Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
Epicurus shows us the true folly: men cry out for bread while fields lie waiting to be sown; they pray for peace while their hearts breed turmoil. Why ask the heavens for what your own reason and effort can give?
Consider this:
Do you not waste strength in asking what you could already act upon?
Is not the nobler prayer the one spoken by deeds rather than words?
Write down one thing you have wished or prayed for recently. Then ask: Could I already take steps myself to gain this?
To ask the gods for what is in your own hands is to forget that the divine gift is reason itself.
What is true freedom?
Have we not asked many questions?
What is wealth? What is power? What is necessity, fortune, simplicity, envy, ambition?
But all these flow into one: What is true freedom?
“The greatest fruit of self-sufficiency is freedom.”
Epicurus, Vatican Sayings
“Learn that true wealth means to live with little and with a tranquil mind. The little is never lacking.”
Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
Epicurus tells us: freedom grows where dependence dies. Lucretius shows us: true abundance is found in the little that never fails. Together, they teach one lesson: the free man is he who is content, who governs his own desires, who trusts reason more than fortune, and peace more than ambition.
Ask yourself:
If freedom lies in needing little, how much do you still need?
If freedom lies in self-sufficiency, what chains remain in your life?
If freedom lies in the calm mind, what storms still rule within you?
Take time now. Write your own definition of freedom. Do not borrow it from teachers, from cities, from the noise of the world. Let your own mind speak.
True freedom is not given by kings, nor stolen by tyrants, nor promised by fortune. It is discovered within, where desire is measured, where reason is clear, where the soul is at rest.
© 2025 Monday Steps
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