Welcome, everyone, to another episode of Stoic Messages. I'm Emily Carter, and with me is Cormac Kael. Today’s episode is called 'Walking Through Ashes.' Honestly, even just prepping for this talk, I could feel how heavy this topic is gonna get, so... Cormac, you wanna start us off?Aye. Well, there's no real easy way in, is there? Some years back, we were six—on a little mission in the Caucasus mountains. Command said it’d be simple: slip in, gather some info, slip out—leave nothing behind, right? But mountains, ah, the gods don’t care about your plans. The weather turned, radios died, and, eh, the enemy, he didn’t sleep. It was supposed to be in and out. But everything... everything just deteriorated in seconds. I watched my team—brothers, really—fall one by one. You learn quick: it’s not your enemy that destroys you, it’s thinking... thinking the world owes you a straight path.Wow. I—I honestly can’t even imagine. It’s like, sometimes my worst day is just losing a debate or bombing a test in college. And then you hear something like that, and you realize... I dunno, it puts a lot of my own “failures” into perspective. I mean, I remember totally freezing up during an undergraduate philosophy presentation—like, could barely get a sentence out, felt like my world was ending. But compared to what you’ve gone through, it’s, you know, not even the same universe of loss. Still, pain is pain in the moment, right?Aye, pain’s a great equalizer in the moment. I’m not sure which world’s heavier, honestly. But, that night—when it was over, when silence hit... I couldn’t save anyone. Not them, not myself. And yet, it’s strange... Carrying the weight, it makes you... well, it keeps you standing, somehow. You drop it, you fall, too. Sounds like a madman talking, maybe, but that’s how it felt.It actually makes sense, even if it sounds brutal. And that brings me to what you told me the other day—something I can’t stop thinking about: you said, “You can’t change what’s burned. You just learn to walk through the ashes.” That’s a super Stoic idea, right?Yeah. I remember sitting by a fire, thinking about that phrase—"O passado não é prisão — é cinza." Means, the past, it’s ash. It’s not a prison unless you try to lock yourself inside. You blow on it, stir it up too much, and you’re blinded. Ignore it, pretend it’s not there, and you choke. It’s painful, aye, but... breathing among ashes is better than being buried by them.You know, that makes me think of Marcus Aurelius—he wrote, and I always mess this one up, like—“Don’t let your imagination of the past or future steal your present.” Or maybe I skipped a few words there, ha! But it’s in that same spirit, right? Recognizing what’s in your control, and letting the rest—let it settle. Epictetus literally says, “It's not things themselves that disturb us, but our opinions about them.” And I love that. I mean—some people listening, maybe they’re carrying the little ashes of a broken friendship, or the giant ashes of a disaster. It’s the same mental load, just different shapes.All the same, Emily. Ash is ash—doesn’t matter if it’s a dying campfire or a whole mountain that burned. What matters, I suppose, is not letting it smother the rest of your days. And sometimes that’s choosing, moment by moment, to keep walking, even if it’s just the next ten steps.So, for anyone out there wondering, like... how the heck do you start? What’s a real, practical way to live with that kind of loss and still keep moving? I feel like people want steps, not just philosophy.I used to think the same thing. After the mission, I—well, I wandered. Spent months with monks and swordsmen. Didn’t speak much. What stuck with me was... rituals. Small daily things. Light a candle, sweep the floor, breathe in, breathe out. It wasn’t about forgetting, it was about, eh, letting the ashes settle so I could see what was left. Maybe it’s like, acceptance isn’t giving up. It’s just stopping the fight with what’s already gone. And that freed up a bit of energy to, you know, get stronger, move forward, whatever you call it.That’s so wild, because the idea of routine—it sounds so boring, but it’s actually really heroic, in a way. Like, keeping promises to yourself when nobody else is watching. I’ve always wondered, though—can you really accept the past, be at peace, and still push yourself to grow? Aren’t those kind of opposites?Not sure I agree they're opposites. Sometimes the only way to grow is to accept the ground you’re on—scorched or not. You keep building anyway. If you spend all your days wishing the mountain hadn’t burned, you never get out of the ruins. But that doesn’t mean you stop learning from the burn. Maybe you get tough enough that the next storm won’t knock you down so easy.That’s the work, right? Accept, and still get better. I love that. I guess for everyone listening—if you take away one thing, it’s... stop trying to erase the ashes. Just, breathe with them. And don’t let them blind you to what’s possible next. Cormac, thanks for sharing so much today. I know this stuff isn’t easy to talk about.Aye, Emily, you’re not wrong. But it’s what we do, isn’t it? Keep breathing, keep walking. Appreciate you, and everyone tuning in. We’ll meet again on the road.We will. That’s it for today’s Stoic Messages, folks. Walk steady—see you next time.

Episodes

Walking Through Ashes