Expecting Trouble-Premeditatio Malorum

This entry is part 27 of 45 in the series Journey Through Stoicism

This is another in the sub-series on Stoic Practices
Three days after a long drive home from North Carolina, my phone rang. Mom was having health issues. I packed a bag and got back in the car. Eleven hours up the interstate this time (an accident blocking two lanes of I-95). Most of that time, my mind wanted to run the worst film it could make. Scary outcomes. Fatigue meeting fear. I kept coming back to one steady idea. Prepare the mind. Do not brace with panic. Brace with care.

That is the heart of premeditatio malorum. The phrase is Latin. It means a premeditation of troubles. The practice is simple. Picture what could go wrong. Picture your response. Do this before a crisis, and also in the early moments when trouble has arrived. It is not doom thinking. It is a rehearsal. Much like pilots drill for emergencies. It is the way doctors practice codes. It is the way athletes visualize both the miss and the recovery.

The Stoics taught it as a daily habit. Seneca wrote that the unexpected crushes us most. Marcus Aurelius began some days by telling himself he would meet difficult people and setbacks. Epictetus urged students to rehearse losses in the mind so that an actual loss would not feel like a first contact with reality. The point is not to numb the heart. The point is to meet events with less shock and more poise.

Here is a basic form. Name a hard thing that could happen. Think through what is in your control and what is not. Picture your first words and first actions. Keep it brief. A few minutes is enough. Write it if it helps. You can also talk it through with a friend who will be honest with you. The ancients valued that kind of friend. We can use the same support now.

Why it works matters. Surprise adds pain. When you have rehearsed a response, you spare your future self some of that extra pain. You also shorten the time you spend in useless loops. You move faster. This practice also ties back to the core Stoic lens. Focus on judgments and choices. Release outcomes. You do not control how the story ends. You control what you bring to the next scene.

Premeditatio malorum can sound bleak. It is not. Done well, it brings a subtle kind of gratitude. When you imagine losing comfort or time or health, you see the real value of what is still here. Ordinary things look brighter. A typical morning becomes a gift. The practice can make space for thanks.

The ancients left patterns for us. Marcus used brief forecasts. He would name the likely frictions of the day and set an intention to meet them with patience and justice. Seneca advised rehearsing poverty and loss in the mind, not to live in fear, but to learn that a simpler life is still a life. Epictetus pressed the point that we own our judgments, not the world. Later teachers continued this line. One urged students to accept discomfort in small ways so that larger shocks would land on a trained mind. That might mean a simple meal, a walk in the cold, or a difficult conversation that you have been putting off. The lesson is steady. Strength grows with practice.

Modern writers have picked up these threads and blended them with psychology. They suggest writing in the second person to create distance. You write to yourself as you. That little shift reduces heat and helps analysis. They also note the value of mental contrasting. Picture the goal. Picture the obstacles. Picture the action that follows. These are simple tools. They fit well with the Stoic framework and with what we know about how the mind learns.

Back to the car. I had ten hours to fill with thoughts that did not help. My mind offered many. I tried to keep a short loop. Name the fear. Name the next action. Name a few if-then steps. Try to anticipate what the healthcare team might need to know. Simple steps. Not a plan for life. A plan for the next hour. When I noticed the loop turning dark, I pulled back to what I knew I could do at that moment. Drive safely. Hydrate. Breathe. Call ahead. Pray. Keep the phone charged. None of this brought control over the outcome. It did bring control over how I conducted myself.

This is not stoic with a small “s.” This is Stoic in the original sense. A mindful stance. A practice you can use. It does not end sorrow. It gives shape to action inside sorrow. It is also a kindness to others. When you are the calm one who has done a little mental work, you make the room safer. You become the steady chair in a shaky house.

There is a hard edge to the practice. The ancient teachers did not hide from it. Epictetus said that when you kiss your child, you should hold in mind that the child is mortal. Modern readers can find that line severe. The intent is not cruelty. It is clarity about the human condition. If you believe life ends, you hold your people with more care now. That is not cold. That is tender.

A few cautions help. Do not turn premeditatio malorum into a worry spiral. Keep it short. Keep it concrete. If you feel your body tighten, pause and breathe. Return to the present. The goal is readiness and a lighter grip on fear. The goal is not to live in the worst possible future. Also, do not rehearse blame. That fuels anger. Rehearse conduct. Rehearse choices you can own. When anger rises, shift to compassion if you can. Others are carrying their own storms.

You can build this practice into your day with very little time. Morning works well. Pick one likely snag. Name your first response. Name something you can let go of. Then move on. Evening works too. Review one hard moment. Ask what you did well. Ask what you would do next time. A short journal note is enough. Over weeks, this becomes a steady pattern. The mind learns.

You can take it a step further for big events. Use a simple page. Write the feared event at the top. Break it into phases: before, during, after. Under each phase, note what is in your hands. Under each phase, note a first action. Then add a line for support. Who can help? What number to call? What to pack. Keep the page where you can find it. You will still feel stress if the event comes. You will also feel less lost.

This is also a practice in gratitude. That may sound strange. It is natural, though. When you imagine losing something, you see its worth. You see a normal afternoon as good enough. A hot meal. A slow walk. A call that brings a small laugh. Gratitude is not a denial of pain. It is a way to notice what remains through pain. It keeps the heart from shrinking.

Think of the practice as training for grace. You are not trying to script life. You are trying to be ready to meet life. You do not have to like the storm. You can still learn how to cut the engine, let the wind pass, and steer again. This is a skill. Like any skill, it grows with use. It also fades if you ignore it. A few minutes a day keeps it alive.

There is one more gift in this work. It helps you act on your values when it is hardest. In calm times, we say what matters to us. Family. Service. Justice. Faith. In a crisis, fear can pull us off that path. Premeditatio malorum lets you rehearse the value before the test. You picture yourself staying kind in a hard room. You picture yourself telling the truth when it costs something. You picture yourself sharing the last good thing on the table. When the test comes, your body recognizes the move.

On that drive, I noticed something else. The practice made space for small good things. A smooth stretch of road. A kind voice of a friend speaking to me for over an hour during the long drive about anything but the reason for the drive. The morning fog softens the world as you move through it during a “brittle” time. None of that changed the reason for the trip. It did change how the trip felt. I arrived more able to help. I had not solved anything. I had prepared to serve and to listen.

The Stoics did not promise safety. They promised a way to live well under risk. Premeditatio malorum is one of their simplest tools. It takes a small daily effort. It pays off when you most need it.

You do not have to do it perfectly. Start small. Expect a little pushback from your own mind. Expect some days to go better than others. Keep the practice anyway.

Trouble will come. That is not a threat. It is the world as it is.

Surprise is the part we can reduce. We can also grow a steady heart. A heart that plans what it can, accepts what it must, and stays open to the good that remains. That is the kind of strength I want. Not hard. Not brittle. Quiet. Useful. Ready.

If you try this, you may find a new ease on hard days. You may also feel more thankful for ordinary ones. That alone makes the work worth it.