Esther McCarthy: There's a lot to be said for the stoic way of life
My dad was a great man for the idioms — little sayings he’d deploy in moments of uncertainty or agitation around him
My dad, Paddy Mac, may he rest in peace, was a stoic. We just didn’t have the word for it back then.
There’s a book on my bedside table at the moment — Go Gentle by Maria Semple, a New York Times bestseller. It’s a witty novel about a stoic philosopher called Adora Hazzard who seems to have cracked the code of human happiness. She’s mad for Marcus Aurelius and his philosophies.
The secret, says she, is disarmingly simple: Want only what you already have. (Easy for you to say, girl, but you try opening Vinted and the algorithm peeping inside your soul and showing you everything your heart desires.)
Reading it, and with Father’s Day this weekend, I keep thinking of my dad. Touchstones like Father’s Day can be hard when it reminds you of what you’ve lost. Or, for some, never had in the first place.
I’ve written about Paddy Mac here before, he was an electrician, a fixer, a poet, a reader, a handy card player, a husband, a father, a grandfather, and a great-grandfather.
And as it turns out, a stoic. He was a great man for the idioms too — little sayings he’d deploy in moments of uncertainty or agitation around him, which was often in a house always full to the brim of people of different ages and personalities. The stoics believed we can’t control what happens to us, only how we respond.
They counselled equanimity in the face of chaos. A philosophy of radical calm.
Paddy Mac was like that, most of the time — at least by the time himself and mam got around to rearing my sister and I, technically their grandchildren.
I don’t think my own kids will say the same about me, the calm thing. Though maybe stoicism should be more of a dad thing than a mam thing anyway — mams need to rage against the machine a bit. We have a lot going on.
So for all the fathers and father figures out there: Do your best, that’s all anyone can ask. And here’s some old-school stoicism, courtesy of Paddy Mac.
Sit with it. Don’t react. Have a think. Let the noise pass.
I’ll admit, I’m still working on it. But I think of him often when my own kids do something that drives me round the bend.
What I do, you see, is I take a breath, imagining it as a soft warm light. I close my eyes, slow myself down. I tell myself I’ll it go.
Then I lose my shit, and feel rubbish for the rest of the day.
When Paddy Mac said it, I always took it to mean: even a gobshite will say something sensible every now and then. Doesn’t mean you should always listen to the gobshite. Or when you get something right, don’t be too big-headed.
This is also, more or less, the entire Let Them theory, predating Mel Robbins by about 50 years and considerably more satisfying. It helped me from a young age grow a bit of a thick skin — whether it was kids who wouldn’t let me play, or a job I didn’t get. Let people make their choices. I don’t have to let it affect how I feel about myself.
Stoic logos — reason, voice, the active use of your rational faculty. (Everything I seem to be missing today.)
Silence, in the wrong moment, costs you. I was a shy kid outside the house, and I think Paddy Mac said this to make me speak up for myself a bit more.
So happy Father’s Day. If you’re a dad, please know how important you and your words are.
And if your pa isn’t around this year to dish out a saying that makes no sense until it suddenly does, I hope something or someone reminds you of him today.
Thanks for being my dad, Dad. xxx Oh! And always eat a bit of bread with a fry.


