Letters from a Stoic

Is It Here Right Now?

It is night. Your room is dark.
You hear a sound. Creak!
Your tummy feels tight.
Is it a monster? Is it a bear?

Feeling scared is okay.
Everybody feels scared sometimes.
Even grown-ups. Even brave ones.

Then ask one small question.
Is it here right now?

Turn on the light. Look.
It was the door. Just the door.
The wind pushed it. Creak.

Lots of scary things live in our heads.
Inside, they feel so big.
When we look, they are small.
Or they are not there at all.

Is it here right now?

Maybe you worry about tomorrow.
The doctor. A new class.
Tomorrow has not come yet.
Right now, you are okay.

Say it with me:
Is it here right now?
Let’s go and look.

Sometimes the scary thing is real.
Then you call a grown-up.
You never have to look alone.

So next time your tummy feels tight,
ask your question.
Then go and look, with someone you love.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This comes from Seneca’s Letter 13, written in Rome almost 2,000 years ago: “we suffer more often in imagination than in reality.” His test is to ask whether a trouble is here now or only expected, and to stop suffering it before it arrives. The primer keeps the fear honest, since some scary things are real, and the answer then is to bring in an adult rather than to talk the feeling away.

Play Near Kind Friends

At the playground, some kids are yelling.
They push. They grab. They shout, Mine!

Stand near them for a while.
Soon you are pushing too.
You did not even mean to.

That is how it works.
We copy the kids around us.
Loud near loud.
Grabby near grabby.

Play near kind friends.

Over by the swings is a girl.
She shares the swing.
She says, your turn.

Stand near her for a while.
Soon you are sharing too.

Play near kind friends.

And guess what?
You can be the kind friend.
Somebody little is watching you.
They will copy you too.

The yelling kids are not bad forever.
Don’t be mean to them.
Just don’t copy the pushing.

Say it with me:
I play near kind friends.
I can be a kind friend.

Tomorrow at the playground, look around.
Find one kind kid.
Go and play next to them.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: Seneca’s Letter 7 warns that we come home from a crowd greedier and crueler without noticing, so he says to spend time with people who make you better and to welcome people you can help, since the learning runs both ways. He also says not to hate the crowd for being unlike you, which is why the primer tells the child not to be mean to the yelling kids.

Grumpy Comes Too

You wake up grumpy.
Everything feels wrong.
Your socks feel wrong.
Your toast feels wrong.

So you go to the kitchen.
Still grumpy.
You go outside.
Still grumpy.
You go to the park.
Still grumpy!

Why?
Grumpy came too.
It was inside you the whole time.

Grumpy comes too.

A new place can be fun.
But it cannot take grumpy away.
Grumpy rides along with you.

Grumpy comes too.

Feeling grumpy is okay.
Everybody has grumpy days.
But running away does not help.

So stop. Sit down.
Find someone you love.
Tell them what feels wrong.

It might take a little while.
Then look around again.
The same room feels better.
You helped the inside.

Say it with me:
Grumpy comes too.
I help it from the inside.

Next time you feel grumpy,
don’t run to a new place.
Stop, and tell someone.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: In Letter 28 Seneca writes to a friend who travelled far and came back as gloomy as he left, and quotes Socrates: you always take yourself with you. The cure he offers is working on the mind, not changing the scenery, and elsewhere he tells his friend to share his worries with a friend he trusts. The primer keeps it modest: talking helps, and it can take a while.

Big and Gentle

Sometimes you are the small one.
Grown-ups are big. You are little.

You want the big ones to be gentle.
You want soft hands, not rough hands.

But sometimes you are the big one.
Next to a baby.
Next to a puppy.
Next to a kid littler than you.

When you are the big one,
be the gentle one.

The little ones can’t lift what you lift.
They can’t run as fast as you.
They can’t give you anything back.
Be kind to them anyway.

Remember how you want the big ones to be.
Be that, for the little ones.

When you are the big one,
be the gentle one.

You could be rough. You are bigger.
But you pick gentle hands instead.

Say it with me:
When I am big, I am gentle.
When I am big, I am kind.

So tomorrow, find one little one.
A smaller kid. A pet. A bug on the path.
Be gentle with them,
even when they can’t give you anything back.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This comes from Seneca’s Letter 47, about the slaves in his own household. He wrote that they were human beings like him and gave the rule “Treat your inferiors as you would be treated by your betters.” Worth knowing for later: he urged kindness within slavery but never said slavery itself should end, a real blind spot of his world. For a small child, the living part is the simple one: the moment you are the bigger, stronger one is the moment to be gentle.