Lessons in Stoic Presence from the London Commute

Cycles through Cycling

Photo by Amit Ovadia on Unsplash

This morning, I laced up my battered old runners, threw on a freshly washed, somewhat worn jersey, and launched myself into the river of London traffic. Buses growled, taxis jostled, and delivery vans emerged, as usual, from absolutely nowhere. Someone barked into a phone while side-eyeing oncoming cyclists a courier zipped past, music leaking from one earbud, which I should have replaced months ago.

Not the scene for philosophical enlightenment, you’d think. But that’s exactly where Stoicism seems to finds me, most days.

Stoicism at the Traffic Lights

You read enough Seneca and Epictetus, and you expect wisdom to descend in the stillness of your study, or maybe on a misty dawn walk. But real Stoicism for me happens at red lights on the way past St. Paul’s, with handlebars slippery from the last burst of rain and breath clouding in the morning chill.

Stoicism, after all, isn’t about hermitlike detachment. It’s about being right here, alert, focused, and above all else, brave in the thick of life.

The Philosophy of the Shortcut (and the Detour)

It’s easy to ruminate on the dichotomy of control when the cycle lane is empty and the traffic is kind. But what about when a fancy black cab swerves, or a lorry blocks the cycle lane yet again? These interruptions test not just my reflexes but my patience and perspective.

It’s tempting (and a bit Stoic, in the cliché sense) to treat every irritation as a secret challenge. But the real discipline is softer. Not blowing up every inconvenience into a drama or a sermon, but rolling with it—sometimes literally, sometimes with a deep breath and a silent chuckle. Something I have struggled with more often than not of late.

Humility on Two Wheels

There’s a strange camaraderie among London commuters, a nod to the rider next to you, a rueful shake of the head at shared delays. Humility comes naturally when you’re just one more speck in the dust and noise. I don’t need to out-Stoic everyone around me. Sometimes, the best practice is letting go of small irritations, not perfecting my emotional responses to them.

What’s Worth Steering?

Stoics always ask, “What’s up to you?” On the bike, it’s both literal and philosophical. I control my pace, my route, my attention, though not the potholes, the weather, or the various wildcards in traffic.

The lesson? Channel energy into what I can actually affect, my caution, my courtesy, my enjoyment of a glimmer of sun between showers. Although with recent heat waves, the reverse seems more apt in this situation.

Photo by Pawel Janiak on Unsplash

Ordinary Rides, Extraordinary Practice

When I arrive, mud-splattered, awake, and weirdly grateful, into the office, I pop my electrolyte into my Spiderman protein shaker (long story) and start my workday. None of it is heroic or exceptional. But maybe that’s the great victory, to move through the mess and routine with a kind of calm, to see even the most ordinary commute as a lesson in Stoic presence.

So, here’s my advice, earned one pedal revolution at a time. Let philosophy ride alongside you as your constant companion, quiet, resilient, sometimes grimy, but always honest. It’s here in the real, in the rush and tumble of the everyday, that Stoicism gets tested and, maybe, lived.

What moment on your commute threw you off balance—or brought you back to yourself—today? I’d love to know.