How I ended up channeling Cillian Murphy

not overnight, that's for sure

Hello you,

The other day, a post on Instagram stopped my thumb mid-scroll. I suppose “reel” is the proper term; this one contained two video clips fused together.¹

The first was of Tom Cruise, in full-throated interrogation of Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men. You know that scene. He was trying to get Nicholson to admit to something under oath, leading to the “You can’t handle the truth” explosion. Cruise was intense. Prowling, eyes flashing, emphatically punctuating every word with his fist.

The clip that followed was of Cillian Murphy. It looked like he was being interviewed, like on some talk show or something. Murphy was sitting on a couch, calmly listening to whatever the unseen interviewer was asking. He had his hands clasped on his lap, a ghost of a smile. At some point, he exhaled and slowly looked away.

The caption on the Cruise video said, “When someone makes you angry in your 20s”.

The caption on the Murphy video said, “When someone makes you angry in your 40s+”.

Photo by Umberto Del Piano

You know that feeling when you see or hear something that stops you in your tracks, and you recognize something true about yourself?

Oh my goodness, I was definitely a version of Cruise in that scene in my younger years. That intense, adrenaline-fueled reaction to everything. The need to prove, defend, win. I can see myself even now: eyebrows crunched, shoulders locked, clenched fists in an attempt at control.

But I think of myself now, and miraculously — without realizing it — I have somehow turned into a Cillian Murphy.

How in the world did that happen? Was it simply age, as implied in the captions, that created the change?

I mean, sure, age can mellow some people out. But I see people my age and older who channel Cruise — or worse, Jack Nicholson’s wild-eyed, red face, veins in the neck standing out, taut with rage — when responding to life’s frustrations or to people who dare disagree.

So, as much as I agree aging can do wonders for our nervous system, I don’t think it’s the magic formula some make it out to be.

It got me thinking about how I’ve changed. Something other than the number of birthdays I’ve celebrated must have brought about the shift. And I think two things, more than anything, helped coax out a calmer, quieter version of me (Cillian Murphy would be proud).

(1) A daily practice.

For almost five years now, I’ve been reading The Daily Stoic every morning. Five years of short paragraphs and dog-eared pages. Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius before coffee. Before I write in my journal. Before the day’s To-Do list takes over.

Sometimes, I highlight a few words, a sentence or two. Once in a while, I take a couple of extra minutes thinking about what I just read. More often though, I simply read the day’s entry and then close the book and go about the day.

Drip, drip, drip.

I suppose after a while, those words, those ideas — even when I’m not consciously reflecting on them — they’ve taken hold. How could they not?

I didn’t set out to prove anything to myself, but I think I have anyway. Whatever we repeat long enough — steadily, without fanfare — reshapes us.²

(2) A challenge that lasted four months.

A couple of years ago, I stumbled upon Will Bowen’s 21-Day No Complaints challenge. I talked about that experience here, but the gist of it was to refrain from complaining for 21 consecutive days. If you complain at all, you stop the count and start over on Day 1.

It took me four months to complete the 21 days. I remember the first time I got to 14 consecutive days without whining about anything, only to break the chain later in the afternoon, and had to go back to Day 1. I wanted to cry.

I don’t know… somehow, those four months flipped a switch. Some dominoes in the brain got rearranged or something so that even after the challenge was over, I don’t get that impulse to complain. Not as much as I used to, anyway.

Whatever the trigger was, it stopped working as often as it did before. Or, in those times when I do get triggered, the reaction doesn’t last long. I’m able to release the negative vibes sooner. I can do like Cillian Murphy. Sigh and look away.

• • •

You know, I set out to better myself, just like anyone else.

I read books, listen to podcasts, try to pick up the “lessons” imparted. But of course, it’s the practice that delivers the change. It’s not going to be overnight. Nothing ever is. And it may not even be the change you expect to see.

Then one day, you’ll look in the mirror — or stumble on some innocuous post on social media — and realize you’ve come a long way after all.

🏷 Becoming

💭 not Socrates, but close enough

“What you did was impulsive, capricious and melodramatic but it was also wrong.” — Moira Rose (Schitt’s Creek)

Running this newsletter takes time, coffee, and a few low-grade existential spirals. And I would be so grateful for your support. You can buy my next latte here, or consider upgrading to become a paid subscriber. Thank you!

💬 last word

I think this Mercury/Bowie duet hits the right note, don’t you think?

For anyone still figuring out how to keep their cool under life’s daily cross-examination.

All my best,
Lou Blaser

1. Here’s the Instagram post.

2. And I’m sitting here thinking, how else, where else, can I apply this newfound wisdom? 😂