Hi Joe,
I’m having a tough time worrying about the future. The midterms are coming up, the world feels like it's upside down, and I don’t see it getting any better any time soon. I already was burnt out from the pandemic, not to mention how much stress I had before that. And now I don’t know where I’ll get the energy to move forward. It’s like a marathon that never seems to end. I know this is heavy, but do you have any guidance?
Distressed
Hey, Distressed.
Wow, you describe what so many I talk to are feeling. While I well know this experience of pushing against the odds, something feels different about this moment: As I talk to friends and colleagues in the United States, in Europe and around the world, it looks like the economic, political and climate stressors of our time are not going away any time soon. Yet, unfortunately, our nervous systems can only take so much stress and dysregulation.
Just this week, I was comparing myself to Sisyphus. A never-ending sense of the steep uphill climb of our time, continually pushing that huge rock against the relentless gravitational pull of anxiety, uncertainty and volatility. Every time I think things are moving in the direction of balance and stability, somehow the rock seems to tumble back down the hill. It’s so easy to want to give up or shut down. Yet, what gives me hope is the large number of people I know around the world who, despite all this, get back up, brush themselves off and start rolling that rock again up that hill.
So, how do we take care of ourselves with the possibility that we are not going to get out of this trend for a while? I took some time to reflect on the philosophies that mid-20th century French philosopher Albert Camus brings up in his essay "The Myth of Sisyphus." He recognizes that Sisyphus had every right to get despondent about his fate that he will have to push his rock up the hill for eternity. However, he suggests that the inevitability of the situation could actually bring Sisyphus to a deep acceptance that can lead to internal balance, maybe peace. Camus concludes his essay with, "The struggle itself ... is enough to fill a [person]'s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."
Sorry to get existential with you, Distressed. This might be the last thing you want to hear. But what I offer is the possibility to consider letting go of the idea that, at this moment, it’s going to be different. When you let this go, you let go of the worry and frustration of the future and redirect that energy toward the immediate things that need to be done for yourself, those you serve, for all beings and for the planet itself. By putting your focus on the present, you may see new opportunities for renewed energy and possibility.
This does not mean that I comply with, or blindly accept, the injustices and inequities of our time; I will passionately continue to do my part to shift them. However, like Sisyphus finding internal power to keep on doing what he’s doing, perhaps we can find a deeper inner resolve that we haven’t tapped into in a while, or maybe have never tapped into. This is not an act of acquiescence, but of finding deeper meaning and purpose in what we are already doing.
I find my own internal resolve with the recognition that while I may not at this moment be able to change the external stressors, I do have power in how I respond to them. With this presence and awareness, as well as grounding and focus, the rock doesn’t feel as heavy as it has. And I am also finding that while the rock may roll back down the hill, I can catch it quicker before it gets to rock bottom. While I have setbacks, I can still get back on track. I call this resilient power, where you find vitality, balance and clarity in the challenges.
With this notion that we are in this for the long haul, in what ways can you upgrade your self-nurturing routine? Do you have practices to nurture yourself physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually? Are you finding ways to cultivate the relationships in your life where you get nurtured and where you feel that you are truly seen for who you are?
This focus on nourishment and self-care is crucial for all of us at this time. While a marathon runner heads towards the finish line, the key to a successful run is to stay hydrated and only going as fast as is needed to take that next step.
So, Distressed, be gentle and pace yourself.
Joe
Learn more about Joe Weston and his work here. Make sure to c heck out Joe’s bestselling book Fierce Civility: Transforming our Global Culture from Polarization to Lasting Peace, published March 2023.
To Ask Joe, please submit questions to: AskJoe@Fulcrum.us.
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.