Temperance is a quiet strength. It doesn’t announce itself. It’s not flashy or grand. But it’s there—in the steady choices, the calm under pressure, the willingness to take a breath when you’d rather shout.

I didn’t learn this in a book. I learned it in the air, on the ground, and through the long hours in between.

I started my career flying around the world as a flight attendant in the 1960s and ’70s. It was a dream job—glamourous on the outside, demanding on the inside. I was trained to handle everything: turbulence, tension, even emergencies. There was no room for panic. I learned to smile and think clearly. I didn’t overreact. I didn’t freeze. I found the middle path and stayed on it. Temperance was a rock while my head was in the clouds.

The wise man’s actions are measured, moderate, and done with an eye toward what is fitting.
- Hierocles, Elements of Ethics (fragments via Stobaeus)

We were expected to be composed no matter what, and over time, that composure became second nature. I was practicing a Stoic kind of temperance: not denial, but discipline. Not holding back, but holding steady.

On the ground, in the home

Years later, my life shifted. I became a caregiver for my parents as they aged. There were no uniforms, no schedules, no applause. Just daily routines—some beautiful, some heartbreaking. I had to show up fully and without fanfare.

There were days I was exhausted, and days I had no idea what to do. I kept returning to what I could do: listen, support, and remain patient. Some days I failed, but I returned again. Temperance became the thread that tied me to the ground. It reminded me to take things one step at a time, to stay calm when emotions ran high.

Lead me, Zeus, and thou Destiny, wherever your decrees have fixed my lot. I will follow willingly; if not, I shall follow nonetheless. - Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus

That line stayed with me. Sometimes life doesn’t offer us a choice, we still get to decide how we’ll respond.

Temperance at work

Later in life, I worked in management— leading teams, solving problems, juggling expectations. People think leadership means taking charge, often, the best leaders are the ones who know when to pause.

Temperance means listening rather than speaking, waiting before reacting, giving space for others to grow. It meant not needing to be the smartest or loudest person in the room—the one who knew how to create balance.

When jarred, unavoidably, by circumstance, revert at once to yourself and don’t lose the rhythm more than you can help. You’ll have a better grasp of harmony if you keep going back to it. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 6.11

Temperance brings us back to ourselves, and helps us stay in harmony with who we are, even when life tries to knock us off rhythm.

Reinvention, not retreat

In my 60s, I went back to college. I didn’t do it for a job or a title—I did it because I still had things to learn. That decision took patience, humility, and persistence. I grounded myself in temperance. Sitting in a classroom with students, some half my age, I didn’t let that stop me. The common thread connecting us was our commitment to lifelong learning.

Temperance helped me stay steady. I didn’t need to prove anything. I just needed to keep going.

The goal of life is living in agreement with nature. - Zeno of Citium, reported in Diogenes Laërtius, Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers 7.87

And part of nature is change. We’re not meant to stay the same. Temperance doesn’t resist growth—it makes space for it.

A constant companion

Looking back, I see temperance not as a single moment or achievement, but a companion that’s been with me all along. Temperance has been my anchor through turbulence, grief, and growth—a steady guide through life’s shifting winds. Through decades of change—from flight decks to hospital rooms to university halls— temperance has been my teacher. It taught me that virtue isn’t found in grand gestures, but in the quiet choices we make every day.

It continues to ask me, as all good teachers do: “Are you listening? Are you learning? Are you ready to choose the right path?”

Each time, I try to answer yes.

Shirley Kwosek Sciacca is a writer, living in the midwest, seeking wisdom and resilience through lifelong learning and the practice of Stoic principles.

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