There's something wrong with the world today. I don't know what it is. Something's wrong with our eyes. We're seeing things in a different way. – Aerosmith from the song “Living on the Edge.”

Our cataracts

My grandmother developed cataracts in her 80s and needed surgery to remove them. Cataracts cloud the lens of the eye, and for those who have them, seeing can feel like looking through a fogged-up window. She was a sweet soul who wore thick glasses just to make out the world around her.

I’ve come to believe that we all have cataracts—not in the literal sense, but symbolically. We see life through our own lenses, shaped and often distorted by our experiences. It’s easy to think, “I see clearly. I can separate truth from fiction. Others may be biased—but not me.” In an age of social media, where algorithms often reward speed, outrage, and certainty, our ability to see reality and nuance can become even more clouded.

With a little humility, we begin to realize that we all carry these lenses. The Stoics called them impressions—the immediate interpretations we form about what we experience.

Examining our impressions

These impressions quickly turn into judgments, and from there, into the stories we tell ourselves.

Don’t allow yourself to be carried away by the rapidity of the impression, but say, ‘Wait a little for me, my impression; let me see what you are, and what you represent; let me test you.’ - Epictetus, Discourses, 2.18.24

The Stoic principle that has helped me most is learning to question my first impression.

My initial take on a situation—what I think is happening—is often incomplete or distorted. Yet I can move quickly to treat it as fact, as if I’m typing out a story that is entirely true.

“Not so fast,” I have to remind myself. The story I’m telling is likely filled with assumptions, half-truths, and misperceptions. It takes effort to slow down, to examine what I’m feeling and seeing, and to carefully pull apart the narrative I’ve already begun to write in my mind.

The Stoics believed that with training, we can come to see reality clearly—a concept they called katalēpsis, a firm grasp of what is true. Not all philosophers agreed. Cicero, influenced by skepticism, argued that while reality exists, our minds may never fully grasp it with certainty. At best, we arrive at what seems most likely.

Whichever view we take, the practical lesson is the same: our first impression should not be accepted without examination.

Practical ways to examine impressions

How does this work in practice? First, pause. Give yourself time before responding—especially when a situation triggers a strong emotional reaction.

Second, ask questions—of others and of yourself. What am I feeling right now? Why am I feeling this? Could I be seeing this incorrectly? Why am I reacting the way I am?

Sometimes the best response is simply to be—to sit with whatever arises, whether it’s fear, jealousy, or frustration, without immediately acting on it.

This requires effort. It requires temperance—a level of self-discipline that allows us to resist immediate reactions and choose a more thoughtful response.

When I first became a sales manager, I inherited a team with individuals of different skills and experiences. From the previous manager—a former colleague—I was told that one employee lacked motivation and was mediocre at best.

I made a conscious effort not to accept that impression at face value. Instead, I took the time to understand his territory, his aspirations, and the challenges he faced. Over time, trust began to form. As he saw that I was willing to give him a fair opportunity, his performance improved. Eventually, he was promoted into another sales role.

Had I accepted that first impression, I might have limited his potential—and my own ability to lead well. That experience reinforced something simple but powerful: my first impression is not the truth—it is only a starting point.

All of this takes practice

Like my grandmother’s cataracts, the way I initially see things can be clouded. The work is not to eliminate impressions, but to examine them—to pause, question, and refine them before acting.

This takes practice. It requires patience, humility, and self-discipline. But over time, you begin to see more clearly—not perfectly, but better than before.

The Stoics didn’t expect us to get this right every time. They simply asked us to slow down long enough to ask: Is this really what’s happening—or just what it looks like at first glance? We all carry figurative cataracts. The task is to recognize them—and to take the time to see things as clearly as possible.

Glenn Citerony is an Executive Wellness Coach who employs Stoic concepts to help improve people’s lives. He is passionate about Stoicism and its relevance to addressing today’s challenges. Glenn can be reached at glennciterony.com.

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