I've had years of psychiatry, and I ask about every six months -

When Rob Lowe confessed, “I've had years of psychiatry, and I ask about every six months—it's sort of like getting your oil checked—I ask, 'I'm not an actual narcissist, am I?' The learned men of psychiatry assure me that I meet none of the medical criteria,” he spoke not only in jest but also with a candor that strikes deep. Beneath the humor lies an ancient concern: the fear of becoming too absorbed in the self, of mistaking one’s reflection for the world. His words are both lighthearted and profound, reminding us that even those celebrated by fame must wrestle with the question of humility.

The first truth he names is the discipline of self-examination. To ask regularly, as Lowe does, whether he has strayed into narcissism is to recognize the danger of self-deception. Just as a man brings his car to a mechanic to prevent hidden damage, so too must a soul consult wise counselors to ensure it remains sound. The oil of the spirit must be checked, lest vanity and pride corrode it. The ancients praised this habit: Socrates urged men to “know thyself,” not once, but continually. Lowe’s recurring question mirrors this wisdom, cloaked in modern metaphor.

The second truth lies in the fear of narcissism. To be a narcissist, in its medical and mythic sense, is to be enslaved by the mirror. Narcissus of old gazed at his own reflection until it consumed him, unable to turn outward toward the world or toward love. Lowe, who has lived within the glare of fame, knows how easily admiration can turn to self-obsession. His repeated question is not vanity but vigilance—the act of guarding his soul against a fate that has devoured many before him.

History offers us vivid warnings. Consider the emperors of Rome, whose unchecked adoration of self led to tyranny and ruin. Nero, who fancied himself a great artist, played the lyre while Rome burned. Caligula proclaimed himself divine, and in his madness turned cruelty into spectacle. These rulers had no “learned men of psychiatry” to correct them, and so their unchecked self-love became the downfall of their reigns. Lowe’s humility in seeking counsel stands as the opposite of their folly.

The deeper meaning of his words is the importance of trusting the wise. Lowe does not answer his question alone, but submits it to those trained in psychiatry. He recognizes that self-judgment is clouded, that the heart can excuse itself too easily. By entrusting his concern to others, he models the ancient practice of seeking elders, teachers, and healers to reveal what we cannot see. The learned, in turn, reassure him that he meets none of the criteria—a reminder that vigilance is not the same as guilt, and that humility does not equal weakness.

For us, the lesson is timeless: examine yourself often, but do not do so alone. Seek trusted voices who can tell you truth without flattery. Ask not only, “Am I successful?” but “Am I becoming vain? Am I blind to my faults?” For it is better to ask often and be reassured than to never ask and fall into ruin. Like Lowe, we must treat our souls with the same care we give our bodies and our possessions—regular maintenance, so that the journey of life is not halted by hidden corrosion.

Practical wisdom follows: every season, pause and reflect on your character. Ask those you trust to speak truth into your life, even if it stings. Guard yourself against the lure of admiration, remembering Narcissus and the emperors undone by self-love. Celebrate humility as strength, for it keeps the soul supple and open to growth. And remember: to laugh at oneself, as Lowe does, is itself a shield against pride, for humor punctures the inflated ego.

Thus, Rob Lowe’s words, both humorous and serious, endure as a teaching. Self-examination, vigilance against narcissism, and the wisdom of seeking counsel—these are not merely practices for the famous, but for all who wish to live wisely. Let us then adopt his habit: check the oil of the soul, guard against vanity, and walk humbly, so that the road ahead remains clear and the heart remains whole.