Think Like a Monk

by Jay Shetty

  DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME

  Monks go to extremes to achieve detachment. I don’t expect you to do this, but after we look at how it works, we’ll talk about more practical, even fun, ways to experiment with detachment and the benefits it yields.

  Experiments in discomfort—like fasting, silence, meditating in heat or cold, and others we’ve discussed—detach you from the body because they make you realize how much of the discomfort is in the mind. Another way we monks tested our detachment was to travel with nothing. No food, no shelter, no money. We had to fend for ourselves and recognize that we needed very little to get by. It also made us more grateful for all that we had. All of these exercises helped us push ourselves to the limit—mentally and physically—to build resolve, resilience, grit, to strengthen our ability to control our minds.

  The first time I did a full-day fast, consuming no food or water, I spent the first few hours feeling desperately hungry. We weren’t supposed to take naps while we were fasting—the point was to have the experience, not to avoid it with sleep. I had to use my intellect to soothe myself. I had to become absorbed in something higher to let go of these hungry thoughts.

  As the day went on, I realized that because my body didn’t need to think about what to eat, to prepare for a meal, to consume, or to digest, I actually had more of a different sort of energy.

  When we fast, we detach from the body and all the time we spend attending to its demands. When we remove eating, we can let go of hunger and satiety, pain and pleasure, failure and success. We redirect our energy and attention to focus on the mind. In future fasts, I got in the habit of using that energy to study, research, make notes, or prepare a talk. Fasting became a creative time, free of distractions.

  At the end of the fast, I felt physically tired, but mentally stronger. In functioning without something my body relied on, I had broken a limit that existed in my mind. I gained flexibility and adaptability and resourcefulness. That experience with fasting bled into the rest of my life.

  Fasting is a physical challenge driven by the intellect. Being silent for long periods of time brought up completely different issues—who was I when I detached from other people?

  I am on Day Nine of thirty days of silence and I think I’m losing my mind. Before this I’ve definitely never kept my mouth shut for an entire day, much less a whole month. Now, along with the group of monks who joined the ashram at the same time as I did, I’ve gone for more than a week without speaking, watching, hearing, or communicating in any other way. I’m a talker. I love sharing and hearing others’ experiences. In the silence, my mind is going wild. In quick succession I think of:

  rap lyrics to songs I haven’t heard in a while

  everything I have to read and learn for monk school

  how everyone else is possibly enduring this

  a random conversation I once had with an ex-girlfriend

  what I would be doing at this very moment if I had taken a job instead of becoming a monk counting down the days ’til I can speak again.

  This is all in ten minutes.

  In my month-long silent retreat there is no outlet. I have no option but to go inward. I must face my monkey mind and start conversations. I ask myself questions: Why do I need to talk? Why can’t I just be in my thoughts? What can I find in silence that I can’t get anywhere else? When my mind wanders, I return to my questioning.

  I find, initially, that the silence and stillness help me discover new details in familiar routines. More revelations follow, not as words but as experiences: I find myself attuned to every part of my body. I feel the air against my skin, my breath traveling through my body. My mind empties.

  Over time, other questions emerge: I want to be part of a conversation. Why? I want to connect with other people. Why? I need friendship to feel whole. Why do I feel that friendship as an immediate need rather than a long-term comfort? My ego uses friendship to feel secure in my choices. And then I see the work I need to do on my ego.

  Often, in the emptiness, I repeat to myself “make your mind your friend,” and I imagine that my mind and I are at a networking event. It’s loud, it’s hectic, there’s a lot going on, but the only way to build a friendship is to start a conversation. And that’s what I do.

  Fasting and the other austerities that monks practice remind us that we can bear greater hardship than we thought possible, that we can overcome the demands of the senses with self-control and resolve. Regardless of their faith, most monks are celibate, eat a highly restricted diet, and live apart from mainstream society. Then there are the extremes. Jain monk Shri Hansratna Vijayji Maharaj Saheb fasted for 423 days (with a few breaks). Sokushinbutsu is the name for a Japanese style of self-mummification practice where monks would eat a diet of pine needles, tree bark, and resins, then give up food and water while they continued to chant mantras until eventually their bodies petrified.

  You don’t have to take vows or eat pine needles to explore your limits. Often all that holds us back from achieving the impossible is the belief that it is impossible. From 1850 (when the first accurately measured circular running tracks were made) until 1954, the record for running a mile never dropped below four minutes. Nobody had done it in less, and it was thought that nobody could. Then, in 1954, British Olympian Roger Bannister set out to do it. He ran a mile in 3:59.4 minutes, breaking the four-minute barrier for the first time. Ever since, runners have been breaking subsequent records at a much quicker pace. Once people realized there was no limit, they pushed further and further.

  There are everyday people, as well, who use austerities to up their game. People consistently report that experimenting with extremes helps them be more thoughtful and positive in their everyday lives. Let’s explore how you can use austerities to detach.

  HOW TO DETACH

  All of the ways we’ve already talked about training the mind involve detaching: becoming an objective observer of the competing voices in your head, having new conversations with the conscious mind to reframe thoughts, finding compassion for yourself, staying in the moment. Instead of reactively doing what we want, we proactively evaluate the situation and do what is right.

  Think of austerities as a detachment boot camp. Disconnect from the ideas that limit you, open your mind to new possibilities, and, like a soldier training for battle, you will find that your intellect gets stronger. You’ll find that you’re capable of more than you ever imagined.

  There are infinite austerities or challenges you can try: giving up TV or your phone, sweets or alcohol; taking on a physical challenge; abstaining from gossip, complaining, and comparing. The austerity that was most powerful for me was meditating in cold or heat. The only way to escape the cold was to go inward. I had to learn to redirect my attention from the physical discomfort by talking to my mind. I still use this technique at the gym. If I’m doing crunches, I bring awareness to a part of my body that doesn’t hurt. I don’t recommend this for psychological pain—I’m not a stoic! But the skill of removing yourself from physical pain allows you to tolerate it in a positive sense. When you know the pain has value—you’re getting stronger at the gym; you’re serving food to children on a very hot day—you are able to push yourself mentally and physically. You can focus on what is important instead of being distracted by your discomfort.

  We start with awareness. Spot the attachment. When do you experience it? When are you most vulnerable to it? Let’s say you want to detach from technology. Do you use it out of boredom, laziness, fear of missing out, loneliness? If you want to stop drinking, look at the frequency and time of day. Are you using it to unwind, to connect, to reward yourself, or to check out?

  Once you have diagnosed the attachment, the next step is to stop and rethink it. What do you want to add and what do you want to subtract? How much time do you want to dedicate to technology, and in what form? Are there certain apps you want to eliminate entirely, or do you want to limit the time that you spend using your phone? For drinking, you might look at whether
you think you need to quit entirely, whether you want to experiment with a dry month to see what you learn about yourself, or whether you want to limit yourself.

  The third step is to swap in new behavior. There are two general approaches that I recommend—choose the one that best suits your personality. The monk way is to go all in. If immersion and extremes work best for you, you might commit to eliminating social media entirely for a week or a month. Or you might, as I mention above, go on the wagon for a month. If you work better in slow, gradual iterations, make a small change and build on it. In the case of technology, you could limit the amount of time you allow yourself to be online, or perhaps limit, but don’t fully eliminate, certain apps.

  Decide how you want to spend your newfound time. If you want to minimize your YouTube time, look for another way to find that relaxation or decompression. Meditation is my first go-to. If you’re cutting back on social media, do you want to spend the time interacting with friends in real life rather than online? Perhaps, as a project, you could select which of those Instagram photos deserve to go in an album or on your walls. Use your found time to fulfill the same need or to accomplish the projects and to-dos that always linger on the back burner.

  At first, when we make a change, the mind may rebel. Look for ways to ease the transition. If I want to eat less sugar, reading studies linking sugar to cancer strengthens my intellect and motivates me to persist. At the same time, my wife sets up what I call “The worst snack drawer of all time.” There is nothing “bad” in it, no junk food. My senses don’t have access to snacks. I also look for natural habits that curb my desire. I notice that after I go to the gym, I eat less sugar. For me, going to the gym wakes up the charioteer. Realizing that I turn to sugar to increase my energy and improve my mood, I look for other, healthier activities that have a similar effect.

  Once the initial pangs of desire abate, you’ll begin to feel the benefits of detachment. You’ll find new clarity and perspective. You’ll feel more control over the monkey mind, but you will also stop trying to control that which you can’t control. The mind will quiet and you will make decisions without fear, ego, envy, or greed. You will feel confident and free from illusion. Though life remains imperfect, you accept it as it is and see a clear path ahead.

  MIND MAINTENANCE

  Detachment doesn’t mean we completely ignore our bodies and our minds. The body is a vessel. It contains us, so it’s important. We have to take care of it, feed it, keep it healthy, but the vessel is just a carrier. What it carries is the real value. And the mind, as we’ve talked about, is an important counterbalance to the intellect’s control and restraint. Without his chariot, horse, and reins, the charioteer’s options are limited. She is slow. Or he can’t travel far on his own. Or she can’t pick up a weary traveler and help them on their journey. We do not want to eliminate the voices in our heads or the body that carries them—we just want to steer them in the right direction—but this means the charioteer’s work is never done.

  We wake up with morning breath, smelly, tired. Every morning we accept the need to brush our teeth and shower. We don’t judge ourselves for needing to wash up. When we get hungry, we don’t say to ourselves, Oh my God, I’m the worst. Why am I hungry again? Bring the same patience and understanding when you’re low on motivation, unfocused, anxious, or addled and the charioteer is weak. Waking him up is like taking a shower and feeding yourself, an everyday practice.

  Matthieu Ricard, “the World’s Happiest Man,” told me that we should cultivate inner peace as a skill. “If you ruminate on sadness and negativity,” he explained, “it will reinforce a sense of sadness and negativity. But if you cultivate compassion, joy, and inner freedom, then you build up a kind of resilience, and you can face life with confidence.” When I asked him how we cultivate those skills, he said, “We train our brains. In the end, it is your mind that translates the outside world into happiness or misery.”

  * * *

  The good news is that the more practice you have at tuning in to your mind, the less effort it takes. Like a muscle that you exercise regularly, the skill grows stronger and more reliable. If we work every day to cleanse our thoughts, gently redirecting the ones that don’t serve us, then our minds are pure and calm, ready for growth. We can deal with new challenges before they multiply and become unmanageable.

  As the Bhagavad Gita advises, “Cultivate buddhi or your discriminating intelligence to discern true knowledge, and practice wisdom so that you will know the difference between truth and untruth, reality and illusion, your false self and true self, the divine qualities and demonic qualities, knowledge and ignorance and how true knowledge illuminates and liberates while ignorance veils your wisdom and holds you in bondage.”

  * * *

  Our ego is often what holds us back from true knowledge, steering the mind toward impulse and impression. Next we will examine how it influences the mind and how we can bring it back down to size.

  EIGHT EGO

  Catch Me If You Can

  They are forever free who renounce all selfish desires and break away from the ego cage of “I,” “me,” and “mine”

  —Bhagavad Gita, 2:71

  The Sanskrit word vinayam means “humility” or “modesty.” When we are humble, we are open to learning because we understand how much we don’t know. It follows that the biggest obstacle to learning is being a know-it-all. This false self-confidence is rooted in the ego.

  The Bhagavad Gita draws a distinction between the ego and the false ego. The real ego is our very essence—the consciousness that makes us aware and awake to reality. The false ego is an identity crafted to preserve our sense of being the most significant, the most important, the one who knows everything. When you trust the false ego to protect you, it’s like wearing armor that you thought was made of steel but is actually made of paper. You march onto the battlefield, confident that it will protect you but are easily wounded with a butter knife. The Sama Veda says, “Pride of wealth destroys wealth, pride of strength destroys strength and in the same manner pride of knowledge destroys knowledge.”

  THE EGO IS A MASK

  An unchecked ego harms us. In our eagerness to present ourselves as the greatest and smartest, we hide our true natures. I’ve mentioned the persona that we present to the world. It is a complex stew of who we are, who we want to be, how we hope to be seen (as discussed in Chapter One), and what we are feeling in any given moment. We are a certain person at home, alone, but we present the world with another version of ourselves. Ideally, the only difference between the two is that our public persona is working harder to be considerate, attentive, and generous. But sometimes our egos intrude. Insecurities make us want to convince ourselves and everyone else that we’re special, so we contrive a dishonest version of ourselves in order to appear more knowledgeable, more accomplished, more confident. We present this inflated self to others, and we do everything we can to protect it: the self we want others to perceive. Fourth-century monk Evagrius Ponticus (also called Evagrius the Solitary, because sometimes monks get cool nicknames) wrote that pride is “the cause of the most damaging fall for the soul.”

  Vanity and ego go hand in hand. We put enormous effort into polishing the appearance of the self we present to the world. When we dress and groom for ourselves, it is because we want to feel comfortable and appropriate (easily achieved through a daily “uniform”) and even because we appreciate the color or style of certain clothes. But the ego wants more—it wants us to get attention for how we look, a big reaction, praise. It finds confidence and joy in impressing others. There is a meme that shows Warren Buffett and Bill Gates standing side by side. The caption reads, “$162 Billion in one photo and not a Gucci belt in sight.” I have nothing against Gucci belts, but the point is that if you are satisfied with who you are, you don’t need to prove your worth to anyone else.

  To contemplate the difference between yourself and your persona, think about the choices you make when you’re alone, when there’
s nobody to judge you and nobody you’re trying to impress. Only you know whether you choose to meditate or watch Netflix, to take a nap or go for a run, to wear sweatpants or designer threads. Only you know whether you eat a salad or a column of Girl Scout cookies. Reflect on the you who emerges when nobody else is around, no one to impress, no one with something to offer you. That is a glimpse into who you truly are. As the aphorism goes, “You are who you are when no one is watching.”

  THE EGO MAKES US LIARS

  Sometimes the ego works so hard to impress others that it does more than hype itself. It drives us to lie, and, counterproductively, all that effort only ends up making us look bad. For one of Jimmy Kimmel’s “Lie Witness News” interviews with random people on the street, he sent a camera crew to Coachella to ask people walking into the venue what they thought of some completely fictitious bands. The interviewer says to two young women, “One of my favorite bands this year is Dr. Schlomo and the GI Clinic.”

  “Yeah they’re always amazing,” says one of the women.

  “Yeah, I’m really excited to see them live,” the other adds. “I think that’s going to be one of the bands that’s going to be really great live.”

  “Did you see them when they played at Lollapalooza?”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m so mad.”

  Then she asks a group of three, “Are you guys as excited as I am about the Obesity Epidemic?”

  One of the guys responds enthusiastically, “I just like their whole style, like their whole genre is great. They’re kind of like innovative and they’re new.”