Think Like a Monk

by Jay Shetty

  The ego craves recognition, acknowledgment, praise; to be right, to be more, to put others down, to raise us up. The ego doesn’t want to be better. It wants to be seen as better. When we bluff our way through life, pretending to be who we are not, we end up looking worse than we truly are.

  The story of Frank Abagnale Jr., told in his memoir Catch Me If You Can and the movie of the same name, is a spot-on example of the false ego in play. Abagnale was a talented con man, forging and acting his way into jobs as an airplane pilot and a surgeon, jobs he hadn’t earned and couldn’t perform. Wrapped up in his ego, he used his natural abilities for low, selfish purposes, and lost himself. But after he was released from prison, he used the same skills and talents to lead an honest life as a security consultant. Real ego—a healthy self-image—comes from acting out your dharma for the highest purposes. Presumably his stint in prison gave him time for reflection and humility, and he found his way to a higher purpose.

  THE EGO CREATES FALSE HIERARCHIES

  Building a facade of confidence and knowledge isn’t the only strategy the false ego uses to convince itself and everyone else that it’s great. It also goes to great lengths to put other people down—because if others are “less than” we are, then we must be special. Our egos accomplish this by ranking ourselves and other people based on physical attributes, education, net worth, race, religion, ethnicity, nationality, the cars we drive, the clothes we wear—we find countless ways to judge others unfavorably just because they’re different.

  Imagine if we segregated people based on what toothpaste they used. That divide is clearly ridiculous. Discriminating based on elements of our bodies or where we were born is an equally false divide. Why should skin color matter more than blood type? We all come from the same cells. The Dalai Lama says, “Under the bright sun, many of us are gathered together with different languages, different styles of dress, even different faiths. However, all of us are the same in being humans, and we all uniquely have the thought of ‘I’ and we’re all the same in wanting happiness and in wanting to avoid suffering.”

  In Chapter Five we talked about misappropriation of the varnas in India’s caste system. The idea that Brahmins, determined by birth, are superior to others and therefore should have senior positions in government is an ego-driven interpretation of the varnas. The humble sage values every creature equally. This is why monks don’t eat animals. According to the Gita, “Perfect yogis are they who, by comparison to their own self, see the true equality of all beings, in both their happiness and their distress.”

  When success goes to our heads, we forget that everyone is equal. No matter who you are or what you’ve achieved, notice if you are expecting or demanding special treatment because of your presumed status. Nobody deserves a better seat in the theater of life. You might wait in line for hours the night before the tickets go on sale, pay more for a closer seat, or be given a better view out of gratitude for your support of the theater. Or you might simply hope for a better seat as most of us do. But if you feel like you are entitled to better, dig into that feeling. What makes you better than the other audience members? The arrogant ego desires respect, whereas the humble worker inspires respect.

  I often wonder what it would take for all of us to see each other as citizens of the world. I shot a couple of videos for the Ad Council as part of a public service campaign called “Love Has No Labels.” In Orlando I spoke to people about the aftermath of the Pulse nightclub shooting and heard stories from diverse members of the communities about how they came together in the aftermath of this tragedy. I met with Reverend Terri Steed Pierce, from a church near Pulse with many LGBTQ+ congregants, and Pastor Joel Hunter, whose congregation is mostly white and straight. In the aftermath of the tragedy, they worked together and became friends. “Somebody will find hope merely because we’re having the conversation,” Reverend Pierce said, and Dr. Hunter added, “And that is the bottom line of what will change the future.” As Reverend Pierce put it, they are “two very like-minded people that want to make a difference in the world.”

  The question this beautiful friendship evokes is: Why does it take a tragedy for us to come together? Our ego sets us on a path where we put more value on ourselves and those whom we recognize as being “like us.” Why is it that we walk this path until a bulldozer plows through it? Presuming equality keeps the ego in check. Whenever you think someone’s status or worth is less than yours, turn your gaze back toward yourself and look for why your ego feels threatened. It is core to monks to treat everyone with equal honor and respect.

  JUDGMENT

  Even without segregating, outwardly ranking ourselves, or excluding others, we attempt to elevate ourselves by judging others, including our colleagues, friends, and family. There’s a Zen story about four monks who together decide to meditate in complete silence for seven days and nights. The first day goes well, but as evening approaches, the first monk grows impatient because the monk whose job it was to light the lamps is still sitting, motionless. Finally, the first monk erupts, “Friend! Light the lamps, already!”

  The second monk turns to him. “You broke the silence!” he exclaims.

  The third monk jumps in, “Fools! Now you have both broken the silence!”

  The fourth looks at his companions, a proud smile creeping across his face. “Well, well, well,” he boasts, “Looks like I’m the only one who has remained silent.”

  Every monk in this story reprimanded another monk for speaking and, in so doing, became guilty of that same sin himself. That is the nature of judgment: It almost always backfires on us in one way or another. In the act of criticizing others for failing to live up to higher standards, we ourselves are failing to live up to the highest standards.

  In many cases, we’re passing judgment to deflect others’ attention or our own from shortcomings we see in ourselves. “Projection” is the psychological term for our tendency to project onto others emotions or feelings that we don’t wish to deal with ourselves. And projection happens a lot! So, before judging others, pause for a moment and ask: Am I finding fault in order to distract myself or others from my own insecurities? Am I projecting my own weakness onto them? And even if I’m doing neither of those things, am I any better than the person I’m criticizing? I can’t say what the answers to the first two questions will be in every case. But the answer to the third question is always “No!”

  THE EGO IS AN OBSTACLE TO GROWTH

  All of this artifice leaves us in ignorance. Like Frank Abagnale, who didn’t make the effort to actually qualify as a pilot or a doctor, our efforts to construct an impressive facade distract us from learning and growing. Even those of us who aren’t con artists miss out. When you’re sitting in a group of people, waiting for someone to finish talking so you can tell your fabulous story or make a witty comment, you’re not absorbing the essence of what’s being said. Your ego is champing at the bit, ready to show how clever and interesting you are.

  In our desire to show ourselves and others that we know it all, we jump to conclusions, fail to listen to our friends, and miss potentially valuable new perspectives. And once we’ve got a point of view, we’re unlikely to change it. In her popular TED Talk, “Why You Think You’re Right Even When You’re Wrong,” Julia Galef, host of the podcast Rationally Speaking, calls that rigidity “soldier mindset.” A soldier’s job is to protect and defend their side. Conversely, there’s the “scout mindset.” Galef says, “Scout mindset means seeing what’s there as accurately as you can, even if it’s not pleasant.” Soldiers have already signed on to a cause, so they value continuity. Scouts are investigating their options, so they value truth. Soldier mindset is rooted in defensiveness and tribalism; scout mindset is rooted in curiosity and intrigue. Soldiers value being on the right side; scouts value being objective. Galef says whether we’re a soldier or a scout has less to do with our level of intelligence or education and more to do with our attitude about life.

  Are we ashamed or grateful when we disc
over we were wrong about something? Are we defensive or intrigued when we find information that contradicts something we believe? If we aren’t open-minded, we deny ourselves opportunities to learn, grow, and change.

  INSTITUTIONAL EGO

  It isn’t just individuals whose egos limit their perspectives. Governments, schools, and organizations—under close-minded leadership—fail to look beyond what they know and end up constructing an ego-driven culture. Elected officials fight for their constituents and/or donors, without concern for the world beyond their supporters and those who will come after we all have gone. Textbooks tell history from the perspective of the winners. Organizations get trapped in business-as-usual mindsets, without responding to changes around them. When Reed Hastings, the cofounder of Netflix, offered to sell a 49 percent stake in the company to Blockbuster in 2000, he was turned down. Ten years later Blockbuster went bankrupt, and today Netflix is worth at least $100 billion. There is danger in the words “We’ve always done it this way,” or “I already know that.”

  The Blockbuster/Netflix story is well known in the tech world, so when I told it to around seventy marketing directors at a conference, I asked them, “How many of you, when I shared this, felt you already knew what I was going to say?” About half of them raised their hands, and I told them that the conviction that they already knew what they needed to know was exactly the problem that these companies had. When you presume knowledge, you put up a barrier that nothing can cross, and miss out on a potential learning opportunity. What if there was an extra piece of that story? (This point itself was the extra piece.) You can write off the familiar, or you can use it as a deeper reflection point. Even if you think you already know a story, try to live it as a new experience every time.

  Nan-in, a Zen master, received a university professor who had come to inquire about Zen. When Nan-in served tea, he poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

  “Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?” You can only be filled up with knowledge and rewarding experiences if you allow yourself to be empty.

  THE EGO ISOLATES US

  When a Roman general returned from victorious battles, it is said that it was customary to have a slave stand behind him whispering “Remember you are a man” in his ear. No matter how well he had done and how lauded he was for his leadership, he was still a man, like all other men. If you’re at the top of your game, beware. Ego isolates you. Don’t live in a world where you start thinking you’re so special that one person is worth your time and another isn’t.

  In an interview, Robert Downey Jr., offered a modern version of the same wisdom. When he’s at home, he isn’t Iron Man. He said, “When I walk into my house people aren’t like, ‘Whoa!’ Susan’s like, ‘Did you let Monty out? Did you let the cat out?’ I’m like, ‘I don’t know.’ She’s like, ‘I don’t think he’s in the house—go look for him.’ ” This is a reminder to him (and to us) that even a movie star is just a person in their own home. If you believe you’re Iron Man, it should be because you can actually do what Iron Man does. If you inspire special treatment, it is because people appreciate you, but when you demand or feel entitled to it, you are looking for respect that you haven’t earned.

  THE DOUBLE-EDGED EGO

  The false self that builds us up, just as easily tears us down. When our weaknesses are exposed, the ego that once told us we were brilliant and successful has no defense. Without our personas, our lies, our prejudices, we are nothing, as Frank Abagnale must have felt when he was arrested. Egotism often masks, then transforms into, low self-esteem. In both circumstances, we are too wrapped up in ourselves and how others perceive us.

  You can only keep up the myth of your own importance for so long. If you don’t break your ego, life will break it for you.

  I’ve been at the ashram for three years, and I’ve been struggling with my health. I may not be this body, but I still need to live in it. I end up in the hospital, exhausted, emaciated, lost.

  I’m here undergoing Ayurvedic treatment for two months. The monks visit and read to me, but I’m alone, and in my solitude two things come to me.

  First, I am not physically cut out for the life I’m trying to live. Second, and more disturbingly, to live in the ashram may not be my calling. My drive to spread wisdom doesn’t fit perfectly into the monk framework. I am compelled to share ideas and philosophy in ways that are more modern. This may be my dharma, but it is not the goal of being a monk. It is not the sacred practice.

  I don’t know if this path is for me.

  This thought hits me, and it upsets me deeply. I can’t see myself leaving. And I wonder if my doubts come from my physical state. Am I in the right frame of mind to make a decision?

  When I leave the hospital, I go to London for further medical attention. Radhanath Swami and I go for a drive. I tell him what I’ve been thinking. He listens for a while, asks some questions, thinks. Then he says, “Some people who go to university become professors, and some go to university and become entrepreneurs. Which is better?”

  “Neither,” I say.

  “You’ve done your training. I think it’s best for you to move on now.”

  I am stunned. I didn’t expect him to come down on one side so quickly and definitively. I can tell he doesn’t see me as a failure, but I can’t help projecting that onto myself. I have failed, and he is breaking up with me. Like he is saying, “It’s not you, it’s me, it’s not working out.”

  Not only am I reeling with the idea of giving up my leaders, my plans, my dream, but this is a huge blow to my ego. I’ve invested so much of myself in this place, this world, and all my future plans are based on that decision. But I know it’s not the right path, and my teachers know it’s not the right path. I won’t achieve what I set out to do. Furthermore, I’d taken the enormous step of declaring this path to my family, my friends, and everyone I knew. My ego was wrapped up in what they would think of me if I failed. Joining the ashram was the hardest decision I’d ever made. Leaving is harder.

  I move back to my parents with nothing, purposeless, broken, consumed by my failure, with $25,000 of debt from college. It’s kind of exciting to buy some chocolate, but it is only a circumstantial fix to my existential crisis. I’d gone away thinking I was going to change the world. Back in London, nobody knows what I’ve done or understands its value. My parents aren’t sure how to engage with me or what to tell their friends. My extended family is asking my parents if I’ve come to my senses. My college friends are wondering if I’m going to get a “real” job. They’re kind of like, “You failed at being a monk? You failed at thinking about nothing?”

  My biggest dream has been destroyed, and I feel the blow to my ego deeply. It is one of the toughest, most humiliating, crushing experiences of my life. And one of the most important.

  Though the monks couldn’t have been more supportive of me and my decision, leaving the ashram upended everything that made me confident in who I was and what I was doing. When my world was rocked, my self-esteem plummeted. Low self-esteem is the flip side of an inflated ego. If we’re not everything, we’re nothing. If I was not this man of high intentions and deep spirituality, then I was a failure. If I’m not great, I’m terrible. The two extremes are equally problematic. Sometimes it takes the deflated ego to show you what the inflated ego thought of itself. I was humbled.

  HUMILITY: THE ELIXIR OF THE EGO

  The ego is two-faced. One moment it tells us we’re great at everything, and the next moment it tells us we’re the worst. Either way, we are blind to the reality of who we are. True humility is seeing what lies between the extremes. I’m great at some things and not so good at others. I’m well intentioned but imperfect. Instead of the ego’s all or nothing, humility allows us to understand our weaknesses and want to impro
ve.

  In the tenth canto of the Srimad-Bhagavatam, Lord Brahma, the god of creation, prays to Krishna, the supreme god. He is apologizing to Krishna, because in the course of building the world, Brahma has been pretty impressed with himself. Then he encounters Krishna, and he confesses that he is like a firefly.

  At night, when a firefly glows, it thinks, How bright I am. How amazing! I’m lighting up the whole sky! But in the light of day, no matter how brightly the firefly glows, its light is weak, if not invisible, and it realizes its insignificance. Brahma realizes that he thought he was lighting the world, but when Krishna brings the sun out, he realizes that he is no more than a firefly.

  In the darkness of the ego we think we’re special and powerful and significant, but when we look at ourselves in context of the great universe, we see that we only play a small part. To find true humility, like the firefly, we must look at ourselves when the sun is out and we can see clearly.

  PRACTICE HUMILITY

  At the ashram, the most straightforward path to humility was through simple work, menial tasks that didn’t place any participant at the center of attention. We washed huge pots with hoses, pulled weeds in the vegetable garden, and washed down the squat toilets—the worst! The point wasn’t just to complete the work that needed to be done. It was to keep us from getting big-headed. I’ve talked about how impatient I was with some of this work. Why was I wasting my expertise picking up trash? The monks said that I was missing the point. Some tasks build competence, and some build character. The brainless activities annoyed me, but eventually I learned that doing an activity that was mentally unchallenging freed space for reflection and introspection. It was worthwhile after all.