A reflective journey through ego, connection, and quiet purpose.
I. The Invisible Cage We Build
There’s a strange kind of exhaustion that many of us carry — the kind that doesn’t come from lifting heavy things or running long miles. It comes from thinking too much about ourselves.
Not in a narcissistic way.
Not in the “I love myself too much” way.
But in the quiet, overthinking, self-analyzing, overly responsible, hyper-aware way.
We spend our days mentally circling ourselves like satellites.
Monitoring how we sound, how we look, how we’re perceived.
We try to control every outcome, edit every flaw, fix every doubt — silently, inwardly, constantly.
“When the mind is obsessed with the self, it becomes a closed room with no windows. Nothing fresh can enter.”
— Inspired by Zen teachings
It’s no wonder we feel tired, even when we haven’t moved.
We’re running marathons in our minds.
II. The Ego Isn’t Loud. Sometimes, It Whispers
Most people assume the ego is loud and proud. But the ego is often quiet and scared.
It wants to be safe. It wants to be seen.
It wants to be perfect so it won’t be rejected.
It says:
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“You embarrassed yourself. They’ll never forget.”
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“You have to do more. You’re falling behind.”
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“You’re not as good as her.”
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“You can’t fail. People are watching.”
And so we begin living in performance mode, even when we’re alone.
We curate our online selves. We polish our résumés.
We reflect endlessly on who we should be, until we lose sight of who we actually are.
III. Okinawa Doesn’t Think Like That
In their book Ikigai, Héctor García and Francesc Miralles describe a visit to Ogimi, a small village in Okinawa known for the highest concentration of centenarians in the world.
These long-living souls don’t spend their mornings journaling about their purpose or worrying about if they’re “falling behind.”
They rise with the sun.
Tend to their gardens.
Share tea with friends.
Help a neighbor fix a roof.
Sing with their moai (social group).
Prepare meals.
Laugh.
Move.
There is no obsession with becoming someone.
They simply are someone — not by thinking, but by participating.
“The more we obsess over finding our purpose, the further we drift from it. The Japanese let purpose unfold naturally through action and community.”
— García & Miralles
IV. The Myth of "Finding Yourself"
“Find yourself.”
It’s the most repeated phrase in modern culture.
But what if it’s a trap?
You aren’t a mystery buried in the desert waiting to be discovered.
You’re a living person, breathing in this moment.
You are shaped not by introspection alone, but by how you love, how you help, how you show up — imperfectly but sincerely.
The more time you spend thinking about your identity, the less time you spend living it.
V. How to Think Less About Yourself (Without Losing Yourself)
The goal isn’t to disappear into selflessness or ignore your emotions. It’s about balancing the weight of your self-focus with presence, purpose, and connection.
Here are some gentle practices to try:
1. Shift from “How am I doing?” to “How can I serve?”
Each morning, instead of mentally checking your flaws, ask:
Who can I make smile today?
What small thing can I contribute?
When you give, you lose the need to perform.
2. Be where your feet are
Next time you're eating, just eat.
When you're listening, listen like it's your last chance.
Let yourself be immersed in moments, not just observe them.
Being fully present is a radical act of rebellion in a distracted world.
3. Talk to someone without preparing your next line
Real conversation is not a performance.
Let go of how you're being perceived.
Feel the warmth of another person’s words.
Let connection replace control.
4. Do things badly, joyfully
Perfection is ego in disguise.
Dance offbeat. Sing out of tune. Write poorly, but honestly.
The point is to live — not to impress.
5. Touch something real
Water a plant.
Knead dough.
Fix a button.
Wash dishes with both hands.
Physical presence interrupts mental spirals.
VI. The Quiet Beauty of Not Thinking About Yourself
One of the most peaceful people I ever met was a fisherman on a Japanese coast.
He didn’t own a phone.
He never asked about goals.
He simply cast his net in the morning and shared a sake bottle in the evening.
He wasn’t consumed by ambition.
But he was content.
His life wasn’t about becoming extraordinary.
It was about being rooted — in his village, in his rituals, in his laughter, in his work.
“You are most alive not when you're asking ‘What am I doing with my life?’ but when you're forgetting the question entirely.”
— Inspired by The Book of Ichigo Ichie
VII. Final Word
If your mind is loud lately — if your self-reflection has turned into self-criticism —
breathe.
Step out of your own spotlight.
Place your hand on something that exists outside of you — a cup, a hand, a leaf, a task.
The world doesn’t need a perfect version of you.
It just needs you to show up — quietly, sincerely, and a little less tangled in yourself.
And maybe that’s where peace begins.
Not in “finding yourself,”
But in forgetting yourself just long enough to feel the breeze.
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