No one likes to be called ugly. Someone has decided that they think a part of you, like your nose, is unpleasant to look at, and they’re letting you know about it. An insult like that can sting, but it’s just words, and with some practice and a healthy amount of self-respect, one should be able to shrug it off. You think I’m ugly? So what?
But what if the person calling you ugly is you?
What do you do then? It’s not possible to stoically ignore yourself like you would a deranged stranger on the street. And if you really do think you’re ugly, you must believe it’s true, which like organised religion is not something you can easily reason yourself out of. When we critique ourselves, painfully, we become both the attacker and the victim.
To get out of this uncomfortable bind, one has a few different options. Externally, you can change your appearance that is bothering you, in hopes that it makes you feel better or different. Take hair for example. You might change its colour, cut it, chemically restructure it into a different shape or attach someone else’s hair. Internally, you might disintegrate into shyness, avoid looking at your reflection or pretend you no longer care. Resisting, fighting and trying to remove our ugliness never seems to work very well and are temporary fixes at best.
Rather than trying to change, we need to embrace, love and accept ourselves. But how? In comparison to hacking away at our bodies, acceptance can appear to be passive and ineffective. What are we meant to do exactly? And how are we meant to love and accept ourselves if we are stuck with this thing we want to get rid of?
What we really want is removal, not acceptance, but accepting doesn’t need to be contingent with the ugliness disappearing. If it was, then it wouldn’t be acceptance. In practice, acceptance doesn’t really do anything with the ugliness. It’s still there, staring at us. But it does mean sitting there with it. We sit there, even as every molecule we are made of wants it to go away.
Over time, and with practice, you may even start to enjoy your ugliness. Enjoying doesn’t mean you necessarily want it to stay, but you have found some minute aspect that you’re okay with. It’s ugliness, but like other kinds of ugliness that we see in the world, we don’t need it to go. It still looks bad, like a stain on your trousers or a rubbish bin filled with dog poop, but deep down, you’re kinda okay with it.
And if one day, it finally does go way, you might not even notice.
Occasionally, when we push ourselves hard during a workout, we hit a wall. I don’t mean collapsing, I just mean stopping.
Sometimes it happens without us noticing. We just find ourselves standing still, panting, hands on hips instead of running. Sometimes we can push through and find some strength to continue when we’d usually stop. We might chalk this up to some new mental mindset or technique, but a lot of the times we don’t know what worked.
In all these situations, the person giving up is the same person we’re all used to being. You. The person who tends to think the same thoughts. The person with your genetics. Your habitual consciousness.
I know myself pretty well at this point. If I leave the situation in the hands of my typical self, I know what’s going to happen. When I’m swimming laps, I might think, “OK, I have one more lap in me.” And that’s what will happen.
But in that particular moment, when we just need to run for a few more minutes or lift that weight one more time, do we have to be that same old person? Is that habitual frame of mind the best one for the job?
When we ask that question, another follows. Who might it be more helpful to be?
Maybe we need to briefly become someone or something else, or briefly stop being ourselves. This might happen spontaneously. Like, you’re in the pool and for a minute, your leaden legs filled with lactic acid start to slash through the water like a tiger shark’s tail.
To make this sort of thing to happen, we need to find ways to give up control and allow it to happen. Then, and only then, do we open up to the possibility of something different happening.
When we are by ourselves, it can be easy to become delusional.
A little bit too much pride, and we fall for the illusion of being more than we really are. A little bit too much doubt, or fear, and we can believe that we are hopeless.
That’s one of the reasons we need other people.
Other people can help to break the illusions that we have cast around ourselves in private.
For example, it might be in your nature to believe you are a very neat and tidy person. This might even be somewhat true. There’s hardly ever a dirty dish laying about. You’ve got good manners.
But if you ever find yourself around someone who is much more orderly than you, it can be hard to keep this act up.
Maybe you’re eating a meal with this person, and you realise that they carefully place their cutlery down on the plate while they’re not eating. And you, to your shock and horror, wave your knife and fork about like a pirate.
In that instant, you just aren’t as orderly as you thought you were. In a very particular, personal way, you’ve been humbled.
This is a good thing.
Most of the time, we hang onto our habits and beliefs so stubbornly that it takes a certain kind of person or event to have this effect on us.
I tend to think I’m a pretty calm person. But one day, I’m sitting in a theatre waiting for a show to start and I notice a very calm older woman sitting near me. She’s incredibly still. She’s simply sitting. I realise my legs have been thrashing about, my fingers have been itching my scalp and thumbing through my phone. In contrast to her, I’m all movement.
It might never happen, or take a lifetime, but at some point, our confirmations and expectation are eventually bowled over by reality.
This is a good thing.
Reality is a good thing. But that doesn’t mean it feels good when it smacks you in the face.
Reality can hurt because it is shattering and dissolving something we thought was true and good and right. That’s what a belief is. I’m competent at riding a motorbike. I’ve got a business mind. I’m a good person.
These ideas can give us a lot of structure and stability in our lives and how we orient ourselves in the world. When we can’t hug them close, it hurts. We might feel like we have nowhere to stand or nothing to hold onto. We might suddenly feel small, or weak, or strange, or odd, or imperfect, or broken.
But once the pain, which can often be just a mild irritation, subsides, humbling is always a good thing, because reality is always a good thing.
It’s always new and refreshing. It’s always spontaneous. It’s what is actually happening.
And although it can feel comfortable, familiar and safe to pat yourself on the back, and to tell ourselves certain things, even if they are partially true, we tend to be better off when something or someone comes along and unapologetically and undoubtedly shows us we don’t know what we are talking about.
December 2, 2025 @ 12:03pm – Burnley, Victoria, Australia
Will AI take my job?
This is a question that has been hanging over many of us this year. Will AI replace me? Will I no longer be needed? What will I do?
Many of us have been thinking about these questions. They make us anxious about the future because now the future looks different.
For some of us, it’s easier not to think about it. We quickly change the topic or fill our heads with distractions. Others might shout and complain and point fingers, hoping that it helps.
Crying, screaming, hiding, shrieking, and cursing are all options available to us. But they don’t really change anything about the situation. In fact, they usually make it worse.
AI, like any other technology like concrete or wireless networks, exists.
Popular self-help authors encourage us to do what’s in our control to make the situation better. “If you’re scared about it, lean into it.”1 Use your agency and “slurp up all those problems and knowledge, and leave nothing for anyone else to do”2 and “push through (your) own excuses… even when (you) didn’t feel like it.”3 Even if there are layoffs or other acts of fate, you will be in a better position.
This is a helpful way to look at problems, but the reality is, of course our jobs could no longer exist.
Here are some more hard “could be truths”:
You didn’t do a good enough job (for this company at this time). True.
What you were getting paid for can now be done by someone with less training, or for less money.
Someone can do what you do but better, faster. TRUE.
It’s hard to look at these directly.
But of course it could be true.
I think it’s hard to look because there is such a slippery slope from “I’m not actually needed” to “I’m not good.” It’s scattered with guilt and shame and beliefs and all sorts of things. They feel connected.
But I didn’t say, “You are a loser,” “You are a failure,” “You should have done something,” “You won’t be happy again” or “It’s all downhill from here.” No judgements.
If you look closely, you’ll see that there is space between. Of course there’s space. It’s possible to separate these things.
Admitting that ‘I’m no longer needed here’ doesn’t take away your agency or say anything “bad” about you.
It’s difficult and painful but we must be able to recognize that it could be, and might be, one day, true.
January 11, 2025 @ 11:08am – Bolinda, Macedon, Australia
It’s a shame we take our thoughts so seriously.
They distract and pull us away from what’s actually going on. They sneakily absorb our attention without us noticing. Spiritual teacher Osho goes further, calling them “parasites”.
If we could just take a step back and find a little distance, our thoughts might have less influence over us. We might be able to live without instantly reacting or getting caught up in their stories.
This is possible with a little mindfulness, and shows us there’s nothing there to worry about.
With “humility and the patience”, Richard Rohr says, “you will say 98% of your thought patterns are repetitive and useless.”
So what do we do with them?
Even if they are mostly negative or trivial, it’s not possible to stop the tap of thoughts. Instead, the usual advice is that we should treat them kindly.
It’s good advice. Letting your thoughts float by without clutching onto them or harsh judgement helps to de-potentiate their energy and prevents one from acting them out. Altering your nervous system with a long walk or a cold plunge can also help.
But it’s not easy to be kind and understanding, especially when we are dealing with persistent, ‘sticky’ or uncomfortable thoughts.
So here’s another approach.
Your thoughts are racing, they’re really distracting you, and pretty soon you’ll be completely carried off by them. When that happens, try saying this:
“Yes? What else.”
Let’s say you’re upset about the dinner you’ve cooked for yourself. Thoughts might show up like:
“I should have planned this better.”
“I should have eaten that yesterday, now it’s going to go bad.”
“I wish this looked more appetising.”
Step 1: Say “Yes?”
Firstly, affirm the thought by saying, internally or out loud, “Yes?”
When you say this, try to take on the attitude of someone who is patient, a little bemused, and on the verge of exasperation, like someone dealing with a person who doesn’t quite know what they’re doing.
“Yes?” is a statement of recognition. You’ve grabbed hold of something that usually lives in the dark and you’ve brought it out into the light. And you want to do so without being judgmental. We’re not wishing it away or demanding it be different.
The thought may not feel very nice to touch. The thought might have a feeling tone of desperation, or sadness or some other emotion. If it’s something annoying, problematic or scary, you’ll probably want to drop it and do something else. Eat some food, watch YouTube, whatever. Or you might fall back into the old pattern and get carried away thinking about it.
Step 2: Say “What else?”
If you can stomach one thought without distraction, see if you can handle a second.
After you say “Yes?” then say, “What else?”
Another thought might arrive.
The attitude should be the same. Slightly impatient, but non-judgmental.
When you do this, you’ve made the choice to grab some more stuff from down in the drain.
We keep that attitude going. We’re rolling our eyes at ourselves. We’re nodding. It’s not scary. It’s maybe even a bit boring. It’s not the end of the world. It’s just more thoughts.
When big, heavy thoughts appear
Sometimes really “big” thoughts will come up.
“I’m never going to be able to cook something nice.”
“I’m a loser.”
“It’s never going to change.”
“I’m going to be broke forever.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
They might feel scarily true, like facts rather than opinions. We might call these beliefs. A belief quietly trains you to expect certain things from life. Like a child might expect to see Santa on the roof on Christmas Eve. But they’re just thoughts too, just ones you’ve probably thought a lot of times in your life.
And what do we say to beliefs? Same as we do to any other thought.
Yes? What else.
When we say “What else?” we don’t treat one thought as more special than another. And why should we? I didn’t choose any of the thoughts that arrived in my head, so why should I honour some over others?
By doing this over and over, we’re teaching ourselves that we can handle any thought.
Tips and caveats
This is a slow process, and we shouldn’t need to rush into it.
Start small It will feel stupid at first. You are talking to yourself. Start with small, everyday thoughts, before trying this with bigger beliefs. Practice while washing up.
Don’t go deep There’s no need to spend any time trying to understand or intellectualise the thoughts. This isn’t depth-psychology. All I’m suggesting is three words, plus a basic, non-judgmental attitude.
Watch out for moods If you’re in a really good mood, you probably won’t want to do this at all. If you’re in a really bad mood or feeling very reactive, I wouldn’t recommend it either. We’re adding attention to our thoughts, which might fuel some flames unnecessarily.
Why this works
One big reason this sort of practice is helpful is because it’s the exact opposite of what we usually do. Most of the time we do one of the following with our thoughts:
Buy it totally and get completely identified with it
Resist and rage against it
Run from it, numbing out with food, tv or other distractions.
But to simply look at a thought, raise our eyebrows, keep looking, and calmly ask for more, is a complete 180. And we could all do more 180s.
Buddha Bike 