Do You Sometimes Struggle with Self-Confidence? Lessons from a Not-So-Perfect Zen Monk

Have you ever felt like you're constantly chasing your tail, searching for something outside yourself to feel okay? Linji was a wise Chinese Zen master who lived more than a thousand years ago, and he taught that chasing after things is a trap most of us fall into. He calls it a lack of self-confidence, and it keeps us running in circles, as we seek validation on social media or chase endless to-do lists. These insecurities make us the perfect targets for advertising. As the saying goes, “For every doubt, there is a product.”? The ads tell us that if we buy the right face cream, we’ll never look old, and if we serve the right brand of pasta, our family dinners will always be blissful.

Linji paints a vivid picture: "You are turned around in circles by these objects... you lose all your freedom." Imagine being at a carnival, mesmerized by spinning lights and sugary treats. You find yourself reaching for one after another, and you forget the simple joy of being present, of taking in the sights and sounds around you. This lack of self-confidence, this constant grasping for something outside, steals our freedom to simply be.

So, how do we break free from this self-made prison? Linji's answer is simple yet profound: look inward. Ask yourself, what am I really afraid of? What makes me doubt my ability to handle whatever life throws my way? What’s prompting me to feel I lack something that I can find out there in the world? For many of us, it's the fear of the unknown, the fear of not being good enough. We worry about facing difficult emotions like anger or sadness, or simply the mundane messiness of everyday life.

But here's the secret: this practice of looking inward, this journey of awareness, teaches us that we can handle it all. We can face those "hell realms," as Linji calls them, with open eyes and open hearts. That feeling of not being able to handle what life sends my way was incredibly vivid when I was the head monk leading a 3-week meditation retreat. There was so much to keep track of, and it seemed like I had a special talent for making mistakes. I rang the bell at the wrong time, lit the wrong stick of incense, bowed facing the wrong direction. I stumbled and fumbled, feeling like the worst monk in history. But in this messiness, in this very humanness, something beautiful started to happen.

As I began to accept that making mistakes was inevitable and that there was nothing to do but keep putting one foot in front of the other, a tiny seed of confidence started to sprout. I remembered that even Linji, this revered teacher in ancient China, struggled with doubt and uncertainty. I marveled at the fact that every one of his students knew what it felt like to be unsure and lack confidence. More than a thousand years ago, people were worrying about the same things that plagued me, things that ultimately don’t matter. In that shared vulnerability, I discovered a deep connection to everyone who ever felt unsure, a reminder that we're all on this journey together.

This is where the magic happens. As we practice facing our imperfections, our fears, our anxieties, we start to build a quiet understanding: we are enough, just as we are. This self-confidence isn't found in shiny social media profiles or the latest fashions or perfect meditation sessions. It's found in the messy, authentic experience of being human, with all our quirks and contradictions.

There’s an essential ingredient in this journey toward self-acceptance: it’s our fellow travelers, our friends and family and coworkers. They're the mirrors reflecting back to us the beauty of our perfectly-imperfect nature, even when we can't see it ourselves. They offer support, compassion, and a gentle reminder that we're not alone in this messy human experience. And in that shared vulnerability, we find the courage to be ourselves, fully and authentically.

Linji reminds us: "Every place is a place of arrival. Every place is a true home." It means that peace and acceptance aren't found in some distant future, but right here, right now. Even in the midst of mistakes, anger, or chaos, we can come home to ourselves. Every breath is an opportunity to find that inner sanctuary.

In every moment, we can notice ourselves chasing after external validation, and we can pause and turn inward. We can cultivate the courage to meet life as it is, with open hearts and a touch of self-compassion. We can remind ourselves that every step, even a wobbly one, leads us closer to the freedom and peace that lies within.

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