I May Be Wrong: And Other Wisdoms From Life as a Forest Monk

by Björn Natthiko Lindeblad

I have never felt completely comfortable with the term mindfulness. My mind doesn’t feel full when I’m truly in the moment. More like a big, empty, welcoming space, with plenty of room for everyone and everything. Conscious presence. It sounds like hard work, the opposite of being relaxed. For that reason, I like to use a different word: awareness.

A job, what we spend our days doing, has to nourish and stimulate some deeper part of our being. That type of nourishment is rarely derived from success. Rather, it comes from feeling connected to the people you work with, feeling that your work has meaning, that your talents are somehow making a difference.

I think what happened after the first two, dreamlike, weeks was that I started worrying that I might like her more than she liked me. It was a short leap from there to a bigger fear: What if she leaves me? Those doubts closed off something within me. It happened quickly. I’m guessing that same mechanism is also what caused my emotions to start shutting down. And when you’re closed off emotionally, playfulness, lightness, humour and spontaneity are all out of reach. You become mute and rigid. I certainly did.

Where’s the dignity, where’s the freedom, in a life where you believe everything you think? When we know for a fact most of our thoughts are involuntary. We’re not islands. We’re shaped by how we were raised, what we’ve experienced, what we came into this world with, our culture, our life situation and the messages we encounter on our journey.

we can’t control what pops into our minds. We can only choose whether or not to believe it.

Chaos may rattle you, but order can kill you.’

what your head tells you about the future isn’t the future. It’s a sketch, a fragmented picture based on your memories and experiences. And you only remember a fraction of what actually happened in your life.

What’s more, your memories are strongly shaped and determined by emotion. We’re programmed to remember things that were emotionally accentuated, not least those things that were hard and painful.

But what we call the past isn’t what actually happened. It’s fragments, often cherry-picked from em...

And those then provide the basis for what we project on to our future, what we use as the foundation for how we imagine life ...

Anyone who has ever experienced true anxiety knows that if you believe your thoughts at those moments, things can turn dangerous. There’s no limit to how dark things can get. Or how quickly. Having something toxic in your mind that’s constantly trying to convince you things will never get better is deeply unsettling and one of the greatest psychological horrors a person can experience.

I couldn’t bear to talk to them because I felt like I was going to infect them with my darkness.

Nothing lasts. Everything is impermanent. That’s the bad news. But also the good news.

Thank you, body, for doing your best, all the time, every day. You’re fighting an uphill battle now. I see you. You get absolutely nothing for free any more. And yet, you do everything you can for me. Even though you can’t even get the air you need. I’m doing everything I can to help you. And I can see it’s not enough. Not nearly. And yet, you fight on, giving it everything you have, day after day. You’re my hero. I promise never to be angry with you again when yet another movement becomes impossible for you. I promise to listen more and better to you than I ever have before. I promise not to ask more of you than you can and want to give. I’m sorry for all the times I did just that. Last, and most important, I solemnly swear that when you can’t go on any longer, we’ll do what you want.

Be the thing you want to see more of in the world

The things I’m ashamed about, the things I’m afraid people might find out, that’s when I know I did something wrong – that is heavy baggage. It’s so tedious to drag around. Imagine instead journeying through this life without too many shadows, without too many painful memories of times we didn’t act in a dignified way.

It’s certainly nice, on the other hand, to see a person with enough maturity to practise good impulse control. A person who can pick and choose which impulses to act on and which to let go.

When I was young, I watched a western called Little Big Man. In the film, there is an Indian chieftain, Old Lodge Skins. He has lived a hard life and one morning he comes out of his tepee and declares: ‘Today is a good day to die.’ That’s how I want death to come. Like a friend. You’re welcome here, Death. You give me perspective and proportion by whispering in my ear: ‘It all ends one day. Make sure you don’t leave any shadows behind.’

The miracle of the little things. When we choose to be a little more patient, forgiving, generous, honest and supportive than what might have been most convenient or easy for ourselves. Life really only consists of the little things, and, put together, they become the big things.

Each and every one of us faces crossroads every day: should I take the convenient route or the generous, beautiful, inclusive and caring one? In the long run, the two paths lead to vastly different destinations.

The universe responds to the intentions behind what we do and say. What we send out eventually comes back. The world is not as it is. The world is as you are. So be what you want to see in it.

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about Be kind Always

What happens when you close your heart to someone? That person may not be visibly harmed, but you are. It makes you a little bit smaller. You’re planting seeds of bitterness inside yourself. And if you choose to remind yourself frequently about this person you can’t forgive, that can let that bitterness grow to the point where it does you real harm, without punishing the other person one bit.

We’re so focused on the battle that we miss the white flags.

‘The war is over. Run up the white flag.’

It has become less important to please others. Before, that was always more important to me than I wanted it to be. It has become more important to express my gratitude. Because most people are like me: they don’t appreciate how appreciated they really are.

Wow, what a ride, what an adventure I’ve had! Who would have thought?! How is it that I’ve experienced so much? I feel like I’ve lived three lives in one lifetime. How is it that I always find myself in the company of wiser people with bigger hearts than myself? How is it that things haven’t ended badly for me more often, considering the many shockingly rash and sometimes undeniably dangerous things I’ve done? Why on earth do so many people like me so much? How can things have turned out so well for me when I never had much of a plan?

I don’t like to think of death as the opposite of life. More like the opposite of birth.

The day my last breath comes – whenever that may be – please, don’t ask me to fight it. Instead, do everything you can to help me to let go. Tell me you’ll be fine and that you’ll stick together. Help me to remember everything we have to be grateful for. Show me your open hands, so I remember what I want it to feel like when it’s time.

Elisabeth, if you’re not already in my bed then, crawl in with me and hold me. Look me in the eyes. I want the last thing I see in this life to be your eyes.