Think Like a Monk: Train Your Mind for Peace and Purpose Every Day

“No matter what you think your values are, your actions tell the real story. What we do with our spare time shows what we value. For instance, you might put spending time with your family at the top of your list of values, but if you spend all your free time playing golf, your actions don’t match your values, and you need to do some self-examination.”

Shetty emphasizes how actions, not words, reveal values and intentions. Words and promises are not enough. Perhaps unconsciously, this reveals how Shetty is speaking from a position of privilege or, perhaps consciously, speaking to others in positions of privilege: “Free time” is a perk of privilege.

“Instead, we want to let go of the false values that fill the space in our lives. The ashram gave us monks the opportunity to observe nature, and our teachers called our attention to the cycles of all living things. Leaves sprout, transform, and drop. Reptiles, birds, and mammals shed their skins, feathers, fur. Letting go is a big part of the rhythm of nature, as is rebirth.”

Shetty often employs metaphors of nature and natural processes to shed light on his ideas. Here, he establishes the importance of nature to the thinking of monks; he implies that people, are part of the cycle and should participate in the rhythm of life. This way of thinking makes room for mindfulness and gratitude—appreciating the present because it soon will be past—and prepares one for transformation.

“Once we recognize and begin to neutralize the external negativities, we become better able to see our own negative tendencies and begin to reverse them.”

One of the most important things to relinquish is negativity: to let go and prepare for growth and giving, negative people, thoughts, and patterns should be exchanged for positive ones. This relates to the concept of karma, that the energy one releases into the world is what comes back; fostering positivity rather than negativity is key to finding purpose.

“If you want the negativity between yourself and another person to dissipate, you have to hope that you both heal. You don’t have to tell them directly, but send the energy of well-wishing out into the air. This is when you feel most free and at peace—because you’re truly able to let go.”

Relinquishing bitterness and rancor in favor of “well-wishing” changes the flow of energy from negative to positive. Forgiveness—even when not returned or done from a distance—is a powerful part of letting go of the past in order to live more fully in the present.

“Try shifting from I am angry to I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel afraid. A simple change, but a profound one because it puts our emotions in their rightful place. Having this perspective calms down our initial reactions and give [sic] us the space to examine our fear and the situation around it without judgment.”

One can change perspective by simply reframing the way one speaks. This changes the emotional tenor from embodiment—I literally am the emotion—to one of distance, of detachment. Shetty points to the power of language to create a particular mindset, as well as to shape reality.

“Life isn’t a collection of unrelated events, it’s a narrative that stretches into the past and the future. We are natural storytellers, and we can use that proclivity to our detriment—to tell horror stories about possible future events. Better to try seeing our lives as a single, long, continuing story, not just disconnected pieces.”

Shetty uses the metaphor of narrative to encourage his readers to view life through a longer lens, instead of focusing on temporary setbacks. This echoes his overall method throughout the book, tying the ancient narrative of the Bhagavad Gita and other seminal texts to contemporary stories featuring technology and capitalism. He brings the past into the future, making it relevant to the present.

“We can take on more when we’re doing it for someone we love or to serve a purpose we believe in rather than from the misguided idea that we will find happiness through success. When we perform work with conviction that what we do matters, we can live intensely. Without a reason for moving forward, we have no drive. When we live intentionally—with a clear sense of why what we do matters—life has meaning and brings fulfillment. Intention fills the car with gas.”

This metaphor of a “car with gas” ties the knowledge of the past to contemporary technology to which his readers can relate: the car is the vehicle of one’s life, filled with the fuel of intention. The notion of intention, rooted in dharma and carried out in service, derives from the wisdom passed down, from monk to monk, through the ages. Shetty turns this into a metaphor of modernity.

“As monks, we learned to clarify our intentions through the analogy of seeds and weeds. When you plant a seed, it can grow into an expansive tree that provides fruit and shelter for everyone. That’s what a broad intention, like love, compassion, or service, can do. […] But if our intentions are vengeful or self-motivated, we grow weeds. Weeds usually grow from ego, greed, envy, anger, pride, competition, or stress. These might look like normal plants to begin with, but they will never grow into something wonderful.”

Shetty returns to natural metaphor. Planting a seed of right intention yields a beautiful garden, while planting a seed of misguided intention only produces a plot full of weeds. The metaphor of planting seeds and trees runs through the entire book; it is a version of this metaphor that first captivated Shetty when the monk spoke at his college years ago: “plant trees under whose shade we did not plan to sit” (ix). The metaphor bookends the text, appearing on the first page of the book and as a subtitle to the last chapter.

“And if you have a clear and confident sense of why you took each step, then you are more resilient. Failure doesn’t mean you’re worthless—it means you must look for another route to achieving worthwhile goals. Satisfaction comes from believing in the value of what you do.”

Practicing meditation and mindfulness leads to resilience. Shetty talks about trees growing strong in the wind and weather, for example, just as people grow stronger through weathering challenges and surviving failures. Later, he uses a metaphor to describe the welcome extraneous benefits of right intention: “As a mother gives birth, gratitude brings forth all the other qualities—compassion, resilience, confidence, passion” (221). Everything is interconnected, even failure, on the journey toward purpose and fulfillment.

“A monk is a traveler, but the journey is inward, bringing us ever closer to our most authentic, confident, powerful self.”

This evokes the notion of “beginner’s mind,” a quality often brought up in meditation practice: “If we keep our minds open and curious, our dharmas announce themselves” (98). When one is open to all possibilities, the pathway opens up. The metaphor of the journey is invoked—a common trope among spiritual texts (think Canterbury Tales or Pilgrim’s Progress)—to describe the process of enlightenment.

“It is our responsibility to demonstrate and defend our dharma. The Manusmriti says that dharma protects those who protect it. Dharma brings you stability and peace.”

Shetty personifies the dharma, speaking of it as a separate (and precious) entity unto itself. The dharma is both fragile, in need of protection, and sturdy, a guide leading one to meaning. This kind of juxtaposition is common throughout the text—as in routine engendering creativity or humility generating confidence. Shetty uses paradoxes to illustrate the “both/and” nature of monk-based thinking, rather than “either/or” binaries.

“The point of waking up early wasn’t to torture us—it was to start the day off with peace and tranquility. Birds. A gong. The sound of flowing water. And our morning routine never varied. The simplicity and structure of ashram mornings spared us from the stressful complexity of decisions and variation. Starting our days so simply was like a mental shower.”

Shetty invokes the sounds of the natural world to showcase the serenity of “waking up early,” rather than the inconvenience or difficulty of it. The simile of a “mental shower” evokes associations with purity and cleanliness, refreshment and vitality.

“How can I advocate both for establishing routines and seeking out novelty? Aren’t these contradictory? But it is precisely doing the familiar that creates room for discovery.”

Here we see another paradox at work. Routine and new experience don’t have to contradict each other; in fact, the parameters of routine open one to creative possibilities.

“As my teachers explained, visualizing the mind as a separate entity helps us work on our relationship with it—we can think of the interaction as making a friend or negotiating peace with an enemy.”

Shetty uses personification: the mind as its own being. Instead of allowing one’s thoughts to wander aimlessly or hover anxiously or berate, one detaches to examine thoughts mindfully. In treating the mind as separate, it’s possible to observe thoughts objectively and respond (rather than merely react) more thoughtfully.

“We are defined by the narrative that we write for ourselves every day. Is it a story of joy, perseverance, love, and kindness, or is it a story of guilt, blame, bitterness, and failure? Find a new vocabulary to match the emotions and feelings that you want to live by. Talk to yourself with love.”

This connects to the earlier metaphor of life as a narrative: Shetty reminds his readers that they are the author of their own story and have control over its tone. Shetty emphasizes the power of language to shape reality; he urges his readers to choose a vocabulary of positivity rather than negativity.

“Remembering your mistakes and forgetting your achievements restrains the ego and increases gratitude—a simple, effective recipe for humility.”

Humility is key to building confidence. Success becomes a reminder of good fortune, not personal superiority, while failure becomes an opportunity to build character, not regret and bitterness. Again, wisdom can be found in paradox.

“You are not your success or your failure.”

Instead of embodying achievement or encompassing failure, a person is just that: a person. Success and failure are external events that do not ascribe meaning to the person as a whole.

“When the monkey mind, which amplifies negativity, tries to convince us that we’re useless and worthless, the more reasonable monk mind counters by pointing out that others have given us their time, energy, and love. They have made efforts on our behalf. Gratitude for their kindness is entwined with self-esteem, because if we are worthless, then that would make their generosity toward us worthless too.”

Shetty employs the analogy of monkey mind and monk mind throughout the book: the monkey mind is the impulsive, childlike mind, moving from one aimless branch of thought to another. In contrast, the monk mind is the thoughtful, mature mind that engages with the world in a generous and compassionate way, including fostering empathy for the self.

“Don’t judge the moment. As soon as you label something as bad, your mind starts to believe it. Instead, be grateful for setbacks. Allow the journey of life to progress at its own pace and in its own roundabout way. The universe may have other plans in store for you.”

Life as narrative becomes life as journey, another common trope for the path to enlightenment. Shetty reminds the reader that the mind responds to language; label carefully lest negativity creep in. He personifies the universe, like the mind or dharma, as an entity unto itself, a conscious being that nudges one toward destiny.

“Love is a gift without any strings attached. This means that with it comes the knowledge that not all relationships are meant to endure with equal strength indefinitely. Remember that you are also a season, a reason, and a lifetime friend to different people at different times, and the role you play in someone else’s life won’t always match the role they play in yours.”

Love is comparable to a gift, a metaphor that turns an abstract concept into something tactile. Sometimes love given freely is not returned, at least not in expected ways. However, it may be that one’s unrequited love is returned by others or deferred to a different moment. The gift of love is never really lost.

“Once you’ve unpacked your own bags and you’ve healed yourself (mostly), then you’ll come to relationships ready to give. You won’t be looking to them to solve your problems or fill a hole. Nobody completes you. You’re not half. You don’t have to be perfect, but you have to come to a place of giving. Instead of draining anyone else, you’re nourishing them.”

Shetty discusses settling into a relationship as if one were a traveler coming home, unpacking the bags of regret and anxiety to find peace in the present. The monkey mind is always looking for someone else to fulfill its desires, while the monk mind is always looking to bring nourishment and service.

“These three stages of transformation felt like a microcosm of the entire monk experience: First, we let go of the external and the ego; second, we recognize our value and learn that we don’t need to own anything in order to serve; and third, we continually seek a higher level of service.”

Shetty refers to his experience as a monk, specifically when the monks were dropped off at a poor village with nothing more than the robes on their backs. They had to figure out where to sleep, how to procure food, and what their purpose was. They quickly learned that, even with next to nothing, they could serve, fixing equipment or cleaning up; in return, the villagers provided food and shelter. It is the reciprocity of generosity that Shetty emphasizes, the interconnectedness of humanity; only by serving each other’s needs can purpose be found.

“Serving through your dharma, healing the pain that you connect with—this approach is very much in line with the philosophy of the Bhagavad Gita, which likes to meet you wherever you are and encourage you to reach higher.”

Shetty notes that everyone can serve in some significant way; he suggests finding causes that speak to one’s experiences, perhaps even painful ones. As suggested by the ancient text, one’s personal experience can be a foundation on which to build service. Shetty encourages his readers to parse their lives for moments in which they needed help, then to match that experience with charities or organizations that can serve others with similar needs. Shetty encourages to follow up with action: donate, volunteer, connect with political movements.