Byron Katie reminds us of a simple distinction: there are matters that concern me, matters that concern others, and matters that concern reality itself— God, the universe, life. The moment we occupy ourselves with things that are not our own, trying to take responsibility for what is not in our control, we are essentially investing energy in a barren field. The common mistake is to think that busying ourselves with others’ affairs grants us control, when in fact, it strips it away. Instead of managing my own life, I am living within the movie I project onto them. The result: worry, comparison, self-criticism, and the very detachment from life itself.
And it is truly so—simple, sharp, almost brutal: the more we invest thought, energy, and emotion in what is not within our control, the more our suffering multiplies. And how many of us find ourselves there, almost all the time—thinking about what others think of us, how they interpret our behavior, what they said, why they said it… The list is endless, and the mind’s creativity around it is truly astonishing.
Two Types of Occupation
To be clear—I am not talking about thoughts about others that seek to benefit, help, or love. Not about compassion or generosity. I also, of course, recognize that others’ opinions of me can affect how much I can help them or guide them. But in these two cases, the focus is not on me, but on how I can be of assistance to others.
I am talking about that conscious whirlwind that stems from an ego that needs to be loved, appreciated, and seen as perfect. I’m talking about the need to control what others think or feel, both about us and about themselves. About the desire to know that others are “doing the right thing,” not because we genuinely care about them, but because it affects how we perceive ourselves. And this may sound exaggerated when described this way—but if you observe it, you’ll find that we all fall into this trap again and again.
So, I am broadly speaking about two main situations:
1. Occupying myself with what others think of me or how they treat me. Perhaps, as mentioned, I’m trying to ensure that everyone thinks I’m okay and that no one thinks anything bad of me. Here, I’m living inside a script that isn’t mine—building entire storylines about what’s “definitely” happening in their heads. For example, a trivial and undramatic example: my sister didn’t answer my WhatsApp message, and my mind starts racing: “She’s probably mad at me,” “Maybe I said something wrong,” “She must think I’m a bad sister.” All these scripts are written, filmed, and screened in my head. And maybe I’m right, and she does think that, but the excessive preoccupation with it distracts me, causes me to feel bad, and most importantly—it doesn’t lead to a resolution of the situation.
2. Trying to control what others will think or do. Here, too, I’m investing energy in trying to “manage” situations that cannot be managed. Perhaps I’m demanding that others behave, speak, or even think in a way that I believe is right—see, for example, children, students, partners… Furthermore, it is precisely in close relationships that we are invited to learn the most difficult lesson: to distinguish between genuine love and the drama the ego creates around “what this says about me as a ‘mother,’ ‘partner,’ etc.,” or even “how this makes me look.”
These two patterns consume the most precious resource—my presence here and now.
The Normal That Hurts
And it’s very normal and natural to get caught up in our thoughts about others—especially those who are close to us.
We all do it. Here I am now, even when I’m at a deep, isolated retreat, with no one around and no connection to the outside world—even then, thoughts about others continue to arise.
But if we’re honest—”normal” isn’t necessarily right, and certainly not healthy. It’s not necessarily helpful. And many times, it’s completely unnecessary.
Our mind is a doing machine. It’s always looking for something to latch onto, and when there’s no external stimulus available, it invents one. You know it. Sometimes it can reach truly ridiculous situations…
And then, for example, even in quiet moments like meditation, sitting by the sea, or just when no one is next to us, our mind immediately turns to the archives: it pulls out figures from the past and present, builds stories about them, and holds imaginary conversations with them. You ask, you answer, and you even feel a wave of anger, even though the conversation never happened, and maybe everything you’re attributing to the other person is fundamentally wrong. This is a survival mechanism of the consciousness, which seeks identity through reflection. The trap is that we tend to view this behavior as something normal and even legitimate, but what is normal is not necessarily healthy. When we accept “normality” as an excuse, we are actually perpetuating suffering. As mentioned, what we’ve grown accustomed to is not necessarily what benefits us.
Escaping Ourselves Through Others
I want to offer a sharp, yet liberating thought: what if all this preoccupation with others is actually an escape from myself? Because when I truly stop and look inward, I encounter heavy and serious questions: What do I feel? What do I want? What do I need to change in my life? What choices am I making that serve me and which ones do not? It’s frightening and demanding to face ourselves. In contrast, occupying myself with others—that’s easy. It allows me to blame, analyze, feel like a victim, and entrench myself in positions. I don’t have to deal with my fears, my pains, and my imperfections. I just have to analyze their imperfections.
But as long as I’m running outward—I’m not truly living my life.
It’s All in My Head
And anyway, most of our stories about “what they think of me” or “why they did that” never happen in reality. They are a figment of our imagination. Even if someone said or did something, my experience comes not from the event itself, but from my interpretation of it. From the story I attach to it. In other words: I am not reacting to the other person—I am reacting to myself. What I think others think of me almost always reflects what I think of myself. They become a movie screen onto which I project my beliefs and fears.
And besides, now seriously. What does it really matter what they think of us? Whose life do we want to live?
So maybe it’s time to stop looking outward and start looking inward, to the place where we can truly make a change?
An Invitation to Turn Inward
If we look honestly, we will discover how much energy has been wasted on internal scenarios that never happened. How much creativity, growth, and love we could have discovered—if only we had turned our attention inward, to ourselves. The inward gaze is not indifference to the world—on the contrary, it is the starting point for a healthy connection to it. When I am connected to myself, I can choose when and how much to invest in others out of a pure desire, not out of a need or fear. This is true freedom.
The Connection to Mindfulness: To Be Here, Not There
Mindfulness is the absolute antithesis of getting carried away outward. It is not a theoretical idea—it is a daily practice of training: to return again and again to the breath, to the body, to this very moment. To practice being present. When I am here, with my breath, with my feet on the floor, I am free. I have no internal stories. I have no worries about the future or anger about the past. When I am there, in thoughts about others—I am a captive. The return to presence is a gentle and continuous reminder: my real life happens here, now, not in my imagination about what is happening with them.
So, in essence, this is an invitation to live a life of loyalty to ourselves, which begins with an honest observation—what is our reality and what are the stories we tell about it, and most importantly, how we act within it—reacting outwardly, or acting from our own truth.
Mindful Education 