Monks Wouldn't Last a Day in Your Shoes
How to Turn Daily Struggles into Spiritual Practice
I visited a temple in Kamakura a few months ago with a friend. I asked him whether he thought being a monk, or living out “in the world” was easier. We both agreed: Being a monk is easier, by far!
Neither of us had been monks for any long period of time, but we’d spent time on retreat – days/weeks in silence. Essentially, living like monks.
In a monastery, everything is taken care of for you. You eat what you’re given and follow a similar schedule daily. You don’t have to worry about housing or money.
This isn’t to say periods of silence and isolation aren’t valuable. They are necessary for deepening spiritual awakening. Most of us don’t get enough time for ourselves to really reflect and go inwards.
However, the real challenges come from living in society. Managing your career, relationships, hobbies, and staying sane in a world with multiple crises at any given moment is no easy task. Let alone making space to be aware of your own reactions.
So no, monks wouldn’t last a day in your shoes.
But the relationship to your daily challenges can go one of two ways:
You see them as roadblocks and get annoyed
You see them as an opportunity for spiritual growth
In zen, you “enter zen” through whatever is going on right now in your life. In Tibetan Buddhist practices, your difficulties become the path.
The conflict with your partner, the annoying boss, the draining commute. All of them.
How do you do that?
Underneath each emotion and thought, there is a hidden gem. Most of us push, judge, analyze or blame our situation. We never get deep enough to find the gems.
As one mentor put it, “everything is always greater than its current expression.”
Psychologist Eugene Gendlin noted that most people don’t take even 30 seconds to feel their own feelings. They go straight into story-mode and miss what’s underneath.
“The bad feeling is the body knowing and pushing toward what good would be.”
― Eugene T. Gendlin
For example: I was feeling jealousy towards a friend. The typical approach is to “try” and be happy for them, and grateful for what I have.
This doesn’t work. You can say the right words, but it doesn’t feel right.
I knew something deeper was going on. So instead of forcing niceness, I took a few minutes to sit with the feeling. I imagined the person in my mind and let curiosity guide me. I asked, “What is this really about?” and waited.
It wasn’t just jealousy—there was something underneath. I tuned into the bodily sensations where the emotion lived and gave it space to unfold.
Very quickly, images and thoughts began to surface. I touched something deeper—an unexpected feeling. I had been putting up a “face.” Beneath it was a desire to connect with this person more deeply and authentically.
The jealousy disappeared. I saw it was just a defense mechanism, protecting me from the pain of disconnection. Shortly after, I spent time with this person, and the jealousy was gone. Instead, I dropped the pretense and we had a real conversation.
The basic principle is this: Whenever we feel stuck, it means we haven’t made deep enough contact with our experience.
Typically when we’re stuck we think that we need to fix something. We try to take action and find the right information. Maybe we get obsessed reading and watching videos hoping to find the answer.
But in many cases, no one can answer the question for you. The answer does not exist in the form of data floating around online. It exists only within, manifesting as felt-knowledge in your body and mind.
Only you can feel it. Only you can know it.
And when the answer does come, you probably won’t be able to explain how you got it. You’ll just know. In a world that favors explanations, this can feel unfamiliar.
But once you have the answer, the next step becomes clear. When I wasn’t feeling jealous anymore, it was obvious what to do—be with my friend in a more open, honest way. Nothing forced.
So next time you feel stuck, don’t try to fix anything. Spend a few minutes with your experience, intentionally. See what emerges.
Remember that what you're facing isn’t in the way. It is the way.