Buddha, also known as Siddhartha Gautama, was a spiritual teacher whose ideas became
the foundation of Buddhism. Buddhism teaches that life moves in a repeating cycle of birth, death,
and rebirth. This cycle is called samsara. And the goal is to break free from it by reaching
nirvana—a state of deep inner peace, where there’s no more clinging, confusion, or pain.
But this path isn’t just about some distant spiritual goal. It speaks directly to the
struggles we deal with every day. One of those struggles is overthinking.
We’ve all experienced it—playing things over in our heads, worrying about the future,
or getting stuck in thoughts we can’t turn off. In Buddhism, this is a sign that the
mind is caught in what’s known as the Three Poisons: attachment, aversion, and ignorance.
These are seen as the roots of all suffering. Attachment is when we hold on too tightly—when
we feel the need to control things, to be liked, or to have certainty. In overthinking,
this can look like obsessing over a conversation, needing to fix something, or chasing reassurance.
Aversion is our tendency to run away from what feels uncomfortable—like pain, fear,
or uncertainty. Instead of facing those feelings head-on, we often try to escape them. Say you're
feeling anxious about something. Rather than sitting with that anxiety and understanding it,
your mind might start racing—imagining every possible scenario, trying to find
control. That overthinking isn’t solving anything. It’s just a distraction. A way to
avoid the discomfort that’s already there. Ignorance is when we’re disconnected from
what’s really going on inside us. Maybe we keep overthinking but we don’t see the
deeper wounds or beliefs driving it. It’s like walking through a thick fog. You keep moving,
but you don’t know where you’re headed or what’s pulling you there. You’re just unaware.
These three poisons don’t just exist on their own—they feed into each other.
That’s why, in Buddhist teachings, they’re shown as a pig, a rooster,
and a snake chasing each other in a circle. The pig stands for ignorance—blind and unaware. The
rooster is attachment—always craving and clinging. The snake is aversion—reacting with fear or anger.
Together, they keep the mind trapped in a cycle—just like what happens when we overthink.
One leads to the other, and before we know it, we’re stuck in patterns that drain us.
In this video, we’ll explore how Buddhist ideas can help us understand and gently
step out of the habit of overthinking. 1. Understand You Are Not Your Thoughts
Buddha says “Just as a candle cannot burn without fire, men cannot live without a spiritual life.”
The Buddha compared the mind to a monkey — restless, noisy, always jumping from
one branch of thought to another. Sometimes it’s curious, sometimes anxious, sometimes angry — but
it’s almost never still. And most of us let this monkey run the show without even realizing it.
The problem is, we often mistake our thoughts for truth. If the mind says,
“I’m not good enough,” or “They must be upset with me,” we believe it. We rarely stop to ask:
Is this even real? Where is this coming from? We get so wrapped up in that voice in our head
that we forget something important: we’re not the voice — we’re the awareness listening to it. This
is where awareness changes everything. Here’s a simple practice:
When a thought comes up, just say to yourself — “A thought is happening.”
That’s it. Not “I’m thinking this,” or “This must be true.” Just — a thought is happening.
That tiny shift creates space. It breaks the spell. Suddenly, you’re not lost in the
thought — you’re watching it. And from that place, it doesn’t have the same grip on you.
This isn’t about trying to silence your thoughts or push them away. In fact, fighting them only
feeds the monkey — gives it more branches to jump on. Instead, just notice the thought, like you’d
notice a car passing by. You don’t have to chase it. You don’t have to stop it. Just let it pass.
The monkey mind might still chatter, but you’re no longer dancing to its tune. You start to see:
not every thought deserves your attention. Not every worry is worth your peace.
So the next time your mind starts spinning with fear,
anger, worry or self-doubt, pause for a moment and say to yourself:
“This is just a thought. That’s all.” And then let it go, gently, like a leaf
drifting down a stream, until it disappears completely out of sight… and out of mind.
2. Return to the Only True Reality In the words of Buddha “Do not dwell
in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”
Most of your suffering doesn’t come from what’s happening right now. It comes from your
thoughts — from what you tell yourself about the past, or what you fear might happen in the future.
The past is over. It can’t be changed — it only exists now as a memory.
The future hasn’t arrived. It exists only in your imagination.
But the mind doesn’t like this. It keeps drifting. It replays old conversations, regrets,
and mistakes. It worries about things that haven’t even happened. It creates fear, guilt, pressure,
and mental noise — all of which feel very real, but are not actually happening in the moment.
That’s why we feel overwhelmed — not because of life itself,
but because we’re rarely present for it. When you bring your attention back to
what’s actually happening right now — your breath, your body, your surroundings — all
of that mental noise begins to fade. Not because you force it to stop, but
because you stop fueling it with your attention. There’s a powerful Buddhist parable that explains
this beautifully. It’s called the second arrow. The Buddha asked his students, “If a person is
struck by an arrow, would that hurt?” They said yes.
He asked, “What if a second arrow hits the same spot — would that hurt even more?”
Again, they said yes. Then he explained:
the first arrow is the pain life brings — things we can’t always avoid, like loss, illness,
or disappointment. But the second arrow is the suffering we create in our minds — the judgment,
the fear, the overthinking, the “Why me?” stories. We may not be able to stop the first arrow. But we
often shoot the second one ourselves. And that’s the part we can work with.
We can stop adding more pain by simply returning to what’s real — this moment.
The wound might still exist. But the extra mental suffering? That’s optional.
You can try it right now. Take a deep breath. Feel the air as it enters
your nose. Notice the rise and fall of your chest. Feel the weight of your body resting on your
chair or the ground. Listen to the sounds
around you without labeling them. Don’t try to change anything.
Just notice what’s actually here. Chances are, in this exact moment,
there is no emergency. No mistake. No threat. Just life — flowing gently, one breath at a time.
This present moment is the only true reality. Everything else — the past,
the future, your mental commentary — are just thoughts passing through.
This doesn’t mean you should never plan or reflect. Thinking has its
place. But let your thinking come from presence, not as an escape from it.
Throughout the day, keep checking in with yourself:
“Where is my attention right now? Am I here, or lost in thought?”
Each time you bring your attention back, you’re choosing clarity over confusion.
And slowly, you begin to realize that Life isn’t happening in your head. It’s happening here.
3. Let Go of Attachments According to Buddha "The
root of suffering is attachment." Imagine you’re in a relationship with someone who
makes you feel loved, safe, and understood. You naturally start to picture a future with them. You
feel happy, and over time, a part of you starts depending on them to feel that way. But one day,
something shifts. Maybe they start replying late. Maybe they seem a little distant. Maybe they’re
just going through something. But your mind doesn’t take it lightly. It starts spinning: Did
I do something wrong? Are they losing interest? What if they leave? What if I’m not enough?
You start checking your phone more. Reading their messages again and again. Replaying things in
your head, trying to figure out what’s going on. This is overthinking. But it didn’t come
from nowhere—it started with attachment. Somewhere deep down, you began believing that you need this
relationship to stay the same for you to be okay. That’s what Buddhism means by attachment. It’s
not wrong to love. But when we cling to people, feelings, or outcomes—when we believe we must
have them for our happiness—we suffer. We start trying to control things that can’t
be controlled. People change. Emotions change. Life changes. But attachment says, “No. This
can’t change.” And that resistance creates fear, anxiety, and the endless loop of overthinking.
Attachment is tricky. It hides inside love and care. But it’s not love—it’s fear. It says,
“I’m scared to lose you, because I’ve made you part of how I feel whole.”
And the more we cling, the more scared we become. That’s why our mind starts working overtime,
trying to protect what we’re afraid to lose. But here’s the truth: no matter how much we
overthink, we can’t stop life from changing. The more we try to hold on tightly,
the more we exhaust ourselves. That’s where active surrender comes in. It means
saying, “I care deeply, but I know I can’t control everything. I’ll show up with love,
but I won’t lose myself trying to make this stay the same.” You stop fighting the reality
that people grow, feelings shift, and nothing lasts forever. And instead of trying to fix
or chase or predict everything, you start to trust. You trust that you’ll be okay,
even if things don’t go exactly how you want. This kind of surrender isn’t easy. Some days
you’ll still overthink. Some days the fear will come back. But slowly,
you learn to come back to yourself. You breathe. You stay present. You remember:
peace isn’t in controlling the outcome—it’s in letting go of the need to. That’s when you start
to feel grounded again—not because you’ve held on tighter, but because you’ve finally let go.
4. Walk the Middle Path To quote Buddha "With
few desires, one can be content." When the Buddha left his palace to find the truth,
he gave everything up. He starved himself, isolated himself, pushed his body to the edge.
He thought that if he denied every comfort, he’d find freedom. But over time, he realized — that
kind of extreme was just another trap. A different form of attachment. It wasn’t freedom, just
another form of control wearing a different mask. Eventually, he came to what he called the Middle
Path — a way that avoids both extremes. Not indulgence, but not harsh self-denial either.
Something steadier… Wiser. It’s not about living with nothing — it’s about living with just enough.
In our modern world, most of us live on the other kind of extreme — too much. Too many
options. Too much noise. Too much stimulation. We fill our days with more and more — more content,
more goals, more pressure to always be doing, achieving, becoming. Quite frankly,
we’re overloaded. And when your life is overloaded, your mind gets loud. You overthink.
That’s where the Middle Path comes in. It invites us to slow down and ask:
What do I actually need to feel okay? What’s enough? What matters
to me — not to everyone else, but to me? Its all about letting go of what’s not necessary,
so we can finally see what is. When you stop taking in so much — all the noise, the updates,
the constant scrolling — your mind starts to feel clearer. When you stop running after everything
all the time, you feel calmer. And in that quiet, you can actually notice how you feel.
You become more aware of your body, your breath, and what’s going on inside you, instead of
getting lost in an endless loop of overthinking. Here’s what the Middle Path might look like today:
– Instead of extreme dieting or constant indulgence, you eat in a way that nourishes you
and feels sustainable, but still tastes good. – Instead of working non-stop or quitting
everything to escape, you build a rhythm that includes both focus and rest.
– Instead of cutting people off or always pleasing them,
you learn how to set healthy, kind boundaries. – Instead of trying to be the best at everything,
you focus on doing what’s meaningful to you, even if it’s small.
– Instead of constant stimulation — scrolling, watching, messaging — you
create quiet spaces in your day: a short walk, a pause to breathe, a phone-free hour.
These aren’t rules. They’re reminders. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
5. Practice Vipassana Buddha taught that “Meditation brings wisdom;
lack of meditation leaves ignorance. Know well what leads you forward and what holds you back.”
After years of searching through extremes — indulgence, then self-denial — Buddha finally
turned inward and sat beneath the Bodhi tree. There, he practiced Anapanasati — simple breath
awareness. Inhale. Exhale. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just being present with the
breath. From that stillness, Vipassana was born. Vipassana means “seeing clearly.” It’s
about understanding how your mind works and how everything is always changing.
In Anapanasati, you begin with just the breath. You sit. You breathe. You notice. And yes,
your mind will wander — it’s what minds do. But instead of getting frustrated,
you gently guide it back. Over and over. That’s the training. That’s the return.
Once your mind settles a bit, you move to Vipassana. Now you start noticing what’s
going on in your body — maybe there’s tingling, maybe something feels heavy,
maybe you’re restless. You also start noticing thoughts and emotions popping up. You’re not
trying to change any of it. You’re just watching. Even pain — if you really sit with it — doesn’t
stay the same. It shifts, it fades, it comes and goes. Same with your thoughts. One minute
you’re overthinking, the next minute it’s gone. Everything keeps changing. And when you really see
that, you naturally stop holding on so tightly. You realise there’s no point clinging
to something that’s always moving. You start to understand: you’re not
your thoughts. You’re not your emotions. You’re just the one who notices them.
And yeah — you’ll keep getting distracted. That’s normal. When it happens, don’t beat yourself up.
Just come back to what you’re feeling — your breath, your body, whatever is happening in that
moment. That is the practice. So, If you want to try:
– Sit for 10–15 minutes a day – Start by just following your breath
– If you drift off, and you will, gently come back – When your mind feels a little steady,
open up — start noticing your body, your thoughts, your feelings
– Don’t fight anything. Just watch. That’s it.
And slowly, the noise in your head starts to settle. You’re not stuck
in your thoughts all the time. You just see things more clearly — as they are.
6. Practice Metta In our final quote from
Buddha for this video, he says “Hatred doesn’t end through more hatred. It ends through love.”
Overthinking traps us in our heads. We replay conversations. Worry
about what people think. Imagine worst-case scenarios.
And the more we think, the more tense we feel. The Buddha taught a different approach Metta,
or loving-kindness. It’s a way to shift
out of mental loops by opening up emotionally. You don’t try to fix your thoughts — you soften
your inner world instead. You begin with yourself.
Sit down. Take a few breaths. Be still. Then quietly say to yourself:
– May I be peaceful. – May I be safe.
– May I be free from suffering. You’re not trying to force anything
or fake how you feel. You’re simply giving yourself space to feel kindness again — maybe
for the first time in a while. From there, you move outward.
Think of someone you care about — a friend, partner, family member — and
offer the same wishes: – May you be well.
– May you be safe. – May you be free.
Then think of someone neutral. Maybe someone you see around but don’t know — a neighbor,
a delivery driver, someone at the store. Offer them kindness too.
Because they’re human. Because they have struggles you’ll never see.
Next comes the hard part — someone who’s hurt you. You don’t have to excuse what they did. You
don’t have to pretend it didn’t affect you. But holding on to anger keeps you locked in
the same mental loop. Try this instead:
– May you find peace. – May you be free from the pain
that caused you to hurt others. This isn’t about them.
It’s about setting yourself free. Finally, offer kindness to everyone — people you
know, people you’ll never meet, all living beings. Wish them peace. Wish them safety.
It sounds simple, but it’s powerful. And if you’re ready, try to
forgive — both others and yourself. Not because what happened was okay.
But because holding on only keeps you stuck. Forgiveness helps you let go.
And honestly, that’s what most of us are really looking for.
One of the best ways to forgive? Thank the person — not for what
they did, but for what you learned. For teaching you how to set boundaries.
For helping you grow, even if it was painful. It’s not about excusing them. It’s about
freeing yourself. Here’s how to try it:
After Vipassana or breathwork, spend 5-10 minutes doing Metta.
Start with yourself. Then move outward: loved ones, then to neutral people,
then difficult people, all beings. If emotions come up, let them.
Keep it simple. Keep it kind. If forgiveness is hard,
don’t force it. Just keep showing up. Over time, you’ll notice the mental noise
softens. You’ll think less — not because you tried to stop, but because you no longer need
to hold on so tight. Some things don’t need to be solved. They just need to be met with love.
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