The other day I was assisting a conversation between two people. One of them was complaining about how difficult her life was right now—how many things she had to do, the responsibilities she carried, and how each day had become like a survival to endure with no immediate end in sight.
While listening to all of this, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Buddhism and Shaolin teachings—on which I’ve read a couple of books—have to say about dealing with problems.
By the way, these teachings are not new to me; for some reason I have unconsciously always “known” these truths, which has given me the ability to never worry too much about anything in life.
In today’s world that light‑hearted attitude isn’t always appreciated—there can be jealousy, envy, or even anger toward people like me who seem to take something as complicated as life so lightly. At least, that’s the reaction I sometimes encounter in the conversations I have.
I’m not downplaying or ignoring anyone’s difficulties; this is simply the way I choose to deal with ‘problems’. And it happens to be mostly in line with what the Buddhist and Shaolin teachings say about dealing with them.
Most of the difficulties we face day‑to‑day arise from our own perception, not from anything intrinsic in the world around us. In their raw form, events are neutral—they simply happen.
Labeling them “bad” or “negative” is a judgment we impose, a linguistic shortcut born of a mental construct that transforms a plain occurrence into a so‑called “problem.”
In reality, nothing external can cause a problem for you, me or anyone, unless we attach a value or judgment to the event we experience.
It isn’t the event itself that creates trouble; it is our reaction to—or valuation of—that event that becomes what we call a “problem.”
Consequently, we fail to see things as they really are, much like the prisoners in Plato’s allegory of the cave who mistake shadows on the wall for reality.
All of this then begs the question how we can start seeing things for what they really are, so as to make our problems go away or at least diminish their impact?
Buddhist teachings answer this by urging us to place our energy in the present moment—often through practices such as meditation.
Why? Because the present is the only reality we truly possess. In the lived experience that we call life, there is no tangible past or future; those are merely mental projections.
The past is a story we replay in our minds, and the future is an imagined scenario we anticipate. Therefore, If we focus on the present moment exclusively, problems literally cannot exist.
I found inspiration the other day while observing our dog Naksu—a beautiful Weimaraner. It struck me that dogs may actually be the best living illustration of how to deal with challenges!
Funny enough I think their behavior also mirrors many of the virtues celebrated in Buddhism. Here’s how:
- Dogs live in the present moment. They don’t hold grudges; they’re genuinely happy when you’re happy. They carry no lingering worries about past events or anxieties about what lies ahead. In essence, dogs live entirely in the present moment. Lesson: forget about what was or what is to come. Focus on what’s in front of you right now. It’s all you really have anyway.
- Dogs appreciate small things. You can brighten a dog’s day with the smallest treat—a crumb of cheese, even—and it will instantly wag its tail in gratitude. That’s what genuine appreciation looks like. Lesson: Instead of inventing problems in your mind, redirect that energy toward appreciating whatever appears on your path—even the smallest thing. The key is simply to shift your mindset.
- Dogs show great fidelty. A dog never abandons its pack, nor does it betray the one it trusts as its leader. Lesson: Say what you intend and follow through on it. Stay true to yourself and to others.
- Dogs are courageous. Dogs instinctively guard their territory, even when the challenger appears stronger. The Lesson: Stay resolute and courageous, no matter the odds.
- Dogs are noble. Dogs often put the well‑being of their humans ahead of their own comfort—whether it’s staying by a sick owner’s side, alerting you to danger, or rescuing someone in distress. Lesson: Life is not about you, it’s about the other person.
I could mention even more ways in which dogs serve as models for us humans, but I think you get the point: if you want a happier, less problem‑prone life, don’t over complicate it. And live like you’re a dog.