Everything I write comes down to one thing: replacing default with intention. Default is what you do without choosing it, repeating what was done before or what others do. Intention is consciously committing to a direction. Each piece approaches it from a different angle, and together they build toward an authentic, happy and meaningful life.

In my last piece, I explored purpose: what gives your life meaning and what you feel called to contribute. Purpose helps you shape and test your intentions. As that direction becomes clearer, another question becomes important: can we stay focused on what we are here to contribute, even when doing so asks us to admit that we do not know, accept correction, or let someone else take the lead?

We may want to contribute, while also wanting to be admired for it. We may recognize an opportunity, yet hesitate because it would mean being a beginner again. Or we may keep following a direction because we have become known for it, even when it no longer feels right.

This is where I want to look at the ego, and how it can get in the way of living in accordance with your path.

What I mean by ego
In everyday conversation, ego often means arrogance or thinking too highly of yourself. The word also has different meanings across psychology and spiritual traditions. Here, I am using it to describe identifying with the image we have constructed of ourselves. Once that image feels like who we are, protecting it can feel like protecting ourselves. That helps explain why criticism, rejection, or being wrong can feel so threatening.

It can mean needing to appear knowledgeable, capable, or better than someone else. It can also mean trying to hide what you feel ashamed of, afraid that if others saw those parts of you, they would think less of you. In both cases, protecting that image can begin to guide how you act and relate to others.

Perhaps you see yourself as the successful one, the knowledgeable one, or the person everyone can rely on. Those descriptions may reflect real qualities, but the difficulty begins when keeping that image intact becomes more important than paying attention to what is actually happening.

Eckhart Tolle describes how we can derive our identity from thoughts and opinions, with the result that disagreement feels like a threat to who we are. He also makes clear that we can have opinions without making them our identity. In The Untethered Soul, Michael Singer invites us to notice the voice in our head and distinguish it from the awareness that hears it. In Paramahansa Yogananda’s teaching, ego arises when the soul identifies with the body, losing awareness of its deeper nature.

All these teachings invite us to look beyond what we usually take ourselves to be. We are not what our brain produces. We are not our learned behaviors and patterns. The ego comes into play when we mistake those things for who we are. Recognizing that we are the awareness that can observe those thoughts and reactions helps us distinguish who we actually are from the image we are trying to maintain.

For me, that is the biggest part of self-realization: getting to understand your essence. Once you begin to recognize who you are beyond those thoughts, patterns, and the image you have learned to maintain, everything else starts to make sense and flow much more easily.

Why we learn to protect our self-image
Our self-image develops in relationships. We learn what seems to earn acceptance, what makes us feel capable, and what might put our place with others at risk. Research on self-esteem and self-protection helps explain why keeping that image intact can feel so important.

Imagine having grown up in a society with completely different expectations. The job titles, possessions, appearance, or achievements that carry status around you now might mean very little there. You might never have learned to feel proud of certain things, or ashamed of others. Much of what you now feel compelled to prove, defend, or hide might never have become a concern.

This shows how much of what we protect as “who we are” is something we have learned to identify with.

Research across cultures shows considerable differences in how people understand themselves and their relationship to others. The image we develop is shaped by the world around us: what earns approval, what brings rejection, and what we learn we need to be in order to belong.

Those experiences shape how we live, but they do not have to define the whole of who we are. We can spend our lives defending something we might never have identified with had we grown up somewhere else, in a different constructed reality.

Psychologist Mark Leary and his colleagues proposed sociometer theory: self-esteem works partly as a monitor of whether we feel valued and accepted by others. Across five studies, experiences and perceptions of inclusion and exclusion were connected to how people felt about themselves. From this perspective, a drop in self-esteem can alert us to a possible threat to belonging.

Self-affirmation theory helps explain why criticism can feel so personal. We want to see ourselves as capable and as good people. If someone points out a mistake, we may hear more than “you got this wrong.” We may hear “you are not good enough,” and start defending ourselves instead of considering what we could learn.

Reflecting on an important value can put that reaction into perspective. If being knowledgeable matters to your self-image, being corrected may feel threatening. Remembering that you also value kindness, learning, or caring for others helps us see beyond that one part of ourselves. Being wrong about something does not undo everything you value about yourself. With less need to defend your whole worth, it becomes easier to hear what the other person is saying.

Our concern with how others see us serves a purpose. Belonging, being trusted, and having our contribution recognized matter in a social world. Pride in something we have done can also encourage us to keep practicing and contributing. These aspects of ego can motivate us, but they can also become something we depend on to feel worthy. We can use recognition as information and accomplishment as encouragement, while remaining able to hear criticism, acknowledge a mistake, or change direction. The difficulty begins when maintaining our image becomes more important than what we are trying to serve.

When your self-image starts directing your life
Much of this develops without us consciously choosing it. A default. Over time, what earns approval, what gets rewarded, and what seems to make us worthy of belonging can shape the person we feel we have to be.

You might defend an idea after realizing someone else has a better one, because changing your mind would make you feel less capable. You might dismiss something meaningful because it does not sound impressive when someone asks what you do. Or you might keep helping when you need rest, because being needed has become part of how you recognize your own worth.

This matters in finding your direction. If you believe a direction can also be given through paying attention and surrendering to what life brings, you need room to recognize something you did not already imagine for yourself. Protecting a fixed self-image can make that difficult.

Even a spiritual identity can become something to protect. If I see myself as someone who always says yes to life, I might feel obliged to accept something because saying no would seem inconsistent with that image. Then I am following an idea about myself, without properly listening to what feels right in the situation. I will explore how to recognize when to say yes and when to say no, while remaining open to what life brings, in a later piece.

Why protecting that image can cost us
Psychologists Jennifer Crocker and Amy Canevello distinguish between self-image goals, which involve managing how we are seen, and compassionate goals, which involve supporting others’ wellbeing. In studies following college students over time, compassionate goals predicted greater support and trust, while self-image goals predicted more conflict and loneliness. Self-image goals could also weaken the benefits associated with compassionate goals.

Those motives can coexist. Wanting to help does not automatically mean we are free from wanting to be seen as helpful. That gives us something to pay attention to in our own intentions.

In the Taoist text Zhuangzi, there is a story about an archer whose shooting becomes less steady as the stakes become more valuable. With pottery at stake, he uses his skill freely. For a brass buckle, he grows nervous. For gold, he can barely shoot. His skill has stayed the same, but his concern about what he might gain or lose has changed.

The passage explains that placing too much importance on something outside ourselves can make us unsteady within. The archer knows how to shoot, but his concern about the stakes interferes with his ability to use that knowledge freely. Instead of being absorbed in what he is doing, he becomes preoccupied with what depends on doing it well. The very importance he gives the result gets in the way of the activity that could bring it about.

The stakes do not have to involve ego. Something genuinely important may depend on doing well. But sometimes we add another stake to the situation: what the result will say about us. A mistake would then mean more than something going wrong; it would seem to expose us as inadequate. We may feel that our reputation, our need to be right, or our image of being capable is at stake. Instead of responding to what the task requires, we become occupied with proving ourselves or avoiding a mistake that might make us look incapable. Recognizing what we are protecting can help us understand why an experience feels so threatening, and whether we need to respond in the way we first wanted to.

This can also get in the way of enjoying the process itself. We bring a picture of ourselves formed through past experiences and become occupied with what a future result might say about us. Our attention moves between maintaining that picture and anticipating what could happen, while our life is happening now. We can become so concerned with what this moment will lead to that we stop giving ourselves fully to it. Stepping back from ego helps us return to the doing itself, where meaning and satisfaction are available without waiting for an outcome.

Recognizing your worth beyond your self-image
Stepping back from ego begins with recognizing that who you are goes far beyond your self-image. Your essence does not depend on your achievements, your opinions, or someone else’s approval. As that understanding deepens, there is less need to keep proving or defending your worth.

You can still recognize your abilities, trust your judgment, and enjoy doing something well. You can appreciate recognition from others without depending on it to feel worthy. You can acknowledge a mistake or discover that someone knows more than you without experiencing either as making you less.

However much we learn, our understanding remains a small part of what there is to know. Accepting that can help loosen our attachment to being knowledgeable or right. We can say ‘I don’t know’ or reconsider an opinion without feeling that we have lost something of ourselves.

That understanding also leaves room to disagree, protect yourself, and set boundaries. You can recognize another person’s essence while questioning their behavior or deciding that you will not accept how they treat you. You can respond firmly because the situation calls for it, without needing to place yourself above them.

The question is whether you can respond to the situation without making it a judgment of your worth.

Each month, I set an intention with the help of the I Ching. This month, it happened to be: when my sense of worth comes from within, I don’t need to be stronger or better than someone else, or place myself above them, to feel safe.

I recognized something of this in my own relationships. I can feel safer when there is something that places me above the other person, even though I don’t consciously believe at all that I am better than them. Learning about relationship therapist Terry Real’s work on one-up superiority and one-down shame helped me make sense of that pattern.

What struck me was how superiority and shame can be two sides of the same coin. Feeling above someone can protect us from the fear of being beneath them. It can feel reassuring in the moment: as long as we have something that places us above the other person, we feel less exposed to rejection or to being seen as not good enough. Shame is the painful experience of feeling that inadequacy has been exposed. Moving into superiority may temporarily relieve that pain, but it leaves the underlying belief untouched: that our worth depends on how we compare. The relief comes from feeling above someone, rather than from feeling secure in our own worth.

This can happen far beyond our closest relationships: at work, among friends, or even in traffic. We can turn an ordinary interaction into a question of where we stand: who knows better, who gets recognition, who gets their way. That is why this default deserves our attention. When we remain occupied throughout daily life with assessing ourselves in relation to other people, placing ourselves above or below someone, we give our attention and energy to defending our position and the mental image we have constructed of ourselves. That, again, gets in the way of responding with intention, connecting with others, and seeing the situation clearly. It holds back our growth and drains the positive energy that sustains our willpower, making it harder to move forward in harmony with our surroundings.

This is where I see the connection with ego: whether I feel above or below someone, I am still caught up in judging my worth through comparison. This intention reminds me of the knowledge I already have: that I do not need a higher position on that scale. My worth does not depend on the scale at all.

Researchers use the term quiet ego for a less defensive sense of self that balances concern for yourself with concern for others. Their work brings together awareness of your reactions, connection with others, taking different perspectives, and openness to growth.

For me, this means taking yourself seriously while becoming less occupied with proving yourself. You can care about your contribution and remain willing to learn from someone who knows more or has a better way of doing something.

The ego can turn that discovery into a judgment of whether there is any place for you: if someone else can do it better, why should you bother? But that is you assuming you can already see the whole picture and determine whether your contribution is needed. You do not know whose life you might touch through sharing what you understand, or where doing so might lead you. Someone may connect with the way you explain something, or encounter it through you at a moment when they need it. You cannot foresee those possibilities, nor do you need to.

You can learn from others and still respond to what life is asking of you, without needing to be the best.

Learning to notice before you follow
The spiritual practice begins with noticing. When you feel the need to defend yourself, impress someone or get the credit, pause long enough to hear what is going on inside. What am I afraid this would say about me? What image am I trying to protect?

Following Singer's invitation, you can notice that inner conversation from the position of the one who is aware of it. You can hear the thought that says you must prove yourself without defaulting to doing what it asks.

Psychologists describe a related process as decentering: becoming aware of your thoughts, recognizing them as experiences rather than a definition of yourself, and becoming less caught up in reacting to them.

Research on third-person self-talk offers one practical exercise for creating distance. In two laboratory experiments, using one's own name instead of "I" while reflecting on disturbing images or negative memories reduced neural markers of emotional reactivity or self-focused processing.

Self-compassion matters here too. Research by Kristin Neff and Roos Vonk found that self-compassion was associated with more stable feelings of worth and less dependence on particular outcomes. It was also associated with less social comparison and less preoccupation with how we appear to others.

Learning to stay with the discomfort of acknowledging a mistake is part of this practice. We can notice the urge to explain it away or defend ourselves, without immediately following it. Speaking to ourselves with kindness helps us face what happened and consider what needs to change. We practice allowing a mistake to be something we can acknowledge and learn from, rather than something our self-image cannot tolerate.

Changing these reactions can be harder for some people than for others. If we have suffered trauma, and acknowledging mistakes once brought humiliation, punishment, or rejection, the urge to defend ourselves may be closely connected to how we learned to stay safe. Learning to respond differently can take time, supportive relationships, and sometimes professional help. This is another reason to approach the practice with compassion, rather than turning difficulty with it into another judgment of ourselves.

Returning to what you are here to serve
In the earlier piece on purpose, I explored another approach: returning our attention to values that extend beyond ourselves. This offers another way to respond when we become defensive.

In an experiment with 92 students, participants were told they would work alone either because others had rejected them as partners or because of a lottery. They then spent eight minutes writing about an important value, drawn from either values such as compassion and supportive relationships or values such as status and admiration. A control group wrote about their daily routine.

Afterward, they were left with cookies for eight minutes. Among those deliberately excluded, the routine group ate an average of 8.2 cookies, the group reflecting on self-enhancing values ate 4.9, and the group reflecting on self-transcendent values ate 2.8. The researchers used cookie consumption as a measure of self-control following rejection.

For me, this connects with returning to our purpose and what we intend to contribute to the common good. Remembering what we are here to serve gives our attention a self-transcendent direction beyond defending our self-image. As we explored in the piece on purpose, turning our attention toward values beyond ourselves can help us become more open to advice we might otherwise resist. It gives our attention somewhere to go when we feel hurt, rather than remaining occupied with defending how we are seen.

I recognized this when I wanted to make a major change in my own life. I had a successful career with considerable opportunities ahead. But when I looked honestly at what made those opportunities difficult to give up, I clearly recognized the pull of status and power. That was what my ego wanted to hold on to. What allowed me to still take the step to leave was being so strongly grounded in my convictions about what I do and do not value, and how I wanted to live and contribute, that those convictions made the choice completely clear and easy.

I believe learning to recognize and, as far as possible, stop the ego from taking over is essential. Letting the ego lead is a default too: we react to protect our self-image, sometimes without noticing that this is what we are doing.

This is something we can practice in ordinary situations. Notice the urge to defend how you are seen, then bring your attention back to what you are there to serve, to the purpose work you have done. What would help the person, the relationship, or the work? Each time we do this, we practice replacing that protective default with intention.

If I want to help someone, can I hear them say that what I offered was not helpful? If I want a project to succeed, can I support a better idea that came from someone else? Would I still do this if nobody would ever know?

That last question is one I find especially useful. It also applies to this: when someone thrives partly because of our support, can we be happy for them without needing to be named in the result? There is a difference between appreciating recognition and depending on it to feel that our contribution mattered.

Fair credit still matters as it can affect pay, opportunities, and whose work is remembered. Asking for that recognition can be entirely appropriate. What I want to notice is whether I also need it to confirm my worth.

This is also where ego relates to the Well I described in the purpose piece. Being seen as generous, insightful or indispensable can start to compete with the purpose of what we are giving. We may keep offering what confirms that image, while missing what the other person actually needs. Returning to purpose helps us ask what would serve the situation. Sometimes that means giving. Sometimes it means listening, letting someone else contribute, or attending to the foundation of our own well.

In practice

• When you notice yourself becoming defensive, take a moment before responding. Ask what happened, and what you are afraid it means about you.

• Bring your purpose or a value beyond yourself to mind. Ask: what am I here to serve, and what would serve that now? Let that question guide what you do next.

• Notice a role you feel you must always live up to. The capable one, the helpful one, the successful one, or even the spiritual one. What would you find difficult to allow yourself if you had to keep that image intact?

• Try using your own name when reflecting on a difficult moment. What would you understand or suggest if someone you cared about were in this situation?

• When receiving feedback, look for what may be useful in it. You can consider it carefully and still disagree. When you have made a mistake, practice the same honesty and kindness you would offer a friend.

• Do something helpful without seeking credit for it. Notice any wish to be recognized, and see whether you can let that wish be there without acting on it.

This is something we can keep practicing as life unfolds. Each time we notice what we are defending, we have an opportunity to listen again: to another person, to what feels right, and to what life may be asking of us. That is another place where default can give way to intention, with room for surrender.

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