Nonself-Confidence

As we study and practice Buddhism, we encounter three subtle yet powerful obstacles: the superiority complex, the inferiority complex, and the equality complex. Each creates unique suffering, trapping us in the habit of comparison and judgment. Yet, with gentle and consistent mindfulness practice, we can find freedom in noncomparison. Let us explore this journey of nondiscrimination together.

The Superiority Complex

The superiority complex is likely familiar to each of us. It manifests when we believe we’re somehow better than others and that our needs and desires matter most. This complex is at the root of many of the world’s deepest struggles: war, racism, sexism, and even the climate crisis. We pave the way for great harm and suffering by putting ourselves above others or the environment. 

Even in acts of generosity—helping others access clean water or health care—the superiority complex can be present in us. If we feel superior to those we assist or expect their appreciation, this superiority complex takes hold, quietly fueling suffering within and around us. 

A typical example is the way people use dating apps. When we endlessly swipe through profiles, dismissing others as ugly, unworthy, or beneath our standards, we create a wall of judgment. Our harsh critiques distance us from others and the joy of genuine connection.

Take a moment to reflect: In what ways do you notice yourself feeling “better than” others? How does this influence your relationships and your capacity to offer genuine kindness? As you breathe in, notice your shared humanity. As you breathe out, cultivate humility by silently repeating, “I open my heart to connection.” 

Interconnectedness dissolves the need to elevate ourselves above others.

The Inferiority Complex

When we feel “less than” others, we suffer from comparing and judging ourselves. We’ve each felt the weight of this complex at some point in our lives, and we know its harmful effects. It often leads to jealousy, which inflicts pain on everyone involved. 

When we compare ourselves to the perfect images on social media, we water seeds of inadequacy and despair, feeling unworthy and unlovable. By practicing mindfulness, we can recognize that these illusions are not reality and return to the truth of our innate beauty and worthiness.

Take a moment to reflect on a time you felt “less than” someone else—perhaps through self-doubt or comparison. Find a comfortable seat, close your eyes, and gently recall that moment. Notice how it feels in your body: tense, heavy, or uneasy. Without resistance, sit with this sensation, observing it kindly. With each breath, recognize this feeling as temporary, coming and going. Breathe gently into it, allowing compassion to fill the space. As you exhale, repeat silently, “I am enough as I am.” 

Over time, this practice nurtures self-acceptance and eases the weight of comparison.

The Equality Complex

Then there’s the equality complex, a concept that invites us to go beyond our usual ways of thinking. Equality is a noble and essential value; nothing is inherently wrong with it. Movements throughout U.S. history—civil rights, voting rights, women’s rights—have all arisen from a yearning for equality, dignity, and fairness. These movements sparked transformative changes, showing us the power of working together for justice. However, the complex way we approach equality and the energy we bring to it can become problematic.

For instance, while it may seem fair when everyone receives the same, equality can overlook each person’s unique needs, such as food, health care, or special education. By releasing the equality complex, we cultivate understanding and compassion, allowing us to offer what truly supports equity and well-being for all.

In our pursuit of equality, it’s easy to lose balance, letting competition or resentment replace love and compassion. True equality is not about being the same or achieving identical outcomes. Instead, it is rooted in respect for each person’s unique journey and the understanding that our interconnectedness transcends comparison. As you reflect on this, breathe gently into the experience of equality, noticing its sensations. With each breath, invite compassion to fill the space. As you exhale, silently affirm, “I have what I need.” 

When approached with mindfulness and compassion, the work for equality grounds us, fostering peace within and nourishing those we aim to support.

Practicing Nonself and Confidence

A common misconception lies at the heart of all three complexes—superiority, inferiority, and equality. It’s this idea that “your joy is not my joy, and your suffering is not my suffering.” It’s easy to believe we’re all separate, living apart from one another. Yet, looking deeply, we see a more profound truth: our joys and pains are intertwined in ways we may not always recognize. Letting go of the illusion of separateness opens the door to greater peace and understanding.

Consider your body as an example of true harmony. Its organs, bones, and cells work naturally together, each caring for and supporting the others. When one part of us is well, the whole body benefits. When one part is hurting, the entire body feels it, and instantly, the other parts respond, offering healing and care. One body part is not better, worse, or equal to another—each part uniquely nourishes the whole.

Communities and nations are the same. When one group suffers, the weight is felt by all. When one group finds peace, that peace radiates beyond itself. Focusing on separateness—even striving for equality—we miss the more profound truth: we are all part of one body of life. Seeing the reality of interconnectedness frees us from comparison and isolation, allowing us to touch true peace.

In the Buddha’s teachings, we learn about nonself—that the belief in a separate self is at the root of the three complexes. Given this, why would self-confidence be necessary at all? For newcomers to Buddhism, the teaching of nonself can seem confusing. It’s often mistaken for nonexistence. But nonself doesn’t mean we don’t exist; it means we exist because everything else exists. I am who I am today thanks to my parents, teachers, environment, food, air, and other conditions that allow me to be. 

With this understanding, confidence becomes an expression of gratitude for all that supports my existence. If someone thanks me for a dharma talk, I can openly accept their appreciation saying, “Thank you for your encouragement.” Practicing nonself, I know I’m not the sole source of that talk; I’m grateful to the Buddha, the community, and all the conditions that made the dharma talk possible. This confidence is grounded in humility and interbeing, not ego.

Confidence and humility can coexist beautifully, as shown by my late teacher, Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, or Thay, as he is affectionately known. When he published a book, he would place it on his altar, offering gratitude to his spiritual and blood ancestors and the many conditions that contributed to its creation. We can be confident in ourselves as the final condition at that moment of something’s manifestation, but we are humbled by our understanding that we’re not the only condition. In all we do, we have the power to decide how we will show up, and we can find confidence in our ability to act mindfully.

We can bring this practice of “nonself-confidence” into any moment. Consider a plate of nourishing food, for example. Many conditions made it possible: the earth, sun, water, farmers, and cooks played their parts. At this moment, I can be fully present, eating with joy and gratitude, or let my mind wander into worries or distractions.  

Nothing arises from a single cause; both beauty and pain need many conditions to take form. Whatever we achieve in life, we can’t take full credit—our ancestors, support system, and environment are always part of our success. If we can forgive easily, or if compassion and confidence come naturally, we have them to thank. Similarly, it’s natural to think we’re solely at fault if we have struggles or weaknesses. But we can’t place all the blame and burden on ourselves. 

Consider Thay and his collaborator Sister Chan Khong. They devoted decades to helping others: victims of the Vietnam War, boat people, and retreatants of all ages and backgrounds. These two inspiring people were on the frontlines of compassion and fearless service, yet countless unseen causes and conditions supported them in manifesting their generosity so beautifully.

Likewise, even those on the front lines of harm or anger are not alone in their responsibility. Many conditions and influences shape them as well. This insight has helped me to forgive both myself and others for mistakes and shortcomings. Just as we don’t act alone in moments of harm, we also don’t transform our pain and suffering alone. We need the support of a practice community (sangha) and many favorable conditions to truly heal. When we understand that we don’t fully “own” our strengths, weaknesses, successes, or mistakes, our urge to compare ourselves to others fades. We no longer need to feel superior, inferior, or equal; instead, we see ourselves as interconnected and part of a larger whole.

The three complexes indeed cause us pain, but we don’t need to fixate on that suffering. Because the Buddha’s first noble truth speaks of suffering or ill-being, some of us misunderstand and think Buddhism is pessimistic—that it’s only about looking at our pain. But cultivating peace, happiness, and compassion is essential, and the third noble truth of Buddhism invites us to remember there is happiness and well-being. Happiness and suffering are deeply intertwined. A key part of freeing ourselves from the suffering of these complexes is learning to nurture happiness and gratitude in our lives.

It is very common to focus on our suffering. But how can we hope to transform our pain if we don’t have any peace or happiness to balance it? As Thay said, the superiority complex, the inferiority complex, and the equality complex are like poisons. We can’t replace one complex with the other. We can’t heal one form of suffering by simply adding another. The antidote comes from a daily practice of cultivating love, harmony, and mindfulness, which helps us foster connection over separation.

Daily Practices for Freedom and Joy

We know that growing love and joy takes time. People’s minds are naturally drawn to the negative, and those thoughts can linger longer than positive ones. Building trust and comfort with love is gradual, requiring care and patience. This is why placing ourselves, our children, and our families in environments that nourish love, protect joy, and limit toxic influences is essential. Small moments of mindfulness can help us cultivate love and joy and keep us grounded in our daily lives.

Each time I wash my hands, for example, I can take that moment to come back to myself, to breathe deeply, and to recite this beautiful verse (gatha): “Water flows over these hands. May I use them skillfully to preserve our precious planet.” Or when walking, I can remind myself to recognize countless conditions of happiness by saying silently, “Breathing in, feeling the gentle breeze. Breathing out, relaxing my body. Breathing in, kissing the earth with my two feet. Breathing out, smiling to the present moment.” Contemplating these verses helps me return to the present moment and touch life deeply. In that brief practice, I don’t need to focus on “fixing” the three complexes; nurturing joy and happiness is a powerful step forward.

When I see someone—perhaps someone I might otherwise judge or compare myself to—I remind myself that this person has buddhanature. They deserve happiness and compassion, just as I do. And I, too, am a buddha deserving of love and joy. Recognizing this shared connection helps me let go of the three complexes and find peace. When buddhas come together, there’s no need for comparison or competition. Instead, we meet in joy and freedom, sitting together to share a simple, heartfelt cup of tea.

Reflecting on the three complexes and the suffering they bring, we see how essential it is to cultivate connection and to live together harmoniously. I’m reminded of something that happened in my early days at Plum Village that changed my perspective forever.

At the beginning of 2005, I wrote my first letter to Thay. In the letter, I wrote about my feelings of self-doubt and inferiority. I worried my skills didn’t measure up to those of my monastic siblings, who contributed so much to our sangha’s life and vitality. Shortly after sending the letter, I was called to Thay’s hut in Upper Hamlet, Plum Village, just before he was set to return to Vietnam after thirty-nine years in exile. I walked to meet him with a mix of happiness and nervousness—this was my first time seeing him alone. 

When I arrived, Thay was sitting peacefully on a swinging chair, and he invited me to sit beside him and enjoy the view in silence. After a few quiet moments, he turned to me with a gentle smile and said, “You know something? For Thay, the most important talent is living harmoniously with the sangha.”

Those words have stayed with me ever since. They remind me that true talent isn’t about what we accomplish alone; it’s about how we live, support, and grow together, nurturing harmony and compassion within ourselves and one another. May we each remember this teaching as we walk our path. Our deepest gift to the world is our ability to cultivate and offer peace and harmony for ourselves and those around us.

Only when we can transcend the barriers of a separate self shall we be able to transform the superiority, inferiority, and equality complexes and realize true happiness and freedom.