Book Review｜I May Be Wrong: A book I wish I’d found sooner. No forced positivity, just a way to leave the slump and find a calmer self

A friend casually recommended a book that lifted me out of a five-month work slump. The book is I May Be Wrong: And Other Wisdoms from Life as a Forest Monk, the life story and insights of Björn Natthiko Lindeblad (1961–2022) — an economist who went to Thailand at 26 to become a forest monk and returned to lay life 17 years later. It became a No. 1 bestseller in Sweden and did very well worldwide.

How I May Be Wrong won me over

With its bestseller subtitle, it first looked like another “self-help formula.” In truth it reads more like a memoir, but one packed with clear, deep wisdom. Ten minutes in, I knew I wouldn’t put it down.

When I reached the chapters about Lindeblad’s depression after leaving monastic life, and then his struggle with a terminal illness — and still saw the warmth and clarity in his voice — I decided I had to write this.

I’ll keep some discoveries for you to find. Here I’ll share three ideas that stayed with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I even tried a few at work that same afternoon and felt something click. That night I logged into Facebook, after a long break, just to recommend the book.

My hope: after reading it, we can accept our feelings, truly let go, drop ego-driven fights and heavy emotions, and live with more freedom and meaning.

“I may be wrong”: loosening our grip on “should”

Many of us carry the thought: “I know how the world should be. When life doesn’t match, I freeze. All the ‘should’ thoughts make me resentful, heavy, and lonely.”

These thoughts come from memory, habit, and emotions — the “data” we use to predict the future — but they are not the future.

Thoughts ≠ facts

We often forget: our thoughts are assumptions, not reality. The more we cling to “It should be like this” or “I’m right” and try to control everything, the more stuck and hopeless we can become.

When Björn became a monk he was given the name Natthiko, meaning “one who grows in wisdom.” Over 17 years of meditation he learned a key lesson: “I stopped believing every thought I had.”

Because if we believe every thought, we feed those thoughts with attention and get trapped in pain. After returning to lay life he faced depression and warned: in our darkest hours, the “abyss” of thoughts can feel bottomless.

“Believing” vs. “knowing”

Does knowing our pain comes from clinging make the pain vanish? No. As he explains, understanding the source doesn’t make pain unreal — it gives us a better way to face it. That’s why he advises: don’t believe every thought.

When we hold onto scripts like “I’m right,” “Why doesn’t he think of me?” “I’ve been wronged,” we become victims of outside events and inside wishes. Blaming others is easy and comforting; it lets us dodge the hard work of looking at our own mind.

A simple mantra

A British monk, Ajahn Jayasaro, teaches a short mantra for the early warning signs of conflict: say to yourself three times, “I may be wrong.” This nudges the mind toward wiser, more constructive ground.

Centuries earlier, Rumi pointed to the same space beyond right/wrong:
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

Being right isn’t the point

Another teacher, Ajahn Sucitto, once told Björn during an argument: being right is not the point. Life won’t always follow our plan. If we want more peace, we can practice the stance “I may be wrong — I don’t know everything.”

This awareness runs through the book. Obsessing over being right can hide what truly matters. It can also wear down our relationships.

What really matters in teamwork?

While working in a forest monastery, the monks had to move a huge brass Buddha. People from many countries pitched in. A few Westerners (including the author) stood aside giving “better” methods. The abbot, Ajahn Jayasaro, reminded him: the point wasn’t only efficiency — it was how everyone felt after the work. In real life, especially at work, results matter, but so do feelings, fit, and trust.

Winning an argument may feel good for a moment; the friction can last much longer. Sometimes we need trust more than control. Stay with the present, not our fantasies about the future. That’s how wiser outcomes grow.

Forgiveness is for a healthier you

The second key idea: forgiveness.

It’s not about looking noble. It’s about making peace with what has already happened so your mental health is protected — so you choose what fills your heart.

When thoughts trap us, we suffer for years

Many fights are already over, but we miss the “peace signal.” We retell the injury for decades and drain our energy. You’ve probably met someone like this — the pain is real, but the other person may have moved on. The one who keeps holding the story keeps suffering.

Choosing peace in the moment

After Thailand, Björn went for alms in the UK, where Buddhism isn’t mainstream. Someone drove up, rolled down the window, and yelled, “Get a job!” He felt the inner reaction, yet found a quiet “Never mind.” In that moment he noticed a new freedom. He didn’t need to explain or win.

He realized: peace with ourselves matters most. No forced positive thinking. Just letting go.

You don’t know their battle

As the Norwegian show Skam puts it: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.” That bit of empathy helps us step back and drop the grudge.

And a sharp reminder from the book: advice to “let go” only works on yourself. Telling others to let go rarely helps.

Bow to the unknown, welcome more possibilities

This leads to the third theme: facing uncertainty.

I love this line from the book: “Knowledge is proud of what it knows; wisdom is humble about what it doesn’t know.” We’re not all-knowing, and we’ll never be 100% right.

In practice, that means not trusting every thought — and seeing that our core is basically good. The harsh voice that says “I’m not good enough” isn’t truth; it’s just a thought.

Emotions will arise — they don’t have to own you

A Thai master, Luang Por Doon, taught: “Anger will arise, but it cannot take hold of anything.” Björn’s take: when the heart is spacious enough to hold all feelings, life softens. We will still have hard emotions; we just stop identifying with them or letting them run the show. Then they can’t push us into actions we regret.

At work I still face criticism and messy processes. The difference is I can now say, “I did my best,” let go of perfection, and stay present. Feedback can carry me forward when I’m not clinging.

From knowledge to wisdom: admitting “I don’t know”

Challenges will keep coming — that’s how we grow. The key is making room: less ego, more space for life. Can I accept not-knowing and not-controlling, and meet things calmly, instead of getting lost in “how things should be”?

Björn puts it plainly: telling yourself “I did my best” is good for you. Blaming yourself for having emotions is useless. Trying to control and predict everything just makes life harder.

A ring engraving: “This too shall pass”

He carried another “magic sentence,” even engraved inside his wedding ring: “This too shall pass.” It’s a daily reminder of impermanence. Good or bad, nothing lasts forever.

He loved a simple Chinese-style parable shared by Ajahn Jayasaro: a family’s “bad luck” turns to “good luck,” then back again — a runaway horse, new wild horses, a broken leg, then exemption from war. The wise father keeps saying, “Maybe so, maybe not.” We rarely know if something is truly good or bad when it happens.

Loosening our grip on beliefs is freeing. We know very little about the future; separating what we believe from what we actually know helps a lot. In monastic life he saw it clearly: life is full of uncertainty; the only certain thing is that life ends one day. Everything else is hope, fear, assumptions, wishes, and ideas.

Over 17 years he learned: life is like water — change is its nature. Grab at change and you suffer; be fully present and open, and you respond wisely.

Fewer clenched fists, more open hands

Letting go of wishes and rigid expectations is hard. But, as he writes, “Most of the best things in my life happened outside my control.” On a hike he learned that a deeper kind of happiness is about openness, not ownership. Open your hand; your palm can hold more than a clenched fist.

From my own life: after leaving Canada, I once thought those two years were a waste. I tried to “plan smarter.” I couldn’t foresee how those experiences would quietly reshape my career — even a short five-month import/export job later became the key to another role a decade on.

All our honest efforts become gifts to our future. We don’t have to control when they pay off. Often, timing beyond our plan turns out better than our plan.

That’s why I love Björn’s invitation: “Fewer clenched fists, more open palms. Less control, more trust. Less ‘I must know everything in advance,’ more ‘let it be.’ Leave space for miracles.”

The real normal: you can’t control everything

He admitted: “Most of the things I worried about never happened. Most of what did happen, I could never have predicted.” We grow used to handling life and start to believe we can control most of it. But real growth starts when we accept uncertainty.

Wisdom is not expecting life to follow our script, and realizing how much we truly don’t know.

6 quotes I love

• “Making peace with what has happened isn’t about being noble. It’s about protecting your mental health and choosing what fills your heart.”
• “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.”
• “Remember this: telling yourself ‘I did my best’ will do you good.”
• “I may be wrong… I thought I knew how the world should be. When reality didn’t match, I froze. All the ‘should’ thoughts made me resentful, heavy, and lonely.”
• “Fewer clenched fists, more open palms. Less control, more trust. Less ‘I must know everything in advance,’ more ‘let it be.’”

After finishing the book, whenever I’m upset I tell myself: “I may be wrong. This too shall pass. Maybe this is for the better.” And somehow it really helps — even my sleep improved.

Conclusion: How do you want to live the rest of your life?

Björn passed away too soon — a living echo of the line, “We don’t know how much sand is left in the top half of our hourglass.” We can’t control the length of our life. We can choose not to harm others, not to be ruled by ego, to face uncertainty and failure with courage, do our best, and leave room for miracles.

No need to punish ourselves or debate right and wrong forever. With trust (and a sensible amount of planning) — and with kindness — we can meet life from a quiet, steady place.

Two stories: self-discipline and ripple effects

I will know

A forest monk, Ajahn Pasanno, was warmly invited by relatives to drink alcohol. As a forest monk he had to abstain. His cousin urged, “Come on, nobody will know.” The monk looked up and answered, calmly and sincerely: “I will know.”

For Björn, this showed that goodness and restraint aren’t about rules or fear of punishment. They’re about memory and integrity — living in a way that lets you carry a lighter heart.

It matters to this one

After a storm, a girl threw stranded starfish back into the sea. An old man said it was pointless — there were thousands. The girl tossed another one in and said, “It matters to this one.”

Small good deeds still matter. Don’t skip them just because they’re small.

May we keep choosing small, steady acts of goodness — and become the kind of person we most want to see in the world.

Topics the book also explores

If my notes didn’t land for you, but these themes speak to you, the book is still very much worth reading:

• How do we face death or endings?
• How can the mind be freer?
• How do we accept people we dislike — or the fact that some dislike us?
• Why isn’t life just black and white?
• Why do things go wrong even when I’m “right”?
• Why does trust matter? When do we choose trust vs. control?
• How do we feel less disappointed and react less strongly — and stay less easily hurt?
• How do we strengthen healthy self-regard?
• Are “successful” people necessarily happy?
• What helps when we’re in a deep slump — and how do we avoid being “tormented by the abyss”?

Note: This post was translated by ChatGPT from my original Traditional Chinese blog. The quotes you see here come from the Chinese translated edition of the book. Since they’ve been translated back into English, they may not match the author’s original words exactly. Please read the book yourself for the real text, and don’t quote these lines elsewhere to avoid confusion.