Inviting new translations of classical Buddhist texts about why the self is an illusion—and why giving it up can free us from suffering
From self-realization and self-promotion to self-help and the selfie, the modern world encourages us to be self-obsessed. We are even told that finding ourselves is the key to happiness. Better to lose yourself! More than 2,500 years ago, the Buddha argued that the self is an illusion—and that our belief in it is the cause of most, if not all, of our suffering. How to Lose Yourself presents lively, accessible, and expert new translations of ancient Buddhist writings about the central, unique, and powerful Buddhist teaching of “no-self.”
Drawn from three important Buddhist traditions, these essential Indian, Tibetan, and Chinese writings provide a rich sampling of the ways Buddhist philosophers have understood the idea that we are selfless persons—and why this insight is so therapeutic. When we let go of the self, we are awakened to the presence of all things as they truly are, and we let go of the anxiety, fear, greed, and hatred that are the source of all suffering.
Complete with an introduction and headnotes to each selection, and the original texts on facing pages, How to Lose Yourself is a concise guide to a transformative idea.
Gautama Buddha (Sanskrit: गौतम बुद्ध) born as Prince Siddhārtha (Sanskrit: सिद्धार्थ) was a spiritual teacher from the Indian subcontinent, on whose teachings Buddhism was founded.
Gautama is the primary figure in Buddhism, and accounts of his life, discourses, and monastic rules are believed by Buddhists to have been summarized after his death and memorized by his followers. Various collections of teachings attributed to him were passed down by oral tradition, and first committed to writing about 400 years later.
The time of Gautama's birth and death is uncertain: most historians in the early 20th century dated his lifetime as circa 563 BCE to 483 BCE, but more recent opinion dates his death to between 486 and 483 BCE or, according to some, between 411 and 400 BCE. However, at a specialist symposium on this question held in 1988 in Göttingen, the majority of those scholars who presented definite opinions gave dates within 20 years either side of 400 BCE for the Buddha's death, with others supporting earlier or later dates. These alternative chronologies, however, have not yet been accepted by all other historians.
Jay Garfield’s How to Lose Yourself is one of the latest entries (as of 2025) in the ongoing Princeton Press series, Ancient Wisdom for Modern Readers. I have read most of these books (31 and counting), and the quality of this one is just as high as all the others. The introduction and commentaries on the various texts are clearly written and very helpful, and the translations are crisp and accessible. What didn’t convince me in the case of this particular entry is the content. I have a problem with the sort of philosophy that borders on mysticism and devalues reason and argumentation—examples of which are most certainly not confined to the eastern traditions, by the way. For me reason certainly has limits, but it’s a fool’s errand to look for something “beyond” it and think one has thereby achieved wisdom. At any rate, Garfield divides the book into three sections: Early Buddhist teachings, Middle Way teachings, and Chan teachings. In a sense, this is also a progression from things I can get on board with to things that puzzle me, to finally things that have me scratch my head and say “what the hell?” And sure, it’s very possible that I just don’t get it because my thinking is trapped in scientistic western mode, though as I said, plenty of authors in the West also write similar, shall we say, cryptic philosophy. I’m okay with the notion that there is no self understood as some kind of permanent, immutable essence of a human being. Indeed, I completely agree, and find parallels to that notion in both Presocratic philosophy (Heraclitus) and modern neuroscience. But when we start pushing things and say that there is neither mind nor thinking, my mind (that is, my thinking ability) says: I don’t think so! By “mind,” by the way, I don’t mean a thing. I think of it rather as a verb, minding. Minding is what brains and nervous systems do, similarly to what breathing is what lungs do. But when I read the dialogue, near the end of the book, between “Master Verity” and his student, “Threshold,” I increasingly thought I was reading incoherent nonsense. There is, of course, no space here to expand on this, even a bit, so please look for a dedicated essay on this book coming soon at my Substack newsletter, Figs in Winter.
Quick read (half the pages are in Sanskrit). Honestly I didn’t enjoy it much. Found it hard to follow and way too repetitive — got boring. The book is full of scattered passages and excerpts from conversations (which apparently is how buddhists present their arguments) which I didn’t like. Instead of building a coherent argument, it felt more like jumping between fragments and repeating the same argument over and over and over.
I also struggled with the core ideas. The book repeatedly emphasizes the concept that “there is no self,” but I never felt that the argument was clearly explained or developed in a way that made it convincing or relatable to me. It felt more like the idea was asserted over and over rather than carefully argued.
I’m still interested in exploring Buddhist philosophy in the future, but this wasn’t the best introduction for me. The conversational format and reliance on ephemeral quotes made it harder for me to grasp the ideas or see the bigger picture. For now, I’ll probably try a different approach or a more explanatory text if I return to the topic later.
In general, I like thesesmall Princeton press books. This was one of the best of the series that I’ve had the opportunity to read. Wonderfully translated and explained by Buddhist scholars. The book us written in three parts. My favorite section ( Chan Teachings: part three) focused on meditative practices that struck a cord with me.
This book was out of my league. Much of the writing was inaccessible to me. I just didn't get most of it.
& this is too bad, I suspect there is a lot in here worthwhile to consider.
The first part I got a lot out of. Not sure I absorbed the details, but there was plenty to sit with and ponder.
Part II and Part III. I have no idea what they are about. It seems like there has been a lot of bickering over the years about interpreting these texts.
The Sudden Awakening concept mention later in the book resonates with me. Essentially the suggestion is to stop assessing the world and just look at it.
Easier said than done. Even with something noncontroversial, how often do we let our judgment and preconceived opinions take precedence over what is happening before our very eyes. We see a condor in flight and start thinking about the species and the efforts to save it or its unique features and we miss the joy of seeing a condor in flight. (this is my example, book examples are far loftier)
So I wouldn't say this book is pointless, but I will admit that much of the book didn't make sense to me at all.
New translations of classic Buddhist texts that examine the idea of the self or "I" in the Buddhist traditions. Worthwhile reading for students of the Buddhist philosophy.