I used to do a strenuous yoga class several times a week. My yoga studio had a poster of an elderly women, well into her eighties, standing on one leg and stretching the other leg against a bus stop pole in a full split, her foot high above her head. “That’s going to be me,” I declared to myself. “I’m going to be just like that—fit and doing yoga forever.”

I wasn’t counting on an injury to sideline me. Yoga is out. I’m so naturally flexible that I can easily reinjure myself, so I just had to stop. At least for now.

This was not part of my life plan.

I’ve gotten cutting edge treatments from an excellent doctor, and I do all kinds of non-traditional things—acupuncture, an anti-inflammatory diet, vitamins and supplements.

I do everything I can to heal. But short of a joint replacement, medical science has no cure. And my doc says I’m not ready for surgery, which, frankly, is a relief.

Sometimes negative thoughts creep in, though.

• You shouldn’t have been so aggressive with your body when you were younger.
• It’s all going to be downhill from here.
• You are so screwed.

These thoughts are pretty depressing.

The Buddhists call this “the second dart.” Part of being human is to suffer—we all encounter painful losses. That’s the first dart. It’s inevitable. Sooner or later, all of us will encounter tragedy, loss, and pain. I can no longer do something I absolutely loved to do. It’s a real loss.

The second dart is the one we throw at ourselves, when we mentally attack ourselves (or someone else) about the first dart. It adds hugely to our suffering. Those thoughts I listed above are all second-dart thoughts and they make everything worse.

My job as a coach is to help people through this kind of thinking and yet, here I am doing it, too. And even that statement is another second dart.

Our minds are magical creative playgrounds that will take us to wonderful places. They also will take us into the dark in an instant.

So when this happens, our job is to stop throwing darts. Here are a few ways to do it:

Questioning negative thinking. Can I really know that it’s all going to be downhill from here? Do I have any proof? Can I find something truer to believe?

Practicing mindfulness, focusing on the present moment without judgment. I can always find something interesting in my environment to focus on—the clouds, a flower, the weave of a rug. What can I notice about them if I really pause and look? A sincere effort for three minutes can work wonders.

Finding my life force, dropping my attention into my whole body and feeling the flow of life within me. This is a specific mindfulness technique that allows me to access the marvel of life that flows through me. I’m so much more than my pain and limitations. And when I do this, it feels really good.

Connecting with others. I often call a friend, sometimes to complain about my situation, sometimes to listen to their complaints, sometimes just to laugh and talk about Season 3 of The Bear.

Breathing. I can breathe gently and deeply making sure my exhale is extended longer than my inhale. This signals my brain that I am safe, and I can relax. It’s one of the easiest and most effective ways to avoid the second darts.

A walk outdoors, ideally in nature. There is something magical about being outside. The wide expanse of the sky, the sea or even a bit of water, or the mystery of a forest can do wonders for a troubled mind. Even in a city, there’s always a park or a playground to retreat to. Even a few minutes can reset us.

Surrender. Sometimes a loss just hurts and nothing we can do helps. Then my job is to surrender to the present reality without making it worse with unhelpful thinking. Sometimes this is the best thing we can do and the only thing we can do.

As for me, I’m not sure what the future will bring. Maybe I’ll miraculously improve. Maybe medicine come up with something new. Maybe I’ll have to have surgery down the road, and it won’t be a big deal. Those are the kinds of thoughts I’d like to stay with. I could be wrong, but I may as well be as happy as I can along the way.

I may never be like that woman in the poster, doing a full split while waiting for a bus. But at the very least, I can stop playing darts in my mind.