How to escape The Maze called OVERTHINKING? | Book: Who Moved My Cheese ?| Spencer Johnson

How to escape The Maze called OVERTHINKING? | Book: Who Moved My Cheese ?| Spencer Johnson

Today, I want to share with you a book that’s nothing short of magic. It’s so simple that a 6-year-old could understand it — and yet, since its release in 1998, it has become a global phenomenon. CEOs, creatives, leaders, thinkers — people from every walk of life have called it “a wake-up call,” “a life unlock,” “the book that changed everything.”

The title: Who Moved My Cheese?

The author: Spencer Johnson — one of the most respected and beloved authors in the world of personal growth and change.

Through the fable of two little humans and two small mice navigating a maze in search of cheese, Johnson gently unpacks one of the deepest modern struggles we face — not just change, but our inner resistance to it.

We get stuck.

We overthink.

We complicate.

We ruminate.

We build our own walls — and then wonder why we feel trapped inside them.

This book doesn’t just talk about change — it holds up a mirror. It invites us to see how our thoughts can become our own maze. How fear, pride, and comfort zones quietly rob us of peace. And most of all — how thinking too much can quietly drain the life out of us.

So if you’re feeling anxious, overwhelmed, uncertain — if your mind is running in loops and you just can’t seem to find the exit — maybe this book is the doorway you’ve been waiting for.

Not a loud wake-up call, but a gentle tap on the shoulder — a reminder that you’re not stuck because of the world…

You’re stuck because you haven’t moved.

Today on Bookfuel, we’re diving into a reflection I’m calling:

“How to escape The Maze called OVERTHINKING?— Lessons from Who Moved My Cheese?”

So take a deep breath. Let’s journey inward, together.

I. The fastest way to destroy yourself is by OVERTHINKING

The fastest way to destroy yourself is by OVERTHINKING

In a quiet little maze, two Littlepeople — Hem and Haw — live alongside two mice named Sniff and Scurry. Their daily mission is simple: to search for cheese. One day, as usual, while wandering through the maze, they stumble upon Cheese Station C — a place overflowing with delicious, abundant cheese. At first, all four characters wake early each day and follow their own instincts to locate cheese. Each has their own way of navigating the maze, their own rhythm, their own effort.

But soon, things begin to shift.

Overwhelmed with joy at their seemingly endless supply of cheese, the Littlepeople start to change. They sleep in. They stop exploring. They stop worrying about searching for new cheese. Confidence slowly morphs into complacency. Their waistlines grow, their minds dull. Meanwhile, the mice — Sniff and Scurry — remain alert, keeping a close eye on changes at Cheese Station C.

Hem and Haw believe they’ve found cheese for life — comfort, security, permanence. But one day, without warning, all the cheese is gone.

Panic strikes.

Hem and Haw are stunned. Then comes anger. Then blame. They lash out — at the world, at each other, at the imagined thief who “stole” what they believed was rightfully theirs. Days pass. Hunger sets in. Despair takes root.

Now pause for a moment: why did the author choose to tell this story through humans and mice?

It’s because while humans are blessed with complex thoughts, it’s these very thoughts that sometimes trap us in inner mazes — thoughts so tangled, so heavy, that we become paralyzed. Unlike the Littlepeople, the mice don’t overthink. When the cheese disappears, they don’t question why. They don’t spiral into despair. They simply notice, adapt, and run off in search of new cheese.

Hem and Haw, however, remain stuck. They spend their time analyzing, replaying the moment the cheese vanished, trying to understand how it could have happened. Thoughts like “What on earth is happening?” or “Why me?” begin to fill their minds. And while Sniff and Scurry are already well on their way to new cheese, Hem and Haw remain frozen — stuck in fear, stuck in thought, stuck in the past.

Here’s the truth: what makes us suffer the most is not what we lose — not the job, the person, or the opportunity — but the mental battle we fight inside ourselves after the loss. The exhaustion of thinking too much.

In psychology, there’s a term for this: rumination — the mental habit of chewing over the same thoughts again and again without resolution. Just like a cow chews its food, swallows it, regurgitates it, and chews again — we too take a single worry, a single “what if,” and chew it to death.

Hem and Haw fall into this loop. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve been there too.

Maybe you’ve obsessed over something you lost — a relationship, an opportunity, a sense of control. Maybe you’ve whispered to yourself:

"If only I had tried harder."

"If I’d just made a different choice."

"I studied so hard — does this bad grade mean I’m not smart enough?"

"Why did he look at me that way?"

"Why didn’t she reply to my message?"

"Why does Mom keep saying things like that — doesn’t she trust me?"

One question leads to another. And soon, your mind is a web — a trap of your own making.

Overthinking is often paired with hypersensitivity. Even the smallest incident can spiral into hours of mental noise. It becomes an addiction — the illusion of control through thinking. But the more you indulge it, the less free you become. You get pulled deeper into the quicksand of emotion, into exhaustion, into the illusion that if you just think a little longer, you’ll finally feel okay.

But here’s the paradox: the more you think, the less you act. The more you dwell, the more you drown.

Many people, in the silence of night, dream up a thousand paths for their life — but walk the same one each morning. If your thoughts never translate into action, they will only grow heavier — like a snowball gathering mass until it finally crashes down.

In that moment, no one can save you — except you.

You must decide: to punch through the walls of your inner prison. To break free from the maze of overthinking. To move — not when you’re ready, not when it’s perfect — but now.

II. The Root of All Suffering: Thinking Too Much, Doing Too Little

The Root of All Suffering: Thinking Too Much, Doing Too Little

Among the two Littlepeople, Haw was the first to try and save himself.

He no longer wanted to sit still and wait for death — he made up his mind to go back into the maze, to search for cheese the way he once did.

Hem, on the other hand, kept resisting.

He bombarded Haw with questions like:

“What if you can’t find any cheese?”

“What if something bad happens?”

But Haw didn’t want to keep overthinking anymore.

He dragged his weak body into the maze, stumbling around — and when he found a moldy piece of cheese, he grabbed it and swallowed it quickly.

It didn’t taste good, but at least it gave him some strength.

Little by little, his energy came back. His spirit lifted.

Every time he felt discouraged, he reminded himself:

“This may not feel good right now… but it’s still better than being stuck with no cheese at all.”

At the very least, he was doing something.

At the very least, he was in motion.

And so, eventually, he found Cheese Station N — just like the mice.

But this time, he was no longer attached to the cheese.

He no longer took it for granted.

Every day, he showed up, enjoyed the cheese, and then kept exploring the maze.

He had learned his lesson.

Hem, however, was still stuck in the same place — complaining about his loss, and waiting for death to come closer.

This ending reminds me of a famous experiment in psychology — the one with the glass of water.

A professor held up a glass and asked the class:

“How heavy is this glass?”

Some said 5 ounces. Some said 10.

The professor shook his head and said:

“The weight doesn’t matter. What matters is how long you hold it.”

Hold it for a minute? No big deal.

Hold it for an hour? Your arm will ache.

Hold it for a day? Your entire body will go numb.

The water didn’t change — but the burden grew.

So what’s the solution?

Put the glass down.

That’s it. Just put it down.

Once you do that — just that first move — you’ll know what to do next.

Because the root of anxiety, the seed of most suffering…

is this: thinking too much, and doing too little.

Overthinkers are always looking for certainty,

waiting for the perfect moment,

trying to control every outcome before they take the first step.

But the more you try to think your way out,

the more tangled the problem becomes.

The more drained you feel — mentally, emotionally, even physically.

The best way to stop this spiral is simple:

Stop looking outward.

Turn inward.

Focus entirely on action.

If you’ve lost your cheese, go find another one.

If you failed this time, prepare for the next.

If your boss gave you a strange look, just do today’s work with full focus.

If someone hurt you, go move your body, arrange some flowers,

do something you enjoy — something that brings life back into you.

Because one action can be stronger than a thousand thoughts.

One shift in direction is more powerful than years of mental loops.

So if you’re stuck — don’t keep thinking about why.

Do something. Anything.

Let action be the punch that shatters the emotional cage.

Only through movement… can you find your way out of the maze.

III. Who Moved My Cheese? It’s okay.

Who Moved My Cheese? It’s okay

Maybe you’re still asking: I know overthinking is bad, but I just can’t stop. So what do I do when I feel stuck and powerless to act?

That’s when you need to understand a deeper truth:

Overthinking often comes from over-expecting.

In Who Moved My Cheese?, the maze represents both the complexity of society and the twists of our inner world. And the cheese? It stands for whatever we deeply desire at a certain point in life. A better job. A happy relationship. A strong, healthy body. A beautiful home. The praise of others. A trophy. A title. A sense of worth.

We’re all looking for our own slice of cheese. We believe it holds the key to happiness. And maybe, for a while, it does.

But here’s what no one tells us: once we have the cheese, we get attached.

And when we lose it, we fall apart.

Before we had it, we longed for it.

When we didn’t get it, we doubted ourselves or blamed the world.

And when we finally got it, we became comfortable, dependent, afraid to leave our safe little corner.

Then when it disappeared, panic rushed in.

This cycle? This exhausting chase? It traps us deeper in the maze.

And it all begins with expectation.

There’s a powerful story in psychology called the Wallenda Effect, named after Karl Wallenda, a famous high-wire acrobat.

For years, Karl performed with calm and confidence, focused solely on his movement. But one day, before a show, he told everyone, “I can’t afford to fail this time.”

That day, he fell to his death.

The lesson is haunting: when we shift our focus from the act itself to the fear of failure, we begin to collapse under pressure.

That’s the Wallenda mindset — when we care more about results, about how we’re perceived, than about showing up and doing the thing. And ironically, the more we obsess over outcomes, the further they slip from our grasp.

So how do we stop the spiral?

The answer is action.

But not just any action — free action. Joyful action. Action without clinging to results.

When you no longer tell yourself:

“I must get into this school.”

“I have to prove myself to my parents.”

“I need more money than her.”

“They must love me the way I love them.”

“No one should criticize me.”

“Everyone has to respect me...”

— when you release all that...

...suddenly, the cheese no longer controls you.

Then, whatever happens — whoever leaves, whatever they say, however they look at you — you remain steady. Unshaken.

But let’s be clear. Letting go of expectation is not the same as giving up.

It doesn’t mean you stop caring.

It means you finally start living.

Because no one can imprison you more deeply than yourself.

And the moment you release the weight of needing things to go your way, you begin to act from a place of freedom — and deep, honest value.

As the brilliant self-taught scientist Michael Faraday once said,

“Pursue success wholeheartedly — but do not expect it.

That’s usually how it arrives.”

Each of us is a brilliant glacier in our own world.

And just a grain of dust in someone else’s.

So why anchor your worth to external noise — money, fame, approval?

What if the only thing keeping you from peace… is your grip on the cheese?

Let it go.

That’s how you stop overthinking.

That’s how you stop draining your spirit.

And strangely, that’s also how you begin to get what you truly desire — not through striving, but through living freely.

So when the cheese disappears, and you feel tempted to ask,

“Who took my cheese?”

Maybe the better answer is:

It’s okay. Let it go.

When you find it again — stay humble, stay awake.

When you lose it — stay free.

Don’t overthink.

Simplify.

Be like the mice:

Act.

Move.

IV. Final words

Free your heart from expectations — of people, of outcomes, of yourself

When Who Moved My Cheese? was first published, it quickly topped bestseller lists around the world. For more than 25 years, this little fable has ignited inspiration and courage in millions who were struggling to survive, adapt, or simply move forward with their lives.

Many have come to see the maze and the cheese as metaphors for mastering life — breaking free from comfort zones, choosing change over fear, and learning how to begin again.

But the truth is, there are still so many people who want to change… but can’t.

Not because they’re lazy. Not because they don’t care.

But because they’re worn out.

Burned out.

Caught in loops of anxiety, fear, overthinking, procrastination, and emotional exhaustion.

And when we’re in that place, we start out like Hem — angry, confused, doubtful.

If we’re lucky, we’ll become a bit like Haw — slowly regaining clarity, choosing to reflect, and summoning the courage to take that first uncertain step.

But the most effortless, grounded way to live… is to become like the little mice.

Stay present.

Let go of expectations.

Think less. Move more.

There’s a line I love:

“Life is meant to be lived, not just thought about.”

On the journey of life, the slowest steps aren't the ones that hesitate —

they’re the ones that endlessly circle around in thought, never moving forward.

The fastest steps?

They’re the ones that run wholeheartedly into the now — fully alive in the present.

Don’t trap yourself in a past that can’t be changed.

Don’t lose yourself in a future that hasn’t arrived.

When you stop clinging to what’s gone or worrying about what’s next, you finally start to notice the beauty of what’s here — right now.

Simplify the complicated.

Untangle the overthinking.

Free your heart from expectations — of people, of outcomes, of yourself.

Because in the end, life is not a process of accumulating more.

It’s a process of releasing.

Letting go of what doesn’t matter, until what does becomes clear.

And from that clarity, a new kind of freedom is born —

A freedom where you no longer need to ask:

“Who moved my cheese?”

Because it no longer matters.

When you have it — hold it with gratitude, not dependence.

When you lose it — release it without resistance.

Don't overthink.

Act.

Keep it simple — like the mice.

And most importantly: expect nothing, depend on no one, and trust in the quiet guidance of your own heart.

Like spiritual teacher Sadhguru once said:

“I simply do what I do, without worrying about the results. If it succeeds, great. If not, I accept it.”

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Thank you for making it all the way to the end of this piece.

It means the world to me — and it’s truly an honor — if these words have brought you even a small spark of clarity, encouragement, or momentum to grow into your best self.

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Once again, thank you for being here — and for supporting the work we share at Bookfuel.

With warmth,

— Bookfuel