“Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear?” — Lao Tzu
I was 21, entering my senior year at the University of Michigan, and applied to twelve doctoral programs. I got accepted to Hofstra University and moved to Long Island with my then-girlfriend in August of 2015.
I hit the ground running, taking classes and seeing clients just a few months into the program. I was often at odds with my supervisor, frustrated by the limited supervision and the lack of meaningful meditation training, especially since we were expected to teach it to our clients. As that frustration deepened, my romantic relationship ended. I was also reading books that challenged how I saw the world, and my place in it, like The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible by Charles Eisenstein. In it, Eisenstein writes:
“Life, I knew, was supposed to be more joyful than this… more meaningful, and the world was supposed to be more beautiful… I never fully accepted what I had been offered as normal.”
In December of 2016, I left the program. By May 2017, I was back in Michigan.
I had a strong sense that my community back home could benefit from meditating. I began teaching, first at Temple Shir Shalom during Yom Kippur. Between 2017-2020, I taught meditation to over 10,000 people, including at veterans’ centers, non-profits, religious congregations, schools, universities, businesses, medical professionals, and festivals.
When the pandemic hit, my in-person group and individual work dried up. I started an online meditation community, but eventually I felt called toward a different path. With the help of friends, YouTube tutorials, and immersive study, I taught myself how to use audio and video gear. I became so well-versed that a friend asked me to produce their podcast. In that moment, a new career was accidentally born.
I built a podcast studio in my Michigan bedroom and produced media for a year. I then moved to Los Angeles to work as a studio engineer for a podcast network. After that, I landed in New York, managing production processes, digital systems, and technology for another media company. I still work remotely for that same company, though this is my final week with them, as I prepare to begin a new chapter.
I always knew deep down that I’d go back to graduate school to become a therapist. The thought surfaced at least once a year. But I never felt ready. Of course, there’s the idea that perhaps no one is ever truly ready for anything worth doing — that imposter syndrome is baked into beginnings, and readiness only comes through action. Still, I felt I lacked the grounding, lived experience, and self-understanding to become a therapist.
I moved back to Michigan, again, last year, with the clear intention of grounding. It’s been a quiet victory for my inner world. For the first time, life feels more imbued with equanimity as I am now less driven by intensity. I’ve learned how to observe my experience rather than exert my will over it. In about a month, I’ll begin a master’s program in counseling at Oakland University. I feel ready in a way that I never was, even ten years ago when I first walked this path. And I’m really grateful for all of the experiences and lessons of the last decade that brought me to this moment.
Eisenstein’s The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know is Possible advocates for a shift from “separation” to “interbeing.” He writes,
“We are all here to contribute our gifts toward something greater than ourselves, and will never be content unless we are.”
So, in reference to Lao Tzu — has the mud settled and water cleared completely for me? No, most certainly not. But has the mud settled and the water cleared enough for me to see that this path will bring meaning and offer the chance to be of real service? Absolutely, yes.
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