#6 The Fellowship

Hi Everyone!

What a wonderful week it’s been!

If you’re tuning in for the first time, welcome!

I finished I Can See Clearly Now by Wayne Dyer. What a phenomenal book! Today’s newsletter is, in part, inspired by it.

Come on vamonos!

The fall of my sophomore year at Michigan, I started recruiting for an investment banking internship. It was the start of a natural career progression that laid out the next five-years of my life.

Recruiting was all about networking. The playbook was clear: talk to as many people as possible, here are the questions to ask, and here is the right way to answer. It was great. I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I started making the calls. Conversation after conversation. They all followed a similar start, middle and end. I was doing everything right, and based on the feedback I received, I was excelling. But something felt off.

Something inside kept telling me to pay attention: Why does everyone have this belief that these two years of misery are the cost you have to endure to set yourself up for life?

It reminded me of how everyone used to tell me that high school was just a phase to get through, in order to reach college, where you supposedly have the best four years of your life.

I also wanted to ask people about their worldviews, how their work connected to something bigger than themselves, and what excited them. It wasn’t in the playbook.

So why was I the only one struggling with this process?

Looking back, I can see clearly now those conversations had to feel miserable for me to pay attention. I was following a path that fundamentally clashed with my need for meaning. There was no way I could continue forcing it.

Then came winter break. One night, my family and I watched Tick, Tick… Boom!, the story of Jonathan Larson, the composer behind Rent. His life was chaotic: behind on rent, lacking security, unstable relationships, yet he was dedicated to his passion. He tragically died at 35, never seeing the success of his life’s work. His best friend, Michael, who once shared his Broadway dreams, chose a different path. Facing the same financial pressures and seeking stability, he opted for a life that offered him security. He had the money, the corner office, the sports car, and the success. And yet, he, too, died young at 33.

Two best friends. Two different choices. Two different lives.

As the credits rolled, I had a full-body realization that changed my life: I don’t know what I’m going to do, but this isn’t it.

In that moment, it felt like a death sentence. I had spent my time in college preparing for a career in finance. I had joined the clubs, made the connections, and was taking the classes.

But at the same time, I felt the deepest sigh of relief. I was scared, having no idea what I was going to do, but I was at peace. I now recognize that I was doing what I call living in my truth.

Living in my truth has taken me on a journey beyond my wildest dreams. I stepped into an uncertain, risky, but profoundly freeing path of self-exploration.

I can see clearly now that this experience would prepare me for many more decisions where I’d have to trust my truth, even when I didn’t have all the evidence.

There are moments when I wish I didn’t have this understanding. That I could just keep moving forward as I was, following the playbook.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I’d say to my inner voice.

Everything is fine, I’m learning a lot… see, look. It’s like trying to convince my parents to let me stay out late on a school night.

But I know what happens when I don’t listen. I attract opportunities and people meant for someone I think I should be, rather than who I actually am.

Living in my truth means accepting myself for everything that I am and am not. It’s choosing to love even the parts of me that I’ve been told are not welcome. It’s allowing my true self to be seen by the world (which can be scary).

Some of the hardest moments occur when I realize that speaking my truth might not align with securing a job opportunity, closing a client, or developing a relationship. BUT, this truth allows for the job, the client, and the relationship that is fully accepting of me (my truth) to come.

I find it difficult to speak my truth when I attach myself to the outcome instead of releasing control and trusting that I’ll be okay, no matter what happens. When I have my back, I’m free to live in my truth.

When we share our truth, we have no idea what possibilities might unfold. The right people, the right opportunities, they find us. For all you know, that person could know someone else who is looking for someone just like you.

That choice, my sophomore year, to live in my truth has rippled into the present. It has allow me to start taking on life coaching clients! Let the adventure begin!

How can you continue to live in your truth?

Billionaire entrepreneur Brad Jacobs swears by what he calls ‘thought experiments’ Taking time to sit, close his eyes, and deeply reflect on a problem. He credits many of his biggest breakthroughs to this practice.

Reading I Can See Clearly Now, Wayne Dyer shared a similar sentiment: “I find that if I let myself meditate on the issue, the loving guidance shows up.”

For years, I’ve unknowingly done my own version of thought experiments. When facing tough decisions, I find a quiet space, close my eyes, and breathe.

When I allow my mind to settle, I make choices more from love than fear. There’s power in simply being with ourselves, whether through meditation, prayer, or stillness.

Last week, a friend told me about how she used ChatGPT to interpret one of her dreams.

Her prompt: “You are the world’s best dream interpreter and have won awards for dream interpretation. Please interpret the following dream…”

That night, I had a dream. I was walking along a beach when people started screaming, SHARK! A dark gray fin cut through the water, darting toward the shore. Panic set in… until the “shark” stepped onto land. It was a man, wearing a fake fin.

Surprise. Relief.

I awoke that morning and began furiously writing down as much of the dream as I could remember.

When I input my dream into ChatGPT, the interpretation was striking.

It reflected the fears I had recently been facing, stepping into the unknown, co-leading a men’s group, and taking the risk of allowing myself to be seen.

My dreams, it turns out, are more connected to my waking life than I realized.

Lately, birds have been a recurring theme among my friends.

Yesterday morning, as a light breeze came through my airstream window, I heard the soft tune of birds outside. Then, a robin landed on my screen. I sat perfectly still, watching as it surveyed its surroundings before flying away.

Birdsong is one of the purest forms of music.

Music itself has been a theme for me lately. I realized how often I use it as a distraction. An escape from silence. After a week-long break, I returned with a renewed appreciation for the feeling behind the sound.

It lights me up to listen to artists who infuse their music with love and life. Recently, Lauren Daigle has been a favorite!

p.s. My good friend Danny created a wonderful playlist called The Light Place! 7.5 hrs of light!

This concludes another newsletter. Love to everyone. If you enjoyed this please share it with others you think could benefit from it.

What I’ve started: Posting on X. Sharing thoughts in real-time has been a great creative outlet.

An event I’m excited about: I’ll be at Edge City Austin this week! It’s a wellness pop-up village that gathers forward-thinking community members.

Peace and Love,

Ben