My Little Guru

It was just another day in the doctor’s office that I work at as a medical assistant. The doctor was in conversation with one of his patients and I was click-clacking away on the computer answering emails when I heard a shattering crash out in the lobby.

“Oops!” I heard a tiny little voice. I glanced over the reception window and saw a small boy squatting on the ground. He had spilled a carton of Legos on the lobby floor and he was methodically picking up a few pieces at a time and placing them back in the bin.

“Are you OK?” I inquired as I began to get up to walk around and help.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he then noticed me heading towards him and said, “Don’t worry, I made the mess so I’ll clean it up.”

I paused, impressed with this boy’s sense of responsibility. He can't be more than 10! I stood there for a few moments, wondering if I should just let him clean up. I mean, it’s an elementary lesson right? To clean up the mess you made? But I soon saw another lesson to be learned and I let my intuition guide me, “Yes, you made the mess, but isn’t it true that if I help we can get this cleaned up faster together?”

He made eye contact with me, looking contemplative, then nodded and let me help. As I helped him clean, he looked upon me with a calm intensity and asked me, "Do you mind if I ask you a serious question?”

I grinned at him, excited that someone his age could be so forward, “Of course! Ask away!”

“Do you like your job?"

"Yes!" I said immediately and smiled, thinking that he just wanted validation that his doctor’s employees were content.

He proceeded, "Why do you like your job?"

Taken aback by this second and more intimate question, I paused. Hmm, why do I like my job?  I had never asked myself this question. Sure, I did really enjoy my job, but as I sat there and contemplated the “why,” I realized that being at this job for almost 3 years, I’d come to my own sense of flow at the workplace.

Flow happens when we are immersed in something that we are good at. It’s when we don’t have to so actively and consciously plan the next step, and can simply go from step to step, falling into a type of meditative state. Flow has been repeatedly been pointed out as the reason for happiness and longevity through research. Flow is why I love freestyle dance, vinyasa yoga, and writing, but I saw right then and there that I had mastered my work skills just as well, and I had been achieving a state of flow in my work as a medical assistant.

I pondered a way to explain to him with an analogy, since I find this the easiest way to understand abstract concepts such as flow. By this point, he was sitting and playing with the Legos as I remained crouched down on the floor by him. So, as he was assembling his Lego building, I said, "Do you like playing with your Legos?"

"Yes," he said.

"So, you know how Legos work, how one piece connects to the next, right?”

He nodded his head as he continued assembling his building.

“So, because you know how they work and you’ve played with them before, you now can build something great without thinking too hard and enjoy the process! That's how work is for me. I know what I'm doing and how to do it, so when I accomplish my tasks and help the patients or the doctor, I feel good, like I finished a Lego building."

He raised his eyebrows, furrowed them, then nodded as he came to understand what I meant. I gave myself a mental pat on the back, glad I had answered all of his questions satisfactorily.  Little did I know, he had another question, "Is this your dream job?"

I faltered, then proceeded, "Well, no, it's my part-time job for while I’m at school.”

“So, what is your dream job?”

Not about to dig into all the life questions and musings I’ve been drowning in the past few months, I simplified my answer to, “Well, I actually wanted to do what the doctor does for a while and be a psychiatrist, but I'm re-thinking things and still figuring out my next steps." I said this with ease, knowing that a 10-year-old wouldn’t judge me for my lack of a solid plan. “How about you?” I shifted gears to him, “What is your dream job?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “I want to be an astrophysicist.”

Really!? “Wow! I don’t know many people your age who want to be that or know this about themselves yet! Why is being an astrophysicist your dream job?” My eyes were wide and my ears were aquiver, eager to absorb his answers.

“I want to be close to the one who inspires me.”

I tried my best not to let my jaws drop, “Oh, and who is that?”

“Neil deGrasse Tyson,” he casually stated.

I was in awe. He was making a career decision based on his belief in the perspective of an individual instead of his own glorification or monetization of skills or what Mommy and Daddy told him. I was impressed, “That is wonderful! I’m so glad you know what you want!”

He then stopped assembling his Lego building and gazed at me with baby-Buddha wisdom and asked politely, "Do you mind if I share some advice with you?"

I nodded vigorously. Yes little guru, teach me everything.

He paused, then opened his mouth, "When you think about your dream job... Don't think about how hard it will be to get there. When you think about your dream job, just think about how you will feel and what you can do once you get there."

This boy--this human-- dropped a truth bomb on me that shook the world I had just begun to re-create. I reflected on my recent decision not to go to medical school (read story here) and began questioning the path to that conclusion. How much of my decision is being influenced by an aversion to hard work? I closed my eyes and imagined how I would feel and what I could do if I had my own pediatric psychiatry practice or at least had a title that can open doors to new possibilities in healthcare. I was filled with joy. I thought about medical school and all the hours of rigorous studying and clinical work and the negative competition I’d subject myself to. I was filled with anxiety. I saw that my decision had been based on the understanding that medical school would not make it easy to live the lifestyle I advocate for. And while this is a valid concern that is still a strong influencer of my decision, it shouldn’t be the only consideration. I gazed at my little guru in front of me and melted into a soft smile.

“Thank you! How lucky am I to have received advice from the future Neil deGrasse Tyson?!”

He bashfully grinned back at me and I got up, feeling refreshed, and headed back behind the reception counter to continue my work.

I soon began analyzing my previous analysis. In my efforts to be objective and see educational opportunities for what they are instead of what title they give you, I actually demonized the medical system instead of critically assessing and acknowledging the valuable aspects of it on top of the flawed ones. Recognizing the misguided foundations of traditional medicine doesn’t eradicate its benefits. In a flood, all my reasons for going to medical school came back: it’s a privilege to learn such in-depth material, it’s a way to gain access to those who seek traditional care so as to expose them to alternative care, it’s a way to gain respect from institutions so I can collaborate more effectively, it’s a way to bring mindfulness to future physicians as a peer… And as these reasons came to me, I realized that this decision had never belonged to anyone but myself. I had long ago accepted the hard road ahead and had rationally come to my own conclusion to be a doctor. But I had come to take education for granted again, losing the zest and appreciation I had when I first came back to school after a break 3 years ago. My little guru here reminded me of that.

I’m still not sure where I’m going, but I will leave all doors open and continue to explore options, inviting both my heart and my mind to share their perspectives. I will make my way to my unknown destination, staying true to my end goal of innovative healing, and do so knowing with full confidence that ultimately, whatever I do and however hard that path may be, I will be able to find my own flow and happiness.

Cynthia's Next steps: Wisdom knows no gender, race, or age. Listen to find voices of reason even in those you wouldn't typically expect to find it. Treat the words of the young with as much respect and reverence as the words of the old.