Dear Graduate,

This letter is not going to be about how to find a job. It’s not about the merits of working for a cause that you care for passionately. It is not a letter that will give you answers. In fact, I hope it will inspire questions, instead. Here’s a question: How do you care for your soul?

 

If this word, “soul”, sounds a little intangible and vague, think of it as pure love. Think of it as the part of you that is infinite, the part of you that gives from a place of abundance, that nurtures yourself and those around you without judgment or praise, that feels connection to your neighbors and the birds and the rivers and the stars.

 

In our academic lives, we learn to view ourselves as engineers, athletes, artists, scientists, writers, etc.  We think of ourselves in terms of our major, the grades we earned, the honors and awards we received or the activity that kept us awake until sunup. But we are so much more than these things.  Your graduation is not just a celebration of your accomplishment but a right of passage into your own life — free of externally imposed structure. Welcome to your life, it’s all you now!

 

Since I graduated from college in 2011, I have held five different jobs. (My sister, who graduated in 2014 and works freelance in theatre and live events production, has had nine). None of these jobs were perfect and at the same time, they were all perfect. I worked as a leader of wilderness and service trips for high school students, a researcher for an environmental and peace building institute in Israel (service year story here), a trip leader again, a farmers market vendor in New York City, a math and science tutor for middle school girls and a project manager on the construction of a drinking water treatment facility for NYC.

 

I am someone who strives to contribute positively, and each of these experiences provided me with countless opportunities to do that. From what I have seen, there are infinite opportunities to influence our environment around us, and they are not always the ways in which we think we are contributing. Sometimes the hug you give someone, or the way in which you listen to a story that a co-worker needs to share, can bring about more good than anything else we do in a day.  Any measuring stick we try to create in order to gauge our success is misguided.  We don’t have all the information.  Ultimately, the ripple effect of our participation goes beyond what we can see. Our words and actions trickle into the lives of those we touch like streams meandering through valleys eventually flowing into rivers and seas and oceans.  How big is your imagination?

 

What I have learned from the time I left the safe, familiar structure of school and waded out into the vast unknown is that my work experiences have constituted only one part of my life. They are not my whole life. Instead, they have provided context for my character, a setting for my story.  Your first job does not matter in the way you think it does. It is a time and place where you will learn about yourself and the world, where you will experience joy and satisfaction and frustration and disillusionment and inspiration. Your resume does not matter in the way you think it does. The things you write on this single page are not what you will remember, nor what others will remember about you. Your job description does not define you.

 

I want to tell you, beautiful creature of the universe: There is no one you need to impress. If you are looking for a job or about to start working: There is no amount of approval or recognition from parents and teachers and friends that will make you feel good if you do not feel good about yourself.  Approval, I have learned, seems positive, but it is still judgment. There is nobody who has the answers or knows what you should or shouldn’t do. In fact, there is no right answer.  I recently received this text from my mom: “There is no such thing as failure; only failure to take care of yourself well, gently, respectfully, truthfully.”

 

This is what being in my 20s has been about. Learning how to listen to and care for myself is the hardest job I know. In January, I left my home in New York to travel with my boyfriend. The journey was not what I wanted it to be, and on some level I knew this before I left. After four months on the road, I finally decided to honor and support myself.  I got on a plane and flew home.  On some level, I am heartbroken. And on another level, I know that I made a courageous decision and I am stronger for it.

 

Life (or my life, at least) is not a straight path. If it were, that would be boring, and in the end, the struggles we overcome serve to expand our capacity for compassion.  As you embark on this next great adventure of your life, I hope you approach it with a wide-angle lens.  Focus not just on finding a job that will lead to the career you desire but on creating a life that will help you to become the person you aspire to be.  Surround yourself with people who radiate uplifting energy. Do things that bring you joy: read good books, take care of your body, spend time outside, work with your hands, express yourself through art, dance, poetry and song, cook dinner for yourself and for people you love, say yes to new things, embrace your fears, question yourself lovingly, share hugs.

 

For us to love and serve other people, other communities, and the world, we have to first learn to love and serve ourselves.

 

Sincerely,

Erica Spiritos

Class of 2011

Read More By Erica Here.