On a windy Thursday evening, I was lost in thought as I listened to Dr. Lisa Miller, a guest speaker invited to the annual Interfaith Week: a week dedicated to strengthening interfaith relations. She spoke on the connection between spirituality and neuroscience. Not long after, as swarms of students pushed out of the chapel and rushed into the drizzling weather, I found myself contemplating once more on Andrew Wilson ’12’s — a retired collegiate and Olympic swimmer — All-School Meeting speech. You may be wondering, what does an Olympic swimmer have anything to do with a psychologist and researcher? Wilson spoke of how, in the past, he defined himself solely as his abilities and successes, tying his self-worth to factors that he couldn’t control, and the negative effects that had on his mental health. Meanwhile, Dr. Miller discussed how the presence of a spiritual core, a strong spiritual mindset, could shift our perspectives, helping us view ourselves as what we were inherently worth instead of our achievements. I realized that students at Andover could benefit from a stronger spiritual core, as it would pull us away from the negative habit of seeing others and ourselves for their abilities alone.
In just the two terms I’ve spent at Andover so far, I feel like I’ve learned more than I have in the two years or so prior. I’ve become adept at managing my time, waking up early to get work done, and more motivated than ever by the peers around me. In spite of this, however, the more winter term has dragged on, the more I’ve felt like I wasn’t doing ‘enough.’ I began seeing myself as just my academics and my extracurriculars: my lower math level compared to those of my friends, the six-level questions I got wrong on my chemistry test, or my lack of writing awards that somehow everyone else seemed to have. It didn’t matter that I aced my tests, or that I wrote because I loved to write. By the time midterms rolled around, I was exhausted. I felt like no matter what I did, I just wasn’t good ‘enough:’ everything I was doing was wrong, and any free time I had was wasted. I felt lost. As Wilson related his own experiences during his speech, I realized I wasn’t alone in this feeling. He noted that many people in high-achieving communities such as Andover had felt like this.
This brings me back to that windy Thursday evening, as I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing, and listened to Dr. Miller’s words. She instructed us to imagine sitting at a table. First, we invited those we loved and trusted, then a wiser version of ourselves, then our high power to sit with us. In that instant, something in my heart spoke to me: “Hey. You are loved, and you are guided. Don’t ever forget that. You are going to be okay.” Though at the time I hadn’t exactly placed what caused me to feel so lost, I felt that confusing, twisting feeling that had plagued me to dissipate. That feeling of warmth in my chest was what Dr. Miller defined as spirituality. Though spirituality often went hand in hand with religion, they were two separate things. Everybody had the innate ability to experience spirituality, and it could be practiced and improved. Those with a weaker spiritual core were more susceptible to defining themselves as tangible achievements, such as how fast they could swim or a 6.0 GPA, as I have done.
As I stared at those that I trusted and loved from across the imaginary table, I heard them say, “We’ll love you whether you win this thing or not, so you should too. It’s amazing that you’re ambitious, but you aren’t just your resume. What you achieve is part of who you are, but you’re so much more than that.” Then, I turned to see… myself. The imaginary version of me spoke, “Why would you beat yourself up over something as trivial as the level of your classes? Am I defined by what I have or haven’t learned? Stop it. We’re all so much more than that. Stop seeing other people for their knowledge and skill alone, and you’ll be kinder to yourself too.” Finally, I looked over at the third seat, and invited God to the table. I heard a voice say, “Do you not trust me? Everything that happens, happens for a reason. It will all be okay in the end.”
Afterwards, I felt calm, in control, and awed by the power of spirituality: it only took a few minutes and my imagination, but it helped me break out of the negative perspective I’d been spiraling into. As I mentioned before, spirituality can be practiced and improved, but it can also spread. As winter term creeps on, and we continue to brave the cold and harsh winds, I believe we should introduce spirituality into our conversations. Let’s remind each other that we are so much more than just test scores, medals, titles, and awards. Together, we can transform spirituality as a way to ground ourselves, uplift one another, and find warmth in something deeper than achievement.
