
“If you’re not terrified of the next step, you eyes are still closed. A caged bird in a boundless sky.” ~Jed McKenna
It was day two of living at the Zen Center. Sitting on the side of the dirt path, I had my head buried in my knees.
“I can’t do this babe,” I cried to my husband.
Just 12 days prior to this, I was a corporate banker and real estate agent in Phoenix. Now, I was a full-time Zen student deep in the mountains of Carmel Valley, working in the dining room and serving summer resort guests.
“I’ve never even waitressed before. I sat in front of a computer the past decade doing seemingly important work. And now—now, I’m scraping food into a compost bin?” I sniffled.
An hour before then, I’d held back tears the entire time as the dining room crew head was showing me how to set up a tea table and fill tea caddies.
Before coming to Carmel Valley, we’d rented out our comfortable, suburbia five-bedroom, three-bath home. Now, we were living in a 10 x 8 rustic Japanese cabin at the base of a canyon, completely offline from the digital world.
I was sharing a bathroom with 10 other women.
“I’m not a nature girl either. I can’t sleep alongside spiders. Each time I close my eyes, I see a creepy crawler,” I continued to vent, in between an endless stream of tears, gasping for air to get all the words out. “I grew up in suburbia with pest control.”
This life was a radical change. It felt like I’d decided to go cliff jumping—and there was no net.
My conscious decision to leave all the worldly ambitions behind and take this sabbatical year came from my deep belief in taking a pause. Iknew on so many levels that I needed to be there. (more…)


















