The email arrived with a quiet finality. After months of exhausting, thrilling, and all-consuming work, my dream was over. My film score, which was set to premiere in a documentary at one of the world’s most famous film festivals, had been cut. The director, citing a time crunch, had fired me. In that moment, the entire path of success I had so carefully paved simply vanished.

CHASING SUCCESS

For many of us, growing up is a search for a place to fit in. Being a smaller, nerdier kid, I found a home in my imagination and in creating. It started with puppet shows and composing music, and later, building websites at the dawn of the internet. Beneath it all was a relentless drive to prove myself. If I wasn’t producing something society deemed “successful,” an existential dread would creep in, casting doubt on my sense of self-worth. Consequently, it manifested outwardly as social anxiety, a restless energy, and an inner, subtle feeling that the only thing that mattered was self-produced value.

Finding moments of worldly success became temporarily soothing. Through high school and college, my musical talents earned rewards, scholarships, and even national recognition. At university, I won coveted positions in ensembles, found good friends, and gained the respect of my professors. But it was never enough. The bravado of my early 20s had its sights set on Hollywood as a film composer.

As Mingyur Rinpoche teaches, our every action — from a simple blink of our eyes to a life-altering decision — is driven by a fundamental wish to find happiness and avoid discomfort. My tireless networking in the film industry was just that — although I couldn’t see it. I was chasing happiness, and I was convinced a film credit was where I would find it. When I landed the gig for the documentary premiering at South by Southwest, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Then came the crash.

FALLING APART

The collaboration with the director had been a mix of exciting musical successes and frustrating revisions. There was one pivotal, poignant scene I just couldn’t get right. I even agreed that my composition, while good, missed the emotional mark. But the finality of that email was a shock. The rejection was crushing, and it coincided with other pillars of my life crumbling — a long-term relationship ended, and a promising career path from my graduate program vanished.

My response was to run. I abruptly left graduate school, my friends, and everything I knew, moving 1,200 miles for a job designing and selling recording studios.

It was in the loneliness of that new environment that I was forced to stop. With nowhere left to run, I finally had the space to grieve. I began to hold my own pain with kindness, and in that raw vulnerability, I reconnected with the Tibetan Buddhist teachings I had discovered shortly after high school, slowly opening my heart.

TRANSFORMING SUFFERING

In the Joy of Living Level 2, Mingyur Rinpoche offers a profound practice for transforming suffering. As I spent time slowly settling my mind, I walked through a version of the following simple steps to use the breath to connect my pain with the broader suffering of others:

1. With an upright and relaxed posture, simply rest in the body. Let everything be as it is. There is no need to follow experiences or to try to block them. Just let everything be, and rest in awareness itself. 
2. Bring to mind a situation that is challenging. Do not start with the most provocative one. Instead, think of something that causes some fear and anxiety but is not overwhelming. 
3. For a few moments, reflect on the challenges and problems that arise from this situation and the suffering that surrounds it, and see what arises in your awareness. 
4. Next, bring to mind other beings and reflect on the fact that they, too, experience challenges in their lives and that they, too, want to be free from pain, discomfort, and stress. 
5. Imagine that, by experiencing challenging situations, you alleviate the challenges that others face. If it is helpful, you can use a phrase like this: “May I experience this difficulty on behalf of all beings so that they may be free from such problems.”
6. While doing this, imagine that it alleviates others’ pain and suffering. Periodically, rejoice in your hardships becoming the cause of ease for others. 
7. Before ending, let go of the reflection and phrases, dropping the practice and resting in open awareness. If your eyes have been closed, slowly open them, and take in this moment with a sense of love and compassion. 
8. Finally, either using the closing dedication or finding your own language, dedicate any positivity that has come from this practice to the well-being of everyone, everywhere.

This shift in perspective was profound. My personal catastrophe, which had felt so isolating, became a doorway to connecting with others. My pain was no longer just my pain; it was just one ripple amidst an ocean of universal human experience. By breathing in the suffering of others and breathing out whatever peace I could find, I discovered a purpose that worldly success could never offer. 

FAILURE IS THE MOTHER OF SUCCESS

The film credit and the studio job faded into irrelevance. In their place, a quiet compassion began to grow. It was no longer about making it big; it was about opening up. Through practice and reflection, the anxiety and speediness that resulted from keeping tight and closed off slowly dissolved. 

Rinpoche often says, “Failure is the mother of success.” The closing of that door, as a film composer, opened to a life I never imagined. It led to new friendships, a beautiful family, and a career helping incredible nonprofits support thousands of people around the world. 

Perhaps when our hearts break, they don’t just shatter in futility. They break open. And in that newfound space, we can finally lift our gaze from our own story, connect with the world, and dedicate ourselves to helping all beings.

January 2026