At a social gathering it’s common that the second or third question is “What do you do for a living?” And it’s almost like what you do defines who you are as a person. But I think that many young people are saying that’s not who I am, I’m a lot more than whatever it is that I do for a living.

—HENRI, yoga instructor, Lotus Soul Gym

LATE MONDAY MORNING I hesitantly stood at the door of Lotus Soul Gym on Whyte Avenue in Edmonton. I wondered how many people show up to their first day of work with everything they own—fully equipped to move in permanently if the job demanded it. Short of bringing a blanket and pillow, that was me. I had to bring all of my stuff to work since I wouldn’t be introduced to my next couch until that evening. And so under the weight of my suitcase, computer bag, and backpack, I climbed the stairs to the second-story gym.

Double French doors separated the studio from the waiting room. Suddenly the doors swung open. A class had just finished. Natural light streamed through the windows on the far side of the room and reflected off the polished hardwood floor. Feeling slightly out of place, I took a little more time and care than necessary to remove my shoes as the students gathered their belongings and headed for the exit. I glanced across the studio and spotted a tall, pleasant-looking gray-haired man whom I estimated to be somewhere in his late fifties. Henri, I thought to myself.

Our eyes met. With a warm touch on a student’s shoulder, he finished his conversation and made his way toward me. Long gray locks flowing behind him, he moved with the deliberateness of a Buddhist monk, and his smile was warm and comforting.

“Hi, Henri. I’m Sean, your newest instructor.”

“Welcome, Sean. We’re happy you’re here,” he said.

No classes were scheduled for the afternoon. As the studio emptied we began exchanging stories and perspectives on life. He shared his philosophy of yoga: “Yoga is so much more than learning how to do a posture,” he said. “While we’re doing a posture, we’re learning to connect with the limitations in our body, but we’re also beginning to understand how we operate under those conditions—what do we do with those challenges? Do we become critical? Do we become judgmental? Do we want to give up? Let’s face it, everybody in this world deals with challenges—it’s how we respond to those challenges that determines where we go from there.”

The journey that led Henri to open a yoga studio at the age of fifty-six is a unique one. One of his career decisions stood out to me. In his forties, he and his partner started a successful catering company. After seven years, it was doing $1 million worth of business annually. Things looked great financially, and Henri and his partner found they could afford the finer things in life. There was only one problem. Years of working so many hours each week had left them totally burnt out. They realized that growing the business and their material wealth had come at a great cost—their happiness. So they sold the business.

“The catering business was not feeding my soul,” he said. “It was just paying the bills. And the thing about being in your own business and making good money is that it’s always hard to leave that money. It takes a little bit of soul searching to say, ‘Okay, so I can make this much money, but this is what I have to give up to do it.’ Some people can never make that choice. It’s not something that everybody would be comfortable in doing and not have regrets.”

After selling his business, Henri decided to move to the Cayman Islands and take up something he always wanted to do—become a scuba diving instructor. Even though his salary was a fraction of what he had made with his catering business, he was much happier. “Sean, I was so happy to have that first check in my hand. I wanted so bad to frame the thing,” he said. “And I would have, but I really needed the money.”

I could see Henri standing there, a warm breeze blowing off the Caribbean Sea, holding his check with both hands, beaming with pride as tourists prepared their scuba equipment in the background. “I believe the biggest travesty of many people’s lives is that they never take the time to put themselves under scrutiny. Well, how can we ever grow if we don’t do that? For as long as I live I’m going to have that memory—that I chose to follow my heart. It is what I really wanted to do, and I followed it, and there are no regrets. None. And that’s a very liberating feeling.”

Henri’s calming presence made him very easy to connect with; I caught a glimpse of the clock and saw that two and half hours had passed. If I was to make it back in time for my first lesson that evening, I had to grab a bite to eat.

I left the serenity of the studio and walked into the chaos of rush hour, but it didn’t faze me. I felt energized and alive but somehow calm at the same time. When I remembered that I had to teach yoga classes in four days—and my first-ever visit to a yoga studio had occurred just moments ago—my nervousness quickly returned.

When my big day finally arrived, I felt as if I’d been studying for a final exam all week. Now it was my turn to teach a class.

The students were seated facing me, eyes closed, in the meditative position that begins each practice. Soft music bathed the room. Henri sat on a mat beside me.

My mind drifted to the conversation we’d had on Monday. I remembered the genuine admiration in his gaze when Henri said, “Sean, you inspire me. I can’t wait to see what you’re doing in twenty years, because you are going to do some amazing things in your life.”

It felt good that others had confidence in my future, but I didn’t always share it. Sure, I wanted to do “amazing things” with my life. But what did that even mean? In the past, there had always been an equation. Take notes in class, do your homework, study for exams, and it will help you get a decent grade. Train hard, improve coordination, work out regularly, and you’re on your way to becoming a decent athlete. But now, how was I to satisfy this ambiguous “amazing thing” scenario?

How does anyone define the moment at which they become successful or fulfill their true potential? For some, maybe it’s an echelon achieved through the acquisition of wealth and status. For others, maybe it comes from experiencing a certain level of happiness or enlightenment. Or maybe it comes after an explicit number of people have been positively affected through their actions. Whatever method we choose to keep score, how do we decide when it’s enough? When do we stop aspiring for more? And, most important, when does it become “amazing”?

The students looked so peaceful seated before us, cross-legged, deep in their own thoughts. I hesitated to begin the class, worried that a tremble in my voice would give away my nervousness. The silence grew louder. A bead of sweat slid down my temple. I glanced in Henri’s direction. He nodded, then gave me a reassuring smile. And I began.