— As prepared —

Good Morning Class of 2025!

Members of the board, President Eisgruber, the 2025 class government and the 2025 class day committee, thank you so much for giving me this honor. I am truly grateful and humbled to be here.

And good morning to your families, professors, friends, and anyone here just to say they’ve been to Princeton - without actually having to take a writing sem. I’ve heard the trauma bond is real.

You made it.

You survived precept. You survived Dean’s Date.

You survived walking all the way to the Dinky in the rain only to find out it was canceled.

You survived the email from your professor that started with, “Just a gentle reminder ...” and ended with existential dread.

You’ve learned to interpret emails from Nassau Hall like they’re ancient texts - vague, mysterious, and slightly threatening.

You survived group projects where one person wrote the whole thing and everyone else contributed... mostly anxiety.

You survived accidentally calling a professor “dude.”

You survived that one week when the Wi-Fi died, the laundry machines were broken, and you were three seconds away from dropping out and becoming an influencer.

Honestly, if you’ve made it through four years at Princeton, you’re qualified for anything - except maybe explaining what “bicker” actually is to someone who didn’t go here. Can someone explain it to me later?

But in all seriousness, congratulations! You are truly the best and brightest minds with hearts dedicated to service. I am truly humbled to share this day with you.

Now I have a confession for you:

I didn’t go to my own graduation.

No ceremony. No cap toss. No awkward moment of wondering, “Do we hug the dean?”

I missed the occasion my parents had been waiting for their whole lives.

Why?

Because I decided to become a monk. It was my disappearing act.

My - parents - were - thrilled.

By which I mean deeply concerned for my mental stability.

They didn’t make me feel bad, but they did send me a TED Talk titled “Why we make bad decisions” by Dan Gilbert .... Who coincidentally got his PhD at Princeton. So it’s kind of a full circle moment for me.

When I was invited to speak at Princeton, my first thought was, “I am truly so grateful for this honor.”

And my honest thought was “I hope I say something worthy of their time.” That self doubt. That inner critic. That voice? It’s still there.

The one that’s been with me since I was eight years old, standing on stage, giving my first speech ever. My mum had volunteered me to speak and sing for my school's Diwali assembly. I was dressed in what looked like a toga and as I was overweight a lot of me was hanging out. I started to sing (I am not a singer) and the audience began to laugh. I forgot my words. They started to laugh more. I looked down to read the next line, only I couldn’t. My tears had smudged the words. Everyone started laughing even more.

Finally to make things much much worse (if that was even possible) my teacher came on stage, put her arm around me and walked me off. And that was my first ever experience of public speaking and all I could think about was what my friends thought of me.

When I got rejected by a girl in my teens, I played it over in my head for days. Not because she rejected me — but because I cared what she thought.

When I became a monk after college, I questioned if my family would ever understand. I cared what they thought.

Three years later, when I left the monastery, I felt like I had failed.

Then I applied for jobs.

Forty rejections. Not interviews...rejections.

When I finally got one as a consultant I thought: “I am years behind everyone, what will they think?”

When I quit my stable career to pursue media, I feared what my colleagues would say.

When I pitched my video ideas to three execs, one said I was too old, the second said I was too young and the third said I was the right age but it was the wrong time. I was 28 and confused.

When I started my podcast, a production company backed out two weeks before launch.

They said it would never be big.

When I wrote my first book, 14 imprints wanted me to change the name. They said no one wanted to Think Like a Monk.

And now? As I stand here talking to you — at Princeton, one of the most prestigious institutions in the world — I still catch myself wondering... What are you going to think of this speech?

When you google the words "Will I ever," the first thing that comes up is "Will I ever find love." The second is, "Will I ever be enough," and the third is "Will I Am Net Worth."

We go from love, to worth to money real quick.

But “being enough” is something all of us struggle with.

In 1902 Charles Horton Cooley wrote: The challenge today is “I am not what I think I am, I am not what you think I am, I am what I think you think I am."

Let that blow your mind for a moment.

He said, "I am not what I think I am, I am not what you think I am, I am what I think you think I am," which means we live in a perception of a perception of ourselves. Let me break it down more.

It means if I think you think I am smart, I feel smart. But if I think you think I am weak, I feel weak.

This is the trap. And the world lures us in.

You feel pressure to broadcast your wins.

To post the new job, the proposal, the highlight reel.

To do the things people agree with, celebrate and consider important.

To stay visible. To stay relevant. To stay impressive.

Because the world rewards what’s impressive.

You’ll feel pressured to prove you’re doing well - before you’ve even figured out what that means for you.

The world will push you to perform success.

But if there's one message I want you to walk away with today — it's this: You have to disappear.

I know a few parents just sat up straight like someone said “gap year.”

Don’t worry...when I say disappear, I don’t mean your kid’s need to ghost their student loans and shave their heads to become monks.

You still go to work. You still show up. But you stop announcing every move and start building something that speaks for itself.

Disappearing means doing the work.

It means doing the work in the dark.

It means doing the work when no one’s watching.

It’s building in private what you don’t need to prove in public.

You stop worrying about what people think and start valuing what you believe.

You stop living for how it looks - and start living for how it feels.

Because a life that looks good, or sounds good is nothing compared to a life that feels good.

Now, this all might seem like strange advice, coming from someone whose entire career exists online.

But I would not be where I am today if I hadn’t disappeared, not once, but twice.

The first time, I became a monk. The second time, I left a stable consulting job to start sharing what I had learned from the monks.

When I first started speaking no one showed up. I practiced to an empty room. The second time no one showed up again. I practiced to an empty room for the second time. Then I realized I had to fire the person putting out the flyers. (That was me). But then 5 people showed up. And then later 10. I spoke to rooms of 5-10 people for years. Spent hours after learning about their challenges, answering questions and building beautiful friendships. There was no pressure for success and I was free to fail, experiment and grow in private.

And what’s fascinating is if you look at world-class entrepreneurs and artists, business people and creatives - guess what? They all disappeared.

Kobe Bryant practiced at 4 a.m. when no one was watching.

Warren Buffett sat in a quiet room in Omaha reading. 80% of his day was spent studying financial statements, reports and books.

Lady Gaga played dive bars in a glitter leotard for audiences of six.

Sara Blakely, the founder of Spanx, kept her idea a secret for an entire year even from her friends and family because she didn’t want them to prevent her from taking a risk.

Christopher Nolan wrote the script for "Inception" over a period of about ten years. He initially conceived the idea when he was 16.

Steven Spielberg made short films in his garage before ever stepping on a set. They trained while no one was watching. They built without broadcasting. They worked in silence so they could rise without noise.

So whilst everyone is putting pressure on visibility, feel comfortable becoming invisible.

But that’s hard when everyone’s life is on show. Step off the stage, as often as you can.

Today you all graduate together.

But from tomorrow you will all have your own pace, your own time.

Some of you will get promoted first, some will get promoted last.

Some of you will exit your company first, some of you will never start one.

Some of you will get married first, some of you won’t get married at all.

Everything will be documented.

So, how do you disappear in a world obsessed with being seen?

Remember this ancient story: A young student once asked the Buddha, "What do you gain from meditation?" The Buddha replied, "Nothing.” The student looking confused asked, “Then why do you meditate?”

The Buddha said: "I don’t meditate because of what I gain. I meditate because of what I lose. I lose anxiety, insecurity, doubt and fear."

As you leave Princeton, people will ask you: What do you want to gain? A title. A salary. A house. A family.

And those are vital and valuable. You’ve proven your work ethic time and time again. You’ve shown what you’re capable of.

I know you will be ambitious about what you want to gain. But I hope you will be just as ambitious about what you want to lose. Lose the need for approval. Lose the obsession with comparison. Lose the fear of not being enough.

What we gain makes us successful, what we lose makes us happy.

Especially lose envy. Envy doesn’t tell you what you want—it distracts you from what you already have. Envy makes you lose good friends and find bad ones.

You’re already successful. You’re going to be even more successful. I have no doubt about that.

The only thing that can ruin it - is comparing your win to someone else’s.

Envy won’t stop your success. It will just make sure you never feel enough.

And contrary to popular belief the cure for envy isn’t success. The cure for envy is study.

When your friend wins, don’t scroll past. Study them. How did they build that? How did they stay consistent? How did they recover from their failures? Celebrate them.

In the English language we have a word for understanding and sharing someone’s pain = empathy. But we don’t have a word to understand and share someone’s joy and success. In Sanskrit such a word exists, mudita. To experience other people’s joy and success as if it were our own.

Don't envy someone’s best day. Study their everyday.

There are four decisions you’ll make in life that matter more than almost anything other. Ask for guidance. Get advice. Learn from people you trust.

But don’t let these decisions be defined by the opinions of others.

Because at the end of the day - you’re the one who has to live with them.

1. The first decision you’ll have to make is how you feel about yourself.

This isn’t a decision you make once... it’s one you’ll make every, single, day.

Every morning in the mirror.

Every night before you sleep.

Some days, you won’t like what you see.

You’ll mess up at work.

Say the wrong thing at home.

Fall short of who you want to be.

Your self perception will be tested.

But you don’t pass by being perfect or pretending.

You pass by choosing...again and again...to show up for yourself and others better than you did yesterday.

2. The second decision is this: who you choose to love - and who you choose to love you.

According to social psychologist Dr. David McClelland this decision can influence up to 95% of your success or failure in life. Not your grades. Not your GPA. Not first job title. Who you let close. Sometimes, you won’t know if you chose right until you’re in it.

Twelve months into our marriage, we were four months away from going broke. In a new country. With 30 days left on our visa.

I sat my wife down and told her everything. She looked at me and said quietly, “I trust you.”

That wasn’t the moment I knew she was the right person.

It was the next morning - when she looked at me, dead serious, and said, “I think I want to buy a plant.”

I had just told her we might not be able to stay in the country.

Rent, groceries, and maybe... maybe the visa. That was the budget.

And she wanted to add a ficus.

So off we went to Home Depot. 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. That was the moment I knew she was the right person. I take life too seriously and she doesn’t at all.

The plant sadly died that winter but thankfully our relationship survived and is still growing.

Don’t fall in love too fast. You don’t truly know someone until you’ve seen them when they’re tired, stressed, broke, and hangry. The right person will make the hard times easier.

And don’t forget about your parents. The American Time Use Survey says that by the time you turn 21, you’ve likely already spent about 90% of the total in-person time you'll ever have with your parents. Interview your parents. Record their stories. Learn every lesson you possibly can from them. You can earn more money, more titles, more goals - but you’ll never earn back lost time with your parents.

3. The third decision is what you do for a living.

Try to do what you love.

And if you can’t - find meaning in what you do.

You’ll spend a third of your life at work. That’s around 90,000 hours.

Don’t settle for hating it.

That doesn’t mean your job has to be your passion.

But it also doesn’t mean you have to feel like you’re trading your soul for a salary.

Focus on what it gives you:

• Stability for the people you love.
• Structure while you build something else.
• A chance to bring you into the role.

When I worked at Accenture, I was a consultant by day — and a meditation teacher by lunch.

I’d run sessions for my colleagues during breaks and after hours. Not because it was part of my job description, but because I needed it. And so did they.

I remember one day, one of the rugby lads came up to me — That’s the British version of a jock, but with better hair and worse manners.

He pulled me aside and said, "Jay, I want to learn how to meditate... but none of the girls can find out."

Apparently, they were all into him, and he thought meditation might ruin his street cred.

So after work, we grabbed two chairs, turned off the lights, and sat across from each other.

Three minutes into deep breathing...

Boom...the door swings open.

The exact group of girls he was trying to avoid walk in. They take one look at us sitting there in the dark...eyes closed, breathing like monks on a blind date - and they just lost it.

Laughter. Chaos. He was mortified. No recovery.

But here’s what he told me months later:

Meditation helped him manage the anxiety he’d never talked about.

That showed me how desperately we needed stillness in a world designed to burn us out.

And it gave me the confidence to make it my path.

Later, I would go back to teach meditation at Accenture.

And I still have incredible relationships with the leaders I once worked for.

So here's the truth: Even if you don’t love your job - bring what you love into it.

Love the people. Love the growth.

And if you can’t find any love in it - use that feeling as your signal to move. Always trust this signal.

85% of jobs that will exist in 2030 haven’t been invented yet.

The average American changes careers five to seven times in their lifetime.

I can’t wait to see what you do in the next five years. The world is waiting for you.

The fourth decision - and maybe the most important - is how you’ll serve humanity.

Most people never get to this one.

They get busy chasing the next job, the next move, the next upgrade.

But if you skip this question, you skip the one thing that leads to true fulfillment.

In the monastery, we were taught:

It’s not about how much you give. It’s about how much you hold back.

Whether you have a little or a lot, your time, energy, and resources are more meaningful when they’re not just for you.

One study found that volunteering just two hours per week improves mental health and extends life expectancy.

Over 59 million U.S. adults - nearly 1 in 4 - live with a mental illness.

Only 47% of those individuals receive treatment.

The average delay between the onset of mental illness symptoms and receiving treatment is 11 years.

And that’s what keeps me going, recognizing there is so much more to do in the world.

Your purpose does not have to be your job.

Your purpose does not have to be big.

Your purpose does not have to make you money.

Your purpose does not have to make you famous.

Your purpose can be something you do on the weekends.

Your purpose can be something you do in the evenings.

Your purpose is something no one can take away from you.

So find something you care about.

Find something that breaks your heart open a little.

And then: get involved.

You don’t need a million dollars.

You don’t need a title.

Use your passion in the service of others, and it will become your purpose.

I want to end with a couple of practical things you can do:

First try this: For one full day, track every time you feel the urge to ask someone what they think. About what you’re wearing, what to eat for dinner, what TV show to watch, what job to apply for. Write it all down. Who you wanted to ask. What decision
you were avoiding. What answer you were hoping for.

And then... for seven days, go on an opinion fast. No asking. No polling the group chat. No crowdsourcing your direction.

It’s your life - don’t let someone else hold the remote.

Disappear for a while. And when you come back, come back as you.

Tomorrow, some of you will wake up with a job offer in your inbox.

Some of you will wake up with no idea of what comes next.

Some of you have a five-year plan in a color-coded spreadsheet. Some of you are still pretending to understand what a “fellowship in global policy innovation” actually is.

And all of that? It’s okay. Because there’s no right pace. No right path.

Only the one that’s real - for you.

But here’s what I want you to do no matter what.

Every day, starting tomorrow, write down one thing you did that required effort - even if no one saw it.

Not what you achieved.

Not what got praise.

Just what took energy, courage, or discipline.

• Got out of bed when you didn’t want to.
• Sent the email you were avoiding.
• Stayed calm in a difficult conversation.
• Showed up for yourself when it would’ve been easier not to.

Because when you start measuring your day by effort, not recognition, you begin to feel accomplished - without needing to be noticed.

Class of 2025,

You’ll have an idea people roll their eyes at - build it anyway.

You’ll want a job no one thinks you’ll get - apply anyway.

You’ll dream of a path that doesn’t come with a title or salary - take it anyway.

You’ll feel like an impostor in rooms you’ve earned your way into - walk in anyway.

You’ll be the least experienced person at the table - speak anyway.

You’ll mess up, fall short, second-guess everything - learn anyway.

You’ll wonder if it’s worth it - keep going anyway.

Because if you do what you want, they’ll misunderstand you.

If you do what you want, they’ll misunderstand you.

If you do nothing, they’ll misunderstand you.

And if you do something, they’ll misunderstand you.

People will misunderstand you, no matter what you do.

So you might as well do something you love.

Live a life that would make your younger self proud and your older self grateful, even if it confuses everyone in between. CONGRATULATIONS!