Finding Spiritual Contentment in the Wilds of Madison Ave

I spent 40 years on “Madison Avenue” chasing success, only to find my soul couldn’t care less. Here’s how I finally found spiritual contentment.

For 40-plus years, I worked in advertising. About half that time, in New York City. I made pretty good money working a job while often enjoyable, it often could drive you nuts. My job often included meeting tight deadlines, spending late nights in the office (including two all-nighters), and clients who wouldn’t know a good ad if it walked up and bit them. The upside: My job also allowed me and my family to live in comfortable homes, eat in the better restaurants, and take annual Florida vacations.

But there was a time when things weren’t going so smoothly. Specifically, early in my career, before I was married. From my mid-20s to mid-30s, I worked at eight different agencies in about ten years. While I was jumping from job to job, I also hopscotched from relationship to relationship. And I was “partying” way too much. Even selling a new creative campaign to a difficult client, did little to relieve a growing sense of discontentment.

Something was missing from my life. Something big. And the next job or a new girlfriend or a night fueled by alcohol and sex (and yes, sometimes drugs) offered only a temporary fix. It was like I had a hole in my middle that I was trying to fill with “stuff.” I was yearning for something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, as much as I tried to find a solution through trial-and a lot of error.

As it turns out, the sense of discontentment I was feeling isn’t an old story. It’s a recurring theme across generations. My friend Trey Downes, host of the “Your Superior Self” podcast, is at least a generation younger than I am. But in a recent blog post, he shared the following realization from his own life, something I can totally relate to:

For years, fun came from coping with the weight of modern life. Overconsuming alcohol to escape. Keeping conversations shallow so I would not have to explain the emotions I could not name. Overworking myself so I did not have to sit with the silence or with my own thoughts.

Like Trey, it took me awhile to figure out what the heck was going on. It started when my buddy Terry gave me a book about awareness training for Green Berets. Vaguely spiritual, it altered my perspective on what it meant to be a well-rounded person: life wasn’t just about the pursuit. It lit a fuse, and I then began to read one spirituality and philosophy book after another, looking for answers before I even knew what questions to ask.

 I began to glimpse the longings of the soul.

One area that especially interested me were stories about the soul, including the works of “depth psychology” experts like Thomas Moore, Michael Meade, and James Hollis. The idea of the soul—the enigmatic part of our selves that is distinct from the body and survives our death—is a concept with deep historical roots. It’s often credited to the ancient philosopher Plato, who wrote extensively about the nature of the soul and our eternal existence.

Perhaps the greatest research into the soul was done by the early-20^th century Swiss psychologist Carl Jung, who Hollis, Meade, and Moore refer to frequently. Jung saw the soul as the field where the spiritual dimension is encountered, a place where we can connect to something greater than ourselves. He argued that modern humans are in search of the soul, disconnected from the inner world of imagination, passion, and meaning. Instead, we pursue materialism and the fleeting wants of the ego.

As I look back at my world then, I now realize I was almost exclusively externally focused. My God(s) had become my career, my romantic relationships, my possessions, my favorite sports teams. Subconsciously, I was hoping that one or all would provide me with some measure of happiness. I had in fact ignored my soul and turned over the car keys of my life to my ego, which took me on a wild and ultimately unsatisfying joy ride.

Was I to blame? Maybe, maybe not. You and I are a product of the society we were born into with goals we were taught to strive for from a young age. Get an education. Pursue a career. Climb the ladder. Find a partner. Raise a family. Drive a new car. Buy a big home. But is that what the soul really wants?

We often choose to ignore out innermost yearnings, burying them under the relentless pursuit of the next rung on the ladder or the next big thrill. We do so at our own peril. In The Second Mountain, David Brooks points out that while the soul is powerful, “it is also reclusive. You can go years without really feeling the force of its yearning. But eventually the soul hunts you down.”

Your professional life may be successful, and your social calendar full, but the soul doesn’t care about business or busyness. And it will let you know. Brooks tells us “there are spare moments when you vaguely or even urgently feel her presence.” It can happen during a moment of reflection, a jog through the park, or even on a crowded city street, when a vast hole in the center of your being makes itself known. Sometimes it shouts. Often it whispers. Asking to be recognized and heard.

 Might religion be the cure?

Maybe for some. If you believe religion will scratch your spiritual itch, go for it. But consider, there are over 4,000 religions in the world today. In Christianity alone, it’s estimated there are up to 40,000 denominations. You’ve got to wonder, did any single religion or denomination, with its own approved set of stories and rules, prayers and rituals, get it completely right?

Here’s one thing to know: There’s no one-size-fits all solution to what a soul wants. My soul is different from your soul. It’s as distinct as your fingerprint and it’s up to you to figure out what your individual soul is asking of you in this lifetime. You can choose one pre-determined religious path that may or may not take you where you need to be. Or you can get out your proverbial machete and carve your own trail.

That means doing your homework and uncovering the books, rituals, and spiritual practices that you will intuitively know are right for you. Your practice could include meditation, yoga, silent prayer, spending time in nature or living like a mystic. It’s the path of the spiritual-but-not-religious. It works for me, and it also may work for you.

You can have it both ways: a career and a spiritual life.

I’m the less than perfect example. For years, I was chasing “success” while working in the crazy world of advertising. Until I realized that the empty feeling inside me—the “hole in my middle”—couldn’t be fixed with a fancy job title, a bigger paycheck, or a steamy new relationship. To find true contentment, you need to connect to something greater than yourself.

I now know the disconnection I felt was an invitation to stop treating my spiritual life as a weekend hobby and start making it an integral part of my life. When I changed my attitude, the high-stress world of work began to lose its power over me. My priorities changed. Instead of trying to climb the corporate ladder, I stopped to take a breath and enjoy the view. It was only then that business success and spiritual contentment became part of the same journey.