Your career path has taken quite a unique turn from working in the tech industry to teaching at DRBU. What motivated you to make such a significant shift from material science and engineering to education, particularly at a Buddhist university?

I mean, there are so many factors, obviously. Part of it is that, during my teenage years, I went to the high school at the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas (CTTB). While I was here, the teachers I had were really inspiring—not just in terms of being intelligent or good at teaching, though they were—but more because they seemed to have a quality of life that was very peaceful and content. I remember telling one of my teachers in high school, “I wish I could have a quality of life like yours. You seem so content and happy.” This planted a seed in me, making me think about what I wanted in life.

During college and graduate school, I thought I wanted to be a scientist. After completing my master’s program, I began working at Silicon Valley, starting at AMD, which is a semiconductor company. During that time, I regularly attended events at Berkeley Buddhist Monastery. I also spent time with professors at DRBU, Doug Powers and Marty Verhoeven. Through those interactions, I learned a lot about how Buddhism could be personally meaningful and useful to me.  

Although I went to a Buddhist high school here at CTTB, it didn’t really click until I was in my 20s. The idea from my younger years—that I wanted a certain quality of life—stuck with me. Over time, I realized that what I did for a career wasn’t the determining factor for my happiness. It mattered, of course—the nature of my work was important—but it wasn’t the primary thing. What was primary for me was finding a way to have a peaceful mind, to feel at ease, and not feeling conflicted. Since I wasn’t originally a Buddhist, I never initially thought about calming my mind or labeling the things I did as “Buddhist” in a formal way.

So you are not after tags like “I am a Budhhist.” You just wanted to have peace of mind and stability. 

I did, because of people like Doug and Marty as examples. It makes sense that I would want to look for ways to do what they were doing. Even though I was spending time with people like Doug, Marty, and others, they were not just personal mentors to me but also actively involved in various projects, such as founding DRBU.

At that time, I was working at Stanford Research Institute (SRI), a private organization similar to a national lab, engaged in science, engineering, and strategic consulting for major corporations and government agencies.

Because of that experience, I was able to help, and I came back to contribute. Initially, I didn’t think I would become part of the teaching faculty. I expected to focus on planning and accreditation. While researching models for what DRBU’s programs could look like, we came across the concept of Great Books programs. I did extensive research on them, speaking to people at other institutions that ran similar programs. I saw their benefits and became convinced of their effectiveness, particularly in our context. 

What stood out to me about this model was that faculty didn’t necessarily need expertise in every subject the curriculum covered, which was very appealing. At that point, I realized I wanted to engage in both administration and teaching. And that’s how my role here came about.

How do you think that your experiences inform your engagement with students at DRBU? Would that still be similar if you didn’t have those experiences? 

One thing—though it’s not the whole answer—that comes to mind is something I learned from a great mentor I had while working at SRI. He was incredibly experienced and had worked on countless projects. I remember we were having dinner with a client in Japan and someone asked him, “What does a consultant do?” He replied, “Give me your watch and ask me what time it is,” then took the watch, said, “It’s 11:40,” and added, “See? You already had the watch—we just tell you to look at it, sometimes without realizing you even have one.”

Working with DRBU students feels similar in some ways. My role is to help draw out what they already know or what they’re on the verge of discovering. This isn’t something I can do in the abstract—it has to be very specific to their situation. I listen carefully to them, understand their intentions and inclinations, and, if I see connections they haven’t noticed, I point those out. I’ve learned that listening is a crucial skill in both consulting and teaching. My role isn’t to tell them what to do, but rather to say, “Have you thought about this?” From there, it’s up to them to decide what to do with that insight. And, in doing so, I’ve realized how much I’ve learned—not just about listening but about truly seeing people and meeting them where they are.

In your opinion, what role does a Buddhist-inspired liberal education play in addressing contemporary global challenges? How does DRBU’s curriculum prepare students for these challenges?

There are many different ways to approach this, and I’m sure if you talk to other professors, they’ll offer you different perspectives. But I think there are two things I can bring up—not the full list, but at least two points I find helpful.

The first thing ties back to having a goal, whether individually or collectively, of fostering inner peace and joy. While that’s not the only goal of our education at DRBU, I think it’s a worthwhile one. DRBU’s education includes that as one of its aims, which I think is significant. It’s important because, no matter what issues you want to address or what you consider to be problems, the way we resolve those issues matters. For instance, are we working to increase people’s inner peace and happiness? Or are we simply making it easier for people to produce or acquire more of something—whatever that “x” might be? This is not to say that things like a better economy or improved environmental outcomes aren’t important—they are. But the question is, what are they for?

The second point is that DRBU aims to be one of the institutions—among others—that seriously considers the importance of the humanities. By “humanities,” I mean both the value of humanity as a concept—what it means to be human—and the study of the humanities themselves. These studies are increasingly under pressure at many U.S. colleges because funding priorities are shifting, making it harder to sustain and attract students to these fields. 

DRBU’s contribution, I think, is in finding a way to uphold the importance of studying the humanities while also keeping them relevant and appealing to students. It’s a challenge, but it’s an essential one if we’re to maintain the richness and depth of education in these areas.

You have a really huge amount of experience in Research and Development and you teach outside of your original area of expertise at DRBU. What have been the most rewarding aspects of engaging with a broader curriculum, and how do you bridge the gap between your technical background and the humanistic focus of DRBU?

I have both experiences. On the one hand, I’ve had the experience of reading things that I had only heard about before—texts like Plato and Aristotle, as well as the Mahabharata and the Bhagavad Gita. These are works you hear people talk about because they’ve been significant for such a long time. But before reading them I had only encountered bits and pieces of their ideas through other curricula, never the actual texts themselves. So when I read these works for the first time, especially when preparing to teach, I get genuinely excited. I’m struck by the insights and think, wow, this is amazing. That’s one side of the experience.

On the other hand, even though I studied math and physics, when I read Richard Feynman’s works—his lectures at CalTech— and study quantum physics or Euclid, it’s like revisiting familiar material but seeing it in a completely new way. It’s a very enjoyable, surprising, and very positive experience. I believe reading broadly and teaching across disciplines is a great idea. But without actually experiencing the joy of doing it yourself, it’s hard to sustain. That joy makes all the difference.

As for how I approach this, I think my background as a consultant really helps. As I mentioned earlier, consultants need to quickly adapt to new contexts and gain a working understanding of them. That skill has been incredibly useful for teaching subjects outside my immediate expertise. I’ve developed a method of bringing myself up to speed quickly and thoroughly. For me, that often means reading carefully but also using the references and citations within a text to explore further. I track down what’s cited in the book and start building a mental picture of connections. Once I’ve formed that picture, everything falls into place more easily.

When I teach I try to share this approach with students by pointing out connections between their readings. The more connections they see, the easier it becomes to make even more. It’s like a snowball effect—once you start connecting ideas, it leads to even more connections.