My first job coming out of college was at a digital advertising start-up in downtown Manhattan. It was wild, stressful, fun, and formative.
When I first started, the agency still had a modest number of employees. Because of that, each of us wore many hats. We learned quickly, stretched beyond our job titles, and worked closely enough with one another that a real sense of camaraderie began to form.
As the years passed, the agency went through an intense period of change. The company grew. The work expanded. New people arrived. And naturally, some of the people who helped build the foundation of the agency began moving on to their next chapter. During this period of change, an unofficial tradition eventually formed.
On someone’s last day, as they walked through the atrium toward the exit, the team would begin a slow clap. At first, it was soft and steady. Then, as they got closer to the door, the rhythm would build until the slow clap became full applause. It was a way of honoring the people who had helped shape the culture before stepping into whatever came next.
There was one particular slow-clap ceremony that stayed with me. Before the applause began, a colleague I will call ‘Texas’ gave a short speech. I do not remember every word, but I remember the essence of what he shared.
He said he had learned something from each of us.
Every person on the team had reflected something back to him. Every relationship, every personality, every interaction had offered him a lesson that helped him grow and become more fully himself. At the time, I remember being moved by what he said, but I do not think I fully understood it.
Looking back now, I can see that moment as one of my early introductions to a deeper spiritual principle.
Life reflects us back to ourselves.
Through people. Through relationships. Through routines. Through discomfort. Through joy. Especially through the moments that irritate us, humble us, soften us, and wake us up.
This principle is often described as the reflective universe.
Sometimes life reflects back the parts of ourselves we like. Maybe it is our kindness, creativity, or humor. Other times, life reflects back the parts we would rather avoid. For example, self-destructive patterns or our desire to remain comfortable when something within us is asking to grow.
Introspection and self-awareness are the keys to understanding the reflections that are presented to me. They help me look at my life without immediately turning away from what feels uncomfortable. It is certainly not an easy process.
More often than not, the reflective universe does not arrive as a grand mystical experience. Although that type of experience is absolutely real and possible, sometimes it arrives through something very ordinary.
For me, one of those reflections came through my dog, Joy.
In the past, I noticed Joy’s energy had become lower than usual. She was sleeping more, less interested in longer walks, and moving through our routine with less spark. At first, I felt guilty and ashamed.
My initial instinct was to avoid looking too closely at that feeling. Shame can be uncomfortable to sit with because it often wants to hide. It wants to turn away, distract, or make excuses.
However, avoiding it would not have helped Joy. It would not have helped me either, so I needed to address it. I let myself look at the reflection with as much honesty and compassion as I could.
What I began to understand was that Joy’s state of being was reflecting something about my own state of being at that time. My energy had been lower. My habits had become less supportive. My routines had become comfortable, but not nourishing to my heart. I had not been moving through life with the same openness or vitality that I wanted for myself. And because Joy and I share so much of our daily rhythm together, she was reflecting that rhythm back to me.
That realization helped me shift from shame into responsibility.
So I began making small changes. I started paying more attention to our walks. I changed the routes we took. I opened myself to different times of day, different parks, and more variety in our routine. I began looking at my own eating habits, my energy, my sleep, and the ways I had been choosing comfort over renewal. I also began reconnecting with practices that helped me feel more present in my body and spirit.
Our reflective universe does not always need to shout. Often, it simply shows us what is ready to be brought back into balance. These reflections can come through a person at work, a random conversation with a stranger, a dream, a repeated pattern, an existing relationship, an animal family member, and many other ways.
If we are willing to look without judgment, the reflection can become a doorway. It can help us outgrow an unconscious pattern we no longer need to carry. This does not only apply to the individual. I believe it also applies to our collective life as a human family. The state of our world reflects something back to us too. Our systems, conflicts, fears, and hopes all reveal where we are being invited to grow.
That can feel overwhelming if we see reflection as punishment, but the reflective universe is not here to shame us with what we see. It is here to lovingly show us what is ready to heal.
Texas probably did not know that his short speech would stay with me for years and become connected in my mind to something much larger. But that is how reflection works sometimes. A simple moment becomes a seed. And years later, we realize life was teaching us something before we had the language to understand it.
Thank you for reading and have a great present moment!
Matt