During the first 25 years of my life, I was a top student and a graduate of Stanford University. My test scores were always in the highest range. I was, I believed, smart. I even believed I was intelligent and wise.

However, despite my ability to read, assimilate, remember and regurgitate information from books back onto exam sheets with profound acumen, I had no idea what life was about. I had no idea who I was, let alone what the world was.

I believed that my personal worthiness was reflected in the grades I received in school. A top grade meant I was worthy. Less than the top grade meant I was less worthy.

I believed that my identity was an intricate tapestry, woven by the threads of my experiences—the trauma and the ecstasy, the challenges and the accomplishments and that I WAS the sum total of what I thought, felt and knew. I WAS what I could do, where I’d been, how I struggled, loved and laughed, and the minutiae of the drama of my life.