Alumni Blog
How a financially anxious alumni applied for scholarship
by Spencer Huang - Sep 26, 2025
This blog is written for those who want to attend the Contemplative Semester and need financial support to do so. As an alumni of the program who applied as a financially “independent” person and received a scholarship to attend the program, I'm hoping my story could help applicants from similar contexts navigate this process.
First, I want to share my response to the scholarship application, which I submitted over a year ago (today is August 26, 2025):
"1. Applicant contribution: $2,000 (Tuition at the time was $13,400)
Scholarship request: $11,400
I currently make about $210/month, have about $15,000 in savings, spend about $700/month, and almost entirely do not rely on parental funds. My relationship with my parents is at a point where they do not want to support the financial costs of my life's endeavors, especially if it does not align with what they believe is the right path for me. Although I have technically enough money to pay for the full tuition costs, I am currently living off my savings and I plan to channel the rest of it to get me through a master's degree in mental health clinical counseling. I also have around $11,000 in debt from taking out loans to pay for my undergraduate degree (which did not work out for me job-wise), so my financial situation is pretty tight. I really want to attend this program, and I am happy to provide more information but I think I would feel most supported and comfortable if I could pay at most $2000. I would hugely appreciate even more aid, but I understand that the scholarship fund should be used to be as beneficial as possible across all applicants. "
What I didn't include in this response was my internal experience of shame, confusion, and fear. I felt ashamed that I was asking for too much. I felt confused because I had no sense of how everyone else was deciding on what number to ask for. And I felt afraid my chances of being accepted into the program would diminish if my ask was deemed too high for the financial position I was in (now I know applicant acceptance and scholarship request are reviewed separately). Or worse, I would be perceived as a greedy bastard who had no concern for the well-being of others who also needed scholarship to attend. It was a wickedly uncomfortable position to be in. Looking back, I attribute much of that discomfort to the system of money itself, which I will not go into detail about in this blog but will simply share that It makes complete sense that it is so difficult to channel money in a needs-based way because money is built on mindsets of scarcity, accumulation, and separation to begin with.
That being said, even in the process of dreaming up a kinder world, we currently live in a world deeply entrenched in market logic. This program needs tuition from students to run even while the organizing team’s ideal is to offer the experience as a full gift.
The staff at Contemplative Semester want to give you the gift of particular teachings through the program, AND we want as many people to receive this gift as possible. Our scholarship fund is trying to account for the different amounts of monetary support we come from so the burden of finitude is as equitably distributed among the community as possible. This process is hard.
I hope the following observations I use to orient to our system of money, as well as some journal prompt questions can be helpful to you in your process of applying for scholarship.
Money Observations
Money is the primary way most of us in this country sustain our survival in an easeful and dignified manner.
People have different amounts of money in their bank accounts, different family financial situations, different abilities to access monetary resources through work-exchange, and different psychological and embodied relationships with money.
Individual and collective human needs are sensuous and sacred and do not map intuitively to numeric valuation.
Journal Prompt Questions
What do you predict will be the cost of your needs across the length of future you want to plan for (I try to plan for six months)?
What does it feel like to momentarily put down the weight and complicatedness of tuition?
I recommend oscillating between the above prompts as it feels supportive.
My journey with money, needs, and gift due to the Contemplative Semester
For a long time, I felt terrified of running out of money. I was terrified of the possibility of losing easeful and dignified access to shelter and nutritious food and much more. At the same time, I often felt sick to my stomach imagining returning to jobs I had in the past to maintain the amount of income needed to meet my needs.
What the Contemplative Semester offered me was a reminder of how one could relate to needs and the finitude of resources without resorting to a mindset of accumulation or resignation. I remembered the possibility of collectively mourning times of insufficient resources and the possibility of collectively celebrating, and I mean REALLY celebrating, the times of enoughness. In addition, the classes at CS taught me ways to connect with my needs and skillful ways to express those needs. Then, because we were living cooperatively, I was able to practice and explore such possibilities with other students without being crushed by the norms of hyperindividualism that dominate the wider world.
The experience initiated the transformation of my relationship to money from one of compulsive planning to one of skillful trust. Alongside many other sources of wisdom around the subject of mutual flourishing like the teachings of Miki Kashtan, Genevieve Vaughan, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Alan Watts, my past therapists, and vulnerable conversations with loved ones, it became clear to me that money simply yet omnipotently obscures the fundamental way we related to one another: through gift. Somehow, my needs have been met enough to make it 26 times around the sun. I could never fully explain how that happened, but it did and I never had control over it.
Now, instead of attempting to control my survival and thrival in the future, I try to direct my attention towards what resources are already available to me in the moment. I do my best to appreciate these momentary gifts and share them as widely as possible. When I do not feel I have enough, I try to remember that I have the ability and ever growing capacity to ask others to share what they see is available.
Simultaneously, money still largely dictates which and how much of resources flow to my body.
My current project is planting seeds of courageous money conversations in the soils of my relationships. I hope to transform the discomfort of money dialogue into greater intimacy.
When I must engage with exchange logic, I try to do so with a soft and warm heart - seeing the gift that is still moving between us even if it is distorted.
I really hope you apply to the program even if the tuition number and scholarship application looms dauntingly before you. I encourage you to approach this process with as much care and presence as is available to you, as this system of money will run us if we cannot be with it in our full agency and power. If you have any specific questions, I would love to hear them through email: spencer@contemplativesemester.org.
Dancing at the Contemplative Semester
by Angela Futch - July 28, 2025
Note: Angela offered this blog post in audio form which we recommend <3. You can also read the transcript below.
Hi, my name is Angela Futch, and I’m going to share about the time that I taught my first dance class during the Contemplative Semester.
One day after small group, I was having a conversation with a peer, and we were talking about our love of music and our love of dance. I just remember feeling so inspired and so awakened creatively—and just super energized.
So I spent the next two hours planning a couple different dance classes, and then next thing I know, within a couple weeks or so, I’m teaching my first ever dance class.
I remember lighting incense and blessing the room and calling in light and love and goodness, and my ancestors, and just all the guides that support movement and support healthy communal spaces for movement.
I was so excited—I was going over the choreo and the structure of the class I had planned—and then people started to roll in.
I basically just taught this class in sheer flow state. I had never taught a dance class before, and I just remember feeling so energized. I felt like a burning ball of white, yellow, golden light energy.
Looking back on it, I’m just so proud of myself. I even feel so excited thinking about the way that I started the class and called in my ancestors, acknowledged the land, and acknowledged the teacher who taught me the particular form of movement.
Just honoring all that came before me so I could be there with those people, teaching.
And we just came alive—like, everyone just came alive. It was so much fun.
People were like, “Oh my gosh, was that your first dance class? So you’ve taught dance classes before?”
And I was like, “No, that was just the first time.”
It was just this series of very aligned events, where inspiration struck, and I took action, and we were all able to bask in this goodness together.
And it felt like, for the first time probably ever in my life, “Oh—if I’m going to do anything on this planet in this life, it’s going to be that.”
It’s going to be to bring people together through movement.
It’s going to be to bring aliveness, joy, and expression and spirituality into spaces—and to expose people to that.
And it changed my life.
Ever since then, I’ve been taking myself a lot more seriously as a dancer, as a teacher, and as a movement practitioner.
I have a really deep sense that I will continue to grow into that practice. And the work that I do going forward will very much incorporate embodied movement and embodied community building.
And it was all because of a conversation I had at CS, and the ability to teach classes and explore what it meant for me to be with people in dance spaces—and to teach people in dance spaces.
And it’s still a blessing in my life, ten times over.
So - very grateful for that moment.
Being with change
by Ella Sloss - July 5, 2025
As I began my journey to Copenhagen, I felt untethered. It had only been a month since the Contemplative Semester ended, and I was leaving behind the intentional container that had held me so fully. Now, I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, in a city speaking a language I didn’t understand. The study abroad program offered a few tools—but then we were on our own. I felt more independent than I ever had, and simultaneously, more unsure. I worried I would never find something like CS again. I kept asking myself: How would I hold the memories and wisdom from that time while stepping into such a different space?
And then I remembered the teachings on ease and compassion—on offering ourselves gentleness in hard moments. Maybe I didn’t need to grip tightly to every insight from CS. Maybe I could let the memories return in their own time, softly and gently.
I remembered how much I loved journaling during CS—the day my friends and I spread a picnic blanket, wrote letters home, and journaled. So, I made time abroad to journal again, using it as a mindfulness practice to stay present. The worries didn’t always disappear, but I was able to greet them with more intention and kindness.
Zac’s lesson on “sit spots” came back to me too—how choosing a place in nature could open us to the interdependence of all things, and the deep ways we are connected to the earth. In Copenhagen, I found my way to Frederiksberg Gardens and chose a tree that became a quiet source of support. Even halfway across the world, the teachings from CS continued to meet me.
Ella connecting to her “quiet source of support.”
Cooking also became a grounding practice. My friends and I tested endless vegetarian bean recipes, picked up delicious pastries, and gathered weekly to cook together. In a way, it felt like our own kind of sangha, or Buddhist practice group—letting go of our phones (except for a recipe), making space for being present with each other, and truly connecting.
Through new countries, new friendships, and the internal work of adapting to an unfamiliar environment, I kept remembering a core CS teaching: what’s happening right now is just as it is meant to be. I practiced letting go of the “should’ves” and the urge to fix or change the moment. I let myself hold both awe and joy, fear and anxiety—and meet it all with compassion.
I wondered: what if this semester abroad didn’t need to be perfect? What if its gift was teaching me how to be with change, in all its complexity?
As I softened and returned home to myself, the practices of CS returned, in a more embodied way. In the beginning, I tried to cling to the experience of CS. Now I’ve learned that these practices are still with me, through all that I do, and to let them come back to me gently.