#  Hope Podcast: Featuring Becca Leviss and Rucha Modi, MTS Candidates 

 





April 30, 2025

 

 

 

On this episode of the Hope Podcast, we hear from second year MTS students Becca Leviss and Rucha Modi sharing the story of their early HDS friendship as a source for inspiration.



 

 Harvard Divinity School · Hope Podcast: Featuring Becca Leviss and Rucha Modi, MTS Candidates 

 



 

 

 

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: Welcome to the Hope Podcast, a podcast hosted by the Harvard Divinity School Office of Religious and Spiritual Life, where we talk to HDS students about their spiritual lives, what hope means to them, and how they work to cultivate it daily.

My name is Michael Fuhrman, one of the chaplain interns in the Office of Religious and Spiritual Life. Today, I sat down with second-year MTS candidates Becca Leviss and Rucha Modi. Becca and Rucha, thank you so much for joining me this morning. We're so excited to have you guys on the Hope Podcast.

RUCHA MODI: Thanks for having us.

BECCA LEVISS: It's so good to be here.

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: Of course. Yeah, well, we usually like to start these just by giving people a second to introduce themselves and tell us a little bit about their spiritual autobiography. I know you two have a fun story of friendship here at HDS as well, too. So maybe we can just start with each of your personal introductions, and then give you guys a second to talk about your friendship with each other, if that sounds OK.

RUCHA MODI: Yeah.

BECCA LEVISS: Absolutely. Do you want to go?

RUCHA MODI: Are you?

BECCA LEVISS: All right, I mean, I have a very traditional American-Jewish spiritual biography. I grew up very active in the reform movement of American Judaism, but very practicing. So we were Shabbat most Friday nights. We'd go to synagogue pretty regularly.

My Judaism felt like a really vibrant, active part of my life and how I made sense of the world and moved in the world. And, for me, that was also deeply tied with justice and what it means to make the world a better place and a more righteous, just place.

So I went to a Jewish sleepaway camp. I was really involved in NFTY, which is the reform movement's youth movement, and understood that to be a person doing good in the world was also to be living Jewish values, that those two things were deeply entangled into my sense of self.

And that continued through college. Post-graduation, I worked for the pro-democracy movement in Washington, DC with some really brilliant, incredibly capable, incredibly kind human beings fighting authoritarianism in the United States, and ultimately, felt like I deeply admired the work that was going on and, at the same time, was missing the values behind it.

Democracy is a system, they're infrastructure. But democracy isn't necessarily a value in and of itself. It is a system through which values are strengthened and lived out. And I really wanted to return back to those values. And I think that religion has really important ingredients for that. So that's a bit of my spiritual journey and where I've ended up here.

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: Yeah, thank you so much. Rucha, do you want to take a turn?

RUCHA MODI: Yeah, Becca, you are so cool. And I am so honored to be sitting in this room with you. Hey, y'all. My name is Rucha. My parents immigrated from Gujarat, India. So I think a lot of my early spiritual and religious formation was shaped through them.

One of my earliest memories of life actually, is during a nine-day festival called Navratri, which honors the mother goddess or mataji in Hinduism, or a form of her mother. And for nine days we gather-- largely the Gujarati American community gathers in these sort of massive convention halls and dances in concentric circles around worthy of mataji.

And my mom, as a professional Gujarati folk singer, would sing on stage with this massive band. And so some of my earliest sort of religious memories of music is of dancing, and I think that's continued to be a through line for me, as we'll start to discuss in this conversation.

And then when I was in middle school, we became a part of this organized Swaminarayan community that became my Sunday school, my volunteer service, my community, my language development. And there, I think I really started to believe myself and take ownership of myself as a Hindu in the face of a lot of the tensions one might face in a multicultural suburb in Southern California.

And then when I got to college and got really involved in student organizing and social justice work, I was really hungry for community that saw their faith as not a sidebar to the social justice work, but the absolute core, the gravity, the energy, the truth.

And so that's when I really started to get into interfaith organizing and interfaith community. And one thing led to another. I spent some time looking at youth interfaith dialogue and peace-building work in India as a Fulbright scholar.

And when I was out there, I was like, I just have so much to learn, and so much work to do within my own spiritual and religious life, but also in my vision for community building and bridge building. And that's certainly what led me to HDS. And it is at HDS's Open House that Becca and I met.

BECCA LEVISS: Yeah, it's funny because I think, in many ways, we have very different faith traditions and come from very different faith backgrounds. But, at the same time, I think part of, there's many different threads that Rucha and I have found, really beautiful collective possibility over.

And I think one of them has really been how faith is this infrastructure for community and for connection, and also for questioning and accountability for both of us. I think both of us actively wrestle and are in relationships of conflict and care with our faiths. And I've super valued the opportunity to think out loud with you and alongside you in that process.

RUCHA MODI: I love the language of conflict. And you said care, conflict, and community.

BECCA LEVISS: Conflict and care.

RUCHA MODI: Conflict and care. That feels so true, I think, to how we both maybe conceive of our relationships to our communities and how we tend to them, and the work we want to do. And it can be really scary sometimes for me, and I think that's been really instrumental. I think about being at HDS is feeling that I am marching alongside people who hold these values in their respective faith traditions.

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: I mean, I think so much of what your friendship and really co-justice organizing this with each other means is so much of what people hope to find when they come to a place like Divinity School. And I think that the obstacle for so many can be how those conversations start with one another.

So I'd be curious just to hear from the best of your memory. You mentioned open house. What were those first impressions like? How did those conversations get started?

BECCA LEVISS: It's funny because I probably met you as one of the worst versions of myself. And I don't think I've ever actually admitted this to you of how-- so I applied to HDS and was deeply unsure if I wanted to go, if it was the right time.

I talked about I didn't want to crash land into grad school. I think I was deeply burned out and exhausted from my time in doing work that I felt was really important and really urgent and also wanted to figure out how I could care and learn and expand in ways that were also soft and not just urgent and hard.

And so I came to HDS, accepted students' day, trying to figure out if this was the right time and the right place. And I think I was waiting for some kind of sign, whether from a divine force or from within myself. And I was really frustrated throughout the day because I wasn't getting it.

It felt like sometimes when there are too many inputs, when we're in such a state of fight or flight, we actually can't read the signs. We aren't able to listen as well. And I was definitely feeling in that moment of there was just too much fuzz and white noise in my signals. I actually couldn't, if there was a sign, I couldn't see it, I couldn't hear it.

And so I think we actually met towards the end of the day. And I forget how we actually came up to each other, but we ended up talking at community tea together and sitting, and we were just exhausted, and so we just sat down and were kind of collapsing in a corner over plates of falafel or what have you.

And we found out-- I think, pretty early on that both of us lived in DC, and we were both on the same flight home to DC, from Boston to DC. So really it started out fully functionally of Ubers are expensive in this town. Both of us need to get to the airport at the same time. How can we do that?

Maybe we split a car together. And then in that process just really started talking deeper and deeper and then-- honestly, I'm curious to hear your take on it. But the moment I knew that I could be really vulnerable and at ease around you, is when, there was a point in the evening where everyone was, you do the schmoozing, you do the getting to know you, you do the professional personal performance.

And I say performance as a morally neutral term. It is like we're performing authentically, but we're still performing for each other. And I was so exhausted, and I look at you and you are also so exhausted, and we're like, we have to leave. Like, this is too much.

And I remember feeling so safe with you being able to say, I don't know you, but I'm letting you know I am tapped out and I need to get out of here. And you were like, I totally get you. I also need to get out of here. And let's just get out of here together. Yeah, and you can take it from there. I'll let you share the kicker of it.

RUCHA MODI: Yeah, thanks for letting me share the kicker. So, I, yeah, totally resonate. We were both living and working in DC. You were at Protect Democracy. I was at Freedom House. We were in literally just flying from DC to Cambridge, from these established institutions to another established institution, but one that's oriented around faith.

It felt like I was in a different world that day. It felt like a total liminal space. And it was awesome to meet Becca in that space, because we were both going through this very similar experience. We flew in the morning.

At least for me, a part of myself that I had not known very intimately was so alive in a way that was beautiful, and overwhelming, and exciting. And there was an adrenaline rush. And so meeting Becca in that specific orientation and disorientation was really, I think, important and grounding, and helped me see through line between the world I was coming from, and the world I wanted to step into.

And when we were in that Uber drive, I remember I was on the phone with my mom, and we were both, like, we need our time. So we had a sort of in the car but not engaging Uber ride. And we get to the airport, and we realize we're on the same flight. Then we hang out and we're chatting.

We get on the same flight. It's like, wow, OK, let's head home. And this is the pre-assigned seats, and we get to our seats and realize we're right next to each other. I'm the window seat and she's the middle seat.

BECCA LEVISS: You can't make this--

RUCHA MODI: In an entire flight back from Boston to DC. And I actually, a friend called me in crisis at the start of that flight, and so I was on the phone with her. And as soon as I get off, Becca turns to me and she's like, hey, we don't have to talk about it, but are you OK? Do you want to talk about it? And gently puts her hand on my leg.

And in that moment, I was like, wow. Like, this person I just met today is holding space for me in such a deeply authentic, and gentle, and not imposing way. And that was such just like, I think, a glimpse into the world of deep care that I would encounter not only in this amazing friendship, but also in, specifically the HDS community, where people have so much sensitivity, and so much gentleness, and so much attention, and so much capacity to turn towards not only the joys, but the sufferings of others, yeah.

BECCA LEVISS: Yeah, I think definitely compassion, definitely kindness, and warmth, and gentleness. But I also think, and this started in this very flight conversations with you that have challenged me more than any other conversations I've had.

That flight, we actually, we talked a lot about ethno-nationalism, and how that shows up in both of our communities, and struggles, and complexities, and messiness of both of us sitting in all of these things that are true at once and trying to hold it all with you, with Hindu nationalism, and me, with ideas of Zionism and all of the layers and manifestations of that.

And that is a really vulnerable thing, especially given this particular political moment if you are a Jewish person talking about Zionism and Israel, regardless of how you feel about it. And many of us feel a lot more complicated about it than the media narrative would lend you to believe. Wherever those complications lie, it's something really vulnerable to tell people, actually.

But I felt really safe with you. Even as our conversation challenged me and pushed me, I felt very early on within our conversation, I was able to bear that part of myself to you, for many reasons, because you also bore that part of yourself to me. And I think that gentle challenge, that firm and kind challenge has been a through line in our friendship and in so many relationships I found at HDS. But especially in my relationship with you.

RUCHA MODI: Yeah, absolutely. The multiplicity, for sure, of our friendship I value deeply. And you're right, that was such an important aspect of the flight, too. Yeah, that conversation.

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: And I appreciate how for so many you model for the rest of the world how to find those through lines with each other to then not only find continuity that allows for that friendship to form, but also those places where then you get to challenge each other from your own perspectives and from your own set of wisdom and learning that you get to bring to have so many similar contexts, but so many different ones, I think, is what makes a relationship like this so exciting.

And the container, as I call it, of this podcast is hope. What it means to you, what it means to somebody else. And I think that one thing I've learned sitting on this side of this microphone is that there are so many different ways people come to know that term and to relate to it.

And so we would be curious to know, as individuals, but also in this friendship that you have and those sort of collective conversations that we keep coming back to, what hope might mean to you and how you see it sort of playing out in your daily life, whether that's related to justice, whether that's related to friendship, or your faith traditions, however you choose to define it.

BECCA LEVISS: I answered first, last time, you have to go this time.

RUCHA MODI: OK, yeah. And also, I'm just going to share a thought that came up in the last thing you were saying, Michael. I think, when Rucha and Becca sit across the table, it's not just Rucha and Becca. It's so many generations of ancestors present in our bodies, present in our language, present in our spirits.

So much wisdom there, so much truth there, so much struggle there. And so it's not only that I feel that in conversation with Becca I'm in conversation with this beautiful, brilliant, bright human in front of me, I'm also in conversation with all the people and forces it took for her to be here today. And there's something very powerful. And there's an even deeper wisdom in that that I feel like I learn from and that we get to co-create together.

BECCA LEVISS: I'm nodding. You can't see that I'm nodding, but I'm nodding emphatically.

RUCHA MODI: And in terms of hope, I was thinking about this. So my parents primarily spoke to me in Gujarati growing up, and I was like, what term would we use? And the only term that would come to mind is Shraddha, which is faith. And I think, for me, faith, and hope in that regard are quite difficult to disentangle.

And so I'll say that I think my understanding of hope is-- and I think this theme is one that Becca and I have both been grappling with recently-- hope is looking into the cavern of despair, really looking into it, and seeing it, and feeling it, and knowing still that there is something greater that lives on the other side, and trusting that there is something greater that lives on the other side. And having faith that the divine will guide me, guide us to what it is that lives on the other side, through our hands, through our words, through our minds, through our bodies, through our communities.

I'm sure many on this podcast have mentioned Mariame Kaba. Hope is a discipline, and I will bring it up again, because I think discipline is so important for hope because it's so much work to hope. It is so much work to hope. And it's so important to hope.

And the last thing I'll say is when I, on the days where I don't feel like I can believe in myself, I believe in my people. And so hope, for me, is deeply relational. It is deeply connected, and it is not, and can never be an isolated practice. Or else I'm sort of awash at sea, alone, missing the whole point of all of it.

BECCA LEVISS: I'm going to build on answer many of the wise, beautiful things which I just shared with us. My partner is Catholic and I'm Jewish. We have a beautiful, lovely little interfaith relationship at home. Not little, big, constantly expanding, constantly shifting and changing. Because that's the cool thing about being in relationship to other people.

But anyways, his math teacher in high school, he went to a Jesuit high school. His math teacher once gave him this lecture about the asymptote. Not in terms of the mathematical asymptote, though-- I'm sure my partner learned about that as well-- but this idea of asymptotic work, the work of doing good.

This was in a Catholic setting. But the work of making the world a better place. I'll bring it maybe more and more universal. But the work of doing justice work, the work of doing moral work is constantly asymptotic. You're never going to reach the time where everything is good. I mean, that is, in many ways, sort of a messianic interpretation.

And it's important to hold that. And, at the same time, how I understand the idea of the messianic age is, we might never reach it. But the process of continually striving for it is in itself really important.

And so I'm taken a lot with the writing of a Yoruba philosopher by the name of Bayo Akomolafe, who writes about what he calls post activism as the spirituality of apocalypse. And he writes that, I wrote this down when I was thinking about prepping for this interview, for this podcast, is that yearning, like hope and faith is this yearning as utopia instead of the arrival being the utopia.

And I think about that a lot when I think about hope, which-- and Rucha, let me know if I'm paraphrasing this incorrectly. Like hope not as finality, but as strategy. Hope not as necessarily the relationship, but as the act of relating. And what it means to actually take hope as this disciplinary act. And I use the act word intentionally. What it means to be constantly striving and constantly being on the edge of getting to the thing and never actually getting there.

And this idea of post activism, in Bayo's words, is that we don't really know what comes next. But we're at the edge of temporality. So we can see, we can draw the asymptote with a pen and paper, but the edge of it, we actually can't really discern with our own eyes.

And so what does it mean to be at the edge of what we know to be true, to be at the edge of all of the options we think are available to us and to, Rucha, I love this idea of looking into the face of despair, like, looking over the edge and not just finding light and hope for what is beyond that, but actually for what is inside of it. Like if we jump over the edge, not just jump beyond the edge, jump into the chasm, what is actually there for us. And that, I think, is what it means to really use hope as a strategy.

RUCHA MODI: And I just, Becca, I really appreciate you bringing up this question of temporality. I think, first, in the sorts of building, creating, and struggling we are doing. What we are up against is some of the most, well-precedented dimensions of human nature-- fear, trauma, greed, desire for power, desire for safety through building security for, and then insecurity against. And that work is thousands of years of struggle in the making and will continue well beyond this bodily existence for us in this life.

And I think it's so important when we think about the question of hope to be able to stretch ourselves well into the past, where our ancestors were, and well into the future, where our descendants, in whatever form they may come, will be. And to recognize not only how finite we are in that process, but how much influence we truly can have in that process.

Not only we, but our communities, the things we're building, the things we're creating. And so playing with maybe conventional understandings of time and space, I think have been really valuable. As I think about some of the really big struggles, we are throwing ourselves into the chasm of every day. And when we were finding each other in that chasm as well, I find hope.

BECCA LEVISS: Yeah, I think I'll just bring it to this particular moment of-- so I do work in futurism and democracy, futurism, but also this idea of Judeo-Futurism, of what can Jewish futurism and expansive frameworks for Jewish future visioning and Jewish rituals of futurism look like, and how can we invest in those.

And what I feel and continue to feel is so true is that forces like authoritarianism, like fascism, thrive on keeping us stuck, and saying, here are the two options in front of you. It's x or y, it's this or that. Those are the only two choices. And what I think hope as a strategy does is say, OK, what's the third choice? And then what's the fourth choice? And then what's the fifth choice?

And I'm actually going to look into the cracks in between the two choices you've given me and find 10,000 more choices. And to do that, to go back to Rucha's words about this being hard, it's incredibly hard. It's incredibly scary. And it's a bit of a chicken and egg, because tools like fear, and trauma, and violence keep us from being open to imaginative possibility. Keep us from saying, OK, what is there inside of the crack? How can I look past, not just past the damage and the despair, but actually within it to find something different?

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: And I think so much about hearing all that you're sharing. And I'm still struck by that moment on the plane, where you two sit by each other and after Rucha finishes this phone call. I see this moment of you, Becca, reaching out to Rucha and asking, if needed, I'm here to be an act of comfort, as so much of the idea of hope that you're talking about, where you're faced with a situation where you may not know what the result will be of you reaching out, you have to imagine what all these responses might be to that moment.

And not to hyperbolize, but as you look into this person who you know and recognize as having a deep sense of personhood themselves, and this sense of history, and this just early friendship, you make that choice to lean in to those relationships, which I think is so much of the first steps of hope and so much of what you're talking about that can start to feel so grand and so large.

And really, as you've pointed out, the tools of fascism also tried to disconnect us as well, too, and this just simple moment of reaching out to each other, then allows you to have this relationship that is like heavily networked and heavily supported, and full of not only utilitarian ideas, but also spiritual ideas as well too.

And I think that's what's so beautiful about hearing about your friendship and both of your individual ideas of hope, as again, I see you modeling these ideas with each other, but also with the community that you found yourself embedded in for better or for worse, on good days and for bad to be able to really take those to the people you surround yourself with, I think is a great exemplar for what so many people who have, sat down with me to talk about this idea, have all in their own ways been striving to do, which is really just feel more connected and feel more present with the people that they see themselves with.

And I've said, there are good days and there are certainly bad days, where we feel like we don't want to make that reach out to that person, or we don't want to necessarily lean into those more hopeful systems that we've hoped to build ourselves.

And so maybe, just in closing, we'd want to know if there are any, you've offered so much, but readings or rituals, or practices, or ideas that when you feel like you have a day, that what you've inspired us so much by feels so far away, how you find yourself approaching those hopes as you defined it.

BECCA LEVISS: Yeah, I'll offer two thoughts and apologies. This is a very philosophical Becca Leviss that you're getting at 9:00 AM. Judith Butler writes a lot about relationship and who we are in relationship to each other. And in particular, I'm not going to phrase this as beautifully as they will. But they talk about the idea that being in relationship with you unlocks something new within me.

There is a version of me that is only possible because of my relationship with you and only exists in this space between you and me. I'm pointing at Rucha. But I could say the same thing to you, Michael. There is a Becca that exists in the relationship between Becca and Michael. And if you are no longer there, that part of me disappears in many ways. And that is this idea of mourning and grief.

And also this goes back to the idea of hope being a practice of expansiveness. Because when I enter in relationship with someone, I am opening myself up to the possibility of who I'm going to be in that space, in between who I will be inside of that crack between these two beings. And that is a deeply vulnerable and intimate thing to do.

And that, I believe, is one of the best ways we can cultivate hope, is by continuing to place ourselves in relationships of, I said, conflict, and care with each other and making ourselves continually open to this expansive, imaginative practice of what it means to get lost in the in-between and in the relationship of you and me, and who we are in this middle space together.

The second thing I'll offer, which is a little more practical and a little less heady. For the past year and a half, while I've been at Harvard Divinity School, I have worked part time as a professional bra fitter at a lingerie store in Harvard Square. And the reason I did that is because I wanted something that felt grounding and tactile apart from my time at Divinity School, which is usually a little headier and more theoretical.

And on one hand, this totally is that I spend my shifts hanging up bras and underwear, and folding clothes, and sweeping floors and making sure things look pressed and pretty and ringing people up on the computer.

And also, there is something incredibly intimate and vulnerable of people undressing literally or figuratively in front of you, and you helping guide them to feel more beautiful and comfortable in their own skin. And I find that practice incredibly hopeful in places that I might not have expected.

So I think that's also something that brings me hope, is despite the everything, maybe because of the everything going on in the world these days, I have within me and around me tools and opportunities for connection, for intimacy, for vulnerability, for beauty in ways that might not expect. Also, a well-fitting bra does wonders.

RUCHA MODI: I still got to pay a visit to the store as a customer. I've been there. We've sat on the floor and had Thai food a time or two, but I need to go to the store as a customer. So a couple of things are coming up hearing Becca share what she shared, and then also in relation to the question you asked Michael.

One of the most hopeful moments for me during my time here at HDS was when a set of South Asian students at HDS, we all got together and put on a South Asian devotional music night. This was last year. And the premise of the gathering was that whether one may be Muslim or Hindu or Christian or Buddhist or Sikh or Jain or Zoroastrian, and not all these traditions were present, to be clear, at the gathering, something unique to South Asia is its musical language.

And regardless of the faith tradition, you hail from in South Asia, there are some tunes you will recognize and some strings you will recognize, and some ragas you will recognize, even if you call them by different names. And so we all get together and we put on this event, where we sang and offered poetry and offered rhythm in our different faith languages, but in what I felt was a shared musical language.

And there was something that felt so simple about that, but also so profound, knowing how little that happens these days in front of the public eye, on a stage and even in the diaspora, in a moment where polarization and nationalism and intercommunal violence is on the rise, at least as we know it in South Asia.

And so for us to be able to create that, and for me, as a Hindu student, to sit on stage with, and it sounds trivial, but when you grow up the way we do as a Hindu student on a Christian chapel stage with the Muslim tabla player, and a Indo-Caribbean harmonium player and my mother, there's things about that that show me that it's possible, like that show me that something else is possible, even if for a glimpse on this three hours, on this stage where our entirely sort of multi-faith and no faith community HDS has gathered.

And I think that leads me to the rituals and the practices that I think help me cultivate that within myself and within the people I'm around is, I think, in the long, complicated history of what it is we now know today to be Hinduism, historically, those who have been marginalized from accessing scriptural engagement have often turned to music. And that was particularly true during the Bhakti movement, which sort of swept through South Asia beyond.

During the medieval period, women would rely so deeply on music as a form of devotion, as a form to connect to the divine, as a form to connect to one another and uplift their voices. And so, for me, a practice is certainly music, it's singing, it's drumming, it's getting together with the HDS justice and music collective on Fridays at 3:00 PM Williams chapel, come through, and just seeing what can be created in a room full of people who are letting rhythm and melody move their bodies. And it's one of the moments I feel hope. It's one of those moments, I feel connected to the divine.

I will say I didn't have a strong meditative or contemplative practice before getting to HDS, and I realized that finding little moments for mini meditations or mini contemplation has been so important. Before meals, Becca and I, and all our friends, when we gather, will often pray before our meals and whatever the language or need is of the moment.

Looking at the trees is something I didn't do in the busyness of DC. It was always a podcast, it was always an email. Coming into presence, I find really beautiful-- and waking up in the morning and really spending some time not only praying in the way I knew it to be, but also writing, but also exercising gratitude.

BECCA LEVISS: Rucha has a pretty incredible ability to use music, not used, but to speak through music and prayer and meditation. I also think I'll shout out Rucha's ability to gather people and to create really intentional gathering spaces for us to be in relationship together. So I think a lot of what we're talking about feels kind of again, heady and theoretical, but I but I've seen it and I've been part of it. And I know it's actually not as hard and intimidating as sometimes it feels like it is.

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: I think to one thing that Rucha said that-- I think we'll close on, because I think it's such a lovely way to tie so much of the wisdom that you've shared here today-- is that you mentioned waking up and praying as you knew prayer to be or as prayer evolved and changed for you over time.

And I think so much of what you all have shared today, thinking about darkness and looking into darkness and being lost, not necessarily in just a bad way, or what that sense of being stuck might mean, that we are so often told what so many of these things have to mean for us, whether that be prayer or relationship theory, ritual practice.

And I think so much of what you've offered for us today is really an ability to let relationship be something that changes how you define or have had defined for you so many of these different things that allow for your life to expand in so many different ways. But that takes an openness to change and that takes an openness to relationship. And I think so much of that is what I'll leave today thinking hope might also mean as well too.

That to have friendship with one another is a way that then we are co-created, as you've lifted up for us, Becca through Butler, and allows not just for the immediacy of me, myself and I in this moment, but as you've shared as well, Rucha the sort of longevity and history of the people that come behind us and the practices that they've given us as well, too.

So I just want to thank you for not only your time here today and sharing that so much with us, but also just thank you for your friendship as it is a model for what so much of us hope the world can look like one day as well, too. I know that might feel daunting or precarious at times, but I really do mean it when I say that there was so much to be inspired by today. So thank you so much for coming on.

BECCA LEVISS: Thank you.

RUCHA MODI: Thanks

MICHAEL FUHRMAN: Yeah. And that is a wrap.



 

 



 

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