The Origin of Origin Studio: Following Your Bliss When You’re Building a Business

When Joseph Campbell spoke of “following your bliss” in his now-iconic conversations with Bill Moyers, he wasn’t offering a shortcut to happiness. He was describing a kind of alignment—a recognition of the deeper thread running through one’s life, and the courage to follow it, even when it leads away from conventional logic or comfort.

When I founded Origin Studio, I wasn’t following a business model—I was following that thread.

For years, I had the privilege of designing and implementing urban development programs around the world. I worked with governments, global institutions, and communities from India to the Caribbean. I loved that work. But during the quiet—and at times, uncertain—stretch of the pandemic, I felt an unmistakable pull toward something more personal, more tactile, more rooted.

I began building small structures in my driveway. What might have looked like a pivot was, in truth, a return. A return to the act of making. To the clarity and complexity of transforming ideas into form. To the possibility of creating spaces that hold more than people—they hold meaning.

That was the origin of Origin Studio.

The name carries intentional weight. Origin—the point at which something begins. Studio—a place of creative discipline and transformation. I’ve carried a guiding belief throughout my professional life: To plan is human. To implement, divine. This enterprise is an extension of that philosophy. We move from concept to construction with care, holding both design integrity and human needs at the center of our work.

In some ways, this path was shaped much earlier than I realized. As a child, I built forts in my backyard when the world inside the house felt unpredictable. Those small structures offered sanctuary, freedom, and a sense of control. I see now that I’ve been building toward that feeling ever since—not just for myself, but for others.

And yet, to be clear: following your bliss doesn’t insulate you from hardship. In fact, it often demands more of you than any other path. The last few years have been some of the most challenging—and most clarifying—of my life.

I’ve managed the stresses of cash flow while expanding a business with real stakes. I’ve built and delivered homes before being fully paid, trusting in relationships that sometimes strained. I’ve navigated difficult client dynamics, legal complexities, and long hours on site. There have been moments of deep exhaustion, uncertainty, and doubt. But I’ve never lost the sense of awe in making manifest, every project.

There’s a particular kind of fulfillment in standing inside a finished unit that began as a conversation, a sketch, an idea. When a client tells me that the space we’ve built allowed them to care for a parent, welcome guests or a grown child, or pursue their own dreams, I cherish those moments.

Of course, not every project aligns. One of the most important lessons has been learning to say no—gracefully but firmly—to partnerships or opportunities that don’t reflect our values. Not everything that pays is aligned. I’ve had to recalibrate more than once, returning to that original impulse: to create with intention, grounded in respect and clarity of purpose.

There’s a quiet abundance in this kind of work. The kind that doesn’t always show up on a balance sheet but reveals itself in trust, in beauty, in relationships that last. I try to meet that abundance with gratitude—welcoming what flows in and out with the simple phrase: arigato. Thank you.