— You often hear the opinion: “Of course, you live in California, it’s easy for you to talk about a happy and beautiful life. But here we don’t have such opportunities.”And the first question that usually comes up is how much the place of residence really affects development and achievements.
You are originally from Belarus, then lived in Moscow for 13 years, and a few years ago you moved to America. We would like to hear about your experience.
— This is really a question that provokes endless reflection. There are people who have never even touched it. I didn’t plan any of my moves in advance. And it’s important to note: happiness and success do not directly depend on geography. If you are in Monaco, it doesn’t mean life there is automatically wonderful. If in California, it doesn’t mean money falls from the sky. If in Paris, it doesn’t mean energy bursts through the roof. Or if in Minsk, it doesn’t mean I necessarily feel light and free. The key question is what drives the person himself: his inner impulses, states, and the desire to compare himself with other regions.
When I lived in Belarus, I had no desire to leave. I loved my surroundings and valued the people close to me. Of course, I had no understanding of the scale of the world or the cause-and-effect connections: whether money, joy, and happiness were tied to the place. For one person, the same location can be a source of inspiration, and for another — rejection.
Recently, a friend came to visit me. Although he had had an American visa for a long time, he hesitated to come and bought a ticket almost by accident, just two days before the flight. In the first days he kept asking with surprise: “Where’s the dirt? Where are the fat people? Where are the stereotypes everyone talks about?” It was obvious that he imagined the country through pictures and conversations but didn’t know it in reality: not the specifics of the states, nor the lifestyle, nor the income levels. He lived inside his assumptions.
It’s like coming to a country, seeing coffee for $10, and immediately deciding — too expensive. But value depends on context. I asked him: “How much is an Americano at ‘Coffeemania’?” — “Coffee costs the same as at ‘Coffeemania.’” But he compared the price without considering the income difference. In California, the minimum wage is $19–20 an hour. That means a person cannot make less than $3,200 a month. And the attitude to $3–5 coffee here is completely different from that of someone who earns $200–300 a month in the regions of Russia or Belarus, where an hour of work is valued at $1–2. For him, $3 coffee is an unaffordable luxury.
Culture also plays a role. If in a country it has been customary for decades to drink coffee in cafés, it becomes normal. The same with flights: if people earn more, they travel more within the country. For example, in the U.S. the flight system is much more developed than in Russia or Belarus. In New York or Los Angeles, the number of flights is significantly higher than in Moscow. It’s simple: higher incomes mean more freedom of movement. At the same time, you can’t say that Americans travel abroad more: on the contrary, many here almost never leave the country. But within the U.S., traveling is very common. Whereas a significant part of the population of Russia and Belarus rarely leaves even their own region.
…My friend who came to me didn’t take that into account. He only saw the outside picture. And at the same time, the same people who write “life is great in California” can say: “America has problems with gender relations,” “too much freedom,” “bad food.” The last one is repeated especially often, and it’s absurd. How can anyone think that the largest economy in the world wouldn’t provide itself with a huge variety of products? California is the fifth or sixth economy in the world if considered separately. Bigger than Belarus or Russia. And to assume that there isn’t enough food or products here is simply ridiculous. At the same time, people who say, “It’s nice there,” are themselves in a strange state, in a state of inner tension.
I’ll remind you: I lived in Belarus until 2010, and I had no desire to move anywhere. When I moved to Moscow, it happened spontaneously — because of a new job. In Moscow, I saw that people really had more opportunities. But that didn’t mean I sat there saying: “You’ve got it good there, and we don’t.” There’s always a better place. You can always say: “I was born in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the wrong circumstances.”
Did my development depend on the place?
- In Belarus, I felt good enough. My career developed, I had work and even my own business.
- In Moscow, the scale turned out to be completely different.
- In California, I saw an even greater level.
It all depends on what you do, what goals you have, what audience you work for. Yes, the largest companies are concentrated in the U.S. and China. But that doesn’t mean you can’t create a successful company in another country. If I had thought strategically from the very beginning, I could have told myself: “Finished university in Belarus — go straight to the U.S.” That would have been a logical move for my ambitions and goals. But every story has its natural sequence.
Example: if a person wants to open a chain of ten coffee shops, he doesn’t have to move. There’s no need to move from Minsk to Moscow, from St. Petersburg to Moscow, from Moscow to Silicon Valley. It all depends on the tasks and scale.
Another thought, which I first heard about 15 years ago in Vedic astrology: realization is determined not so much by the state of the economy, environment, or salary level, but by how you and your life at a particular moment intersect with a particular place.
The same person:
- in Minsk can earn a lot of money;
- then return to Minsk — and earn nothing;
- in New York can be successful;
- and at another time in the same New York be absolutely broke.
It’s no coincidence that we see two opposite opinions:
- “life is great there”
- and “they moved away and became poor.”
This is the same reality but lived by different people at different times.
Here it’s important not to be deceived by causes and effects. Why does someone succeed or not? Why do opportunities open up in one place but not in another? Obviously, there are countries where some projects are impossible in principle. For example, if I want my community to have 10 million people who develop spiritual practices with me, I won’t be able to do it in Belarus: the country has about 9 million inhabitants.
The same with business: you won’t be able to open 200–300 restaurants in a small country. Starbucks couldn’t have been built in Belarus — there just aren’t enough people, regions, and consumers.
There are territories where certain things are simply impossible to implement. For example, if you were born in Palestine over the last 20 years — it’s unlikely you had the opportunity to engage in modern projects inside the country. If you were born where there is no internet access, obviously, part of the opportunities are closed to you.
Today it’s obvious that companies in Russia are isolated from modern models in artificial intelligence. They simply cannot do what is possible in the U.S. And it’s not just sanctions — in Europe, for example, restrictions are imposed by the legislation itself. There are rules, and they strictly set the framework. It’s like in a community or neighborhood where it’s written: “You can’t rent out your home — only the owner can live in it.” And that’s it. Whether you like it or not, the rule is there, and you can’t get around it. If you live in a village where there are only women and no men — you won’t find a man no matter how hard you try. You’ll have to go elsewhere. If you live in Irkutsk, you won’t see tigers there: walk through the forest, meditate, read books about tigers — they simply aren’t there. Same with mushrooms: you can watch videos, take courses on picking, become an expert. But if they don’t grow in your region, you won’t collect them.
In Minsk, when I went to the dacha, 50 km from the city, I picked porcini mushrooms. But here, where I live now, you can comb every millimeter with a magnifying glass — in 100 years you won’t find a porcini. Drive 300 km away — you will find them.
Many people complain about what doesn’t physically exist in their space. This is an obvious connection, but it often goes unnoticed.
Besides space, there’s also the factor of time. Even if there are many men in the village — for you, the meeting may not happen. Or vice versa: you have everything for business, but the time just “hasn’t come” yet. The reasons can be different: karmic, hereditary, temporal.
The bottom line: the country matters, the space matters, the time matters. There are many reasons why someone may not succeed. The main thing is to be able to understand them.
Very often people want the impossible: “I want to pick blueberries” — but they simply don’t grow in the region; “I want to start a business” — but there are territories where a business of a certain type is impossible in principle. For example:
- you can’t build a chain of 1,000 coffee shops in a small country, because there won’t be enough consumers.
- venture funds are unlikely to invest $30 million in a tech project in Palestine, because there simply isn’t the infrastructure.
That’s absurd — no matter how hard you try, space and rules set the limits. The next question is: “So what then?” Sit and worry, say that in another region everything is good, and here it’s bad? What to do with it? And in general — should you even be asking yourself this question? Could the solution be to move to another region and look for venture investors there? Or move to another region for mushrooms? Or maybe mushrooms aren’t needed at all, and a person can live perfectly well without them?
I’ve already been in the States for two and a half years, and here I often hear: “How I dreamed of borscht, lard, marshmallows, toffee,” and so on. But first of all, cooking borscht is no problem at all. Yes, with lard it may be more complicated: buying exactly the right type to salt yourself isn’t easy. But if it really isn’t available — maybe you don’t need it? You’ve eaten it dozens of times. Same with borscht and marshmallows: you’ve tried them, enjoyed them. Maybe now you don’t need them? But rain and gray skies — that’s a different story. Someone may say: “I don’t want 8 months in a row of gray skies and rain. This is unacceptable, I don’t want to go through this.” But at the same time he complains: “But there’s no lard here.” Then wait: maybe we’ll return you to the gray sky? Maybe that’s exactly what you’re missing?
It’s the same with restaurants. Someone says: “I had better restaurants before.” But there are plenty of them here, and many very good ones. Moreover, there’s cuisine that you won’t find at all in Belarus or Russia. Although even now I think that in terms of the concentration of the best restaurants, Moscow is in first place. But both in the U.S. and in Europe, the choice is enormous. Another thing is if you go deep into the country. For example, to Missouri or Louisiana. There the choice of restaurants and stores will be very limited. But let’s be honest: drive a hundred kilometers from Moscow and live for a year in Tver or Smolensk. You won’t find a rich choice of restaurants and grocery stores there either. Look at the map for good restaurants, a large selection of food — and live there.
I remember a conversation in Moscow, three years ago. One guy said: “I’ll never leave because I can’t give up my birches.” And then I come to California, walk around the neighborhood, and people have birches growing in their yards. Not whole forests, but quite decent ones. But besides birches there are also hundreds of oaks, eucalyptus, and sequoias. The variety is insane. And then the question arises: what exactly are you comparing? Do you even understand what’s really going on?
We had an interesting story with our decision to move.
One of the main questions: where will the children study? From the start, Polina—my wife—and I agreed: we wouldn’t think about their schooling for a whole year. We have four children, the age difference between the eldest and the youngest is eight years, and if we had tried to account for everything, we simply wouldn’t have been able to decide. So we decided: education is not the top priority; first we’ll choose a place to live. We spent half a year in Europe, then in Asia, and only after that came to the United States. And it turned out that schools here are free. Not just that there is a choice, but truly free schools of a high level. In our region, these are schools that rank in the top 1% in the U.S. Moreover, there’s a system: if you want—choose a private school, if you want—a public one. It all depends on the region, the neighborhood, even the address where you live. I remember how my wife and I couldn’t believe for a long time that the kids would actually go to such a school for free. Because we had this mindset in our heads: education in America and Europe is only paid. I saw Belarusian and Russian politicians saying: “Here our education is free, and there everything is for money.” But that’s just not true. In Poland, for example, my nephew studied for free at a very strong school. And here in the U.S., too, there are plenty of high-level public schools. Yes, there are private ones for 50, 80, even 100 thousand dollars a year. But public schools are not necessarily worse—it all depends on the region and your choice.
And then the question arises: what do you want? What do you expect from education? Because very often people hated their schooling. 99 out of 100 Russian-speaking adults speak ill of their school. And only sometimes do they remember one or two good teachers. But that doesn't mean that the system was good. It's important to look deeper: how to teach a child what he needs, what approach works for him, who he will become in the future. These are the main questions.
Instead of that, people start comparing bathrooms—where the men’s are, where the women’s are, who goes in with which rights. Or they watch TV and believe that everyone in American schools walks around with weapons. Yes, there are disadvantaged neighborhoods where schools are very tough. But even in the USSR, for example, in villages it wasn’t safe for a stranger at a disco. The question is always the same: what are you comparing with? What do you want to see? And what approach matters to you?
For example, my kids went to a school that didn’t have a single fence. None at all. Around it—hills, mountains, everything open and free. But everything depends on the area. If a school is next to a road with heavy traffic, they’ll put up a barrier. And if there’s nothing nearby, why? Only if the educational approach itself requires that children can’t run away. Then a different question arises: why does a child at 10 or 14 want to run away from school? What is happening inside him? What is boiling so strongly that he decided to escape? But few people think about this—they don’t analyze, don’t feel. I myself, for example, didn’t even know how the system of education is structured. That there’s elementary school—from 1st through 5th or 6th grade. Then middle school—from 6th through 8th. Then high school—from 9th through 11th. For me the word “high school” sounded like a university—well, it’s “higher” school! It turned out these are just different levels. You might say: “We have the same.” No, not the same, here everything is separated, and you have everything in one building. These are fundamentally different things. So when we start comparing, it’s important to clarify: what exactly are we comparing? What is good, what is bad? I know many people who like it here. And I know many who don’t. And so it is everywhere in the world. Someone lives for decades to the sounds of grenades and feels inner peace. And someone in a social paradise, with money and opportunities, lives in absolute unhappiness. It doesn’t depend on the country or on age, but on the inner state.
America has always been a special topic for a Russian person.
Back in 1915, Rudolf Steiner wrote: “For Russians, America will always be either an enemy that must be fought, or an ideal to strive toward. Some will say all their lives: ‘We have everything good, there it’s bad.’ Others—the opposite: ‘We have everything bad, there it’s good.’ And they will dream of getting there, often never getting there.”
And now an important point: for Americans, Russians play no role. None at all. Most of them don’t even know where Russia is and have never been interested. It’s not important to them. Only sometimes, through the news, through presidential speeches, they hear something—and even then exclusively because of politics. In everything else, there’s no difference for them at all.
— So it turns out there’s no point in comparing? Why does a person compare all the time—“I have it bad, somewhere else is better”? And what do you do with it?
— Comparison can be adequate. For example, if we are launching a business, we need to look at models, count unit economics, study competitors. This is useful comparison. But it only works when a person actually understands what they’re doing. In life, 9 out of 10 entrepreneurs compare without understanding. “I have a unique product.” Or: “I’m better than everyone.” Recently, one American, a very wealthy man, told me: “I made a unique product in the field of AI.” I go into ChatGPT, type a query—and get a whole list of the same products around the world. Why did he say that? It’s his insecurity, weakness, ego. Comparison is born from inner pain and disappointments. What is it that’s happening? From the point of view of a person’s inner state, comparison arises because of one’s own insecurity, because of one’s own weakness, from one’s own wounded state. Comparison arises from a large number of ego-constructions, from a large number of disappointments.
There is also the regional factor. If a person lives where TV says every day: “America is the enemy,” he will compare his whole life through that prism. If from childhood he is instilled with: “We have unattractive men and women, and there they are beautiful,” he will compare that way. If they instill: “We don’t have normal jobs,” then a person will compare all his life with the place where supposedly there are jobs.
External opinion has an incredibly strong influence. One simple way to move forward is to learn to see that what others think about you is not the truth. With every person you interact with, ask yourself: “What does he really think of me? And why is he broadcasting this?” Out of love? Out of freedom? Or out of egoism and his own disappointments?
This directly affects confidence and inner steadiness. If around you there is only chaos, shouting, and comparisons—you live in that.
I live in Silicon Valley. There is a colossal concentration of wealthy people and companies here. Nvidia is here (an American semiconductor company, a leader in the market for graphics and AI accelerators). Since July 2025 it has held first place in the world by market capitalization: about $3.88 trillion; on July 3 it even surpassed Apple’s record, rising to $3.92 trillion. Apple, Google, Meta, Tesla are here as well. There is a concentration of wealthy people here. Not just one of them—in America, where there is one wealthy person at a company, there are also thousands of wealthy people around. This is different from the cultures of Russia and Belarus, where there is one wealthy person in a company—its owner.
In our region, there are more than a million families whose income is over half a million dollars a year. A teacher at my children’s school earns on average $120,000 a year. Someone might say: “But look how much housing costs,” and so on. Which housing specifically costs what? What exactly are you comparing with? What type of housing do we have? In which region, in which place, with what location? A location 35 minutes to the ocean, an hour to snowy mountains, two hours to the desert?
In this region there’s this state: people constantly want to work. They can’t exhale. In San Francisco the atmosphere is a little different from the standpoint of work. We are told: “How hard! How much work! You have four children—that’s terrible, how do you manage?” No one says: “How awesome, what a joyful life you have.” The mood here is one: work.
There is even a joke. One person says: “I’ll grind without days off, rise up, get rich, put everything into stocks, and by 40 I’ll retire—I’ll lie on the beach with a cocktail.” And he’s told: “I’m already lying on the beach with a cocktail. Why do I need all that race?” That’s how it turns out: for some, the meaning is to work endlessly, and for others—to live already now.
It’s always important to understand: what are your goals, what do you want to get, why are you going and where are you going, what dream are you building for yourself and what are you acting for. Some think that if a person left his country, was a professor, and in another country became a taxi driver—that’s bad. And someone else, on the contrary, left, became a taxi driver, and is happy. And says: “Thank God I did that.” I know such people. The key question here is: what is our main task? Our task is to be able to make the right decisions for ourselves. It’s very important to learn to determine: what exactly do I really need to do right now? Not virtually, not because “that’s what’s customary,” not because “someone said so,” not for the sake of what someone is discussing somewhere. But for yourself—what do I truly need.
I know many people who live for decades in the state of “I don’t like the place where I am.” If you really don’t like it—then you need to act. You need to take a step. By any possible means, achieve the realization of this task—be it moving, relocating, or changing your environment. But you need to do it with trust in life, with an understanding of why exactly you are doing it. Because if you move based only on pain, unhappiness, and illusion, that pain and that unhappiness will remain with you. That’s why a huge number of people who say “We long for our Motherland” are actually not longing for their Motherland. It’s their inner state. If you return them back—they’ll say again: “Can we go back (again)?” It’s not the Motherland, it’s the inner state.
Look at what you see and what you want to get, yes, what your goals are, and why you’re going, where you’re going, what specific dream you’re building for yourself, and what you are doing for yourself. Some believe that if a person left, was a professor, and came, for example, to another country and became a taxi driver—it’s bad. And someone else moved to another country, became a taxi driver, and is happy. And says, thank God I did that. I know people like that. And those, and those. The question: what is our main task? Our main task is for each person to have the ability to make the right decisions. To determine for oneself—importantly, for oneself—what I really need to do now. Not what I virtually need to do, not because someone somewhere is doing something or watching something, not because of some discussions—what I truly need to do.
Another aspect is acceptance. It’s important to realize that a person’s life flows the way it flows. And far from always do we have a choice. Yes, sometimes we do, and sometimes we don’t at all. For example, a person cannot choose his parents. But he can choose how to build relationships with them. A person cannot cancel his mortality, but he can choose what his day will be like. He has the opportunity not to drink, not to use drugs, to be honest, to try to communicate with others sincerely—from a state of love and freedom. It doesn’t always work out, energies can push toward deceit, but one can strive.
But as for freedom, often a person doesn’t have it. Many will never move anywhere, will never see other countries. Just as many will die earlier, and someone later. Some will have children, some won’t, some will have many, some none. Someone’s child will die before the parents, someone’s parents will go first. This freedom is always relative. In reality—it is an uncontrollable process.
Therefore, it is not the illusion of freedom that is important, but the ability to remain in a state of observation. In neutral observation.
Here’s a fresh example. I was recently in Hawaii. A friend persuaded me: “We have to go to Hawaii!” I say: “I don’t like Hawaii.” But we went, chose an island where I hadn’t been yet. We arrived, he walks around in delight: “How awesome!” And I have the feeling that my eyes are already desensitized. I look—the ocean is right under my feet, the view is stunning. People call and say: “Have a great vacation!” And I answer them: “I’m not on vacation. I have meetings, business, discussions. I just moved into a different space.” And again: “Have a great vacation, have a great vacation!” But I perceive this space the same as any other. No difference.
And here’s what’s important: if I start saying, “Hawaii is better,” then I automatically admit that other places are worse. And that is already disrespect—both to other people and to other spaces, and to myself. In ordinary life what—should it be bad? Is happiness only on vacation? Only in another region? Only in a store? No.
And what if bad events happen? Then will I also feel bad? And if good events happen—will I be ecstatic? But you can remain neutral in bad, and in good, and in neutral events. There is no concept of “bad” or “good” events. There is no concept of “happiness” or “unhappiness.” There is the understanding and acceptance of what is happening. When a person is in this state, he gains the ability to make the right decisions and act. And only then does a piece of freedom appear—but without disappointments.
I went to Hawaii without expectations—and returned the same way. There were Hawaii—and that’s it. But if I return and think: “Well, here we go, work again,” then that’s already a problem of perception. I know people who, still on vacation, start moaning: “Oh, it’s terrible, soon back, again this work…” That is, they aren’t even living in the moment. Yes, someone will say: “You have the opportunity to go to Hawaii, and I don’t.” But I also don’t have many things. There are always lots of limitations. A huge number of things are inaccessible. And that’s normal. Because there isn’t a single person who has everything. Not one. Some people have eight children, some four, some none. Some have living parents, some never had them. Some have brothers and sisters, some don’t. Some have the opportunity to call their dad, and I don’t—my dad died.
Always, always, absolutely always there is something we don’t have. For any person.
Any comparisons are envy. They’re ego. And if you don’t diagnose envy in yourself—don’t diagnose it. Keep living the way you live. The spiritual world doesn’t care at all.