In a world where the soul’s caretakers are often left to wander without support, Hawaiʻi has taken a stand that resonates far beyond legislative chambers. Beginning this week, a new state law—Act 93—creates provisional licenses for marriage and family therapists, mental health counselors, and psychologists in training, allowing them to bill insurance while accruing the thousands of clinical hours needed for full licensure. This is not merely a policy shift; it is a spiritual recalibration of how a community honors those who tend to its emotional and psychic wounds.
For years, graduates like Angela Mulligan have faced an impossible choice: serve their home community at a financial loss or leave to build a sustainable practice elsewhere. Mulligan, who earned her master’s degree in marriage and family therapy last March, chose to serve clients in Colorado while working toward licensure. “I didn’t have the option of not working for money,” she told Honolulu Civil Beat. Her guilt at not serving her own Big Island community speaks to a deeper spiritual dissonance—the pain of being called to heal but being unable to answer that call within one’s own sacred land. The new law, signed by Governor Josh Green in June 2024, seeks to heal this rift by removing the financial barrier that has driven local therapy graduates out of state.
From a spiritual perspective, this crisis reflects a fundamental imbalance in how societies value the work of emotional and mental healing. In many indigenous and wisdom traditions, the healer is not separate from the community but woven into its fabric, supported by the collective so that they can support the collective in return. Hawaiʻi, designated by the federal government as a Mental Health Professional Shortage Area, has long struggled with this disconnect. The exodus of therapists represents more than a workforce shortage—it signifies a rupture in the community’s capacity to care for itself. The new provisional license is an attempt to restore that sacred reciprocity, acknowledging that those who carry the weight of others’ suffering must themselves be held.
This legislative act echoes ancient teachings about the necessity of nurturing the nurturer. In shamanic traditions, the healer who does not receive support risks burnout or spiritual depletion, unable to channel the energy needed for true transformation. Similarly, in Buddhist psychology, the concept of “right livelihood” emphasizes that one’s work should not cause harm to oneself or others. Forcing pre-licensed therapists to work for little to no pay while accumulating thousands of hours violates this principle. Act 93 realigns the system with these deeper truths, recognizing that financial sustainability is not separate from spiritual sustainability—it is a foundation for it.
The takeaway for readers seeking wisdom is this: true healing requires a container that supports both the healer and the healed. Hawaiʻi’s new law is a reminder that spiritual health is not just a personal pursuit but a communal responsibility. Whether you are a therapist, a client, or simply someone who cares about the well-being of your community, consider how you might contribute to creating structures that honor those who serve. The journey of the therapist is a sacred path—one that deserves to be walked with dignity, support, and the blessing of the land they call home.
