Before My Last Breath

We all have an identity that we believe is who we truly are. As if that identity is static from birth to death. It is how we define ourselves. Ask me who I am and the reply will be – I am me. A man. A son. A brother. A father. A husband. Yes yes of course. But who are you really? What is this thing called identity? I have been so many different identities. Dishwasher. Cook. Baker. Carpenter. Contractor. Salesman. Graphic designer. Firefighter. Stay at home dad. Cyclist. Lover. Tyrant. Romantic. Destroyer. And spiritual seeker. Dreamer too. But maybe an imposter as well? Have I really been any of those things? And when we lose an identity, what then? Adopt a new one? Do we add and shed identities like layers of clothing? ******* How do we ever really know who or what we are? How does belief cloak itself around us to create a way for us to show up in the world? I want to please you. I will rebel against you. I am angry. I am sad. I am generous. I am...

Warning: If you’re young and healthy and never think about getting older and the world is your oyster and you are under 50 don’t read any further.     “Going cold turkey”.  The connotation is that we are giving something up.  Usually for good.  Things like heroin, or booze, or Oxy.  Things that really aren’t that good for you.   My cold turkey moment was bicycles.  Wait.  Aren’t bikes supposed to be good for you?  Yes, absolutely in theory.   However, in my case, not so much.  Of course, I loved the feeling of riding a bicycle – the rush of the wind, the freedom of motion, the ability to push my limits, and the boost in fitness.   All healthy benefits for sure. Except when crashes happen.  They will and they do. Typically, it’s some road rash or bloody knees and elbows with dirt applied. In my case it’s been all the usual get offs plus head trauma. It’s the “plus head trauma” that has me hanging up the bike for good.  I just can’t seem to keep from bashing my head when I do ...

Since we are human there’s a good chance we’ve made some questionable choices in our lives.   Maybe exhibited some less than stellar behaviors? Tossed a few hand grenades into a bunch of relationships? Looked in the mirror and went “MEH!”? ******* I’m guessing there will be more than a few heads nodding affirmative. And herein lies the rub: do we keep sitting on the pot?  Or do we say enough? And when we’ve raised our hand and made a choice to walk out of the garbage strewn around our life that’s when the magic happens. Just showing up for that choice opens a huge doorway to transformation. ******* How’s that you ask? This is what I tell my clients: these four words when unpacked can completely alter and change your experience of Life. Here they are: Belief . What is a belief?  Can it really change?  Looking at our beliefs is the beginning to unraveling the mystery of us. Story . What’s the story we tell ourselves about our world, the characters in it, t...

It’s a mindset.  And one that until you reach certain milestones around age, you really don’t think too much about it.  Here are some obvious milestones: Puberty. Getting your driver’s permit at 16. Being able to vote in your first election at 18. Legally able to drink at 21. Then the next couple milestones might be around 30 or 40.  The realization sinks in that you’re not 25 anymore. A deep dive into middle age is on deck. ******* I have felt youthful my entire life.  And by good genetics or a Peter Pan outlook on life I never really felt my age. Turning 50 was no big deal.  Turning 60 also didn’t feel that momentous. I did have a total knee replacement that year and that was an indication that some things with my body were worn out.  But that was a game changing operation allowing me to continue my very active lifestyle pain free. But this past year being 65 has fucked with my head. I see the manifestations of aging showing up on my body. Hair loss. Muscle loss. Whi...

This morning after getting the kids off to school I decided to take my dogs for a longer than usual hike on our local mountain. I took a couple big swigs of water, layered up, added hat and gloves, and headed out the gate. The dogs knew what was up and bounced around me, excited and eager for whatever lay ahead. Yet every time they see me putting on my boots it’s like they have never been walked before. Their excitement is fresh. Every day. How is it that they have no idea how long or short I am going to walk them, yet they are always down to walk? I never have to prod them out of their lethargy.  Rain, snow, or sun, they are ready.  Anytime. This got me to wondering what if I adopted this dog mindset? What exactly would that feel like? ******* Recently I’ve felt flat. Not super inspired.  I’m attempting to increase my client base as a Mindset Coach and honestly renovating a 200-year-old house like in my former life feels markedly easier than landing new clients.   It’s the...

Apparently last night I had been dreaming of a life I left behind 11 years ago.  Snippets of memory like peering through a gauzy veil, and scenes vaguely reminiscent of my life as a builder in a small coastal town north of Boston. I woke up with the What Ifs. You know how dreams are: like your eyes can’t completely focus, situations that are seemingly disconnected but maybe not, faces you know but can’t place, yet the feeling in the dream is quite real. I was back in Old Town and trying to figure out why the house I was in was unfinished. There was a meeting to be had there, but it was just me. I walked down a cobbled street to what I figured to be the office of the architect and it was a room of all glass and about 10 people seated around a glass table. I tried to get the attention of the man who was the architect on this particular job without disrupting the meeting. He looked like a friend who wasn’t an architect but a realtor and a neighbor.  I wondered how he switched care...