Before My Last Breath

As some of you may know, I just returned from six days in Arizona and Utah. It was a most needed mental health holiday or “Mancation” as I called it. Just two good friends, two high powered motorcycles, and miles and miles of wide open roads and endless brilliant blue sky. It was of course, an amazing Trip. The other thing some of you also may know about me is that I occasionally dream of living out West again. It has this tractor beam pull on my soul and in a low but constant whisper continually calls to me…come back, come back my son. There will always be piece of my spirit that is part wild mustang yearning for that unencumbered spacious and open land; the constant horizon of mountains in the distance, little white puffy clouds, and piercing blue sky like a grandmothers loving eyes filled with wisdom and compassion. Yet here I am living about as east as one possibly could without stepping into the Atlantic Ocean. Go figure. But something shifted inside me on this trip. No dou

Someone recently asked me what book I would write if I only had two weeks to live. That question caught me slightly off balance. What story would I tell about my life? What wisdom would I share from my time here on planet earth? Would there be a compelling urgency to my last words? Or would I go all nostalgic and reminisce about the past? So many good questions to answer, no? That first question though brought me immediately to the present moment. What would I write, right now? How would I live the final 14 days of my existence? And I found myself wanting to rush headlong to that final moment as I have rushed throughout my life into situations and experiences often more battering ram then well thought out steps. Often instantly jumping then looking later. No doubt a strategy to living a life but maybe one not conducive to self preservation. Though, look. Here I am writing about it so something must be working out. Two weeks and counting. Maybe it won't be me who dies, but

In a field in the middle of Ireland I built a fire at the behest of my co-teacher Rita. She asked, “would you take some of the men and build a fire for our ceremony tonight?” There were about 100 oak pallets in a pile at the corner of this field and we must of put at least 25 in a big stack and lit them. Needless to say the flame from that “ceremonial” fire could be seen from outer space. You couldn’t stand closer than 30 feet from it without feeling scorched. THAT was a fire. Go big I say. So flash back two weeks earlier when Meghan came home from Teotihuacan Mexico after spending five days at the pyramids leading a women’s group. As soon as she got into my truck at the airport she announced “I want to have a baby”. That’s my girl! Once she locks and loads it’s a done deal. So here we are two weeks after her pronouncement post fire ceremony and after all the students have wandered off to dreamland Megs and I set about making that baby. I will spare you the racy details but su

As I sat amongst the sage and rabbitbrush and red earth of New Mexico I watched the tarantula as it delicately made its way towards me, almost like touching the ground was painful. Or more likely maybe I was the one in pain. I had wandered off after our lunch break to find that certain special spot on the land where I could attempt to come to an understanding of why my world was simultaneously collapsing and expanding, leaving me feeling open, raw, exposed, and exhilarated. As I watched the spider getting closer all my past associations of big hairy arachnids sped through my brain like a highlight horror reel. Should I move, I thought absently. Some force kept me sitting cross legged on the ground watching this really beautiful rare thing tip-toe towards me. Beautiful? Get the fuck up and run man! This Dreaming workshop must be draining me of all sense! I sat there dumbstruck at my immobility. When the tarantula was about a foot from me it made a hard right turn and crawled away

Weds 01/26/2010 Tonight we had a small gathering at our house as the next Nor'easter approached. The purpose was to hang out, mingle a bit over snacks and tea then sit and meditate or "Dream" as we refer to it. Meghan and I have been opening our home to friends and students one night a month to come sit, let go of the days bustle, relax and connect to source - whatever that may look like for each person. Afterwards, I reflected on the path that led me to this moment and had to chuckle..."what a long strange trip it's been". Growing up and meandering through the public school system I was rebellious and not a particularly attentive student. I was bored mostly but got by somehow without really much effort. Let's just say authority and I never saw eye to eye. College really was a continuation of the same; minimal effort, lack of respect for the curriculum and those teaching it, decent grades, but little or no direction. Yet there was a part of me that

It's pretty much mid-winter here in New England and that inevitably leads me to wondering if I am living in the right part of the world. Snow, cold temps, ice, sand, salt, shoveling, digging out jobsites, clearing snow off trucks, tracking all that crap though customers’ houses or my own. Lack of outdoor cardio exercise. Always battling to stay healthy and not getting what the guy next to me in the checkout line hacking and sneezing has. And then last night I dreamt of riding my motorcycle and the roads were dry and the landscape green. Ok, so you get the picture. Definitely challenging after repeated snow storms this year. For the majority of my adult life I have been fairly nomadic. Since I left high school I have lived in New York, Massachusetts, Virginia, Oregon, Colorado, Montana, Utah, and California. So I know all about changing venues. I have for a long time wanted to live in Madrid New Mexico. Although my beloved has threatened to abandon me if I am remotely serious

Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending the day with my 3 1/2 year old son Bodhi. His mom requested a day to focus on her book and not be distracted by the boys building and destroying different structures in the rooms outside her office. Bo and I left the house by 8am and went to our favorite breakfast joint - the Atomic Cafe. From there we ran some errands, stopped by one of my projects, and finally headed out of town to begin our adventure. The first stop was the Wenham Train Museum. We've been there before but it never gets old...many cool trains to check out, tons of other kids and of course the gift shop. Bo loves to pick out a car each time to add to his Leno-esque collection. He even let me pick one out too. Quite generous especially given I was the one buying. Nice work Bo! From there it was off to Newburyport for some lunch at one of my favorite Mexican joints. Of course Bodhi fell asleep in the truck on the way up and he clung to me like a baby Koala bear as I e

Editors Note: Please ignore any hint of sexism here in the following post. The author loves women, women's clothing, and of course being a man. If this note doesn't confuse you, keep reading... Friday January 7th I'm going for five (count 'em like your fingers) days in a row on the road bicycle (it's actually a 'cross bike ready for winter riding complete with lights and fenders) - heading out this afternoon to Hamilton and back. I am back in saddle after a miserable 6 weeks off. Regarding my whining of late - I think I know what happened. Back in early November when the cold weather first appeared in North Conway during the Porky Gulch Race I felt this constriction around my thighs. Weirdest thing, I'll tell ya...like I couldn't really move freely. On top of that I was cranky and moody all December and completely off the bike. No one really wanted to be around me, not my wife, kids, crew, even my dog was done with me. Well on Monday I decided to have

New Years Day 2011. I feel like another semi-seismic shift has occured in my awareness today. A kind of adjustment to the way I'm seeing the world around me. It all started when I smelled the ocean. Pretty amazing that our sense of smell can trigger something other than a memory. This morning it led to feeling so totally present and so completely insignificant. So how'd all this come to pass? A bike ride of course. After getting the morning to sleep in which for me is anything past 7am I eventually suited up and heading out on my 'cross bike. The temp was a delicious 50 degrees and with the snow piled up and melting fast, made it feel like Spring. If only! It has been weeks since my last ride outdoors and it felt good to actually be moving instead of spinning away in my office after work staring at my computer and some inspirational training program. Ahh. As I made my way towards the town line at Preston Beach the smell of the ocean was deliciously pungent, and very