Before My Last Breath

Today in my morning meditation I was strongly feeling my middle brother David who passed away almost two months ago on November 20, 2023. He was 71 years old. A bit of preface here: He also was my abuser growing up (to clarify: emotional and physical, not sexual) and although I had reconciled those experiences through my own inner trauma work we never spoke directly about that time in our lives. We were never very close in our young adulthood although he was very generous when I moved to Encinitas CA to participate in don Miguel Ruiz’s Dreaming School in 2002. He and his wife Carol lived two towns over in Solana Beach. We interacted quite a bit sharing meals and dog walks on the beach and David took a real interest in my son Nick who was 12 at the time. It wasn’t until 20 years later that I became fully aware to the degree of harm I experienced at the hands of my brother while involved in some somatic therapy around my CPTSD diagnosis. I was becoming repeatedly trigg

There have been two common themes operating throughout my life: wheeled things. And spirituality (Ed Note: not religion ). One brings me closer to things like comparisons, competing, ego, being fit, adrenaline rushes, and dopamine highs. The other reveals and hopefully minimizes those attributes mentioned minus the adrenaline and dopamine high. Are they compatible? Sure. Why not? But here’s the thing: with my history of riding wheeled things and the pain of crashes blended in with the rush of balancing on two wheels it’s a diminishing return for the spiritual side of things. Falling off a 35’ cliff on my brand new Yo Eddy mtn bike when my oldest son Nick was a year old (he’s 33 now). And surviving. Crashing mountain bikes repeatedly – torn shoulder, tweaked neck, broken digits, and various concussions led me to believe that road biking or gravel biking would be safer (minus the threat of distracted drivers of course). I’ve never crashed on the road or gravel so the dat

My nine year daughter Téa said these words as we were driving to the next town over to pick up some lumber that was milled for me at a friends custom mill. Her comment caught me a bit by surprise, and I let a minute go by as we continued driving before I asked her why she felt that way. Her reply also was curious in the depth of her self-reflection. "Not everyone can hang out with their Papa listening to music (Cowgirl by Morgan Wallen on repeat), driving in an old pick up truck (77 Ford Ranger), in rural Colorado". In an instant I saw the world through her eyes and her life as she was living it. I also felt something catch inside me realizing how I never got to experience what Téa was with my own father who passed when I was three. I also reflected on the state of the world with wars raging and humans struggling with basic life issues - clean water, consistent food sources, and oppressive political systems. Traveling this country road I had driven countless times wit

It's a year since my last post. It's also light years from the internal place I last wrote from. The intention was there. The Path was there to follow. Yet the destination remained elusive. I could sense the huge changes lurking "out there" waiting for me to live into them. I started writing again but just that one post in January 2023. I started a podcast, and recorded 9 episodes before it went fallow. I talked about starting a coaching practice, working with men sharing what bits of wisdom I procurred along the way to hopefully assist them in their own "walk to awakening". I had one client. Yet caught up in some place akin to pugatory I found myself unable to really implement those changes at the beginning of 2023 I so clearly intended to manifest. What was holding me back? What was keeping me tethered to my inability to move forward at the pace I thought I needed? Well, sitting here now writing these words it feels like I've come full circle. I