Category: Transforming Pain

On Practicing Death

Published on April 2, 2026

We practice death every day.

Every time something comes to an end we’re given a chance.

A song. A dance. A day.

We can practice kicking and screaming or ignoring and suppressing or distracting and distancing…

Or we can accept that what made it so beautiful was that it ended after all. And we can cherish… savor… appreciate…

…And try to more fully receive all that’s packed inside the moments that come next.

…In those moments where we so fortunately get to practice again. And again. And again.

…All the way until The End.

Takeaways And Insights Unshared

Published on March 23, 2026

One of my tasks as a writer is to convert experiences into words.

…Share some of the takeaways and insights of life in a way that others can utilize and download into their own worldviews.

And in this way, the tide that raises the boat of my understanding gets shared into the tide that might also raise the boat of their understanding as well.

Because in some ways, takeaways and insights unshared become water held on board the boat. And rather than getting added to the tide that raise the boats of all, it becomes a weight that pulls the level of their boat down.

…Which isn’t to say every takeaway and insight needs to be shared.

It’s simply to say, being the only person around with takeaways and insights becomes a sort of weight rather than achievement.

Takeaways and insights are meant to be shared so that those around can, not only deepen their understanding (and ability to connect more deeply with you), but contribute back takeaways and insights of their own (and add back to the tide you both share).

The tide won’t raise on its own.

We’ll Never Know

Published on March 22, 2026

I found out yesterday my 90-something year old neighbor passed away a couple weeks ago.

It was apparently of natural causes and while she was asleep.

And while I was just writing about how Lisa Lux was devoting all of her energy towards healing and squeezing every drop of presence out of life with what little time she had left… my 90-something year old neighbor apparently was frequently wondering what was taking so long.

Her husband had apparently passed away in the late 1970s and she eventually got to a point where she would ask her daughter… why do you think I’ve lived as long as I have? Why me? Why not my husband? Why not my grandchild—who died in his 20s? Why not somebody else?

And the truth is: we’ll never know.

What makes this life so very special is that we’ll never know.

And it’s the knowing this… the keeping death close in our minds… and not the opposite… that turns time into memories… energy into experiences… life into legacy…

Plastic Gold Coins

Published on March 22, 2026

Yesterday, as I was reflecting on the loss of my friend Lisa Lux, as I meditated closely on the thin line that separates life and death—me from death; her from life; and each of us from the opposite—and carefully allowed myself to enter that empathetic space of feeling what she might’ve felt and what I was surely feeling… I got abruptly interrupted three times.

…And each was by a different co-worker to talk to me about plastic gold coins.

See there was an event we were hosting at our martial arts school where the students could play arcade-style martial arts games to win plastic gold coins that they could turn in for prizes. And we didn’t have enough gold coins for the night. So my co-workers and I were scrambling to find solutions. Long story short, we were checking out and calling every local place that might sell them and keeping each other updated so we didn’t overlap efforts.

In no way was I upset about this.

But I did find it to be such a powerful analogy for the ways in which death hides behind life.

There I was… there we were (all of my co-workers knew Lisa Lux as well)… mourning the loss of our friend… except we weren’t able to because we kept getting ripped back to the urgent reality—the one where death ceases to exist—by one of the most trivial, insignificant, worthless of items here on this earth… plastic gold coins.

And if plastic gold coins can keep us from thinking about our mortality and death… just think about what even slightly more “important,” “significant,” and “worthy” things can do…

RIP Lisa Lux

Published on March 20, 2026

“Lux” was exactly right.

She was a light.

She was warm, vibrant, and kept away the dark.

She texted me, not even a month ago and said, “Hey I wanted to give you a health update. We came back from our family trip and I had routine scans. They ended up admitting me. Long story short there is nothin left they can do for me and that I don’t have much time left.”

I went and saw her that afternoon.

And even then… even after that text… as she laid there in that hospital bed…

She smiled. She talked about her plans for healing. She commented on how what we were watching was her favorite show.

She cried when we spoke of her son—as a stream of warm wax might run down the side of a well lit candle. His innocence and pure heart meeting the cold, cruel, and dark.

…But only because the world he knew—the one his mom worked so hard to build—was so much the opposite. Her wick touching the wicks of so many around them that what resulted was a brilliance of light—one that even the most cunning of darknesses struggled to fight.

But what was most brilliant about Lisa Lux… is that it was never a fight.

Not light vs darkness. Not us vs. them. Not her vs. cancer.

“Because when you fight, it fights back.” She said.

No.

It was simply an overflowing of warmth, vibrance, and light. From her to her son and husband… her to her friends and loved ones… her to acquaintances and even strangers.

Not to build an army. But to build beautiful light.

RIP. 🙏🏼

Square In The Jaw

Published on March 15, 2026

I couldn’t open the gate.

I was maybe 8 years old, and standing between me and my grandfather’s swimming pool that was situated in the middle of his assisted living complex, was this grumpy 10 or 11 year old who stood looking down at me from the other side.

I can’t recall his exact choice of words, but it rang along the lines of, “You can’t enter.” “What are you going to do about it?” “Make me.” Followed by a select choice of ugly, demeaning, worst-he-could-think-of adjectives.

Standing behind me was my sister and childhood friend, who was around 10 or 11 himself.

My sister and I didn’t really know what to say or do. And stood there like fawns soaked in white light… still trying to figure out what problems we must’ve caused?

My friend knew what was going on though.

This kid wasn’t upset, hurt, or offended by anything we did.

This kid was looking to upset, hurt, or offend.

And this friend navigated it by the book in the exact way I would teach it as a martial arts instructor today.

He kept my sister and I back. He spoke calmly. He told this kid we didn’t want any problems, we were just trying to swim, to relax, to leave us alone… and when pressed by the bully… at the exact moment when the bully reached out to grab and tackle my friend…

My friend punched him square in the jaw.

Dropped the kid in one punch.

Then calmly left him there to gather himself and walked my sister and I back to the pool.

We never had an issue with that kid again.

The Beauty Of A Beautiful Garden

Published on March 12, 2026

Inner work cleans the ground; prepares the garden bed.

It allows you to express suppressed emotions, let go or alchemize past trauma, and unlearn harmful beliefs.

…But this isn’t what plants the seeds or grows the garden.

New lifestyle habits should be initiated… activities scheduled… connections rekindled or explored. And each needs to be watered… exposed to the appropriate amount of sun… and cared for.

It’s this two step effort that grows the garden of a beautiful life—so that the same past garbage doesn’t just re-do what the inner work works so hard to clean up.

And instead of the clean bare land attracting back in garbage or debris (like an empty table in a busy family household), the ground eventually gets filled with an incredible array of flowers and trees and plants… so much so that there’s no room for anything else to wander in.

And even if it does… the beauty of a beautiful garden is that even the garbage starts to feel out of place. The aesthetics alone make it feel displaced and make it want to catch the next wind drift and wander out and away.

And suddenly… instead of cleaning endlessly and focusing solely on removing trash… you get to focus on beauty… and investing love and light into the garden of your life that begins to attract more of the same and repel more of the opposite.