Be With Her

Be with someone who makes your heart change its rhythmic state.

Be with someone who disrupts your insides—not so much that you lose yourself, but the right amount of disruption that ignites new parts of you.

Be with someone who makes you feel, activates your heart—someone you are excited to see at the end of the day.

Release the naysayers, the narratives and internal dialogue of the others, of those who know nothing about you, by those who don’t even know themselves.

Be with the one that… you don’t even need to write anymore. If she activates your heart, be with her.

Be with this feeling right now. Hold onto this. It’s a gift from her to you.

Be with the one who has the potential to break your heart.

Be with the one who reminds you of your existence and why you came here in the first place.

Be with her.

Unfulfilled Yearning

Three Americanos yesterday. I was buzzing and didn’t sleep till 1:30 a.m. I watched a few episodes of This Is Us, and it ignited some ancient emotions inside me.

A sadness, a longing for the family I haven’t yet had in this life.

I love the way the show moves between past and present. It inspires me to weave my own memories, to explore the threads of my own story.

I love that the desire to have a family has returned. I don’t think it ever really left. I just tucked it away, deep into unlocked drawers within me.

It’s something we all do with unfulfilled yearning. It’s too disruptive in day-to-day life to carry these longings openly, letting them sit on top of our hearts and minds. Some we save for another day, others we save for another life. And some yearnings rise back up from the depths of our soul to remind us that they need to be lived now, in this fleeting blip of a moment.

So I open myself to the desires that won’t wait for another day, for another life, and I pray for another chance. I pray for courage. Life has gifted me many chances, but I spent so much of this life moving through the world with a ball of confusion around my heart, clouding my mind and smothering my truth.

A fear birthed out of chaos. I chose what I feared less, which created an illusion of safety. An illusion that had no legs to carry me toward what I most yearned for, a yearning that couldn’t be saved for another day.

This longing reminds me that it will come with its own beautiful chaos—a love that I’m now ready for, as ready as one can be for something so grand.

It’s not that I’ve hardened my heart; rather, I’ve softened it. I’ve learned to embrace, endure, and appreciate the cracks that formed rivers from broken experiences.

Finca Mia Retreat Centre - Rivas, Costa Rica

Life Dreams, Wet Dreams

Sometimes, you just need to release the valve, in whatever way works best. I feel better, less erratic. But I know it's not the only reason I was feeling scattered. I’m consuming a lot of information, trying to make sense of the world we're in, and at the same time, I'm sorting through my emotions anticipating the current to come. It's another reason, but not the only one, for pouring media onto my mind.

It’s hard to predict the end of something so far in advance. But I'm grateful for the chance to grieve, and even more grateful for my awareness of what I’m grieving. It’s not easy to say goodbye. When you do, memories of gratitude rush to the surface, and the longing begins—sometimes more painful than the grieving itself. Maybe they’re both steps within a greater process called death.

I'm scared. There’s no other way to put it. One Chanel, the other Gap. One is wet dreams, the other ignites life dreams. I’m drawn to Ms. Gap—madam life dreams. That’s always been my dream: a partner, two kids, a life we build together. But my soul had other plans: healing homework for both the soul and the whole. I was a strange mix of "too nice" and rage, birthed from chaos and conditions both now and passed down from those before me.

I learned from the screen. It was in the room where I shined. If only I could make her emulate the sounds and expressions I absorbed with my ears and eyes. I’m a man of contingencies, always with a backup plan—or maybe a forward plan, depending on the moment. The skills of the tongue. I did well. Sometimes not so well—it depended on the sun and moon, the alignment of the planets out there and in here. I achieved a passing grade, a high C, and maybe even a B+ at times. I guess it depends on the student who came before me.

A grading system that only she controls: the teacher. Once upon a time, she was the wise one in our historical eyes. Today, she is underground, difficult to be found but if you listen, you can still hear her subtle sounds.

Where was I? Ah yes, wet dreams and life dreams. It's not that life dreams can't have the thrill of wet dreams, but if I had to choose, I’d choose the illusory "happily ever after."

I said nothing. The fear of the past tightens inside my heart, holding back the words that yearn to rise up the channel and dew-drop off my tongue.

Feeling scared. Scared of what? Rejection? Possibility? That what you want might actually come true? One dream at a time. Wait why not two dreams at a time?

Rewind.

What stopped you? She was literally in front of you.

Judgment. Judgment of who she was surrounded by, judgment of her likes. Judgments that make no sense, judgments meant to distract and deter you from the truth of that moment. All you wanted was to say hello, to start a conversation. She felt good. She felt calm inside my heart. Maybe she had a man, maybe not. Maybe she was a million things or a million different scenarios, but it didn’t matter because she felt like a potential life dream.

What Will People Think?

Instagram may not be the perfect platform, but I can and will build up my business page. I’ve cultivated the courage to write and share extensively about my life. Dating alone is something I could dive deep into. My mind is looping, cycling through insecure thoughts, but that’s only because I’m being vulnerable in so many areas of my life.

A part of me creates stories—negative ones that have no data or logic. Even if these thoughts were true, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m showing up as my whole self, raw and vulnerable, across all parts of my life: in Ever Evolving, at Sychem, and in my personal life. I’m really putting myself out there, and sometimes, the emotional waves hit hard.

That voice—that one feeding you shitty thoughts, making up stories about people mocking or judging you—is the "what will people think" voice. It's woven deep into your being, but it's not you. It’s the voice of your parents, ancestors, and culture, all passed down through generations. It’s been ingrained into your psyche to keep you small, to stay quiet, not to be vulnerable or disrupt the status quo. It's there to stop you from being truly yourself, to block the freedom of exposing your authentic self to the world.

How Long Has it Been?

Staying small. Thinking small. Caught up in mundane thoughts.

Are you staying in your own shadow? Still don’t want to be seen? Still want to fly under the radar? What would it feel like to live above it?

Is there a connection between the freeze-and-flight response in the search for love and the hesitation in sharing your work? Do both require the same flavour of vulnerability and openness?

Why do I freeze when people see me? When they show genuine love for my work and way of being?

I recoil, uncertain.

Who benefits from staying small? From thinking small? From being caught up in mundane thoughts? What are these mundane thoughts?

Staying in the shadow is tempting; it’s the home of the exiled. But what parts have been exiled? What parts are yearning to rise to the surface, to sip the air of wind, to feel the heat of the sun and the light of the moon?

How long has it been?

It feels like lifetimes.

Living with an Open Broken Heart

I once heard a wise woman say that Buddhists live with an open broken heart. That sentiment stayed with me, and it’s what I strive for most today. My first test came unexpectedly, like a punch in the gut followed by an aching heart. Love takes many forms, but one thing they all have in common is that it hurts when it leaves.

I’ve realized I have anxiety about people leaving. It wasn’t something I considered until my ex pointed it out. My anxiety stems from the fact that the people I loved, and who should have loved me—who do love me—have left. Sometimes, they’ve left multiple times.

After my first love didn’t work out, I shut my heart completely. But the truth is, there wasn’t much effort needed in locking it up because I had already kept most of it on lockdown. Occasionally, I’d open it to take a peek at what could be, but mostly it was closed. It was a defence mechanism, a result of broken trust.

Whether rational or not, in my mind, trust had been broken. I didn’t feel like I mattered, so people would leave or make decisions that didn’t consider me. That’s been my reality, perhaps even since birth.

Today, though, I kept a promise I made to myself back in the summer of 2014. I committed to living with an open broken heart. I know it hurts right now, but I also know it’s the same pain that’s opening my heart a little wider. It’s the same pain that increases my capacity to love. It’s a pain that reminds me I’m starting to feel again.

Why people come into our lives is a mystery. But when you live from this place of openness, it’s a mystery worth exploring—and staying open to—now and forever.

I’ve come to realize that my journey in this lifetime, my greatest challenge, is to love and to be loved. Compared to that, everything else feels like a walk in the park.

I don’t know how this story ends, but one thing is certain: sadness is just a step closer to happiness.

To be continued...

Her Colours

She expresses herself in so many ways, but it’s her non-verbal communication that truly captures me. Her eyes, her smile, and her energy embrace me in such a way that I can’t help but go in for a big hug. She supports me with just a single glance. She’s had my back since day one.

As I write down why I came here—why I spent all this money, travelled thousands of miles to this beautiful land, to stand in a room full of strangers, surrounded by glass walls with views of beauty, trees, sunset, and the sound of birds—I realize there was only one reason. When I wrote it on the large blank white page on the wall, I scribbled as small and faintly as I could, so no one would see, not even me. It wasn’t a conscious choice; I didn’t notice what I’d done until I turned around to look at the other thirty-five people. From halfway across the room, I could read what they wrote, but my own writing? Barely legible.

Costa Rica - Pura Vida Retreat Centre - Goodlife Project Immersion Program 2014

It was a tiny, faint green scribble. I didn’t want any of these strangers to know why I was there. How profound it was to see what my deep internal self had revealed. I’d always felt it, but seeing it written down in this way was like a slap in the face—like someone throwing a bucket of cold water over me. A wake-up call.

I let out a nervous laugh and smiled, the way I always do when I feel uncomfortable. I looked to my left, and there she was, standing beside me, looking up with those big blue eyes, her beautiful head of red curls glowing with perfection, and a beaming smile that said, "I support you. I’ve got you."

That was the moment my journey into the next phase of my life began—a journey where I would finally express my own colours fully and start supporting others the way she supported me.

Conscious Mediocrity - The struggles of asking for what I truly want

Over the past year, I've dedicated myself to understanding what I don't want. I've learned to listen to my heart and soul, trust my intuition, and not feel guilty about saying no. Now, I've realized it's time to learn how to ask for what I want. I'm not entirely sure what this process entails, but I know it will require courage and clear communication.

Initially, I thought I needed a course in communication. However, as I write this, I realize that my challenge isn't in communicating others' needs but in expressing my own. The question is, why? The simple answer is fear of rejection. This explanation might have sufficed a year ago, but I believe there's more to it.

Growing up, my needs were often overshadowed by those of others. When I voiced my desires, I was met with scolding, dismissal, or a flat "no" without explanation. On the rare occasions I did get what I wanted, it took a lot of hard work and emotional turmoil. Can these childhood experiences affect us as adults? I believe they can.

Recently, a friend recommended I listen to an interview between Robert Augustus Masters and Tami Simon on her podcast, "Sounds True: Insights at the Edge," discussing True Masculine Power. Intrigued, I picked up his book, "To Be a Man: A Guide to True Masculine Power." Masters emphasizes connecting the dots between our past and present. He suggests that our default behaviours during difficult times as children often become our go-to actions in similar situations as adults.

We often justify our behaviours by saying, "This is just how I am." Compounding this difficulty, those close to us tend to reinforce these beliefs. However, many of our habits and self-perceptions are shaped by our upbringing, not our innate nature. My struggle to ask for what I want isn't embedded in my DNA; it's the result of my experiences.

I've been afraid to pursue my desires, both big and small. The numerous "no's" I received as a child makes me hesitate to ask for what truly excites me, fearing disappointment. I have no problem asking for something when I can frame it as being in others' best interests. I'm adept at convincing both myself and others that it's beneficial, reducing the risk of rejection. When I do get rejected, it doesn't hurt as much because it wasn't something I deeply wanted anyway. I call this "conscious mediocrity."

It only stings when I ask for something that truly lights me up because expressing what aligns with my heart and soul puts me in my most vulnerable state.

Me and Jonathan Fields in Costa Rica at his Goodlife Project Retreat. This retreat and program elevated my life beyond mediocrity.