Walking along the cliffs
looking upon the blue-gray sea
a falcon flaps its wings
flying
flying
flying right before me;
and I feel both high and low
smiling with sadness in my eyes
because the pain
of missing you
feels true.

A man emerges from the cliff
and I laugh,
ask if he needs a hand.
He doesn’t, just carries on
life shakes me from myself.

I look beyond the cove of Point Dume.
One of the most beautiful places on Earth.
How could it be the place I know
more than any other?
Where I return when I don’t know where to go.
A blessing that
I can’t really fathom.

The holidays, man. They haven’t been easy.

“One of the most awful things we do to ourselves is create occasions when we think we should be happy,” says Alain de Botton, my favorite contemporary writer and educator.

He says that any day where we’re supposed to be happy, like our birthday or the holidays, will undoubtedly make us more miserable.

There’s obviously nothing wrong with being happy during the holidays. I guess that is the point. But happiness often comes from unexpected places. The feelings are complex.

But the jolly expectations only seem to amplify the sadness in most human beings. And I’m here to tell you, that’s okay.

It hurts, man. Acting like everything’s okay when I’m in a lot of pain.

Working on my passions, my art — these words of self-expression keep me sane.

I’ve been 75–90% better for the past year and a half since starting this mind-body journey, working to understand these neuroplastic symptoms that broke me throughout my twenties. I’ve been hurting a little extra lately, probably the stress of the holidays. I’m going through heartache; my mind is afraid, sending false signals of pain.

But I’m not the man I was who thought I was broken. I’ve learned so damn much. The wisdom of pain has made me who I am.

’Cause you know this shit makes you stronger
I wouldn’t give it up for anything
I’ll take another day of pain,
I’ll take another day of rain,
No matter how I feel, I’ll be dancing in the sun or rain.
Dancing in the tears. Dancing to laughter.
It’s all entwined, this gift of time.

What if today were your last?
Would you breathe more deeply?
Eat more slowly.
Laugh more loudly.
Hug more tightly.
Would you cry tears of joy
and release the weight of expectations?

Would you love every single thing
that life has brought your way,
because without the past,
you wouldn’t be here today?

We’re all in pain in myriad ways. Anxiety, depression, sadness, grief. I believe this philosophy of allow, surrender, and embrace applies to anything we feel.

Pain makes life worth it. It’s put the fight in me. The fire in my soul. It’s the hardest thing I’ve known. But I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I can keep moving or back out now. These are my choices. The way forward is through laughter, love, lightness. And that’s the path I choose. Because love makes everything worth it.

It’s the antidote, man.

The world is sad.

The world is suffering.

But what are we to do?

Be there for one another.

That shit compounds more than the numbers in our bank account.

So I focus on love.

Gratitude.

Faith.

I can handle my life.

Spread love in the world.

And I can’t imagine how that’s not a life well lived.

Who am I?

The soul behind the eyes.

Challenges make the spirit grow, the soul deepen, the heart shine. It still fucking hurts, don’t get me wrong. That’s the soul having an earthly experience. Pain is a necessary part of that experience, a beautiful part.

When you feel pain, those are the feelings of your soul growing. And then what you decide to do with those feelings determines the journey of your life. So I do what I can to get through them, see them for what they are, and do my best to elevate them.

The more we allow, the less the pain weighs us down.

When we fight it, pain consumes us. When we allow it, pain passes through.

And then we may transmute the things we feel into love, art and expression, a gift to give to the world. By sharing your pain, you take the burden off of another soul.

I’m so grateful for what I get to do here.

What I’m doing makes me happy — my passion, my craft, my expression.

It helps me see the light in the darkness, helps me zoom back and look for the silver lining amid difficult situations.

We’re not alone in the things we experience.

From The Creative Act, by Rick Rubin:

What I’m expressing now isn’t just for me and mine. It’s for whomever the art chooses to touch in its lifetime. Maybe a twenty-five-year-old in sixty years will stumble upon a dusty copy of one of my books and feel a little less alone. How cool would that be?

Rubin speaks about being able to zoom out and see these things that happen to us as plot points in the story of our lives. He calls it Connected Detachment.

I know that this pain is necessary to take me where I’m going. But what if instead of only looking back on these challenges as beautiful, we could see them as beautiful now?

That’s how I want to live.

I’m doing my best. It’s fucking hard.

People make it bearable.

I just have so much love for people.

We’re gonna make it through.

Everything is temporary.

The seasons come and go.

I can’t believe Christmas is over; the year’s at its end.

Earth keeps spinning.

The sky hasn’t fallen.

A couple of days ago the ocean waves were massive.

My dad and I went walking in the rain along the road beside the beach.

Had a heart to heart.

The next day was sunny and blue.

We’re doing our best.

Be easy on you
because I love you,
and I’m here for you.

We’re gonna make it through.

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