Ginger and I had the pleasure of taking a sailing trip with some dear friends, one of whom is also a captain—Captain Nick. During COVID, I trained and received my ocean sailing license with him, and we have since sailed some islands in Tahiti and now St. Martins.   

This latest adventure has a life lesson I would like to share.  It occurred one night in the harbor of St. Barthelemy (also known as St. Barths), a French speaking island in the Caribbean.  We were sailing a 45-foot Leopard Catamaran.  

We had spent some hours in the harbor of St. Barth, having sailed there the day before.  We were not allowed to pick up a mooring ball (a permanently anchored floating buoy), as they were assigned and reserved, rather we had to anchor ourselves.    

When sailing in a foreign country it’s not a good idea to test the waters. There is a process of finding a spot well clear of other boats and setting the anchor by dropping it 5 feet for every foot of depth—that way when the boat swings with the wind, it is well clear of any other boats or objects.  In this case, we used all our 120-foot anchor chain for the depth we were at.   

After anchoring, we all took our dingy to the island.  After returning to the boat after lunch, we were prepared for a nice evening stationary on the water, gently rocking as we had become accustomed to.  At this point in time, we didn’t notice anything amiss.  

In the late evening the group was visiting inside the gallery-dining area, some playing cards and visiting, and I went outside to enjoy the fresh air.  To my astonishment, we were only 10 feet from an adjacent very large sailboat.  CLEARLY our anchor was not holding, and it appeared the larger boat assumed a reserved mooring ball, closer to our boat than we had anticipated. It could be that we had not even noticed the mooring ball so close to us when we anchored.   

I called for Captain Nick to come look, to which he shouted, “Oh My GOSH,” and we were then all hands-on deck to pull up anchor and reposition.  However, it was pitch black except for other boats’ anchor lights which provided no navigation help, but they let us know where they were situated.  The captain of the boat we were about to hit was shouting and cussing at us in a language we didn’t understand.  Panic ensued.  At this same time, we noted our hoisted dingy was nearly capsized with the gas can afloat and the oars falling out.  Clearly, it wasn’t properly secured from the last use.  

A shipmate jumped into the water and righted it and put the gas can back in the dingy.  We lost an oar, but this wasn’t the time to go hunting for it. It’s against the law to sail at night in these harbors for good reasons, plus, neither Nick nor I are authorized to sail at night.   

With scores of boats moored and anchored, we began to troll around hoping to find a spot.  There were NO available spots, and we were in peril, navigating around anchor lines and other boats.  The current was strong and it was hard to hold a straight line even while trolling.  

Due to night sailing restrictions, we were not authorized to sail to another harbor.  All hands were on deck, someone on each corner of our boat with flashlights, and one shipmate manning the anchor, with Captain Nick at the helm.  We tried to drop anchor again, but it didn’t hold, and we snagged someone else’s mooring ball line.  The anchor man pulled up anchor and untangled us. Some were shouting that we were about to hit other boats, even though we seemed well clear, Captain Nick’s head was on a swivel, listening to all the barking and pointing and trying to not crash the boat or ground it. It was a bit chaotic.   

I was running from bow to stern and starboard to port trying to direct traffic. We were not about to sink, but we were endangering ourselves and others.  We were adrift without a home.  During this time of chaos, Ginger went below deck and uttered a prayer for angels to assist us.  We know of others (if not everyone) who uttered prayers in their heart while at their posts.  

THEN, a little man in a striped shirt came in his dingy and started to yell at us in French.  He was trying to figure out why we were roaming the harbor at midnight, putting others in danger and clearly not finding safety.  COINCIDENTALLY, two of our shipmates spoke French.  Our French speakers spoke to the man and told him we were sorry and didn’t know what to do.  He softened and instructed us to follow him to his boat, which was more protected from the winds and said we could anchor behind him.  He flashed his hand-held light, and we slowly followed him.   

When were close to his boat, he came to us in his dingy and came aboard.  He came to the bow and helped us anchor, but he did it in a different way than we were accustomed to.  In the past, we would put the engines in reverse after anchoring to set the anchor.  Problem is, in sand, the anchor would just be pulled up by the powerful engines.  The Frenchman instructed us through our interpreter to NOT reverse the engines, and instead, he put his hands on the anchor bow and “felt” for the tugging while pulling back on the lines; allowing the wind and current to set the anchor.  He knew when the anchor was set by feeling the line.  He knew the tension.  His experience was what mattered most.  

We were all relieved and thankful for this angel who came from nowhere to help us.  Our anchor man stood up from his anchor chain duty and gave the man a hug—so filled were we with gratitude. 

After the ordeal ended and we were safely anchored, Captain Nick called the crew together to thank everyone for their efforts and was proud of how we all pulled together.  While our lives were not in danger, we still were adrift and wandering, looking for a new home in the black of night.  It took the entire team to make it all work, those holding the lights, those keeping watch on all corners, those manning the anchor and chain, those praying for angels. 

He then motored back to his boat in front of us.  In the morning, I arose at dawn as is my custom and sat on the upper deck to meditate.  I looked to the portside and saw that we were only about 50 yards from large cliffs and a rocky beach (which we could not see at night), which was a good wind break and did provide a safe harbor. 

The next morning, Captain Nick and Masha his wife took a gift to the man who saved us.  The picture shows him in his striped shirt with Nick and Masha. 

Turns out, he lives on his little boat for ten months of the year in this harbor as rents are too expensive to stay on land, while he takes his dingy to work every day at a hotel on this island.  He goes home to France for two months of the year

Here are the miracles and lessons learned from the St. Barth anchor crisis: 

1.  It was no coincidence that Ginger prayed for an angel, and others prayed for help at their posts. We believe in angels. 

2. It was no coincidence that we had TWO French speakers on board to communicate with the angel God sent to help us as he spoke only French. 

3. Once we are “anchored” in life, we need to keep in mind, that the situations change around us. The wind and current change, and the soil which we are anchored in can change. 

4. If we pull too hard on the anchor, we can unmoor ourselves and find ourselves adrift.  We need to frequently check our anchor to assure it is solid, and we are not adrift.  If it seems we are moving or slipping away from where we ought to be, we need to make adjustments. 

5. Know that everyone finds themselves unmoored in life—we all need angels to redirect our paths.  Count on angels and count on God sending them. 

6. Sometimes we just have to adjust our anchors by the “feel of it” all other formulas notwithstanding. Listen to your inner voice. 

7. A great leader will always rally the crew and find the good. 

8. Finally, IT NEVER HURTS TO SPEAK FRENCH! 

In part one, we discussed the “fever” of worldly cares that afflict us and prevents us from finding peace.  If you have not read part one, I invite you to do so now.  In part two, let’s focus on five simple principles to rediscover our true identity and the inner peace we long for.  I am outlining the sketch and hope you will take time to fill in the blanks. The books I recommend will help you do so. 

1.  Find the Time.  Everyone knows that time does not stand still for anyone.  But it does conform to how you direct it.  Let me share how I capture time to discover and rediscover things that matter – things that bring peace and help form my true identity.  I began this process years ago; I call it prayerful meditation.  I gather books around me that inspire me to become.  I start by lighting a candle.  I like that the time I take in this effort has become a ritual.  When I light the candle, it’s my time to make time – to think and ponder – to sit in silence and pray upon my questions, concerns, opportunities, and hopes.  When I feel I have settled my soul and am at peace, I take time to end my ritual with gratitude.  Then, I blow the candle out.  I watch the smoke drift into the air and imagine my thoughts are being received into heaven.  That is MY ritual for finding and taking time. Now establish your own. 

2. Let Go of your Opinionated Self.  Part of taking time, as described in step one, allows you to “empty your mind.”  All of you know the divisive society we live in. We are at a point where our own opinions seem to be all that matter, and anyone confronting those ideas are cancelled from their group.   

In his highly successful television show, Mr. Rogers subtly invited the viewers to slow down, to be considerate, and to be a good neighbor.  At the beginning of each show the viewer sees a traffic light blinking yellow.  Then for over thirty years, he taught children (and adults) how to let go of prejudices and to find common ground.   

You can’t do that without letting go of your opinionated self.  How do you do that?  It starts with being able to find time to sit still and in your silence, think deeply.  The famous story of the rich and wealthy man approaching a Zen Master to teach him all he knew still applies.  The Zen Master presented a cup and began pouring the student a cup of tea.  He kept pouring until the cup overflowed and the student admonished him to stop.  The Zen Master said, in order for you to learn, you need to empty your cup.  Your cup is full of your own ideas, and you need to empty it to begin again. 

3. Incorporate Ho’oponopono.  This weird and hard to pronounce word (it’s taken me a bit to get it) is powerful and folds beautifully into our steps of rediscovery.  It is an ancient traditional Hawaiian practice rooted in reconciliation, forgiveness and restoration.  I first discovered this concept in a beautiful book titled ZeroLimits by Joe Vitale.  I highly recommend learning this and implementing this practice which has healed thousands.  My wife and I incorporate this in some fashion each day.  It centers on these four principles: 

• I’m Sorry (acknowledging that something within you is connected to the healing you seek) 

• Please forgive me (letting go of blame—toward yourself or others) 

• Thank you (gratitude for healing already beginning) 

• I love you (sending compassion to yourself, the situation, and beyond) 

In learning this process, it may become a part of the ritual you establish in steps one and two.  It can be repeated aloud or silently.  The concept behind this practice is rooted in “pono”, meaning righteousness, balance, or harmony which are KEY elements in living into the true identity that we desire. 

4. Develop your True Spiritual Identity.  This is a necessary step in living into the core of who you want to become.  Knowing you have a divine center and that you are a part of a universal community of love.  I talk about this part of developing our true identity in my book Launching Leaders, but for now, know that it is essential and true identity cannot be secularized. A person who has found their true identity has learned to live in the big picture.  Some call this living in the “realm of God” and is often a major about-face.   

This necessitates letting go of our own tiny realms, which we struggle to do; leaving our individualistic desires and entering into diversity and inclusion takes us to a higher level.  As my friend Richard Rohr states in his fine book Living Upward, “Up to now, we have been more in love with elitism than with any egalitarianism.  We like being the “one” but just did not know how to include the many in that very one.” 

I have the good fortune of a regular study with my dear friend Rabbi John.  We sometimes study together from “The Big Red Book,” which is foundational in the ACA program (Adult Children of Alcoholics/Dysfunctional Families).  It starts by saying in part “We believe that each of us is born with a True Self that is forced into hiding…A false self emerges that protects the hidden True Self from harm, but at a heavy price.”  This is why connecting our True Spiritual Self is essential to forming and holding onto our true identity. 

Maybe my comparison of the SNL cowbell video in Part One wasn’t exactly accurate.  I like to mix a little humor in our quest to seriously take on life, and I felt the phrase “I’ve got a fever” precisely described how we feel sometimes – disconnected or unmoored.  I hope we can figuratively find more “Cow Bell” as we home in on our true identity and establish a peace that surpasses all understanding. Let us rediscover our True Identity and find the peace that comes from it. Let us emerge, like a butterfly, and find the freedom and peace we seek. It seems to me that it is needed now, more than ever. 

In a famous Saturday Night Live (SNL) clip, Christopher Walken, who plays the character Bruce Dickensen, is a music producer listening to a band (Blue Oyster Cult) featuring Will Ferrell, who is playing the cow bell.  It’s a hilarious clip you can find on YouTube (More Cowbell-SNL).

In the end, Bruce Dickensen says “Fella’s, I’ve got a fever…and the only prescription is more cow bell…”

In this blog, I want to talk about another type of “fever,” the fever caused by a lack of peace in this crazy world.  And the best prescription I know is a rediscovery of our own true identity and the peace that comes along with it. 

In the SNL clip, the only thing that could make the recording a success was “more cow bell.”  In this world of uncertainty, I want to suggest that if “more cow bell” is compared to the peace in rediscovering our own true identity, then we need more of that to cure the fever that afflicts us. 

I’ve written much about this topic in the books I’ve authored (i.e. Launching Leaders, An Empowering Journey for a New Generation).  I’ve studied this topic in great depth, which doesn’t make me an expert, but a continuous seeker.  I share in this article a little different angle than that which I have previously written about.

At certain times in our lives, we may feel like we need to go back to ground zero and rediscover who we are all over again.  At other seasons of life, it may feel like it we’re fairly well connected to our sense of self and it’s a matter of staying the course, following the promptings of our inner voice, and remaining true to who we are.  At still other moments, our sense of identity may feel like a cold and barren winter landscape, and the thought of pulling our bleak winter selves out can seem like a daunting task.  In these moments it can be helpful to remember that our core identity, our inner self, is never dead, but merely dormant, waiting for the thaw of spring and the cycle of life and renewal. In any case, the process of discovering and rediscovering ourselves is an ongoing journey.

What takes us away from the core identity that brings us daily peace? It may be we are on the hamster wheel of work, trying to make a living wage.  It may be the many demands of children going in a hundred different directions.  It may be that we are sucked into the social media rivers that go nowhere as we keep trying to create relevance out of thin air.  It could legitimately be stress that paralyzes as we feel helpless to control the external forces of world conflict.  It could be that a combination of all of this has caused loneliness and even depression to afflict us as we feel we are drowning and have no control over outcomes.

As the band in the SNL clip were advised to…”Lay down more cow bell,” in our comparison, we need to figure out how to take away the fever of worldly chaos by finding the peace that still can exist in the rediscovery or our own true identity.

This process is not complicated – it requires a little space and time.  A way to connect with our inner voice.  George Washington Carver said: “I love to think of nature as unlimited broadcasting stations, through which God speaks to us every day, every hour…How do I talk to a little flower?  Through it I talk to the infinite.  And what is the infinite?  It is that silent, small voice…that still, small voice.”

Ironically, I have learned in my daily prayer walk to speak openly to the flowers and trees and birds who grace my walk.  I express gratitude for their existence and what I sense from them.  This simple process allows me to appreciate the small and simple things, and at the same time, focus on what matters most.  Where do we fit into this tapestry of life?

Thomas Merton, who was an American Trappist monk, theologian, mystic, and poet, expressed what he called a solitude of vocation as he wrote:

“To pray and work in the morning and to labor and rest in the afternoon, and to sit still again in meditation in the evening when night falls upon that land and when the silence fills itself with darkness and with stars.  This is a true and special vocation.  There are few who are willing to belong completely to such silence, to let it soak into their bones, to breathe nothing but silence……”

And therein lies the key.  We have to be WILLING to make space for a different path.  Innately, we know there is more to life and our existence—-more than fitting into the world’s narrative. 

We will continue this conversation in Part Two.

I grew up in a log cabin in Northern Wyoming. My parents purchased some acreage and a cabin in a town named after my great, great grandfather, Byron. They stretched and paid a thousand dollars for it. Over time, the cabin was added to, stucco’d over, and make to look like a regular home in a small town, but the guts of the home, the foot and a half thick log walls, remained – even now almost a hundred years later.

I think back on those days with deep gratitude. My parents were children of parents who lived through the great depression. “Penny wise and pound foolish” wasn’t just a trite saying, it was a lived principle. My mom showed me the last penny in her purse on more than one occasion, just a few days before pay day. To dine in a restaurant was rare. We did not have a café in town. It was only on a short trip to another town that such an extravagance might be allowed.

OK,… you are wondering, “Why are you living in the past?” I once heard a wise priest tell his daughter who accused him of the same: “I do not live in the past, the past lives in me.” And that is why I step back in time – to bring alive the principles taught by lived experiences. These are experiences that are hard to live on your iPhone.

While in Ireland this past summer, I took a picture of an old homestead preservation of the past.

You can see in the photo a water well, a small paddock, and a small home. A hand cart rests in front with a large milk jug upon it. So simple, so wonderful. In Ryan Holiday’s great book Stillness is the Key, he talks about getting rid of our stuff. He said “Mo’ money, mo’ problems, and also mo’stuff, less freedom.” To get to a life of abundance without stuff, he recommends going back to a time of simplicity. He said “You were born free – free of stuff, free of burden. But since the first time they measured your tiny body for clothes, people have been foisting stuff upon you. And you’ve been adding links to the pile of chains yourself ever since.”

I see current generations striving to return to a simpler life. I honor them for that.

My late son Skyler (Bear) talked about this turning back time and returning to a simpler life. Bear always felt like he was born in the wrong era. He got rid of a lot of his stuff. He reduced wants to needs. He measured carefully if possessions really increased the joy in life. He was careful to eliminate debt and tried not to be “owned” by things. He was successful. He was happier and more fulfilled, less burdened, more still. Even though he lost the battle to stay in this world, he won the victory by living into the things that matter most.

Perhaps it’s the adults in the room I am talking to (50 and older) when I say that the principles we inculcate into our living experience add far greater value than the 401K. If you find peace in your vocation, your call in life, the way you choose to live, it mattereth not how much gold you put on your plate. I have been to enough of the struggling parts of the world to know that joy, real joy, is not driven by the assets on your balance sheet. One can “thrive” with little and still live the abundant life.

Oh, a little jingle in the pocket doesn’t hurt – especially if we can reach into that pocket and bless those around us. That is exactly what scriptures teach us, to GIVE to the needy, to RESCUE those who are downtrodden. AND, if we are blessed with more than we need, we might consider doing the Lord’s bidding in blessing the poor. That is the only reason to be blessed with extra stuff – to share it or give it away.

My three brothers and I shared the same bedroom with two queen beds in that log cabin. We never felt we needed more. We developed relationships in those close quarters that would never have blossomed in a mansion. The small cabin was our mansion. We didn’t know we were missing out on anything. Truth is we always had plenty. Remembering those days and how I grew up fills me with gratitude as I strive to live the second half of life in a more meaningful way. Figuratively stepping back in time to evaluate a more meaningful way of living is key to making a future brighter than ever before.

At this holiday season, I invite you to do a little self-discovery. How are you dealing with your “sfuff?”

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year to all.

We recently traveled to Ireland, where a jail and a church, just a few blocks from each other in the city of Dublin, caused me deep reflection.  Kilmainham Gaol (jail)—is now a historical site. This prison established in 1796 housed both common criminals and also political prisoners involved in Ireland’s struggle for independence.  There is a long list of famous prisoners including the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising, 14 of those were executed in the Stonebreakers Yard.

As I learned the history of this era, where citizens were fighting for independence and religious freedom, my heart broke.  I reflected on the current political chaos in my own country where there is no such thing as discussing opposing views without vitriol – or so it seems.  It’s been decades since two sides of the political aisles could come together in bi-partisan fashion for the good of the whole.  Where reconciliation overruled hate.

I’m not penning this experience to cause anyone to walk in the cloud of despair that I did on this day.  No, I found at the end of these experiences something that gave me hope. 

Only a few blocks away from this historical site is the magnificent St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  Established over 800 years ago – long before the jail.  What a contrast; harsh retribution and death vs a hope of reconciliation.

Within this cathedral is displayed a giant door taken from a nearby Cathedral Chapel House, known as “The Door of Reconciliation.”  The phrase to “chance your arm” is often used in describing someone taking a risk.  It was fascinating to learn the role this medieval door played in its origin. 

In 1492, two feuding families, the Butlers of Ormonde and the Fitzgeralds of Kildare, were engaged in battle.  Sensing an impending defeat, the Butlers fled the battlefield and took sanctuary in the Cathedrals Chapter House. The Fitzgerald’s followed in pursuit, but instead of fighting, proposed a truce.  Calling out to the Butlers through the Chapter House door, Gerald Fitzgerald, head of the family, guaranteed them safe passage from Dublin.  However, the Butlers refused this offer, believing it to be a trap. 

To prove his sincerity, Gerald Fitzgerald ordered a hole be cut in the door.  He thrust his arm through it, offering it in peace.  Convinced, the Butlers shook his hand.  Today the story lives on in the famous expression ‘to chance your arm’.

This story of trust touched me.  Gerald could have had his arm chopped off.  His desire for peace was greater than the possible loss of his arm. 

In our world, thankfully we don’t commonly have such physical wars between families (though the undertone of indifference can still boil close to the surface).  What we do often experience are other forms of battle that still cause hatred and wars in our hearts and souls which go on for decades.  In addition, we experience social media warfare such as cancel culture, and the damage to others’ reputations with false claims and identity theft which can harm and ruin lives—all through the use of a cell phone.

One prisoner in Kilmainham Gaol, Patrick Pearse, who was executed for his part in the Easter Rising (an organized rebellion against harsh British rule which was a pivotal moment to the eventual establishment of the Irish state), wrote this poem to his mother the day before his execution in May 1916. He wrote it as if from a mother’s perspective, perhaps as a way to process the grief of losing her sons.

The Mother

I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge
My two strong sons that I have seen go out
To break their strength and die, they and a few,
In bloody protest for a glorious thing,
They shall be spoken of among their people,
The generations shall remember them,
And call them blessed;
But I will speak their names to my own heart
In the long nights;
The little names that were familiar once
Round my dead hearth.
Lord, thou art hard on mothers:
We suffer in their coming and their going;
And tho’ I grudge them not, I weary, weary

Of the long sorrow – And yet I have my joy:
My sons were faithful, and they fought.

This poem penetrates my heart—knowing there could have been a better way.

I would have never imagined that a visit to a historic jail and a historic church, and the juxtaposition of those two events could have left such a lasting impact on me.  In contemplating these two powerful experiences in my life, I thought of some of the words of the beautiful song by the Beatles, ‘Imagine’:

Imagine all the people, livin life in peace. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one, I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will be as one.

My hope is that we can figuratively be as brave as Gerald Fitzgerald, and “chance our arm,” expecting a blessed handshake, forgiveness, and indeed, RECONCILIATION as we reach across our differences and forge bridges of peace and understanding.

Maybe I’m a dreamer.

On a recent walk in the park with my beloved dog Chewie, I came across some ant hills emerging from a winter’s slumber. 

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by ants.  I loved putting them in a glass aquarium and watching them work.  A few years ago, while writing Entrepreneurial Foundations for Twenty and Thirty Somethings, I spent some time studying ants. 

Ants are incredibly powerful, capable of lifting more than 20 times their own body weight.  They “absorb” the world around them, “hearing” vibrations in their feet and “breathing” through tiny holes all over their bodies.  Ants are fierce, to the point that when they fight, it is usually to the death.  Additionally, they are committed to their communities, with some ant colonies covering more than 3,000 miles—such a large social network—all without the use of Instagram!

I was in the midst of observing their emergence into the world above ground and began contemplating my own life.  It dawned on me that the ants have a way of life that I envy.  They are not driven by 24-hour news cycles, insane political theatre, lives filled with great tension, anxiety, loneliness and depression, (at least not that I know of) often caused by our fast- paced, largely undirected and controlled lifestyles.  We seem to be owned by the timetables of the day, not by the seasons.

Then as I walked home, I marveled at freshly blooming flowers in my yard.  I paused to thank them for their offering of beauty. 

And then, I thought of how undetached the flowers are from all of the world’s politics (though they could be affected by them), and how they simply focus on personal growth and bringing forth the beauty that is inherent in their creation.

Maybe these are ramblings of an old man.  But I think not.  I watched as nature unfolded before me and realized I worry too much.  I get too caught up in things way beyond my control.  I allow the world to control my inner-self way too much. I imagine issues and problems that don’t actually exist, except in my own head. I give way too much time to things that don’t really matter.

As I concluded my daily walk of what I call “prayer meditation,” I was filled with deep gratitude for the reminder of what nature had taught me that day.  Maybe you will benefit from these observations too.  May spring bring a rising up in you of peace and contentment, of love and gratitude, of a realization of your unique worth and value.  I hope you can emerge into a beautiful spring of life (like the ants) and with a celebration of the beautiful life and creation you are (like the flowers) and can find peace in a life detached and not controlled by every world event and it’s chaos.  

And, that you are lucky enough to have someone to share the most simple observations of life and love with—like my Chewie dog.

I apologize for not posting a blog entry for about a year—-I’ve had a lot on my mind, but those thoughts went mostly into finishing a book about overcoming negative religious cultural experiences, even negative religiosity, and deepening our worship—whatever your belief system or religion—into the soils of love and authentic fellowship.  Something unique about this book is that I felt the presence of my son Skyler (Bear) while writing it and dedicating the book to him as if we co-authored it.  I invite you to check it out:

https://www.ignitingtheholyflame.com/

This book is not a Launching Leaders production, though much of its content expands some aspects of what LL teaches—authors tend to speak from the same heart in their various books—at least I do.  For example, continuing to discover and live into our true identity is a chapter by itself.  Piggy backing on this concept is what I want to share in this entry.

To be very vulnerable, this year I recently turned 68 years old.  Two of my long-time mentors passed away in the past two years, and one of my first and life-long mentors is in his 82^nd year—still leading the way in LL and is a continuous mentor to me.  In his words to me many times, I say to him “You better not die on me.”   The clock is ticking.

I’ve been contemplating how to make a difference this new year.  The book took over three years to write, and since it went live this last month, frankly, it’s left me wandering in the streets at night contemplating my next move.  In my earlier entrepreneurial years, I was on a hamster wheel that kept me moving constantly without as much deep thought required in making my next move.  Survival was the next move.  But in recent years (in partial retirement), the steps ahead are much more intentional.   I know those in my age category get it. 

To compound this anxious feeling, my daughter, who lives next door advised me that I need to start going thru “stuff” and deciding what I really need to keep.  So, we started recently to pull boxes out of the basement storage.  She and I are going thru a lifetime of records, tossing the stuff that is not relevant anymore, and handing to her 12-year-old son (my grandson) the papers that need shredding.  This is not an easy process, though it should be liberating. 

I saw records of rental properties that we sold long ago, and I wondered about the lives of some of the tenants. I was explaining this tug-of-war with my wife, and said “I wonder how the two ladies we loved in the old Greeley apartment building are doing?”  She said, “They are probably dead.”  This really comforted my anxiety through this process.  Box after box we go—-bags and bags of shredded documents—loads of other “priceless” treasures enter the dump heap of life.  I sat on my bed one evening and said to my wife “My life is shredded now.”

She reminded me that there are plenty of things to be excited about.  Launching Leaders now has participants from over 100 countries and is available in five languages.  We developed a new entrepreneurial course which goes live soon.  Our grandchildren are growing up and we enjoy watching them take on a new and different world.  We continue to educate ourselves through much reading and active mentoring through Launching Leaders and our local university.  So why would I be anxious in this state of being?

I decided to harken back to what I’ve written about regarding the “Cycle of God’s Guidance” or sometimes called “The Cycle of Spiritual Guidance”.  Without going into detail about each step, it’s worth mentioning the headlines:

1. Discover your true identity
2. Trust your inner voice, come what may
3. Have faith to act with urgency
4. Be at peace with heavens timing
5. Live well
6. Repeat

You can read the details of each segment in both Launching Leaders, An Empowering Journey for a New Generation, or my most recent book mentioned above. When you achieve a level of peace and contentment through this process, the changes in life don’t “shred you,” they simply provide healthy space where adjustments help you live into your purpose with peace and joy.  Instead of seeing your life shredded while you cling to memories, you live intentionally to create new memories and allow the new you to make a difference—in both your inner self and in those you associate with. 

Happy New Year everyone.  Much love from Cedar City.  I promise to be more vigilant in the entries of 2025.  As always, I look forward to hearing from you and seeing you out on the trail.

I was preparing to give a speech to young adults recently at the Innovation Center associated with our local college.  In doing so, I reviewed some of the interviews they did with past presenters.  The theme of the day it seemed was “disruption.”  Yes, I’ve read the salient books on the topic, and do recognize that disruption can be beneficial to wild success, especially with technology and systems innovation.  I do believe in change.  But as I pondered disruption and what I might present that would have lasting meaning, I kept thinking of my grandpa and his woodworking shop.

He lived a stones throw away from me where I grew up.  An immigrant from Switzerland, he had a very distinct German accent with a Scandinavian look and peaceful demeanor.  I remember he would nervously tap the fingers of his gnarled hands at the dinner table – he ate dinner often in our home.  My grandma passed early in life and grandpa was alone for many years.  He was generally at peace with a tinge of anxiety. As a widower, I think he was lonelier than I realized.

He arrived in the US before World War I and lived through the depression era.  He and grandma lost three boys under four years of age in a house fire and sent the three boys that followed off to World War II.  They lived through hard times and became examples of resilience with a quiet and enduring faith.  Nothing could have prepared them for the years of hardship they endured.  They just put one foot in front of the other, loved one another, put faith in divine providence, and let the chips fall where they may.  They were always sustained in their travels and travails.

When I was a boy, I would often wander over to visit my widowed grandpa.  He spent a lot of time in his rose garden and wood shop.  Next to his rose garden, which was interweaved with his fabulous rock garden, we would sit under the giant pine tree in lawn chairs.  There he would give me a wild cherry Life Saver, and we would chat.  I don’t remember the conversations, just that I felt safe and at peace sitting next to him.  I loved the smell of those wild cherry life savers amidst the smell of roses.

Often our time together would include a visit to his small wood shop.  We would take trips to the foothills from time to time as he walked for miles to retrieve the perfect cedar trees for carving.  He made tables and lamps from the aged cedar.  With his homemade tools he carved out the canyons and ridges of the twisted cedar trees.  Carving, sanding, sawing, filling in beetle holes, and finally staining his final products.  They were almost always gifts for others.

 This was a passion of joy for him, not to sustain him monetarily, but to toil for the joy of another person who would receive the gift.  Think of the hours of time he spent thinking of that person or family who would be blessed by a table or lamp which would be as unique as they were while he shaped the wood into its final form.  No two were alike – not the finished wood product or the people he gifted them to.

As he carved and sanded, I would be invited to grab a tool as he put his hands on mine to shape the wood.  The smell of cedar in my nose was delightful, and I didn’t want to clean up sometimes because I just loved the scent of his workshop on my clothes.  The scents wouldn’t last forever, but the lessons in the wood shop and beneath the tree and hiking in the foothills would stay with me forever.  Those lessons don’t dissipate with time, nor can they be washed out of the soul.

In one presentation I viewed, I watched the CEO of perhaps the most successful emerging business in Southern Utah tell the audience that it was more about the team and their values and relationships than the innovations of products and systems.  That was refreshing. He gets it. One student in the class asked him if they implemented Six Sigma stuff.  He didn’t know what that was, so he pivoted and talked about the value of trust and developing long-term relationships.  Good on him.  There is a reason they are listed in the top 5000 more successful companies in the world.

Please don’t misunderstand my message.  I do believe in innovation, technology, AI, and even disruption.  They all have their place.  But underpinning all of that should be the values and relationships of the teams involved in success.

My message to the class will be this.  Amid our changing world, REMEMBER the lessons from the past.  The hands (mentors) who guide the carvings, the smell of hard work, the time beneath the tree visiting with a lonely soul, and the walks in the wilderness searching for the gems that will emerge from their common existence into a life of beauty and meaning.  And of course, the smell of cedar dust and wild cherry life savers.

Maybe regarding “disruption,” we need to give a little more attention to disrupting the present rather than the past.

Early this year, acting from a yearning to include more hope and light in my life, and a way to reduce loneliness and build friendships, I formed a light-seeking group of six gentlemen aged 42-70.  I spent over a year vetting in my mind who might be a part of this group. 

The purpose of our group was defined, and we started meeting. We call our group “Porch Lights” and meet monthly.  Each month another member leads the discussion.  We sort of made up our own rules of engagement from such greats as Parker Palmer and Marcus Arrulius.  We meditate a few minutes to ground ourselves at the beginning of each meeting and to be present.  Then, each one in the group shares something of what’s going on in their lives.  Everyone listens with real intent. 

We established basic “rules of behavior” in this group there is no judgement, no one upmanship. Just transparent and thoughtful engagement.  No member is required to share or speak at all. Sometimes listening is the best way to share.

When we meet, each is given a bean bag, and if at any time one makes a point or comment that another finds they NEED to chime in on (pardon the interruption), OR feels like they are not being heard, they throw the bean bag into the center of the room and a discussion ensues (note, the bean bag has only been thrown once). 

The point of the group is to bring LIGHT into the conversations and each other’s lives from any direction.  It is not a “church” group, though we are each men of faith. We have had discussions on religion, faith, culture, personal challenges – beautiful aspects of light gleaned from good books, and perhaps most meaningful of all, the excavation of one’s soul as thoughts and experiences are shared.  Absolute trust to be vulnerable is what makes this gathering unique. It’s the most beautiful group I have ever been a part of.  I share this because it is foundational to what has happened since.

In this group each member knows of the challenges and grief our family has endured since the passing of our dear son who took his life at age 39, three years ago.  By no coincidence, this group has given me light, without even knowing it perhaps, to answer an inner call my wife and I have had to finally turn this grief around and have the burden lifted.  Though our personal faith has grown through this experience, we felt there was yet another part of this journey to explore.  Those of you who have read my previous articles regarding suicide ideation, know of the process this path has taken.

As we decided to act on the light that has been garnered, by no coincidence, we accepted an invitation from my oldest son and daughter-in-law to go to Switzerland on the third anniversary of our son’s passing to celebrate Skyler’s birthday – also the day of his passing.  This was Bear’s favorite country and he spent lots of time there with some family.  My grandfather is an immigrant from Switzerland, and we claim this as our “motherland.”

August 20^th will go down as a day filled with sacred meaning.  My oldest son had taken a trip to join Skyler in Switzerland a few years prior when he knew his brother was in trouble.  Together they walked Skyler’s favorite paths in the green and forested hills and mountains.  As we embarked on the trails he walked, there was no set agenda.  We brought his ashes to spread in his favorite spots, but otherwise had no set schedule as to how this day would go.  We felt deeply that this should be a day of celebration and not sadness.  Though in remembering, it’s hard to not also experience sadness due to our separation and deep love for one another.

This space we now found ourselves is where our boy found solace in his state of mental despair.   This is where he found peace and enlightenment.  He found an open chapel in the woods and meditated there.  This place is where he found the courage to face a world he simply did not understand.

As we walked, we found a beautiful unoccupied cabin porch overlooking the valley.  We borrowed it for a moment.  Ginger pulled out her phone and played her favorite recordings she had of Skyler.  We laughed and cried.  It was sooo good to hear his voice.  I took out a journal that had never been opened.  Leather bound and purchased at a spiritual garden store in Maui, I had saved it for a special occasion.   As I penned my thoughts, it was as if Skyler took my pen and helped record the moments.  All of us felt as though Skyler was penning or saying to us “Enough already” – “no more grief” – “no more long faces.”  “I’m just fine and all of us should move forward in joyous gratitude.” 

I closed the journal.  It was time to keep walking.  My son and his wife took a higher path where he and his brother had walked years before, and Ginger and I took a little lower one.  Each of us found a spot we knew Bear would appreciate being laid to rest.  Ginger and I found a grouping of three beautiful trees on the hill and laid on our backs beneath one of them them.  Seeing only the clouds drift above us and the tree standing over us, and the breeze on our face, we shed our final tears of grief and took up Skyler’s charge of gratitude.  We laughed and cried and hugged. 

We had our own little ceremony, left a part of Skyler under this tree to become a part of it over time, placed some fresh cut flowers and walked away, hand in hand.  Ginger said she finally felt the burdens of grief lifted.  We were tired from walking all day but felt renewed and filled with a hope that was palpable.

I credit my oldest son and my “Porch Lights” group for providing the impetus for this pilgrimage.  This experience was a fitting close of one chapter and the opening of a new one – yet to be lived and explored.  We always remember the prior chapters, but we must keep reading and moving forward, living into the unknown.  Occasionally, we will need to toss in a bean bag and allow some grief to be voiced.  We must allow for the authentic and what comes naturally. But overall, as we gather together, we shall evoke the light which has been garnered with a renewed sense of gratitude, not grief.  The light will continue to flow and fill us as we live into the best life our son expects us to be living.

For some time now I have boldly researched the topic of suicide ideation and related mental health concerns.  I’m not a scientist or a doctor, rather, I’m a grieving father who lost his son to suicide two and a half years ago at the age of 39.

“Bear” still makes an occasional visit in my mind.  I’m enough of a believer in how connected the entire universe is to believe that my son even graces us through butterflies and birds – even through a buck deer who one time paused to pose and speak to me.  I know to some that sounds strange, but I’ve also learned to relish the unknown and make that a part of my faith.

My wife, Ginger, and I and our entire family were graced with certain experiences in Skyler’s passing that have anchored us in a solid foundation of things divine.  In fact, the circumstances, and events we were graced with at that time caused us to delay, or perhaps even believe it unnecessary to deeply grieve our loss. 

But the pain never really goes away. And because we love him so, frankly, it shouldn’t dissipate like fog in the morning sun.  No, it needs to linger from time to time so we can sit and celebrate our Bear.  Sometimes he even stops by to comfort us with a figurative bear hug.

Since his passing, at Christmastime we put up a small tree and decorate it with Skyler’s ornaments.  It’s a tender time as we relive how these ornaments came to be. We laugh and cry and miss him so.  Recently, the day after Christmas, my wife and I looked at each other and both felt to take down Christmas and move on. 

As I was taking the bulbs off the tree, a royal purple one with a lovely manger scene and Skyler’s name imprinted near the top, slipped from my hand.  In slow motion I cried “noooooo” and then it shattered on the wood floor.  Suddenly, the pent-up grief that had never been released, gushed out of me as I sat and sobbed.  This bulb would never grace the tree again.  It was broken and beyond repair.

Ginger was kind and came from the other room to witness the commotion.  She joined me in the intermittent sobs as I picked up the damage.

We have some of Bear’s ashes on our mantle in the form of a bear.  He was watching over this entire episode.  I heard him say in my mind “That’s OK Dad, it’s just a bulb.” And later, “I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t put too much energy in the things I had. I’ve moved on. Those things don’t hold my soul, God does.”

My intent in researching and writing about suicide ideation and mental health is to provide foundational truths that can change the way one deals with these issues, and hopefully heal some of the unknown and delayed sorrow and grief. 

I recently learned that living in the world of wonders is better than living in a world of answers.  Ultimately our path is defined by love. When we love into the wonders and the unknown, we also invite a peace and tranquility that sifts reality from broken Christmas bulbs to a reminder of who it is who holds our soul. 

Not coincidentally, I was recently reading the book Art + Faith by Makoto Fujimura and learning about Kintsugi, the art of taking broken fragments or chards of glass and pottery and restoring them.  The idea is to embrace flaws and imperfections and turn them into even more beautiful art than before they were broken.  I momentarily looked at the broken Christmas bulb, wondering if this might be possible. But then I heard a voice again telling me “Your son is in no need of repair, let it go.”  Understanding that my son’s brokenness was no longer in need of repair helped me to see what “is” rather than what “was.”

So, I begin this new year with added perspective.  Makoto Fujimura said, “There is no art if we are unwilling to wait for the paint to dry.”  Time is a healer, and for those of us living beyond the most painful sorrow imaginable, WE can move forward too.  Continue to hold space for the occasional sobs of sorrow but understand the bulb that was broken is not in need of repair.  We need only to love and see the beauty that continues, even if it is from and through loss.