(published Oct 25th through my newsletter)

After ten days in Los Angeles, I have arrived at a dusty desert town in rural California where I’ll be staying for at least a month.

It feels like the true beginning of this journey, as it is the beginning of my time unscheduled and untethered.

Back in Los Angeles I was leading two workshops – one for my dear friend Clio’s 300-hour yoga training, and one for a financial firm on the 53rd floor of a downtown high rise. I was also attending a Tune Up Fitness/Katy Bowman movement education summit.

Now I have nowhere to be and no reason to shave my armpits. It feels wonderful.

A nearby rooster woke me up before dawn today. A braying donkey joined in a couple hours later. There are also horses, hens and even a deep burrowing tortoise on this property.

Despite my diligence closing the screens of the camper, a swath of flies have collected in here. I told them that if they stay cool and don’t buzz around too much they won’t get whacked. They seem content to sit quietly on the ceiling.

I’ll tell you more about what I’m up to in a moment, but I have the overwhelming urge to share a passage from the book Turning Pro by Steven Pressfield first.

When I read this passage last December, something clicked.

It was so exciting, I couldn’t get it out of my head. It’s Pressfield’s (author of The War of Art) description of the first time in his life when he really “turned pro” and committed to his art.

I was 31. I had saved up $2,700 and moved from New York City to a little town in Northern California. I rented a house behind another house for $105 a month. I had my old Chevy van, my Smith-Corona typewriter, and my cat, Mo. Every morning I walked into the village to the Bank of America and took out $25. That sum lasted me for the next seven days.

I didn’t talk to anybody during my year of turning pro. I didn’t hang out. I just worked. I had a book in mind and I had decided I would finish it or kill myself. I could not run away again, or let people down again, or let myself down again. This was it, do or die.

I had no TV, no radio, no music. No sex, no sports. I didn’t read the newspaper. For breakfast I had liver and eggs. I was like Rocky.

Is it strange that this man is my hero?

My first day alone in the desert was simple.

I spent the morning writing a list of to-dos, then organizing them according to category.

I’m crafting this Ride Your Rocket coaching program and I’m realizing it’s about the full integration of your somatic, mental and intuitive intelligence in service of your life goals. It’s the wisdom of yoga and mindfulness in action.

I’m refining the Content Creation Writing Course and hearing the results of previous attendees – how their writing is weaving together their true values with professional development. I’m making updates to the course and digging deeper into the why’s and how’s to ready it for the next round in November.

I’m taking notes for my Wealth Realization series and letting myself curse and serve up atypical examples and analogies. The process is such a kick! So excited to make it live soon. I hope it ruffles some feathers.

The real marvel though, is how even though I’m far off and untethered, sitting here in the camper in the dirt in my element, I feel so connected to you.

You who read these emails, even if you never write back. You who I see on social media. You who I do coaching work with. You who I may never meet. I feel you out there. And I feel like we are doing this together.

It’s a wonder to be out here alone, and a marvel to feel so close to you at the same time.


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