It has been almost a year since Hurricane Helene swept through my life and washed everything away. I’d like to say I’ve come through the other side, but the truth is more complicated. Recovery has been slow, deliberate, and full of sharp edges. Healing cannot be hurried. Grief and anger do not dissolve overnight.
My old life collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions. It was exquisitely beautiful, yet fragile, and seemingly destined only for a season. Accepting its impermanence—the perfection of its brief flowering, and of its inevitable undoing—has been at the heart of my healing during this last year of wandering.
A year ago this month I was laid off from my work on the Camp Lejeune litigation against the U.S. government. Weeks later came Hurricane Helene, and then the unraveling of my relationship. I remember sitting at my altar the day I lost my job, when the unmistakable presence of the Pilgrimage came into my field. Then in the days that followed, Huachuma guided me through the storm, through heartbreak, and the dismantling of everything I had known.
That season stripped me bare. I shed most of my possessions and spent November and December holed up in a friend’s basement—purging, grieving, and searching for the will to live. Many worried about me, and I’m grateful for those who reached out, but it was exactly what it needed to be.
Within the Hermitage, I drew closer to God and became more spirit than man. Yet my body was not ready to release me or transform into white light, and so the human predicament remained. When I finally emerged from that cocoon, I was fragile, luminous, and unintegrated—still half in another world, and utterly unfit for this one.
My reemergence began in December, in Sedona, where I initaited a friend into Kriya Yoga. From there I bought a one-way ticket to Ecuador, where I spent a month at a retreat center anchoring and integrating what had come through, before going to Peru to support a Sundance. Which brought me back into my body and reminded me of the sacredness of human life.
When I returned to the States I sold my car, stored what wouldn’t fit in my luggage, and moved to Oakland. After a few months steeping in the ethos of the Bay Area I moved to Boise, where I spent a month with friends and let myself fall a little in love. Then by July 1st I found myself in Colorado Springs, to revisit the place where I first received the vision for Ramaka. I had hoped for revelation. Instead, I found silence. The heavens were not ready to open and reveal the next steps. So I drifted again—to Denver, then Boulder—which feels like a good spot to settle down for a while.
Looking back, I see that this year has been about integrating the human. In March, I returned to practicing law—representing consumers against a major tech company in antitrust litigation, standing on the front lines litigating against the biggest firms in the world.
It was a brutal transition, from fasting and prayer in solitude to relentless daily confrontation. But it has been one of my greatest teachers. I’ve had to toughen up, grow comfortable with conflict, and remember how to fight and take a punch. Practicing law has never been my passion - only a livelihood. Yet I’m starting to realize that becoming excellent at it is part of my path of self-mastery.
I’ve also been learning how to let myself love again. To date without disappearing into another. To dance until dawn, to get a little drunk, to shoot pool in a dive bar. To remember that joy and play are also sacred.
Last month I even had the chance to fly back to Kentucky to attend the wedding of one of my best friends from college. Which was my first time back in Kentucky since leaving Asheville, and my first time seeing the folks from my old life in nearly five years.
It was grounding to reintroduce myself to that part of my life. The older I get the more I appreciate old friends who have known me throughout the various seasons of my life. It always feels like a small miracle to meet one another again after a long absence, and realize we are still in sync, and pick right up where we left off. I’ve taken some strange and mysterious paths compared to a lot of my peers. Who are mostly married with kids. But if anything, the work I’ve done has made me able to see and appreciate them better than the previous versions of me could. Which is proof that the more deeply we meet ourselves, the more deeply we are able to meet others.
In less than a week I leave for Lima to begin the Pilgrimage to Chavin. Though I’ve been on the path since this time last year. Then a week after I return, I’ll fly to Austin to attend the third annual memorial meeting for Parker.
This is a big culminating moment. My current level of consciousness doesn’t have the capacity to envision what comes next. But I trust this portal of prayer will expand my capacity to hold what wants to come through and ground it into physical reality - for my life and for the good of all.
MEDICINE COUNSEL
In addition to my law practice I help individuals and organizations with transformation, if you would like to work together you can schedule a time to talk here.
SACRED WAYS PILGRIMAGE
We are about to set sail on our maiden voyage to Chavin under the new banner. If you are feeling called to make the journey and don’t mind making last minute travel arrangements e-mail me - you can click here to learn more.