A Journey into the Amazon

This story was born in real time—through voice notes, journal entries, and reflections I recorded during my third journey into the Amazon with the Yawanawá people. From the moment I left home, to the ceremonies in the forest, to the long journey back into the modern world, each piece was captured as I was living it. This is not a polished retelling written from distance. It is a lived experience, documented in the moment, then woven together into one story.

The Departure

I’m just leaving my house in Fort Lauderdale, on my way to Brazil… to the forest. I just said goodbye to my wife and my daughter. That part never gets easier.

There’s a lot moving through me right now— emotion, excitement, nervousness, anxiety… all at once. It’s hard to even put a label on it. It just is.

This is my third time going into the forest. And somehow, it still feels just as intense as the first. Because no matter how many times I go… leaving my family never feels light.

There’s a pull in two directions— one toward home… and one toward growth. And I’ve learned to trust that pull.

I go to grow. I go to learn. I go to unlearn.

The Journey In

I’ve got about an hour ride from my house to the airport. From there, it’s an overnight flight—Miami to Brasília. Landing around 7 in the morning. Then another flight… Brasília to Rio Branco. Rio Branco to Cruzeiro do Sul.

From Cruzeiro, it doesn’t get easier—it gets deeper. A three-hour bus ride to the river port into São Vicente … then a eight-hour boat ride up the river into the forest.

It’s a long journey. Layer by layer, step by step… you leave behind what’s familiar.

right now, sitting here at the beginning of it all, I just feel gratitude.

Gratitude for the opportunity to return to the forest. To be with the Yawanawá. To be surrounded by people from my community.

There’s something about knowing where you’re headed— even if you don’t fully know what’s waiting for you.

And I can feel already…

This is going to be a powerful time.

Arrival

I just made it to the hotel in cruzerio .

I left my house yesterday around 6 p.m.… and now it’s 12:45 here. Long trip. A very long trip.

Honestly, it felt longer than usual. Maybe because I came out a day earlier… maybe because I didn’t see anyone I recognized on the Brasília flight.

There’s something about that— being in a different country, not knowing the language…

It’s intimidating.

Especially when you need something simple— directions, food, water.

I’ve been on Duolingo for the last three months, and I do think it’s helped… but it’s still a process— trying to speak, trying to articulate, trying to be understood.

I’ve got the Google Translate app too, which helps at times… but still, you feel it.

The unfamiliar. The independence. The quiet.

Right now, I’m exhausted. Probably just going to lay down and nap. Didn’t even realize it’s Easter today… so everything’s closed.

And all I really need right now is something simple— water, maybe a snack.

So I’ll walk around, see what I can find… then come back and rest.

Everyone else arrives tomorrow. So today, it’s just me.

Just me… settling in, connecting, getting my mind, body, and spirit ready for what’s ahead.

We’ve still got a couple days before we take the boat into the sacred village.

But after 18 hours of travel…

I’m feeling it.

Still— it’s all part of the journey

Alone, But Not Lonely

Wrapping up my first full day in Brazil.

It was a long one.

Got in around 12:30… maybe 12:45. Finally made it to Cruzeiro do Sul… to the Swami Hotel.

First thing I did—went and got some food.

And again… not fully understanding the language, it’s intimidating. But I can feel myself getting better. Little by little.

There’s something about being by yourself in a foreign place— where you don’t really know anything… and everything feels brand new.

Even though I’ve been here before, this time feels different. Because right now… it’s just me.

The rest of the crew gets in tomorrow. The familiar faces. The community. But today was about being alone in it.

I took a nap after I ate… a real nap.

Then woke up, walked around again, found another spot—just a hole-in-the-wall place… serving some of the best chicken and rice I’ve ever had.

Simple. Pure. Real.

There’s something about the food here— it feels alive.

Nothing fancy… just good.

And it makes you realize how little you actually need.

Now I’m back in my room, about to lay my head down… maybe throw on a movie.

Let the day settle.

Tomorrow, everyone arrives. We connect. And then Tuesday… we head into the Yawanawá territory.

But for now—

Day one is complete.

Alone in a foreign land… but not lonely.

The Threshold

It’s 4 a.m.

Just woke up… my last sleep in a bed for a while.

In a few hours, we head out— a 7, maybe 8… maybe 9-hour boat ride up the river into the village. Into the forest.

I can feel a lot moving through me.

Excitement. Anticipation. A little bit of everything.

It’s going to be a long journey… but I’m just leaning into it.

There hasn’t been much sleep on this trip so far. And honestly… the beds haven’t been the most comfortable.

They’re hard.

But that’s okay.

I didn’t come here for comfort.

I came for the experience.

The rest of the group got in yesterday. We grabbed some last-minute things… sat down for dinner… connected.

It felt good.

And now…

this is the last check-in before everything changes.

The next time I tap in— I’ll be in the forest.

I already miss my family.

I feel that… heavy and real.

But I also know why I’m here.

So I’m just going to keep leaning in.

Arrival to the Village

I had to write this one.

Everyone’s asleep.

It’s been a long day.

We left the hotel at 5 a.m.… took a three-hour bus ride to São Vicente. From there— we unpacked… got on a boat… and rode nine hours up the river. Up the Rio Gregório.

We stopped once. Pulled up on the side of the riverbank… just to use the bathroom.

That was it.

The travel was long.

Not easy. Not comfortable.

And truthfully…

it might be the most beautiful ride you could imagine.

Trees as tall as buildings. Birds I’ve never seen before.

And even way out there— you pass villages along the river. Because out here… the river is the highway.

It’s how people move. How they live. How they connect.

Part of this journey is leaning into the uncomfortable. The unfamiliar. The unknown.

And today…

I stepped into all of that.

This is my first time in this village.

And it’s incredible.

We were greeted by the Yawanawá with so much love.

And just like that—

we’re miles away from everything.

No city. No technology. No noise.

Just nature.

Pure.

I’m here with four people from my community who felt the call to come on this journey. Victoria , Lynett & Gia.

That means a lot to me. Their trust in this process . Their belief in me and how I’ve shown up. It means the world..

There’s so much to share already…

and we’ve only just arrived.

We’re all sleeping in hammocks tonight— about 30 of us.

Inside this massive, hand-built wooden structure… I don’t even even know what to call it.

But it’s huge. And you can feel the energy in it.

When we got in, we had dinner together. It was late, so the night was light— time to rest.

They played music in what I think is called the maloka … maybe the Maloca.

We danced a little.

Just enough to feel it.

finally got to shower… and there was a massive frog in there. Surprise me!

Caught me off guard at first.

But out here, there’s a rule— you don’t mess with it… it won’t mess with you.

So I showered… right next to the frog.

And now…

I’m laying in my hammock.

Day one in the village complete.

Grateful.

Blessed.

Excited for what this week has in store.

Before the Ceremony

Today’s been a beautiful day.

Started off a little rocky… honestly, I probably should’ve kept my phone off— just stayed disconnected from the outside world.

But here we are.

We had our faces painted today.

The meaning behind it… protection.

Letting the forest know we’re guests. Letting the spirit of this place know we’re here with respect— as students of the Yawanawá.

There’s something powerful about that.

You can feel it.

As I get ready to step into ceremony…

there’s a lot moving through me.

Emotions. Feelings. Anticipation.

I know things are going to come up.

And I know I’ve got to sit with them.

That’s part of it.

That’s the work.

The discomfort. The honesty. The growth.

But at the same time…

this is beautiful.

I’m in a beautiful place, surrounded by beautiful people.

People who are explorers in their own way— all here for something deeper.

To grow. To evolve. To become more aligned with who they truly are.

That’s why we’re here.

And it feels good to be around others who see the world in a similar way.

Who understand…

there’s more to this reality than what’s been sold to us.

And when we connect— on a deeper, spiritual level—

we start to understand who we are… and why we’re here.

I’ve got things I want to work on.

Areas I want to grow in.

I’m not perfect.

Never claimed to be.

So tonight…

I go in with an open heart. An open mind.

Ready to receive.

One of my intentions is simple:

To listen.

To the music. To the forest. To the wind. To the silence. To whatever speaks.

Ceremony starts at 8 p.m.

Could go until 4… maybe 5 in the morning.

Who knows.

But I know this—

It’s time to go deep.

I’ll see you on the other side.

Love.

Integration

We had our first ceremony… not last night, but the night before.

And these last 48 hours have really just been about processing it all.

Integrating.

Receiving.

Trying to understand what moved through me.

The ceremony itself…

was beautiful.

Started at 8 p.m. Went until about 5:30 in the morning.

A long night.

A deep night.

And it’s hard to fully put into words what happens in there… because it’s not something you can just explain.

It’s something you feel.

Something you experience.

There were visions.

There were downloads.

Moments that felt bigger than me.

And through it all… the way the Yawanawá hold space— the music, the singing, the dancing— it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It’s sacred.

It’s real.

And in those moments…

you realize how beautiful it is just to be alive.

Yesterday morning, waking up…

I was still processing.

Honestly, I still am.

But there’s a deep sense of gratitude.

Not just for being here— but for being able to bring people from my own community here.

To share this space with other seekers… people who are searching for something deeper.

Trying to become better versions of themselves.

Later that day…

we joined the Yawanawá for an herbal bath.

And that in itself… is medicine.

A sacred cleansing.

After that, we stepped into a sauna they built out here in the forest.

And it just hit me again— these people live in a completely different way.

A different system.

A different understanding of life.

Everything here is rooted in togetherness.

No job is too big. No job is too small.

Everyone contributes.

Everyone shows up.

It’s a true community.

The kind where it really feels like— it takes a village.

And when you see that… you can’t help but reflect on the world we come from.

The separation. The isolation. The constant division.

We’ve drifted so far from what it means to truly be connected.

To each other.

To ourselves.

Out here, hundreds of miles away from any city… you realize something simple, but powerful:

Nobody’s coming to save us.

We have to show up.

We have to make better choices.

We have to connect more.

Smile more. Laugh more. Love more.

That’s the work.

Last night, I was given the opportunity to witness something special.

I went with the Yawanawá to watch them prepare the medicine.

Not in ceremony— but in its creation.

And that was a whole different experience.

It’s not quick.

It’s not easy.

It’s a process.

Days… sometimes weeks.

The vine being cleaned. The leaves being prepared.

Boiling water in massive pots.

Pouring. Re-boiling. Repeating.

Over and over again.

And through it all— prayer.

Songs.

Intentions.

The men cooking the medicine.

The women singing over it.

Everyone involved.

No separation.

Just unity in creation.

And something I felt deeply— as they were making the medicine… they were in the medicine.

Connected to it.

Becoming one with it.

Just being there… witnessing it… it humbled me.

Deeply.

And now it’s morning again.

Around 8 a.m.

I can already hear music in the distance.

I think there’s a wedding today.

Life continues out here.

In the most beautiful way.

I’m just grateful.

Grateful to be here. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to be walking this path.

Until next time.

— The Portal

Ceremony two…

There really are no words.

No words that can truly describe the experience. No words that can fully capture the gratitude I feel right now.

This was the strongest I’ve ever felt the medicine.

I took three cups… and it sent me somewhere I hadn’t been before— and brought me back.

And it was needed.

Deeply needed.

We started during the day… around 5 p.m.

It’s about 11 now.

And that whole space in between… felt like a portal.

A magical, unexplainable portal.

I’m trying to find the words… but they don’t do it justice.

Because it’s not something you explain.

It’s something you know.

It’s something you feel.

And when you feel it— you understand.

I understand my mission more.

I understand who I am more.

Why I’m here… more.

And above everything— I feel gratitude.

Gratitude for my family.

For my wife, Rachel. For my daughter, Aliyah.

For the way they support me on this path… on these journeys… so I can become the best version of myself— for them, for my community, for the collective.

Tonight… we sang.

We danced.

We cried.

We laughed.

And then we did it all again.

It was beautiful.

Truly beautiful.

The Yawanawá… they hold something.

They hold wisdom.

Ancient wisdom that helps us remember who we are.

Why we’re here.

And it’s important— that we respect that.

Respect their culture. Respect their way of life. Respect the wisdom they carry.

Because somewhere along the way… we forgot.

We forgot who we are.

We forgot why we’re here.

And for me— that’s the mission.

To remember.

And to help others remember too.

That’s why I built Luminate.

That’s why I built Conscious Living Network.

Because I know now— this is bigger than me.

Bigger than football.

It’s about the collective.

How do we evolve? How do we grow? How do we step into who we really are… so we can make the world around us better?

Because the truth is— the world is a mirror.

It reflects you. It reflects US.

How we/you think. How we/you speak to yourself. How we/you treat others.

It all matters.

Every breath is sacred.

Every step is sacred.

And we should live like it is.

I feel like there’s so much more to say… but I can’t even find the words right now.

Still processing.

Still integrating.

The music is still playing in the background.

The ceremony is still going.

But for me… I got what I needed.

So I stepped out.

Back to my bed.

About to take a cold shower… wash it all off… and rest.

Because that was a lot.

And I’m grateful for all of it.

The Tough Moment

Every time I come to the forest… something comes up.

And it’s always exactly what’s supposed to.

This time… it was something I didn’t expect.

My wife is beautiful.

And I know there are men out there who will try… who will test boundaries… who will see if there’s an opening.

And a situation came up… something from the past.

An old connection.

Something that had nothing to do with where we are now… but it resurfaced.

And it brought up a lot.

Anger.

Real anger.

And it hit me right before ceremony.

Before my first… and especially my second.

These emotions weren’t light.

They weren’t spiritual.

They were heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Fear. Doubt. Anger. Even hate.

And in the moment… it felt justified.

The mind starts talking:

“You have a right to feel this way.” “This happened, so you should feel like this.” “This is valid.”

And maybe it is.

But that doesn’t mean it serves you.

That’s what I had to face.

Because when I really sat with it… I realized something:

This wasn’t about her.

This wasn’t about him.

This was about me.

Unresolved emotion.

Unsettled anger.

Old energy that I hadn’t fully let go of.

And the medicine brought it right to the surface.

No hiding.

No avoiding.

It took me to a place that was very uncomfortable.

A place I didn’t want to go.

But a place I needed to go.

I ended up sitting under a tree… by myself… for about three hours.

Just sitting with it.

No distractions.

No escape.

Just me… and everything I was feeling.

And the battle in my mind was real.

Back and forth.

Trying to justify it.

Trying to hold onto it.

Trying to make it mean something.

But none of that helped.

None of that moved me forward.

Because the truth is— holding onto something that no longer serves you… only hurts you.

And I had to accept that.

The past is the past.

And for me to hold onto something that small… something that doesn’t align with the love I have for my family… it just didn’t make sense anymore.

So I let it go.

Not all at once.

Not perfectly.

But I made the choice.

And when I came out of ceremony… the first thing I did… was reach out to to my wife.

I told her how much I love her.

And I told her I was sorry.

Because she didn’t deserve that energy.

She did everything she could to stay out of it.

And I was the one who brought it back up.

That was on me.

And I can own that.

That’s part of the work.

There were other tough moments too.

The mosquitoes… thousands of bites.

The exhaustion.

The long travel.

The cold showers.

The discomfort of living in a way that’s completely unfamiliar.

But all of that… is part of it.

Learning to stay calm in chaos.

Learning to be comfortable in the uncomfortable.

That’s the real work.

Not just the ceremony.

Not just the medicine.

But how you handle everything around it.

And I’m grateful for all of it.

Even the hard parts.

Especially the hard parts.

Because those are the moments that show you who you really are.

And if you’re willing to face them… you’ll learn more about yourself than anything else ever could.

The Final Night

Today is Sunday, April 12.

And we’re coming toward the end of our immersion here in the forest.

Again, It’s hard to even put into words… but this has been one of the most incredible weeks of my life.

Truly.

I can’t fully describe the impact this will have on me moving forward… but I feel it.

And I’m excited to integrate everything I’ve learned.

Today was a beautiful day.

We did the Yawanawá games.

Just played… like kids again.

Running in the mud. In the dirt. Laughing. Competing. Connecting.

It reminded me of something simple— but something we forget:

Stay a kid. Stay creative. Stay joyful. Stay connected. Stay grounded.

It was one of those days where nothing needed to be serious… but everything still meant something.

And now… we have our final ceremony tonight.

Starting at 8 p.m… going until sunrise.

This one feels different.

Not heavy.

Not intense in the same way.

But… celebratory.

A ceremony to honor the work.

To honor the growth.

To honor everything that’s come up this week— within ourselves.

And I’m going into it with an open heart.

Ready to celebrate.

To laugh. To dance. To sing. To cry. To feel all of it.

Because that’s what this is about.

I’m just… grateful.

Grateful to be here.

Grateful for this experience.

Grateful for the connection I’ve built with the Yawanawá.

The connections I made with our whole group.

This place… this week… it’s changed something in me.

I know that.

And the next time you hear from me… it’ll be after this final ceremony.

Time to close it the right way.

Doing the Work

Being out here in the forest… has shown me something clearly.

There are a lot of people out there— pretending.

Pretending to do the work. Pretending to be the guide. Pretending to know.

Whether it’s breathwork… meditation… sound… “teaching”…

There’s a difference between talking about it… and actually living it.

And I’m not saying this to judge anyone.

I’m saying this because I see it.

Especially in the West.

It reminds me of people who go to church on Sunday… but don’t live it the rest of the week.

Out here?

It’s different.

The leaders… the men and women here… they’re doing the work.

Daily.

Quietly.

Without needing recognition.

Whether it’s sitting with the medicine… going on dietas… praying… serving…

They live it.

No job is too big. No job is too small.

Men and women washing dishes. Carrying bags. Helping wherever it’s needed.

That’s leadership.

And it made me reflect on myself too.

Because I’ve been there.

After my first experiences… I thought just because I understood something… I was ready to go teach it.

But the truth is— the work isn’t the understanding.

The work is how you live.

Your daily choices. Your daily actions. Your daily practices.

Only you know if you’re really doing the work.

And a lot of what I see… is people skipping that part.

Calling themselves leaders… without doing the inner work first.

For me— coming to the forest… this is me doing the work.

And it’s not easy.

That second ceremony… was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through.

Sitting with emotions… with energy… with things buried deep.

But that’s what it takes.

This path isn’t about status.

It’s not about money.

It’s not about being seen.

It’s about truth.

And the deeper truth I’m realizing is this:

I’m not here to tell people what to do.

I’m here to embody it.

To be the most authentic version of myself.

And that means everything..

Doing the dishes. Picking up trash. Carrying weight. Listening.

Especially listening.

One of my intentions coming into this was to listen more.

And now I understand why.

Because the answers aren’t always in speaking.

They’re in being still enough to hear.

So if there’s anything I’d share from this moment— it’s this:

Listen more. Talk less

The Clarity

Just finished our last ceremony.

There’s not much to say.

Because everything’s already been said.

It’s just…

clear.

Crystal clear.

What needs to happen. What I need to do. How I need to move. How I need to integrate everything from this week.

We started at 8 p.m.

It’s now 6:30 in the morning.

The sun is up.

And they’re still in there… playing music.

It was a beautiful night.

An incredible night.

A celebration.

Not of anything external… but of the work.

The work that’s been put in. The work that’s been faced. The work that’s been honored.

This week… has been one of the most beautiful journeys of my life.

And I’m just… grateful.

Truly grateful.

There’s a knowing now.

A deeper understanding.

The world needs this.

The world needs this medicine. This awareness. These ways of healing.

The wisdom of the indigenous. The medicine keepers. The way the Yawanawá live.

We need more of that.

And I feel it— this is part of my role.

Now it’s time to integrate.

It’s always bittersweet.

You prepare for something like this… you go through it… you give yourself to it… and then just like that— it’s coming to a close.

Today is our last full day here.

Tomorrow, we head back.

Back to the city. Back to Florida. Back to life as we know it.

But something is different now.

And I can feel it.

I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

Right where my feet are.

And I’m thankful.

Fishing

It’s the last full day here in the forest.

I went to bed around 8 a.m. after ceremony… and at 10 a.m., Deva woke me up.

“The boys are going to take you fishing.”

I had been asking all week.

I just wanted to throw a line in the Amazon— just to say I did it.

I even brought fishing gear as gifts for the men of the village.

I thought we’d just walk down to the river and cast a line.

Simple.

Nope.

A man named Valdeir came and got me.

And instead of heading toward the river… we walked away from it.

About a mile.

Deep into parts of the forest I hadn’t seen yet.

Where he and his family live.

And that’s when it hit me— there’s so much more here than what we see as guests.

More people. More families. More life.

At this point, I’m thinking we’re going to grab some fishing gear.

And we did.

Line. Hooks. Weights.

So I’m like, “Alright… now we go fish.”

Nope.

Valdeir grabs a pickaxe.

Looks at me…

“Follow me.”

He takes me behind some of the homes… and starts digging into the ground.

I don’t speak Portuguese.

I barely understand.

But I didn’t need to.

He’s digging for worms.

So what did I do?

I got on my hands and knees… and started digging with him.

For an hour.

Mud. Dirt. Bugs everywhere.

And I mean everywhere.

Hundreds… maybe thousands of different species.

Worms. Ants. Things with four legs… six legs… fifty legs.

I was almost hypnotized by it.

The amount of life underground.

We found over a hundred worms.

Then finally… we started walking back toward the river.

Fishing gear in hand.

No poles.

Just line, hooks, and weights.

We made one more stop— at Chief Nixiwaka’s house.

Valdeir signaled “10 minutes.”

So I sat outside… on a bench… with my line and a handful of worms.

And that’s when one of my favorite moments of the entire trip happened.

Five young Yawanawá boys… maybe 10 to 12 years old… came up to me.

Curious.

They saw my Oakley Meta Glasses… music playing… camera rolling.

I pulled out my translator app… and we started communicating.

And just like that… connection.

They stopped everything they were doing… just to hang out.

To laugh. To listen to music. To take photos.

For 10 minutes… we were just kids.

When Valdeir came back… he said, “Vamos.”

I said goodbye… but the boys followed us.

Not just to the river… but onto the boat.

That’s when I realized— this wasn’t just fishing.

This was an experience.

Five of us in a small boat… heading up the river.

We stopped at different spots.

The boys jumping on and off the banks.

Barefoot.

Mosquitoes everywhere.

No complaints.

Just joy.

I didn’t catch a single fish.

Not one.

I don’t even think I got a bite.

But the boys caught three.

And honestly… I didn’t care.

Because it was never about the fish.

It was about being there.

Learning how they move. Watching how they fish. Trying to imitate… even without understanding the language.

Two hours on the water.

Pure presence.

And then… something I’ll never forget.

The boys took the three fish they caught… put them on a stick… and handed them to me.

For me.

To give to the chef.

And later… the chef cooked them.

And I ate them.

A full circle moment.

Out of everything this week… this moment will stay with me forever.

Not because of what I got… but because of what was given.

Time. Energy. Experience.

Valdeir didn’t have to do any of that.

None of them did.

They just wanted to.

Before we left… I gave Valdeir some gifts.

T-shirts. A charger. My hammock. A flashlight.

And he was so grateful.

But truthfully… I was the one who received.

Valdeir— if you ever read this… I’ll see you again one day.

Thank you, brother.

Next time… we catch a big one.

“Grande pesca.” 😂

Love.

The Return

I’m on the boat right now… heading back.

And the feeling is… bittersweet.

Excited to integrate. Excited to see my family.

But I’ll miss this.

The people. The connection. The community.

This has been one of the most incredible weeks of my life.

Truly.

Magical. Spiritual. Challenging at times.

But the word that keeps coming back is— grateful.

Grateful to be alive. Breathing this air… on this planet we call Earth.

Grateful for my journey.

The ups. The downs. The turns that led me here.

Even this boat ride feels different now.

Coming in… I was observing.

Now… I’m seeing.

The trees feel greener. The forest feels alive. The air feels alive.

Everything feels… alive.

And I just find myself thanking the Creator for all of it.

At one point… I thought I wanted to stay here.

Live in the forest.

Disconnect from everything we’ve built in the West.

Because I saw clearly— how far we’ve drifted.

But now I understand something deeper:

I’m not here to escape the world.

I’m here to serve it.

And it’s crystal clear.

My mission is to share.

To share my journey. My experiences. What I’ve come to understand.

I used to think I was just a football player.

Just an athlete.

But now I see— that was the platform.

The love I had for the game… gave me a voice.

A way to reach people.

And now?

That voice has purpose.

Because there’s more to this life than what we stress about… argue about… chase every day.

The mental state in the West… needs healing.

And I’m ready to step into that.

Not to force anything.

Not to convince anyone.

But to live it.

Healing is remembering.

Remembering who you are. Why you’re here.

The Yawanawá never forgot.

We did.

So it’s time to remember.

This was never supposed to be:

Me vs you. Us vs them.

We are one.

Separation… is something we were taught.

Not something we are.

Every path has truth in it.

Every way of life has something to learn from.

But somewhere along the way… we allowed division to take over.

And now we’re waking up.

The power isn’t outside of you.

It’s within you.

Always has been.

And when you realize that— everything changes.

Heaven and hell… aren’t places you go.

They’re states of awareness.

Right here. Right now.

But we miss it.

Because we’re distracted.

Focused on things that don’t matter.

We need each other more than ever.

And the time is now.

To step into your light.

To share your gifts.

To live your truth.

Because no book can give you what you already know.

It’s within you.

You just have to remember.

I’m not here to tell anyone what to do.

I would never tell someone they need to go sit with medicine.

But I will say this— go inward.

Ask the real questions.

Who am I… without my job? Without my status? Without the labels I’ve been given?

Because you are more than all of that.

You are energy.

Infinite.

And this life?

It’s short.

All you truly have… is right now.

So how do you want to live?

How do you want to show up?

Because you have that choice.

Every moment.

Your intuition… your inner knowing… it’s always guiding you.

But we ignore it.

We doubt it.

We choose fear instead.

So let’s stop.

Let’s stop living in fear. Stop living in anger. Stop holding onto what we can’t control.

And start showing up differently.

That’s the work.

Not overnight.

Not instantly.

But daily.

Brick by brick.

Choice by choice.

You want change?

You have to do something different.

Sit with the discomfort.

Learn from it.

Understand it.

And then build from there.

Give yourself love.

Because you deserve it.

You don’t have to live in shame.

You don’t have to carry guilt.

That’s the old you.

So decide— who do you want to be?

And start walking that path.

Without apology.

I’m done apologizing for understanding my life.

I don’t have all the answers.

Nobody does.

But I’ve lived enough to know this:

You already have what you’re searching for.

I can lead you to the water… but you still have to drink.

And when you do the work— your life changes.

Your relationships change.

Your connection to yourself changes.

And the world?

It reflects that.

Don’t ask me how.

That’s just how it works.

Call it science.

Call it spirituality.

It’s the same thing.

Just like performance and presence— they’re the same thing.

Be here.

Now.

That’s the game.

Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn’t promised.

So be here.

And move forward.

The time is now.

I love you all.

We are family.

Step into your power.

Letter to My Family

Dear family… to my wife, to my beautiful daughter—

I just want to express my love for both of you.

For your trust. For your guidance. For your presence in my life.

Rachel… I know you know how important it is for me to disconnect— especially in the way that I do, going out to the forest.

I still remember the first time I told you I was going to the Amazon…

Back in January of 2025.

The conversations we had. The doubts. The uncertainty.

I remember it all so clearly.

And I know it took a lot for you to trust me.

To trust this path. To trust my heart.

Now here we are… a year and a half later… and I’m leaving my third immersion.

I couldn’t be more grateful for you.

For your trust. For your love. For your willingness to support me in something that isn’t always easy to understand.

I know when I go out here… it’s a big thing.

Being away from you. Being disconnected. Not being able to talk.

But I want you to know— I learn so much out here.

And I bring that back home to us.

And I truly believe… those lessons have made our relationship stronger.

The way I understand myself more. The way I understand us more.

The way I show up for you… for our family.

We’ve been together 10 years now.

Our daughter is 9.

And when I really sit with that… our story is incredible.

And I want to keep building that.

Keep strengthening that.

Every single day.

I was talking to some people out here… telling them about us.

About how far we’ve come. About the love we share.

And how much you believe in me. How much you trust me to walk this path.

I love you so much, Rachel.

More than I can even put into words.

And Aliyah… you are everything and more.

You are so beautiful. So full of life.

And I just want to be the best father I can be for you.

I want to show you what it looks like to love deeply.

To take care of the people you love.

To show up with presence.

Because I know life will bring its challenges… but if I can lead by example— you’ll always be strong enough to handle whatever comes your way.

I’m so grateful for you.

Both of you.

I’m so excited to see you.

To hold you.

To smell you. To smell your hair.

I’m so grateful I get to come home to you.

And I’ve got a little surprise waiting… hopefully I can get it ready in time.

But just know this— I love you.

So much.

Thank you for seeing me. For believing in me. For loving me.

I can’t wait to continue this journey of life with you both.

Every single day.

Yiiihuuu!🌱

Last leg home

I’m on the last leg of the trip home.

Second day out of the forest.

We had an overnight layover in Brasília… and I always find airports fascinating after experiences like this.

Because you’re back in it.

Back in what we call “reality.”

And you see it immediately.

People in line… frustrated. Flight delays… people angry. Voices raised. Energy scattered.

And you feel it more now.

You feel the energy.

You see where people are hurting.

And it becomes clear again— why this work matters.

There’s so much unresolved emotion.

So much anger. So much trauma.

And when things don’t go right… that’s when it comes out.

I always think about it like football.

You learn who someone really is… in chaos.

Anybody can be good when things are going well.

But when things aren’t?

When you’re losing? When you make a mistake? When pressure hits?

That’s when the real version shows up.

And it’s the same thing in life.

If you haven’t sat with your emotions… if you haven’t worked through them… they’ll express themselves through you.

And the airport is the perfect place to see it.

Disconnection.

Separation.

“Me, me, me.”

Instead of:

“How can I help?” “How can I serve?” “How can we move together?”

And I see it everywhere.

Integration… is its own process.

I land today… and I already have an event tonight.

Straight from the forest… into a room full of people.

Cocktail attire. Drinks. Conversation.

Two completely different worlds.

And that’s the real work.

Can you stay grounded… when everything around you isn’t?

For me— that’s how I want to move.

With patience. With discipline. With love. With understanding.

No matter what’s happening.

It’s the idea of being calm under chaos.

And honestly… that’s what helped me this last season.

Because that’s where the edge is.

Not when everything is going right.

But when it’s not.

On the field— you’re never going to play a perfect game.

So when the imperfect moment comes… how do you respond?

Can you let go of the last play… and be fully present in this one?

That’s the difference.

And it’s the same thing in life.

Pressure?

It’s not real.

It’s something we create.

An expectation of how things should go.

And when it doesn’t go that way… that’s where the test is.

So how do you respond?

That’s the work.

That’s the game.

And that’s why I see now— spirituality and performance… they’re the same thing.

Just like spirituality and science… they coexist.

I’m excited to integrate.

To be home.

To be with my family.

To live this.

And maybe in a week or so… I’ll come back and share what it’s really been like.

Being home.

Being present.

But for now— every breath is sacred.

Every step is sacred.

And I’m on my way home.

To be continue…..