Begin Again

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” — Anaïs Nin

I hit the reset button this week.

After a few weeks of letting myself slide, physically and mentally, it was time to begin again.

I’ve been reflecting on the cycles I move through in life.

Patterns I’m trying to evolve out of in behavior, in relationships, in mindset.

Reinventing my belief in what’s possible.

The pattern is familiar. It’s played out for years: progress and regression. Two steps forward, one step back.

That still nets one step forward. And change happens one step at a time.

There’s a tension between accepting that pattern as necessary and the desire to stop stepping back, at least in the ways I can control.

And in the end, it’s only what we can control that we can change.

Chutes and Ladders

The childhood game of Chutes and Ladders is an apt metaphor for this process.

Especially the chutes.

We can be making steady progress across the squares of our lives when suddenly we’re moving in the opposite direction.

Sometimes it’s a minor setback. Other times, it feels like freefall, all the way back to where we started.

There’s that powerless feeling again. Pulled by a current back toward a shore we’ve worked so hard to leave behind.

It’s tempting to give up when that happens. What’s the point?

All that progress erased. All that effort wasted.

But as my coach has reminded me, “You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

Even when you don’t want to be there.

The effort is never wasted.

The neural architecture we build in the process of change… that’s the key.

That scaffolding doesn’t vanish the moment we fall off track.

We can climb again, this time with a stronger foundation, and build to greater heights.

Resilience is the key.

Weights

My substance-fueled vices have knocked me backward and down my entire adult life.

I’ve carried these habits like weights since my teenage years.

Each one, in isolation or combination, has kept me from climbing higher into my potential.

Each one has held a powerful sway over my mind.

First it was tobacco.

I was 15 when a cute older girl in the neighborhood offered me a cigarette and said I looked sexy when I smoked. Nicotine + attention from an older girl?

I was powerless against that combo.

It took ten years, and many attempts, to break the chains of that awful habit.

Alcohol wasn’t far behind that first smoke. The culturally celebrated social lubricant numbed a pain I couldn’t name.

It became synonymous with fun for 30 years. Until the physical, emotional, and spiritual cost became too high.

I tried to negotiate a treaty with it. Only beer. Only three drinks max. Only on weekends. Only on special occasions.

There was no negotiating. Alcohol would always take what it wanted from me.

Until I saw through the facade. It was robbing me of my birthright — to enjoy life without it, the way our children do.

But after many attempts and deep inner work supported by a coach, I finally rewired the connections in my brain.

And a light now shines where those substances once cast long, dark shadows.

Mary Jane

The last of the trio is marijuana.

And Mary Jane has been the hardest breakup — because on the surface, she seems the least harmful.

No fear of cancer like i had puffing a pack a day.

No hangovers like with booze.

Easy to hide. Most people don’t even know when I’m high.

But it’s numbed and distanced me for too long.

It’s numbed me from the discomfort I need to feel in order to understand and grow.

It’s distanced me from my own inner world.

It’s fogged the lens through which I see that inner world, so I can’t clearly find, or stay on, the path I feel called to walk.

Now that it’s legal everywhere, the challenge has only grown.

It’s five minutes away.

I’ve broken up with Mary more times than I can count.

And it feels laughable — maybe even pathetic — to be 49 and still admit this.

But there it is.

Writing that made me cry.

And I’ve learned enough to know that is a sign of healing.

A release of trapped pain. A truth breaking the surface.

It’s also embarrassing. We’re not supposed to talk about this stuff publicly.

But it’s the shame that keeps us trapped.

Freedom is found in revealing ourselves — painful though it may be.

A New Day

One of the most influential books I’ve read is Letting Go: The Pathway to Surrender by David Hawkins.

This morning, I flipped through it and found a line I had underlined:

“We can look at the mind’s concepts, thoughts, and belief systems as programs. Beliefs are programs that can be questioned, canceled, and reversed. Positive programs can replace negative ones if we so choose.”

I’ve lived the truth of those words. And I continue to live them.

They motivate me to keep going. To keep trying to peer deeper into my own mind.

Our inner worlds are as vast as the cosmos themselves.

We are governed by forces we know well and others we’ve yet to discover.

As I remove these substances from my life, my internal telescope becomes clearer,

Allowing me to see deeper into the origins of my thoughts and experiences.

And just like space exploration, new mysteries are revealed. New possibilities become visible.

So I approach age 50 with the mindset of an explorer.

Not just of the external world, but of the infinite universe within.

Knowing how much wonder and awe still waits to be discovered.

Exploring those inner worlds requires just as much courage — if not more — than our most celebrated adventurers.

No worthwhile journey is without setback, doubt, fear, or failure. That’s the price of admission.

So rather than lament the falls or shame the slip-ups, I embrace each reset as a chance to get stronger.

To go further. To climb higher. Knowing there is no end to this journey. No final destination.

Only new levels of understanding. More potential to be realized.

More joy, love and fulfillment to be found.

For me, that’s the most powerful motivation there is.

-Coach Kris