on 09/16/2016 at 09:21:23 AM
I am a Korean American Male. My dad is an alcoholic. He became sober in his later years. While growing up, he was rarely around. He worked…
on 09/16/2016 at 09:19:27 AM
on 09/13/2016 at 08:33:19 AM
I look at this picture and see that I have aged. The white in my hair, wrinkles in my face, angles softened by years of wind. Coffee no…
on 09/12/2016 at 11:10:20 PM
on 09/01/2016 at 09:12:28 AM
on 08/24/2016 at 09:32:13 AM
What a day. Draining. Productive. But holding a golden bar of gratitude. With two hands. Love my fucking job. All the people I work with…
on 08/03/2016 at 07:59:00 AM
I think there’s a difference between kind and nice. Sometimes, nice people are not kind because they want something in return. Approval…
on 08/03/2016 at 07:57:05 AM
on 07/14/2016 at 12:12:34 PM
on 07/13/2016 at 08:06:17 AM
Our first podcast is up! If you like banter about wellness, dating, relationships, and life’s crushing issues, please subscribe and rate it. Special thanks to Gabi Conti and Amanda May Meyncke for making this happen!Read more
on 09/19/2016 at 10:57:27 AM
I love the broken
The people who have glued their pieces back together.
They are the true teachers. Not the educated.
People who have contemplated death
But chose to live.
They love the hardest.
Who have fallen into slippery wells
and crawled out
Lined with gold
And a fucking smile.
I love those people.
They shine like stars.
- AngryRead more
on 09/18/2016 at 09:56:43 PM
Soon SHFT will have one hundred Catalysts life coaches. What started years ago in my kitchen has turned into a movement. One hundred people can impact hundreds of thousands of lives. This doesn’t just mean one on one sessions. The way we reach and move people today is infinite. Through words, shares, videos, photos. Through tribes, sessions, live events. Through your story.
Everyone involved in SHFT, whether you’re in our Facebook group, participating in a tribe, taking the Catalyst Course, teaching our Catalyst Course, my team, my partner, thank you for helping us carry this flag. Your contribution ripples exponentially. Know that.
This is no longer about me. Or you. It’s about us. Them. And if we all hold hands, we can change the world. I believe that with every fiber of my being.
This is no longer about me. Or you. It’s about us. Them. And if we all hold hands, we ca...Read more
on 09/13/2016 at 09:28:34 AM
My Fucking Feelings. 9/12/16
I look at this picture and see that I have aged. The white in my hair, wrinkles in my face, angles softened by years of wind. Coffee no longer taste the same. I used to think it was clever to say the picket fence has splinters. But not having a worn welcome mat at 43 stings. On one hand, I have the kind of freedom teenagers run away for. On the other, a piercing loneliness of someone who travels barefoot.
The container of life is made of hard plastic. I’ve tried chewing through. You can’t. You must adapt. Life will not. Time is unforgiving. Money is slippery. Women are still confusing. And the past will always haunt you. It doesn’t matter if you’ve looked under the bed. Memories don’t come without feelings. But as the white on your teeth fades, so does your fear. I guess that’s the good news. The bright panic has become a dull
flicker and the things that were big don’t really matter. So you live sky and soil. Dreams and moments.
The container of life is made of hard plastic. I’ve tried chewing through. You can’t. You must adapt. Life will not. Time is unforgiving. Money is slippery. Women are still confusing. And the past will always haunt you. It doesn’t matter if you’ve looked under the bed. Memories don’t come...Read more
on 09/12/2016 at 11:09:12 PM
Don’t talk to me about the weather. Don’t tell me about the forecast and how it calls for rain, or how you’re terrified that winter will arrive earlier than expected. I don’t want to hear your thoughts on the autumn chill, or your opinion on the season change. Instead, tell me about the changes you’ve seen in yourself. Tell me about how the rain makes you sentimental because it reminds you of your mother, or how you can’t stand to look at the sky because it reminds you of your best friend and how you never got to say goodbye.
I don’t care about your favourite colour. Tell me about the shades you saw in your lovers eyes when you told her you loved her for the last time. I want to know what it felt like to have your heart broken, and if you’ve ever cried just thinking about the one that got away. I want to hear the words you never allowed yourself to say.
Tell me about your childhood. I want to know about your adolescent home, and the way it smelled when your family would cook. I want to hear about how your mother and your father danced to oldies in the kitchen, and how you would watch them with wide eyes, wondering if you’d ever find a girl who could match their reprise. Tell me about your regrets. Tell me about the things you keep hidden inside, I want to inquire about the depths of your mind, and show you that instead of running away I’m here to hold a light.
I don’t care about your “I’m greats.” When I ask you how you’re doing, I mean it genuinely. Its okay to tell me that your day was terrible, or that you’re hurting inside. Its okay to tell me that you just want to hide, or that you feel as if you can’t confide in the people you call friends. Don’t talk to me about the game, or ask me about the score. What makes your heart sore? I want to hear about the night you cried in the arms of your brother. Tell me about the feelings you keep undercover, the opinions and the fears you ‘ve never shared with another.
Don’t talk to me about the weather. Don’t talk to me about ordinary things, because I want us to play big. Lets not make our hearts small, lets strive to share it all, lets aim to stop the games and breach the walls. I’m going to challenge you the way you challenge me, I’m going to open up and let you see every inch of my debris. Here’s to digging deeper than the baseline, here’s to leaving the surface behind. Its time to dive.
on 09/11/2016 at 08:55:34 AM