Bearded Gang

Most of what I write comes out like water from a tap. Sometimes slowly into the basin as it rises and often times with the drain plugged because when I write I feel like it has to reach its point so I can go about my day. The top of the sink is my cutoff. It’s my habitual “deadline” folly I’ve lived with being engulfed in vocations that always have deadlines or ticket times. So I always feel like I have to make my point felt before my ticket times go high. “You need to have this completed before you can get off the couch”. I twitched when I wrote out “ticket times” I don’t think I’ve thought it or said it aloud in 5 years.

Ticket times, for those of you that don’t know, is the kitchen expo’s bane. It’s the time in between when the order gets called out to the kitchen line to the second it arrives in plate form ready to be served. At the steakhouse as outside expo on a Friday night I’d go down the line of tickets “Ticket time on lead is 17 minutes!” 17 wasn’t terrible but you’re steadily creeping to 20. At 20 customers start looking up from their phones and stare into your kitchen.

“Where’s my food?”

At Arizona the manager “spec” was to touch the table after 20 minutes. Shove some free cheese toast down their throat to keep them happy. 25 minutes might’ve gotten a free round of drinks and 30 it’s free app cards or discounts. 40 minutes plus your front of the house manager is hiding behind the dumpster, hands shaking, turboing a Marlboro light before going back in to get their face ripped off.

It happens. Sometimes life ebbs and takes your whole kitchen line with you. I’ve been on both sides. The ticket hanger and the ticket enforcer. I’ve been on the front lines when the expo no longer calls out ticket times because it doesn’t matter anymore. At that point you’re waiting for the women and children to board the lifeboats. Ships already under water.

Titanic = most Mother’s Days

*shudders

My environment for 30 plus years revolved around these ticket times. It inflamed my sense of urgency. Augmented it into my daily routine.

Ticket times when I eat

Ticket times when I’m driving somewhere

Ticket times when I’m sleeping or trying to

Ticket times when I’m just trying to relax and be present. We could go one but my point has been made.

Deleting the ticket times was part of my reckoning.

Was

WAS

It’s still hard to type/say that without getting emotional. As I’ve said before I ended my reckoning last month. I didn’t but I did. It was written out for me. I’m still trying to let it all out. Like a dog that’s been chained to a tree for years and you finally let him loose and he doesn’t want to leave. He’s never been outside of his tethered zone.

It takes time to walk off that familiar worn out path you’ve been walking around in circles the whole time.

When I was released from my reckoning it wasn’t like the prison warden unlocking my cell and kicking me out. It was more like a nurse wheeling me outside after a long stay in the hospital. Gently rolling my chair to the curb, hand on my shoulder and saying “you’re healed. Now you can go catch up with life”

I cannot describe to you this feeling of being.

Composes

I reread my journal entries, not all of them just the ones I’m supposed to and if you’re in my shoes you’d know what that means. The word reckoning wasn’t a word I’d used much in my life. I can’t recall exactly when I referred to my self made rebuilding phase as my reckoning but when I did it clicked, it pinged, it sparked.

It fit. So I kept it as such.

A four year leap of faith. Turning off all exterior lights and focusing on my trail markers to allow a much needed mental realignment.

You don’t choose when it’s over. There’s no assumed ticket time..

Mine pulled the ticket off the rail and punched it through the check spindle.

“No more expoing for you”

“No more ticket times”

“Prop your feet up, smile at your soul” – I didn’t write that last part but I did. I’m getting better at this.

I had a brief emotional “smack” yesterday but it was different. I used to beat myself up with how my emotional outbursts affected me. You can’t shut your emotions down they are meant to be expressed. They are our pressure valves for when we get tight. It’s not how we become emotional that’s as important as to how we respond to the stimulus. I kept it contained as it was meant to be but I also let it flow out of me to release it.

I stayed in control. I was mad hell yes I was and I had every reason to be. It’s ok to let it out. Just don’t act on it while it’s there. You can be mad and in control at the same time.

It’s as simple as that for me.

Life is finally starting to slow down for me. I’m allowing it to.

I reckon I’ll relax for a bit now.

Peace and elbow grease.

Sometimes I find myself in a comfort zone loop. My hobbies take me to some of the same consistent areas and behaviors over time. I like my happy places because well, they make me happy. It’s like driving to a specific restaurant to eat your favorite meal. Which I often do.

I had bantered back and forth with myself about a quick camp up to my happy zones. I’m still making up for lost time from last year’s activities that kept me indoors for most of the year. Monday early morning I decided to push forward with my plans. I’d go straight from the mountains to the deli the next morning which I did. I didn’t have an itinerary other than I wanted to complete a 24 hour fast while up there and I unplugged for the whole time I camped. Took four books with me and found myself shuffling between all four. Couldn’t get in my reading groove. Long walk to a small peak to stand above the ridge line and collect my thoughts.

Wrote down some things I no longer wanted my mind to be associated with and threw it in the campfire.

A ritual of separation.

It was a difficult evening. Mother Nature decided to host a late night show that she wanted me to watch as a thunderstorm stayed around my area well into the early morning. I layed in passenger side seat of my truck with my headphones on while the rain beat with no rhythm overhead. I knew it would be a sleepless night. Not my first rodeo and as long as I continue with this lifestyle it won’t be my last. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows yall.

Monday night was sort of an ebbing. I did my best to flow with it.

Not sure why I chose to fast it just seemed appropriate (hello intuition) and the digital unplugging was also included with the package. I also chose not to speak aloud until I got home. You don’t realize how often you talk to yourself when you’re alone until you purposely zip up your mouth.

24 hours of no food, phone and verbalizing. I did respond to a few necessary texts but stayed off all the scrolls. I suppose you could add no sleep to that list I may have gotten an hour or two or just tranced out.

I had no itinerary as to what this should accomplish. I went through it with my intuition steering the best I could. I can recall one moment while “resting” in my truck smiling at myself and thinking “my intuition is an asshole”

I pulled my groggy ass out of my truck around 5:15 to start packing up all of my soaked gear. My headlamp was pinging on several spider webs. My site was filled with glistening little intricate webs all around my trailer, little guys resting in the corners. I made it a point years ago not to disturb nature in its place but sadly I had to disturb a few spider condos to pack my things up.

My camp was soaked mud but my truck pulled the trailer out without any drama and I drove to a little ridge to make some coffee. The sunrise was coming and I needed the sun to bless my day before I left after a long night. I needed a little balance.

Took out my phone and wrote in my notes.

Title

Linville Seal

I wrote one sentence

“Today I no longer have to struggle”

I wrote it with no preemptive thought or intention. I made my coffee, sat on my tailgate and typed it out. I knew what I was typing at the time it wasn’t another hand this time. It was mine and the action. Just didn’t know up until the moment I wrote it what it was going to say.

This automatic writing was conjoined.

If I went into detail about what I wrote on that little piece of paper and burned the evening before you would understand what this little jaunt did for me.

I wrote about my frustration of the feeling of having to struggle to survive. In response to a rather unpleasant day of work the other day. I wanted to release that energy.

For good.

In some irony after I wrote and burned my intentions a storm decided to add some salt to my struggles. Which was why I smirked while curled up in the front seat of my truck.

So when I say I wrote “Today I will no longer have to struggle”

It means I wrote it but I didn’t. I completed a task I didn’t write for myself. Didn’t even dawn on me until this morning when I woke up and saw the note I had written 24 hours before. I had typed it out and completely discarded the thought.

Sometimes downloads take a minute.

I sat on my sofa with the same smirk I had while reclined in my truck.

Things are changing me, changing for me. Listen to be transparent that camping trip was meh. I’d say worse but I’m working on how I filter my experiences. I don’t try to speak negatively on them regardless. It leaves a bad taste in my head.

It was a tough one but I received a new download. A pretty big one I’m betting.

I was also “told” to give Linville a break. She doesn’t need me up there for awhile. Not sure exactly what that means but I intend to honor it.

It makes sense for no reason.

This trip up the hill was imprinted by intuition and impressed by its intentions. Did I say that right?

Let’s see what the next chapter has to say.

I had a fair sized catering Friday evening. 55 boxes delivered to a lovely little farm in Williamston. I’ve never been a big fan of catering deliveries lord knows I spend enough time driving around but I don’t mind this drive it takes me down some old memory roads as a child. It’s a little touch of God’s country, not overrun with people and I love a road filled with trees and green shade. My parents are buried not too far down the road from there I can almost touch their souls from there.

The location is a little lavender farm that hosts an annual picnic and I’m honored to be the main caterer for the event. I believe this my third one. I take my time dropping off the boxes while my nostrils flare from all the lavender aromatherapy I get. If I could brag on any of my senses it’s my sense of smell. It’s probably why my palette has kept money in my pocket I can differentiate odors, taste the air or break down what fast food you had for lunch the minute I walk into your house. It makes up for being blind as shit and semi deaf.

I order special sized boxes for this catering to make the price point work for both of us. 9×9 window boxes I order from Amazon. Special events I don’t use pizza boxes the outside aesthetics are just as important as the inside. Pizza boxes are great for what I do but some events need more attention and it’s what I do. I ordered 75 boxes for a two day delivery on Monday night. Boxes would arrive Thursday and I’d take them into work with me early am to get things rolling. I had a total of 60 boxes on my itinerary for Friday. 55 of them going to the farm. Go ahead and throw in three more I made from passerby’s asking for grab and go. In this business you grab when you can.

Thursday all day I kept on eye on my tracking for my catering boxes (I also had two 3 foot boards arriving for an order this morning). The boxes were expected to arrive by 10pm at the latest. I stayed up to insure they didn’t get rained on or some schmuck didn’t take them off my porch. 10pm is late for me I’m in bed at 9 at the latest and Friday was going to be a long one. I checked my porch at 9:50 and said “screw it” and when to bed, the boxes will be fine I need some sleep for Friday. I woke up a little restless around 2:30am and went to grab the boxes off my porch.

*opens door

No boxes

I grab my phone to look at delivery update and Amazon had decided Thursday would not be the day I would receive my packages.

2:30am is a terrible time for bad news. We all know the worst time to overthink anything is when we are lying in the dark in the middle of the night. I could feel the old Chad creeping out. This would be the ideal time for him to come out and play.

Fury

Anger

Discombobulated

Scared

The positive part of the situation is I was very aware of the old Chad coming to a head. I lied in bed and told him to go back to sleep.

As I inhaled he screamed at me to let him take over

As I exhaled he’d distance himself from me

The more I did it the less he screamed, the more I did it the more I relaxed.

“There is absolutely nothing you can do to fix this situation at 2:30 in the morning”

“Go to sleep, it’s just boxes you’ll find a solution you always do”

I woke up at 5, did my morning routine with my shoulders relaxed. I knew my schedule was at mercy of retail stores opening up at 9 so I had my assistant start the process of assembling while I searched for boxes. As luck would have it my friends at If It’s Paper had a solution for me. They were larger than what I needed but they were same aesthetic.

They would work. We started the boxes three hours late but I had until 6 before I had to deliver. The very first box I made I dropped it on the ground. I winced and felt the old Chad wave at me in the back room I shoved him in earlier. He winked, I flipped him off. He smiled

The deli phone rings about three times a day. Friday it rang 20 plus. I’m the receptionist, counter person, salad guy most days as I was Friday. Of course as luck would have it we had a decent lunch, I had several inquiries about box orders and as I was working I would see texts, fb messages and IG messages piling up on my phone. I was three hours off course, sleep didn’t go so well for me the night before and when you’re doing mass assembly line you want to keep your muscle memory moving in the same direction, you want momentum. When you have to stop to do other things your mind takes a minute to reset into assemble mode. My assistant who helps with boxes has a full time job so I get him for about three hours. I needed him for at least six.

I tied up the last box at 5:57. Car was already running. I needed to leave at 6 to get three at the appropriate time 6:45.

I got to the farm at 6:44.

I maintained “me” the whole day. With the exception of a short frustrating text to my wife “I’m tired of having to hustle to make money”.

And then I exhaled.

The drive through Williamston was beautiful. I was almost 10 again riding in the back of a pickup truck bed. I rolled the windows down to bring that vibe back into my soul. My friends at the farm had big fat smiles on their faces when I arrived and I took a deep breath in to enjoy the lavender. I kept the windows down the whole way home with the radio turned off. 12 hours of work done.

Shitty day? Nah it was a profitable one after a very slow week. I got home, fed my belly, placed my tired feet up and smiled.

I didn’t need the old Chad that day. He only wanted to protect me but I don’t need protection anymore.

You see old Chad is my nervous system.

He’ll always be around and that’s fine sometimes you have to remember for you to forget.

Friday was a hard one man. Days like this you don’t get to sit down, no cigarette breaks with my crew (I don’t smoke anyway) no sitting in a chair with a sandwich in my hand. You go into work and you don’t stop until your feet are propped on the coffee table at home.

It comes with the job.

I went to bed with a smile on my face.

Struggle brings gratitude. It was a tough day but I did it on my terms.

Today will be beautiful. I’ve got some solid orders on my calendar today and then two days off to reflect.

Life’s beautiful yall. Act accordingly ☮️

“Woke up today and decided to kill my ego”

“ain’t never done me no good no how”

I resonated with this song years ago. It took 10 years for it to hit the way it’s supposed to.

Slapped I should say. Slapped me right in the face.

Sure I knew the lyrics I sing them all the time. I can recite the whole song I’ve sang it to myself enough. It was part of my meditation playlist before it became a standard meditation program.

Trail markers man, the more your eyes open the more they shine right in your eyes.

Slow down, reflect and stew. You’ll see them. This isn’t about Sturgill Simpson who I admire as a song writer and artist.

But

I gravitated towards this album like it was my comfy sofa. I listened, it hit, it fucking stayed.

I was years away from fully understanding this song and this album.

I understood it. I knew its meaning. It took 10 years for the light to come on.

Let’s talk about that light.

Quietly

Subtly

Methodically

I’ve been spiritual for most of my adult life. Childhood and teenage years I was introduced into a structured theological process. One I wasn’t sure of. One that was explained to me by dozens of different people and opinions. They all had the same point I suppose but they didn’t get along with each other. One absolutely had to be right while the others were completely wrong and to follow their rules meant eternal damnation.

Pitchforks used as symbolic terror.

Flames burning your soul for eons. EONS

Horned demons, dark red as the fire you would reside in for eternity.

I was given these pamphlets to read in between Bible school classes. I’d sit at these old wooden school tables with these little cartoon books depicting a giant man with white hair and beard residing on cloud planes with golden architectural structures, dead ancestors in white robes all standing in line outside the golden gates smiling at me, greeting me once I died. And if I gave my love for someone that I was taught to love out of fear.

That was the back of the pamphlet. The front I recall an illustration of some construction workers sitting around their work site about to eat lunch. Four men all enjoying their lunch, three of them praying over their meals while the other mocked them for religion. He laughed at their God and their beliefs and remarkably right after he grabs his heart and suffers cardiac arrest. He drops dead right there with a sandwich in hand.

*turns page

He awakens in a pit of fiery hell. He’s scared, he wants to know where he is.

Big red demon with horns on his head (demons are scarier if they are gender assigned I suppose) pokes him with a pitchfork “you are in hell!” More demons are in the background laughing at the man’s folly all holding pitchforks poking him as he stands in a pit of fire. He’s screaming “please let me go!” They all laugh in unison. I can’t recall all of the literature but the point was made. It hit home.

I was terrified to not believe in God.

I was 10. Someone at that time in 1982 thought “this is a great way to introduce a child into religion”

PRINT IT JACOB

I was born into Episcopalian, bussed down to Southern Baptist with a side of Pentecostal. When I was released into the wild I put all those pamphlets and literature into my mental attic and locked them up tight. There was no key involved I had no intention of ever opening that room again.

With all that said I’ve never intentionally insulted a religion, disrespected or scoffed at anyone’s alignment with theology. I respect everyone’s spirituality and commend them on their faith. Life is hard. It’s much harder when there’s no where to go and the road dead ends. Religion is a way out of the cul de sac for a lot of us. My only interjection here is most of us are reading a map that has more routes than you think. Some like the wide open highway while others like the backroads. Some like me, prefer smaller less traveled paths with trail markers. They all have peaks and valleys.

We all meet at the same place. Once you figure that out the path leads to.

I’ve gone through quite the transition the last 4 months. It didn’t start 4 months ago it actually started 53.8 years ago

But

I didn’t find the atlas until recently.

I’ll throw in a few quick recent trail markers I don’t have the thumb energy right now to start with “in the beginning Chad was born in a small village in Mesopotamia 135 lives ago”. You ain’t ready for that and neither am I for that matter. That was just a little humor for you. I’ve learned over the years that satire and religion spark and set people’s pants on fire and this isn’t my intention at all so just sit and relax. It’s all related.

One day I woke up and decided to start writing. I didn’t go out and buy some journals or a typewriter. My daughter bought me a notebook to write down my recipes. I can’t recall if it was a Father’s Day gift or just a token of love. I started to do just that but instead of just jotting down recipes I wanted to add a little background as to why I came up with these recipes.

How they were created.

I wanted to write it out like my daughter was reading them because she bought me this journal with her own money. I wrote one page and stopped. Something else in my head asked me “so where exactly do we start?” I paused and decided that maybe I’d write a little about my background in the restaurant business first and then move on from there. It occurred to me that I knew very little about my parents’ background growing up. Both have passed so my living library is gone. I changed gears and downloaded WordPress to start some journaling. I needed to stretch my typing fingers and get loose. I’d write a little and stop. I almost deleted the app but every day I actually took time to write it felt good to release. Every single thing I have written on this app is meant for my daughter to read one day. Every thing I continue to write on this app is for her eyes to see, to read. She will have the opportunity to know how her father thinks, feels, my background and my childhood memories. I will come back and touch base on this shortly.

Same goes for drinking. When I turned 50 I told myself my drinking days are over soon. I didn’t say that but a part of me did. I can recall the moment it did. For three months a little light in my head kept telling me “soon Chad, it’ll stop soon.” The other half of me was dubious. I’ve heard this song and dance before. It didn’t tell me when to quit. It just put in my head that I could. And I would

And I did

I had to give up running. It tore through my body for years. It was my mental escape but my joints and bones wouldn’t allow it anymore. So one morning I got up and went for a walk. A part of me told me to. It wasn’t a suggestion. I always envisioned walkers as those old people that walk around with a stick in their hand walking all bent over because they can no longer move fast. I didn’t want that. My mind said tough shit go for a walk. So I did. It was a difficult transition because I couldn’t get my legs to slow down to walk but eventually I got used to it.

And I liked it.

Same mileage just a few more clicks on the clock. I liked it enough for it become a ritual of mine. 15- 20 miles a week. It slows my thinking down while running always sped it up. I recall when I parted ways with my old company I had a notebook I used for menu ideas. My first morning of unemployment I wrote one sentence down over and over and over and over again-

“You need to slow things down”

At the time I don’t know why I wrote it. I knew what I was writing at the time but it had no meaning to me. I put the notebook down and never opened it up again. I also discarded the thought. It had meaning in its context I just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.

Yet

TikTok and I’ll stand by this with all my heart has some algorithms that will smack you in the face and you won’t even realize it. No it’s not my spiritual advisor or a beacon of higher consciousness but when your mind is open your algorithms will speak to you. I’d see a clip of a show that seemed engaging. I enjoy comedy and I like humor on all forms. The clips were prompted and showed up from time to time enough for me to say to myself “what is this show?” The show was Loudermilk, a well written comedy about an old grunge music critic in Seattle that battles with sobriety and has the issue of being very unfiltered and transparent in his conversations. I love grunge, I had just completed my first year of sobriety and well my filter is terrible. I resonated with this show on several levels. My personality resembles Ron Livingston’s character in so many ways. He’s a little miss understood in the show but he means well. I get it. The show itself wasn’t so much as a trail marker as was one little prop that appeared frequently in his apartment. His Shinola headphones. For whatever reason my eyes lit up and I thought “man those are some fun looking headphones”

I looked them up online and thought “man those are some expensive ass headphones”

A little too much for my liking

But

It was already in my head that I need to check some out. I’ve always wore ear buds that fall out of my ears and roll down the block so I rarely wore them. My ear canals are not built for those I suppose. I went to Best Buy (can’t tell you the last time I’d been there) and I headed straight to the headphone section I guess you would call it. By some “coincidence” (there is no such thing as coincidence btw) a Sony headphone rep just happened to be in the aisle as I walked up. I had no intention of buying any headphones that day I only wanted to give them a try. He introduced himself to me and handed me a pair of noise cancelling headphones, gave me a brief rundown on how they work. I put them on and didn’t feel anything different with the music. That is until he hit the noise cancellation button. It made a little ping and at the same time my brain did the same.

*Ping

My shoulders slumped. My mind smiled and I walked out with a brand new pair of headphones that I have worn every. single. day. since. They did something nothing else other than sleep has ever done. It quieted the noise in my head. Once I was able to focus without the noise I slowly started the practice of meditation. I didn’t buy the headphones to help me meditate. I wasn’t a meditation guy, never had I been. I do yoga from time to time more for stretching and strength than anything else. I’d wear my headphones to help me write. I get too distracted from sounds when I write. As I’ve mentioned on this platform before I’m a high strung individual with some fun ADHD. Headphones helped me cool off and relax. I started wearing them to bed to help me sleep better. I constructed a calm music playlist to allow me to release some tension it did just that. Over time the focus and relaxation began allowing me to revisit some of my old childhood memories. The headphones, music playlist was training me to self hypnotize myself without realizing it. After a few weeks of practice I could go back in time like it was yesterday. I could smell and feel things from my childhood. Old Christmas memories, school friends, some traumatic, some beautiful. I’d wake up the next morning with the memories fresh in my mind and write them down. I’d acknowledge some not so good moments in my life and make peace with them. I became my own therapist. Each memory I wrote down helped me make peace with it. I was erasing childhood trauma while I reckoned with it writing it all out. My emotional state started leveling out over time. Writing has been the best thing for my mental health. It all started with a note book my daughter had bought for me to write down my recipes. I’m writing a 1000 words plus a day because of my daughter’s gift to me. I don’t think I would’ve started writing if she had not.

Lily’s heartfelt gift was a trail marker. I big one kiddo if you read this.

When I opened the deli I slid back into some old emotional patterns. I got caught up in the net of tetherment (new word) from being a business owner again and it got in my head for a bit. I was overworked once again and stressed. No resets due to a freak hurricane and Covid tried to scatter my brains again. When I finally was able to take a break 6 months later, I went to Hunting Island for two days to relax.

For transparency purposes I did a small dosage of psilocybin the first night and opened my mind a little. Nothing over the top it was a good time I just walked around the campground to take things in. I will say the next day was a little weird. A pea soup fog surrounded the island. Only the island. One mile down the highway was sunny and clear. Also the internet had collapsed the whole entire day. I chose to stay on the island and just rest and be with myself with no distractions. It’s what my trip was intended for anyway. The next night while chilling in my roof top tent I was on a good vibe (no mushrooms or anything just hanging out) a song came on my magical headphones and it hit a little different. I didn’t hear the song I felt the song. I went from smiling big to crying tears of euphoria. The music felt like it was trying to lift me to the sky. I had never felt like that before not even close. I could almost hear organs and what sounded like angels singing in the chorus. Tears streamed down my cheeks I almost couldn’t catch my breath. It was so overwhelming I thought I was dying. There was no way I could feel this was a regular person. I thought this was it. I’m dying. Which resulted in me throwing myself halfway out of my tent to catch my breath.

Obviously I didn’t die. I was fine . I went to bed like a living, breathing human being and woke up with a slight “wtf was that all about” but afterwards I felt fine.

But I wasn’t. That’s when things started to get a little weird.

And this is when I started to think TikTok started “waking me up”. No TikTok isn’t the Tower of Babel or anything close. Something in me started resonating with algorithms on TikTok. Hell on everything else for that flashed in my vision for that matter.

My TikTok algorithm overnight introduced me to some things I’d never once thought about in my life

Frequencies

Vibrations

Quantum realms and physics

Alternate realities

Timeline flips

Moon phases

With that came my mind reaching out for information on hermetics, Jung even a compulsion to by a book of poetry by Rumi, essays on the Kybalion. Other than a brief mention of Jung in some old books from school I had never heard of any of the these before. I bought these books because I was compelled to not because I was curious or wanted to discover a new reading curriculum. I don’t read books like these. I read them all from to back.

The tent episode was in February. I’ve been on quite a ride since then.

My world or my view of it has evolved. Turned upside down you might say. I no longer see things the way I used to. I can’t accurately describe what that means. I don’t feel like my whole life was living in a lie but more like a dream and I awoke out of it.

Boy did I.

I’m not going to go into details on here what or where I am at the moment. I’m literally collecting new data every day. A slow process of downloading you might say. Every day I have a new “wow” moment. You might say I’ve gone a little crazy or maybe some sort of psychosis but I’ve never felt more at home or peace with myself where I am now and it’s literally just started. How do I know? Can’t say. Don’t know because I’m not driving the car at the moment and that’s ok with me. I’m in a mental limousine.

Dare you say a spiritual awakening?

For damn sure.

The writing, walking, struggling, emotional distress, nature, meditation, four year reckoning built this up for me I have no doubt now. I devoted myself to an invisible voice that’s coming alive inside of me. Something inside of me is communicating with me. Nope not schizophrenia. It’s not voices it’s actions and subtle trail markers. Sometimes not so subtle..

It’s life changing.

Altering

It’s taking me higher than any drug has. It makes me question the right things and even better it’s allowing me to embrace the flow of life. Every thing happens for a reason, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. This isn’t recited text this is clear alignment and emotion.

I ended my reckoning last month. Not because I thought “it’s time to stop”, I was writing one morning and looked down and saw it had been written down. Yes I typed it out but I didn’t if that makes sense. All I did for about ten minutes was stare at it and cry.

I passed my fucking exam.

Automatic writing is wild.

Man I could tell you a lot more but it’s just not meant to be expressed this way. At least not at this time.

I’m still burying my ego. It gets easier everyday. This was meant to be, meant to happen. There is absolutely nothing out there that will convince me otherwise.

Are there cons? Sort of. I feel extremely lonely, not in the sense that you may think and it’s not a bad lonely just a “is there anybody else out there going through this?” I know there is, it’s more common than you think. I can see some momentum building up.

It’s “the coming of” something. I stop there only because I’ve gone far enough for now. Unplug yourself from distractions and everything else, open up your mind. It may come by and say hi. That’s what it did to me. Another con? I’m taking in so much mental data right now that I have zero urge to be creative for work. Or even work. I’m on autopilot right now.

I’ll get around to it one of these days god knows I’ve got a few sandwiches that need to be changed.

Religion isn’t necessarily wrong, it’s perspective. From my own personal perspective we’re just reading the code all wrong is all. In a literal sense. I say this with complete respect towards your beliefs. I’m not here to argue or to be the judge. I’m as far from it as you can get.

Go find your higher self. Introduce yourself to yourself.

I have a feeling more and more of you will see what I’m talking about one day. I’m not here to show you the way or convert you.

Only bringing awareness. Because that’s what it’s all about.

☮️

I had some wedding activities that compromised my “couch time” this past weekend. I’d say 75% of my day is based on ritual activities from the moment I get out of bed until the moment I return to its horizontal haven. I have at least one hour couch time when I get up that does include additional ritual routines. I meditate for 21 minutes. I sit still for 20, it takes a minute for me to unload my shoulders, face, stomach and pelvic area into a released state. After my meditation I grab my coffee that was brewing during my stillness and I’ll open up my socials, respond to some messages (this is why you may get a response at 4:45am), come up with some meaningful work post and then I’ll write until it’s time to go for my walk. So I may actually sit on my soft spot for two hours without active movement except for coffee refills. When I get home from work I wash the charcuterie off of me, say hi to my fam and from 5:45- 8:30 I’m sofa happy until bed. It used to bother me to lounge so much but I’ve chosen to spend 5 hours of my day being retired. My two days off a week I also keep the same vibe. If weather permits, I travel. If it doesn’t I’ll find a a tinker to tink to give my noodle something to reckon with. On occasion a big catering will cause me to work on my day off. When this happens I reward myself with something. It may be a small purchase that pairs well with my hobbies or I’ll take an extra day off and travel farther.

I work 45 hours a week but I consider it part time to my life. If it’s slow at work I’ll sit in my chair and relax. “If you got time to lean you got time to clean” can kiss my ass.

I’ve allocated my life to allow time to lean.

I can get a little cranky and in my feels when my rituals get opposed. One of the reasons I no longer go out aside from the fact that bars don’t do it for me anymore is I enjoy my lounge time. I like being cozy and comfy. My joints and muscles do to. So when special functions arise such as family in town or events like weddings and rehearsal dinners I get a tad cranky because I know my routines are going to change for a minute. Once I get into the groove I’m fine. It’s absolutely nothing personal y’all I despise wearing pants after 5pm. Honestly I don’t like wearing pants at all especially after the month of May in the south.

The older you get the more humidity clings to you.

Events are hard for me to enjoy because I still haven’t adjusted to socializing without a vodka in my life/hand. I’ve been transparent on here that I will still have one beer to socialize it’s my mental pacifier. Does that make a 100% sober? No. Do I give a shit what people think about that? Also no. I’ve built a routine that works for me. I’m about 90% healed after 30 years of some harsh mental environments.

I’m winning.

It’s ok to be happy for people to do what works for them. It’s why I don’t sponsor others, it’s why I don’t do AA, it’s why I do this all on my own. It’s my path.

Since I’ve gotten on the energy and vibration kick lately I’m much more aligned with reading the energy in the room. If I’m in a good spot with good people I absorb that energy into mine. As do all of us if you’re paying attention. If a place or room is full of love and positivity I’m going to radiate with it. Especially if I’m with people I care for.

I absorb, I attract, I align. The AAA club I prefer. This past weekend was full of great energy, love and beauty. I used to go to wedding functions with dread and hesitation. Nothing to do with anyone’s company it’s just the same movie over and over again. I’m in my 50s I’ve been to quite a few weddings. Only the names change.

This one was different for me. One reason being it was my daughter’s first opportunity to be a bride’s maid so I was invested. The other reason is I’m getting better at absorbing these feelings and energy at a larger level. I used to be able to read energy from individuals, now I can collect from the whole room.

I pick up laughter across the tables, I feel the warmth of love from families, I watch others smile and it goes into me and stays. It’s difficult to describe this feeling. During the wedding I could feel the energy in the room. At the reception I would walk around clusters and vibe. Almost like a magnet for emotion. I had to leave early as I always do to keep it together but I went home with a smile on my face.

It was a beautiful weekend that kept me off my sofa. It wasn’t a sacrifice of ritual patterns, it was a sponge of pure memories. Also I don’t mind having a few dozen people tell me how beautiful my daughter is.

Is it wrong to want to respond with a “duh”?

My memory banks have been updated with some mental pics that will stay with me forever. Good ones.

It took some solid time for me to learn how to not only “read the room” in the correct manner. If you’ve read some of my older blogs I mention from time to time that I’m a systems guy. By that I mean that I absorb myself into the system that surrounds my environment. It’s why the restaurant business was my personality for so long. I was absorbing its energy for three decades.

It took 5 years to shake it off

heal

cleanse

repair

But I did. But I have

Think of it as a vocational parasite, a symbiote if you will.

The wedding was beautiful and I’m still downloading all the gratitude.

Life is truly amazing. I no longer chase it. It sits on my sofa with me.

☮️

Some of you that read my journals will recognize this term I speak of them frequently now that I’ve acknowledged them for what they are.

Trail markers are my intuition instruments that I use to find the path I’m supposed to be walking on at specific times in my life. Some are obscured or indirect while others are like a giant smack in the face. Almost like walking directly into the tree that’s designated as the marker or sustains an obvious fork in the forest. I’ve been following them my entire life as you have also I just gave them a name that’s fitting for me.

Gut feelings

Attraction to things I’ve never seen or done

Ears ringing (I get these a lot)

Deja vu

Dreams of places you’ve been never been before.

Small ones such as the sun shining on a specific area or thing

A type of bird you see repeatedly in one day

A person you thought of that suddenly appears at your grocery store you frequent

When you aren’t distracted by the hundred million things that can distract you begin to focus on what your intuition intention.

Purpose

Harmony

Peace

Grounding

Vibe

Energy

It dances in front of your eyes all day everyday most of us are too “busy” to see it. I only refer to it this way because I also was too busy trying to figure things out when things were trying to show me how to be figured.

Chadcuterie was a ridiculously big trail marker. I didn’t see it as such at the time I had to recognize the patterns first which took me a few years and clarity.

I didn’t part with my old company with the idea of making charcuterie out of pizza boxes. In fact I hated making charcuterie boards. I had one at Southern for a short time and I opened Habitap with one on the menu. Both were short lived. Any order would cause the line to shut down, they were inconsistent and sold terribly. Also the food cost on them are terrible.

I’ll even push it back a little further. I created the little iconic graphic with the bearded face and sunglasses well before chadcuterie was invented. I had changed my name on IG to Bearded Gang six months before my company and I split. Why? Because I was slowly rebranding myself without even realizing it. The writing was already on the wall I just didn’t have my reading glasses on.

I happened upon a instagram story of a friend who lived in Charlotte at the time who posted a pic of a small charcuterie purchase in a plastic container. In my head I thought “huh, that’s a smart idea”, charcuterie was trending at the time and covid was still being a fickle bitch. Carry out was on my mind in fact I was focused on any food detail that didn’t come with a large dining room due to my frustration with mandates and how they affected my business. I sat with an old friend to discuss food trucks. I was scared, I never had experience with mobile food trucks trailers. I had no commissary and the few that I spoke to about commissaries turned me off to them. Another big obstacle I didn’t mention was capital. I was broke. Beyond broke. Food trucks and trailers start out around $25-$30k and that’s being loose. It also doesn’t involve start up costs for inventory, licensing etc.

When I saw the IG story I researched the company with a bottle of vodka in my hand to see what it was all about. Babe and the Butcher was the name is the establishment this might be the first time I’ve publicly stated their name. Not that I don’t think they deserve credit they most certainly do I think mentally I wanted to separate myself from them as much as I could before I did. I looked over their profile, ideas and also their press where it mentioned that style of business flourished during Covid and it got my attention.

But

I still wasn’t sold. As I mentioned previously I wasn’t a fan of charcuterie or making it. I had limited knowledge of all the different meats and cheeses and at that time I’m fairly certain I was pronouncing charcuterie as “charcutree”. I didn’t really care for it. Charcuterie didn’t resonate with me I found it stuffy and over the top.

Instagram trail markers thought I was being dense so it introduced another version of charcuterie that I could resonate with.

I’m instagram friends with Marcus Lattimore and his wife Miranda. Marcus was a fan of Southern and I was a fan of Marcus. For more than his football career I just thought he was a solid guy. His wife or maybe at the time his fiancé posted a pic of some charcuterie in a pizza box in Portland, Oregon – Cheese and Crack snack shop on her IG story. This will also be the first time I’ve mentioned this company publicly. I resonated with this aesthetic a little more. It looked fun and made charcuterie more approachable for me which was what I must’ve been looking for the whole time.

I took the name charcuterie and made it mine by simply adding the D and removing the R. Then I stuck in the graphic I had made 6 months before right where the U goes and bam I birthed the concept of Chadcuterie.

Trail marker 1 – my intuition screaming at me that it’s time for a rebranding even though I was still with my company with no intention of splitting

But

It put it in my head

Trail marker 2 – instagram story containing the thought of charcuterie as a business. It was my introduction.

Trail marker 2.5 – “ok dude we can’t make it more obvious for you so here’s the vessel you’re looking for to make it come together. Do whatever you’d like with it we got you”

I didn’t recognize these as trail markers at the time. In fact I was up to my neck in vodka and depression so I wrote it off as desperation, grasping to stay relevant. It would take several years of for me to recognize the trail markers that direct my life’s path.

I was curious for a while as to why I didn’t put up much of a fight when I parted with my company. In retrospect my intuition was telling me for six months while I was quietly rebranding myself that it was time to go. My old partner and old friend Jim completed the act. I was angry at him for years. I’ll never be able to tell him face to face that he most likely saved my life. Alchemising bitterness into love is amazing.

Thanks Jim. Your impression took a minute.

“You should get out of this business Chad it’s not good for you and your family”

Indeed

My trail marker for my sobriety btw was a single text that arrived to me while hiking in a spot where there was no internet. Sometimes trail markers will find you where nothing else can. I keep that text where it belongs, right next to my heart.

One more trail marker I’ll mention for this chapter – Birds Fly South.

When I created Chadcuterie it was meant to be temporary. I still had the urge of opening my own bar. A dive bar to be exact. I spent my off time driving around looking for real estate to host my new concept raging in my head. This dive bar would’ve been loud, in your face and chaotic. That’s where I was and that’s where I was heading like a bat out of hell. Alcohol was still my primary vibe. Shawn reached out to me in late January 2021 to ask me to do some food for his brewery. Seeing as I didn’t have much money I obliged. I stayed there until October 2023.

Complete transparency here, I was not a fan of the set up. My kitchen was small, windowless and zero hvac. My hotdog trailer I used all my chadcuterie money on was a flop. It forced me to brand chadcuterie more and push aside the mobile truck business. During the summer months I’d move my kitchen to our laundry room, I had three dorm fridges holding my inventory. I’d drive to the brewery and wait for box appointments. Sometimes for hours. I worked alone. I was used to having a batch of employees at my fingertips.

Delegating.

It hit me hard to go from three giant facilities with endless resources to a 10×10 kitchen with two broken coolers and a 300 ft walk to the parking lot to meet each customer. I won’t harp on this here I’m writing something that talks about struggle and goes into more depth. I’ll say this, spending time in that little kitchen was a 19 month long sentence of harsh humility. That’s not a knock, it became an opportunity. It also separated me long enough from the bar business to extinguish the flame for a dive bar. I had some long, hard and difficult conversations with myself. Charcuterie calls for some ridiculous early morning hours. It changed my sleeping patterns having to go into work at 5am. The more I had to do it the less reasonable working until 3am. Sobriety took care of the rest.

The deli? It conjured itself right after my sobriety. If you told me I’d be running a deli 10 years ago that Chad would’ve chuckled and told you to go f yourself. So I’ll throw in one more trail marker and older one.

November 2019, I was having a hard talk with a troublesome employee. An employee with immense talent who struggled with the bottle much worse than I at the time. He was frustrated with me for being passed yet once again for an open km position. His talent was held back by his addictions and vices. We had a heated talk out on Southern’s patio.

“Matt, where do you see yourself in 5-10 years?”

Matt- “running my own deli”

“That deli will never happen if you don’t put the bottle down” (let’s ignore the hypocrisy of that statement for now)

That was our last conversation. Matt would pass that next night. He lost his life to addiction.

So, as I was driving up the mountains not so long ago I was in little head zone of old memories and that conversation popped up.

“That deli will never happen if you don’t put the bottle down”

I started chuckling and crying at the same time. I was telling Matt that but my consciousness that was telling me the same thing I just hadn’t heard it yet. Took that trail marker 5 years to echo back. I opened the deli 5-10 years after that convo.

I see what you did there.

Find your trail markers yall they are all around you.

This is one of those where I’m start writing and hope I can from a solid journal entry. I’ve been on sandy beach lock down for the past three days. I’ve had a solid fill of sacred memory revisits from some places I haven’t been to in a while. It put me in a smooth harmonic state. Had a slight hiccup at the concert we went to I may or may not elaborate on that. Maybe some other time.

My brain takes screenshots of old memories and I’ve been comparing the old ones of my daughter at the gulf to the ones now. It’s funny how we recreate old photos and patterns when we revisit the same places over time. I’ve gotten to where I recognize these little rituals and I smile. Even though I’m on a little path to change some things in my life it’s quite alright to fall into some old past memories that bring a big smile to my face and that’s exactly what I came down here for. The gulf is full of love and energy from years of memories.

They are sacred to me. I spent three days with a genuine smile wrapped across my face and heart. I am truly grateful for what I have.

Only downside was I lost my hat and well the gulf needs to step their food game up.

Tyler Childers puts on an amazing performance. Knocked me off my feet. Literally..

The last time I was at the gulf it was to see Jimmy Buffet. I was on my first six months of sobriety and I pulled out last minute due to the temptation of drinking and the fact that I hadn’t been around a crowd in two years. It was actually three years ago on the nose.

I went back this time with a no worries about drinking and crowds aren’t so much of a bother anymore or at least I thought. Halfway through the concert I fainted.

It wasn’t that hot outside I’m fairly acclimatized to southern heat and humidity. Maybe I wasn’t used to having other people right on top of me but halfway through the concert my brain said

“You need to sit down right now”

And I did

Then it said “you’re about to experience one hell of a dizzying” as I was slowly lowering my head between my legs to get my bearings. Next thing I know I’m staring at a half dozen strangers all wide eyed and yelling “GET UP!” “WAKE UP”.

Passing out isn’t scary. This was my first time if you don’t include the old drinking nights and falling asleep as soon as you sit down. I can tell you the exact second my brain said goodnight and then 30 seconds later the dark half lit faces looking down at you like some redneck gulf tribunal. I can’t tell you anything between those 30 seconds. I remember dreaming something but can’t tell you.

After I woke up I was ushered onto a stretcher by paramedics and took my first stretcher ride out of the concert. I’ve always wanted to leave a function in a stretched vessel I guess I wasn’t specific enough. My face was hot and I was enjoying the breeze of the wheeled cot moving furiously through the crowds. I felt like a rectangular pinball bouncing off of bleachers and bystanders.

I was strapped in like Hannibal Lector.

I went from listening to Childress croon while standing on a bleacher to strapped to a gurney mid song.

I was more confused than scared. I was inside of my own vitals so I felt fine other than the continuous “wtf” bebopping in my head. I was still dizzy but completely aware that I was gliding on EMS wheels. I was fine until I saw my family’s expressions and then I got a little emotional.

I’m here the pain, heartache, suffering etc but leave my family out of it. I was too out of it to understand what my family must’ve been going through until I was pushed into a pop up trailer. My EMS crew were solid. All 6 of them. I got hooked up with some tape with little snaps on them on my legs and about 20 of them all over my chest. I would later have these littered all over the kitchen counter with half of my body hair still attached.

I was completely aware of where I was and what was going on. Answered all the questions correctly and my vitals resembled those of a very healthy 53 year old sitting on the sofa. If anything the EMS guys were scratching their heads.

Bottom line. I got hot around a large group of people, 2 hours past my bedtime after being up for 16 hours and driving for 9 of them with very little water. There may be more involved that I may be missing but I came out fine. The next day was surreal and I was tiptoed around and treated like a fragile statue but I was fine.

I am fine.

Did it scare me? Actually not in the least bit which is surprising.

Of all the things I fear death is not one of them. Nothing in my vibe or intuition tells me that I was in danger. If I could take anything back it would be the trauma I caused my family.

I did make a light joke that I can still stir some shit up without alcohol.

Something was trying to talk to me about something and came in a little hard is all. That’s how I see it.

I’m fine. Very much so. I spent the next morning walking on the beach smiling at the sunrise. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not that stubborn if my ass tries to face plant again I’ll go see someone.

But

I’ll wait another 53 years for that to reoccur again.

Let me give you some advice if you happen upon this situation of helping up someone who’s fainted

Don’t scream at them. It’s an extremely confusing moment and it’s only terrifying when you awake to total strangers with scared looks on their faces.

Don’t shake them. I almost started swinging and my neck was loose. I thought I was being mugged. My neck still hurts. I may have injured myself failing (I didn’t but you don’t know that) so don’t make it worse.

I’m grateful for everyone that wanted to help out but sometimes too many people can make things worse. I’m not mad in anyway the look on the masses faces were genuine concern.

EMS guys were top dollar. They made my ride easy.

I’ll never forget the look on my family’s faces however.

At least I got a free checkup I suppose. That counts as a doctor visit right?

Peace and elbow grease ☮️

I’m heading to the gulf tomorrow to enjoy a concert with some of my favorite people. Rarely do I go to concerts anymore they don’t host them at 5 in the afternoon which is perfect concert time for me. Staying up past 10 is a feat for me nowadays but I think I’ll manage. I haven’t been to this part of the gulf in quite some time. This particular area holds quite a bit of sacred memory for me. I am attuned to this area like a bee in a flower. No amount of trivial touristy traffic will discourage my enjoyment of this place. Also it’s very rare for me to travel and enjoy air conditioning, hot showers and soft cushioning. Most of my extended time off revolves around a little more extreme environments of less luxurious amenities. I like em both.

Balance

In my evening chat with myself last night my conversation in my head reminded me that I’m working the opposite side of the deli today. Not my normal routine that I do daily and that used to get in my head. I’ve made a couple of hundred sandwiches in Graze but I’ve never worked a shift on that side my associate Barry is Johnny on the spot with his station. I only go to back him up when it’s busy or if I want to sing songs in his ear while he works. When you work along side the same person for a decade you can build quite the odd relationship with them. Especially if it’s in a kitchen.

I’m very cozy around my own mise en place but not so much someone else’s. My muscle memory vibes better in my own environment. I know my pars. I can make a box with my eyes closed. Sandwich side on a Saturday can make for a fun time. It’s only sandwiches I’ve been in deeper shit but this would’ve made me anxious 6 months ago. Today I’m actually looking forward to it.

I can’t accurately describe to you how much of a big deal that is to me. This is a mental transmutation.

Rewiring repair.

I’ve added some replacement parts in my head that are working quite well.

It’ll be a good time. Like using the other side of your brain for an entire shift. I even added a few sandwich features to make it more of a challenge.

This is a big deal to me yall.

When I wrote “your reckoning is over” through some friendly automatic writing I’ve received some healthy mental downloads.

My pressure valve is on auto mode.

My trail markers are freshly painted.

You can repair your mental health.

Fucking facts

Tomorrow I hit 42 months of a better life. I rarely count anymore but I like when the big numbers can be consolidated into little numbers

1247 days = 42 months. I may have to play a lotto ticket on those numbers.

I feel good friends. I don’t get on Facebook as much as I used to but I like to look at my memories and read who I was for the past 15 years. Year after year I read words from the same person but only now does it sound foreign when I read them again. I feel every inch of bitterness and humor used to hide something else in my posts.

It truly is something to reflect back on your past emotions. Facebook is good for something.

As I posted recently I’m healing.

It’s 6am, I’m about to go for my morning walk but first a little quiet time for some stretching meditation.

This is me now.

I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

☮️

June 1st will mark 3.5 years since I poured a vodka over ice in a rocks glass. Haven’t had one, haven’t poured one I don’t even think I’ve held a bottle in my hand in that time. I can jump ahead a few days now I’m not concerned at this time about falling off the wagon. In fact I no longer ride the wagon or any other vessel that may hit a bump. There are no bumps for me right now I can confidently say vodka rarely even enters my mind.

I’m healing

My body feels good. For the long kitchen shifts on his feet, burns, cuts and three decades of his back holding steady on perpetually bottom dollar footwear, my body is at ease. No more 6 mile trail runs in between work shifts, trying to bust PRs up Paris Mountain, knees jarring on the downhills. His sciatica would get so inflamed he couldn’t bend his leg at the knee. Carpel tunnel from blade work and clicking tongs, flipping proteins over a fire. Shaking the oil off of fry baskets like a dog that just jumped out of the lake.

My back and hands don’t hurt like his used to. I can touch my toes now. My joints have made peace with me.

I’m healing

Depression guided his life and decisions for years. Chaos was his mantra. Self destructive behavior he wore like a badge of honor. Busy shifts where things would fall apart he threw myself into the foray taking punches in the gut while his fingers jammed holes in the leaking dam. He did it because he felt like he had to. It was a part of him.

That attitude that came with it. It was just a shield to protect me from me.

I’ve learned to focus on harmony now. The bitterness he used to have, built up enough to have its own space to reside in his head. It’s clearing out. I don’t think on the ones that hurt me anymore. They have nothing to do or relate to the person writing this now.

He never smiled much but boy do I.

I’m healing.

I refer to the old me as a separate entity. When I wrote a little yesterday I felt compelled to put him away for good. Not bury him, not slam the door in his face, not push him off a cliff because he’s me.

And man it felt good to do so. Don’t underestimate the power of your own words.

We was me. He taught me everything I know. He bore the brunt of my existence up until recently. He was my armor I no longer need.

So no I’m not burying him I’m putting him on my mental mantle to celebrate his life but move on. He did his best to keep me safe until he no longer needed to.

Not sure when we separated in fact it might’ve been just yesterday or maybe even today as I write it out ceremoniously. I just felt like it was a good time to get it out. I’ve been hanging on to the smallest part just for nostalgia reasons. Sort of like that old favorite shirt that’s just too tattered to regard anymore.

Can’t release him into the wild though he only needs quiet and peace. Thats what I’m going to give him.

I got this now bud. You can rest.

You’re healed now.

I’ve been up for 2 ish hours. Mathematics would tell you that means I awoke right around 4:13 which would be right on the nose. I don’t mind getting up at this time even if it’s my day off. I prefer to wake up early on these days it gives me the opportunity to enjoy it in its entirety. I’m a morning rituals and routine person.

I get up, turn on the shower, release the liquids still left in the tank from the night before, jump in the shower (after peeing mind you I share my tub with other inhabitants) and cleanse my body to the best of my energy at 4:15am allows me. I take two different kinds of showers. The am is more ceremonious, wake and wet. Almost like a gas station car wash. I look shiny and presentable but eh, there might be some mud hanging in the under carriage. I probably could’ve found a better analogy for that one.. What I mean by that is I use my morning shower time to wake up, light soap rinse and then I slowly turn the hot water off to until I’m shivering. No cold plunge here Rogan fans I last about 30 seconds before I give up. I’m awake though. PSA- never stand in front of a full length mirror right after the cold part of the shower.

After my shower I’ll start my coffee and do a little meditation practice while my coffee brews. Headphones on my hertz of the morning and some eye covers to keep my distractions honest. I’ll pour a glass of water, light a candle and give my water a solid blessing before I drink it. 20 minute timer on my phone is set to allow me time to scratch all the sediment on the pineal gland I’ve been talking to for the last few months. I sit for 20 minutes, completely still, eyes closed. I have a brief convo with my inside guy about how beautiful the day will be today, breath appropriately and when I’m done my coffee is ready to assist with my morning. I keep my candle lit next to my coffee cup. It keeps the fluids warm while I drink its beaningful essence. Some mornings I’ll do a yoga routine before meditation. Loosen up those Chakras for the day.

Chakra Khan let me rock you chakra khan 🎵

I’ve shortened my scroll time considerably. It used to be my first activity in the morning. Wake up to coffee and doomscrolling. That’s a word that should never be a word but here we are. I toggle my three medias back and forth depending on the context and mood. If I see too much bullshit on Facebook I’ll dip out for the rest of the day. Since I’m no longer assisting in the FB bullshit meter it’s much easier to vibe and leave. In the old days I’d post something ridiculous and watch my friends list population go up and down like Dow Jones. I no longer have the spirit for those things anymore. IG is not much better since I can go from watching a kitten befriend a baby chick and then the next reel watch a man get cut in half from rear ending a semi while trying to outrun the cops.

My brain goes from cream and sugar to vinegar and salt real fast.

I don’t mind TikTok. I’ve got my algorithms curated like a bonsai tree on there. It’s nothing but cat videos, camping, spirituality and conspiracy theories. That’s my kinda soup yall. I get my current news from TikTok too. It may not be accurate but neither are the big guys either. TikTok for the most part hasn’t been compromised enough to lose interest like everything else.

I spend an hour journaling (currently) and I’ll put my headphones on some other hertz depending on the frequency I want to frequent today. 7.83 right now. I’ve got some low beating drums in my ‘phones and lowkey chanting. Earth resonance for you folks who are inquiring.

Then I’ll go for a four mile walk. Sometimes unplugged other times trying to finish my blog while I walk. I’ve gotten to be intimate with quite a few low hanging branches while I practice this routine. Sonar would be nice.

By 8am I’ve gotten my spiritual routine done for the day. My whole ass process for the morning is part of my spiritual routine.

Cleanse first thing

I’ve done my devotion time with my meditation

My morning blessing with my water

Opened up my mind for my daily practice of peace and harmony

Grounding on my walks. If it’s clear skies I’ll stand still while the sun rises and shines on my face and smile. If I happen across a creek I’ll take off my shoes and stand in the water. If you happen to be out and about this time of morning and see me there’s a good chance you’ll see me just smiling my ass off.

Why? Because life is beautiful.

Just writing it out makes even more so. Words are used to express not to suppress.

It would seem I have detoured my old demeanor into something a tad more positive.

5 years ago I was trying to fuel the fire for three struggling restaurants. Always with a hangover riding side saddle with me. Fat liver looking like a dried misshapen cow patty. There’s a nice illustration for you.

Man, I look at that guy and smile.

Thanks dude. You bore the weight of some bad shit while I waited for you to find me. Yes I wrote this one out myself but I sort of didn’t.

You took the licks, the punches, the tears.

Take a break my friend. You’ve earned it. I’ve got it from here.

That’s a healthy way of saying goodbye to a part of you that doesn’t need to suffer anymore.

Adulation is on the rise.

Rewiring your mental health is like painting in the dark sometimes. You go into your studio while it’s dark, feel for a paint brush, a handful of acrylic paint tubes and walk around with your hands outstretched until you find the canvas. You mix your paint blindly on your palette and paint. You visualize what you want to paint and let the brush do its work. You can’t turn on the lights the only light source is the one in the back of your mind, dimly highlighting what it is you’re trying to paint. After a few weeks your studio isn’t as dark as it used to be. You no longer grope for your brushes, you know exactly where the colors on your palette lie. The canvas is exactly where you left it the day before. Your hands work around the image in your mind and projects it on the canvas.

After months and months of layers of paint, thousands of brush strokes and blind ambition, you open your eyes to see what your mind painted for you years ago in perfect condition and order. The studio was never dark.

You just had your eyes closed the whole time.

I can tell you the exact moment that light switch flipped on.

But

I’ll keep it to myself. It’s mine to keep.

Find your frequency y’all. ☮️