Tag: motivation

A Path Less Traveled – My Wild Woman Experience with Callie Russell and Jessie Krebs

Stephanie ULeave a comment

There are so many directions I can steer the conversation when someone asks me about my time spent with Callie Russell, Jessie Krebs, and our group of wild women on the water. I could lead with the fact that I almost didn’t go – my finger suspended above my phone screen as if my body had frozen in time, hovering over the registration button, apprehensive to press and commit to such an experience. Knowing damn well others would jump at this kind of opportunity. 

Why? Because I couldn’t imagine myself flying across the country and surrounding myself with a group of women I have never met before and spending a week among them. Sisterhood is a foreign concept to me. I’m a creature of solitude with no happy medium – you either remain at surface level as an acquaintance or you become like family. And I can count the latter on only two hands. Either scenario, connections don’t come easy for me. But that’s a long, drawn out story for another time. 

I knew if I did this, I would make damn sure to show up as myself, however uncomfortable that might be for me. I’m in the thick of it – the work to de-program and unravel from the carefully crafted and carved out model of the woman I spent 38 years tweaking and fine-tuning in order to present as the best version to fit in and belong. And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I would squander this experience by slipping back into that false form just because it was the familiar and easy thing to do. I’ve spent too many years living her life, not mine. That thought alone, letting the real Steph stand up, almost paralyzed me into inaction – so strong it overrode the chance to meet and learn from someone I highly revered. What would she think of me? What would they all think of me? Could I do all the things they were set to teach us? Was I fooling myself, thinking I belonged? Maybe. Maybe not. But I would never know if I didn’t take a chance on this. Take a chance on myself. 

I could also begin with a shameless admission that I have been an ALONE series fanatic since the first season aired. I would be lying if I said the idea of meeting both Callie and Jessie while also having the chance to learn from both of them at the same time, in the same place, didn’t excite the shit out of me. It did. For the first day or so, it felt as if I had walked into some alternative reality. 

Honestly, it still feels surreal to me, having spent a week with Callie whom I have looked up to for years… someone I admire, someone who inspires me, and someone who has motivated me to think more profoundly about my life and how I live it. And that was before I even met her. That feeling is now multiplied tenfold – having the opportunity to spend time with her, learn from her, have her share her skills with me, and witness first hand how she experiences life.

Both of these women are a force of nature in their own respective right. I can go on and on about the sheer wealth of knowledge and experience between them when it comes to survival, wilderness living, and ancestral skills. Individually… collectively… your head will spin with all they have to share. I know mine did. Each subject we discussed and practiced could have been a course in and of itself – taught as an individual subject in a week’s time, maybe longer – but we only had a week to cover all that we could.

I found myself scribbling chaotic notes in my journal, sneaking keywords in the margins to remember things of importance or topics of further exploration. I did my best to keep it more coherent, less hieroglyphic, while simultaneously attempting to give them my full attention. My phone was merely a tool for further documentation or a camera to capture stolen moments in between. 

The way in which both Jessie and Callie spoke and interacted with us during our time with them is what stuck out to me most. They led with patience and grace in their guidance and teachings. Their words were filled with such pride and passion as they shared their wisdom and lived experiences. And yet, both women were entirely void of ego, sharing and teaching from a place of immense humbleness. It only made me respect and admire them that much more. Their humanity, their humility, their vulnerability is something I will never forget. There is no denying it, they live for the lives they lead. 

We often romanticize the idea of living off grid and disconnecting from society without really considering what it takes – not only physically but mentally and emotionally. We daydream about what it would be like to make that choice – to make a lifestyle shift so brazen, so far removed from the comfort and convenience of our modern world, that we are no longer part of the mainstream. We choose the path less traveled. With Callie, there is no dipping a few toes into that life, or skirting around its perimeter, half in the wild, half out. She’s all in. And has been for most of her life. What you see on ALONE is only the tip of the iceburg. Her connection to the land, to the plants, to the animals… it’s Otherwordly. It’s everything you imagine it to be and more. It’s genuine and from a heart place. A soul place. So much deeper than how most of us in today’s world see and experience life. Having the opportunity to experience life as she lives it, was such a privilege. I’m filled with immense gratitude. And I know I am better for it.  

We are also often confident and cocky in our ability to survive if we find ourselves lost or injured out in the wilderness. We feel we would know exactly what to do and how to act – in order to be rescued, in order to keep ourselves alive, in order to protect ourselves. Bold of us to believe it true, especially without knowledge or practice. Jessie removes the bravado and replaces it with reality. In life or death situations, the choices you make matter – IMMENSELY. Being prepared, not panicking, and knowing what to do (and what not to do) is ultimately what will save you or cost you your life. If society collapsed and life as we knew it broke out into some apocalyptic hellscape, and I had the option to call in a lifeline, it would be to Jessie. Anywhere on this earth, if someone is to survive for the long haul, it’s her. Fuck Bear Grylls. So much of what we see on TV plays to the pomp and circumstance of viewer entertainment, not backed by decades of training, leadership, and countless experiences surviving out there in some pretty desolate, dangerous, and remote places. Jessie is strength and feminitity fashioned into the ultimate badass.

This experience could be intimidating for anyone – on many levels and for many reasons. But Callie and Jessie’s approach was to show up for our group not only as leaders, but as mentors, as friends, and most importantly, human beings who genuinely cared about encouraging and uplifting the women around them, ensuring that each individual’s learning experience was meaningful as well as comfortable, regardless of their experience level with wilderness living or survival. 

They are the real deal. They practice what they preach. They are experts in their respective fields and in this way of life. They’re influencers no doubt. They just happen to influence primarily off-screen. Both women actively choose to live their lives in stark contrast to mainstream America and yet… live lives so rich in wealth of a different kind of currency. And it shows – in their passion, in their personalities, in their outlook and mindsets, in their values and beliefs, and in the ways in which they choose to share their wisdom and their lives with those who are willing to learn. 

But if you were to ask me what was that “something” out of the many possible things that I could take away from this experience, aside from a better understanding of survival, wilderness living, and ancestral skills, it would be this:

LEARNING HOW TO LIVE

Understanding how that statement means so much more than just a concept. As we breathe, we live. Each day we wake, we go on to live our lives. Each day we choose what that life looks like, feels like, and how it plays out – in repetition or spontaneity. How we spend our years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds. We either make it count, or we don’t. 

Therefore, we must ask ourselves, whose life are we living? Is it ours? Are we living it well? Are we living it true to ourselves? Are we merely surviving? Are we only existing? Are we just going through the motions? Are we healthy? Are we happy? If not, might there be a different way? What are the values and beliefs we hold sacred and are we acting upon them? 

Though we may be alive, have we learned how to live?

Not just in theory, concepts, metaphors, or dreams… but in action and practice.

What do we want out of life?

What are we longing for?

What are we searching for?

What does a life well lived mean to us?

Can we change our stars?

I spent a week living in the extreme version of what I long for: less stuff and living closer to nature – and not just in proximity. It fueled the fire of my want and wish to simplify my life in such a way that I am left richer in body, in mind, and in spirit. I will be better for it. And in turn, nature will be better for it too.

I left Montana and came home with all the possibilities – how I can take what I value and what I want for my life and start to put it into practice. Make more calculated moves in the direction in which I want to go. I also left Montana knowing that a drastic and immediate change might not be possible. We all can’t just up and quit our jobs, spend months hiking the PCT or the AT to find ourselves, take a year to travel the world and Eat, Pray, Love, or upend our lives as we know them to begin. Not everyone has the luxury to explore themselves and their lives outside of the one they are currently living. But I believe we can start right where we’re at. And that is exactly what I plan to do – gradually moving in the direction of my own true North – transforming my dreams and ideas into my real life.

I know this trail that I am walking down is drawing me nearer to a life well lived. The universe is pushing and pulling me to the places and people who I should cross paths with. And I trust it and myself to take me where I want to go.

And all that I learn along the way I hope to share – for others who might seek the same – shining a tiny headlamp to illuminate a path we might all someday walk together – leading us towards a different way of living, of being, of experiencing this life. Living closer to ourselves. Living closer to nature. Redinifing community through our relationship with wild places and beings.

Funny thing, what began as my biggest fear, turned out to be my biggest triumph. I never felt so sure of my place, of my beliefs, of my values, of my passion and purpose, of all the things I have spent my life searching for only to end up feeling like I don’t quite fit anywhere in this modern world – a stray piece from an entirely different puzzle thrown into the box and expected to conform. 

This feeling of connectedness, of belonging, of alignment – to the person, to the wild, to the life I want to be living – it never felt as strong as it did when I woke each morning and stepped out into those trees from my tent, filling my mug with coffee, and having Callie top it off with fresh goat’s milk. The morning I had to pack up and leave, I grappled with an intense pull to stay alongside the longing to get back to my home to the ones I love. For the first time in my life, I felt at home in a place that wasn’t my own. I felt drawn and connected to people and place with ease. 

Until now, my deepest, truest feelings were kept private. My spiritual beliefs were practiced and spoken of only from the comfort of my own home. To say out loud that I yearn to take all of these things and step more firmly into them and to finally admit to myself that yes, this is it. THIS IS IT RIGHT HERE.

It was like 10,000lbs of weight and 38 years of feeling lost, alone, and unsure had just vanished – POOF – into the cool, crisp air of a Montana morning as the sun rose over the mountains. It is there where I shed my doubts along with my bathing suit, feeling the soft sand squish beneath my feet. The truth was as invigorating as the river water that enveloped me, the cold of it shocking me straight into my body, holding me there in the present moment. There was only me. There was only here and now. And in that here and now, that truth was as bare as my skin and as naked as my body. I let it wash over me as I sunk down below the surface, fully submerged. Water and truth collided with my skin, startling my nervous system and my mind. I gasped from the sudden cold and this split second epiphany that hit me like a freight train out of nowhere, as I filled my lungs with the deepest breath of wild air as my heart raced faster and faster. I have never felt more alive. Never. And like a drug, I want to chase that feeling. Not just for a moment, not for a day, not for a week, but for the whole of my life – however many days I have left to live it and live it well. I want the wild on the outside to match the wild on my inside. 

My life was already changing before I met Callie, Jessie, and this crazy, beautiful group of wild women. Only now, I have a clearer line of sight to this focal point in the distance. I’ve got my internal Direction of Travel pointed straight at it. It doesn’t take me in the direction of the Earth’s True North, no. Instead, it directs me to my own. Some magnetic pull towards a place that neither you or I will find on any map. In order to get there, I must follow my gut. I must let my heart lead the way. It is the compass that will orient me. I must pay attention to the call of the wild. And not just listen to that call, but answer it. 

Thank you will never be enough to express the appreciation, gratitude, respect, and reverance I have for Callie and Jessie. And I will never forget a single wild woman that was there to share this experience alongside of me. The individual gifts they shared are priceless, just by being who they are. All the special moments we shared are so beautiful and special to me. And another first in my life, is leaving Montana now knowing what sisterhood truly feels like. And I can’t thank you enough for showing me a glimpse of what is possible – finding community in wild women and wild places.

TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT CALLIE: https://www.caprakhan.com/

TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT JESSIE: https://www.owlsskills.com/about

a force of nature.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

We might feel as if there aren’t many places, spaces, or faces that can withstand the kind of waves that build up inside of us.

Anger.

Grief.

Melancholy.

Anxiety.

Suffering.

Loss.

Emotions so vast and colossal that they form a tsunami – capsizing our lives as we know it.

When we feel like we’re drowning in the depths of our own deep sea, when we feel like erupting under the pressure of our own seismic activity, when we feel like cracking wide open after a fracture in our own crust, nature recognizes this wild force we have become, even if no one else does.

May we spill our heartbreak on the forest floor, our tears like raindrops falling and soaking into the soft earth, the rich tapestry beneath our bare feet absorbing our sadness and pain.

May we scream our fury across the tops of mountains, our rage like a gust of wind, carrying our hurt across the expanse as if it were some feathered beast of burden, a wingspan so large it blots out the sun.

May we whisper our worries to the trees, stoic companions resolute in their counsel and confidentiality, always listening without interruption. They recognize our trepidations and advocate for the sharing of all that we leave unspoken.

May we wash our grief away in the swirls and sweeps of a river flowing. May we submerge our sorrow below the surface of a tranquil lake so still that it reflects the sky in mirror image. May we sink our misery down beneath the scrubby plush of peat moss and boot-stealing muck of the swamp lands.

May we tap into the wild consciousness of creation. Unplug from the Matrix of a conditioned society and choose instead to link up to the feral and untamed mycorrhizal network that connects all things.

May we weave ourselves through the rugged fabric of the earth, intertwining our threads with the other-than-human – fungi and root, soil and sun, water and mineral, plant and animal – life sustaining energy and forces.

It is the great gift of right relationship – to have nature know you better than you might know yourself. Let the land, the sky, the trees, the water, and all who exist in these wild elements hold space for you.

May nature validate all that we feel inside, even when we do not – no matter how cumbersome, how relentless, how challenging, how exhausting, how formidable, how tempestuous. Lay it down. Let it out. Nature knows what you should not carry alone. Perhaps, nature knows what we need even when we do not.

The wild is the one place where we do not have to pretend to be okay.

Where we do not have to have all the answers.

Where we do not have to just get over it.

Nature will see and experience you at your wits end,

at your wildest….

and just let you be.

In the wild silence, may we find our voice.

In wild spaces, may we give fashion and form to our unspoken things.

In our own wild nature, may we find ourselves.

bird’s eye view.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

I had to go up.

Because up is where I feel small.

In the best way possible.

Up is where I am humbled.

Surrounded on all sides by immense beauty.

I am infinitesimal in comparison to places like this.

A tiny dot.

A blip in time.

And my ego was checked somewhere mid-ascent of this 80 degree incline.

Here, is also where I am reminded of who I am.

A loner.

A wanderer.

A wild one.

Content with disappearing into the great expanse.

To go unnoticed in nature, is an art form.

To draw attention away, not towards.

Unlike society, wallflowers are much obliged in the wild.

Most conversations are had without speaking a word.

Revelations are kept close to the heart.

Worries are carried up and away on the wind.

Secrets sink deep into the forest floor.

No one cares what I have to say here,

how I look,

how I present myself,

or what I’m wearing.

There are no humans to be found.

Only feathered friends.

I am joined by three Bald Eagles, swooping up and over the mountain, just above my head. So close that their shadows blot out the sun for a brief moment and I am left mouth ajar, marveling at this magical experience. It’s the closest I have ever been to an eagle in flight.

Nature knows who I am.

She bores right through my center.

There is no fooling her.

I go to her when I need a wake up call. A reminder. A confirmation. Because peeling back the layers of societal programming is a long, arduous, and jarring process. Confusing, too. This strange compulsion to continue on as I think I should, as I was told I should, but not as who I am. Cramming myself into some made up ideal to appease the masses and conform to a structured normalcy, even if it doesn’t work for me.

I am digging myself out of this deep trench, from decades of insecurity, mistrust, doubt, and inferiority being shoveled so high upon me – from a life that left me wanting to be anyone but myself. I am surely and steadily unbecoming all that I became so I can step back in to who I already was.

And I will not find her in most places that people tend to go looking.

be notorious.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

Comfortable is some dry ass dusty soil in a long forgotten terra cotta pot in the corner of a room with no sunlight that hasn’t been watered in ages and has left your leaves and stems all shriveled up, droopy and sad, flower petals scattered on the floor.

Comfortable is where life goes to die.

YOU CAN’T GROW THERE.

Once you start living outside the confines of your own safe zone and you stop trying to protect and preserve the safe zones of those around you by setting healthy boundaries and speaking your truth, a lot of folks are going to take up issue with it. They’re not going to like it. They’re going to have lots to say. They’re going to get all up in arms.

It might trigger in them, all the things that have yet to address within themselves. Being comfortable with being uncomfortable isn’t easy. Your calm response to their emotional reaction will bewilder them, enrage them even. They might get defensive. Dismiss the conversation. Shut down and walk away. Gaslight you. Guilt you. Shame you. Deflect. Ignore. Smear campaign your name.

Remember: YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR BEHAVIOR OR THEIR REACTION.

They might claim you are “mean”. They might find you “intimidating”. Too confident. Too bold. Too much. They might even think you a b!tch or an assh0le because you set boundaries, hold space for difficult topics, are open to honest communication, and refuse to deal with bullsh!t, including your own. That’s alright.

They might even try to knock you down a few pegs… put you back where they think you belong, so that they can resume their own version of comfortable and where you fit in that scenario.

DO NOT LET THEM.

Go on. Destroy your reputation. It’s okay. It’s going to happen. Even when you’re professional, even when you’re respectful, even when you choose the high road, even when you refuse to take the bait when someone is trying to get a rise out of you. Just hold steady.

If you ask me….

I’d much rather be NOTORIOUS than “NICE”.

How about you?

outside the box.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

I want you to step outside the box. Not just think outside of it, no. Like crawl right on out from it, kick it to the side, then take a match to it.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired as hell of pulling pre-assembled boxes off the assembly line – with their neat, little labels already slapped on – and living out of them. Trying to cram and fit myself into them. Because it’s normal. Because it’s accepted. Because they told us to. Because someone out there is threatened by the fact that you DON’T want to be in the box.

As a kid, it’s perfectly acceptable to color outside the lines. We praise kiddos for doing the damn thing – like anything they want. Scribbles. Half-finished. Something else drawn on top of what’s there. A one color wonder or too many colors to count. You catch the drift.

The same rule doesn’t seem to apply to adults. But it should. We’re judged on precision, color scheme, accuracy, and attention to detail. There is no room for creativity, abstract thought, or personal artistic interpretation. We only seem to be praised by the norm – what is considered widely and generally accepted by the majority. To live outside the lines, well, that simply just won’t do.

You should want to be normal.
You should want to fit in.
You should want to do what everyone else is doing.
You should want to think and feel what everyone else does.
You should want to have what everyone else has.
You should want out of life what everyone else does.
You should care about the same things they do.
You should care about what those people think of you.

Look the same. Love the same. Live the same. Believe the same. Think the same. Act the same. Educate the same. Heal the same. Grieve the same. Grow the same. Work the same. Want the same. Do the same.

But here’s the thing,
WE AREN’T THE SAME.

You will be judged for coloring outside the lines.

Do it anyway.

You will be ridiculed, misunderstood, envied, bullied, threatened, rejected, called out, guilted, shamed, thwarted, gossiped about, secretly coveted while outwardly having insecurities vomited upon you – all when you choose to step out of that box and over those imaginary lines.

DO IT ANYWAY.

Because there is not a damn person out there who knows how to put color to your life like you do.

Your creative freedom, your creative expression, is your truth. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you aren’t a masterpiece of your own design. We’re not meant to be perfect, just real.

Live confidently and unapologetically as you, squiggly lines and all. Fuck those people. Kick ’em to the curb alongside those boxes. Just don’t take a match to them, that would be frowned upon.

make it count.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

Our lives are strung together by seconds, minutes, and hours. Days, weeks, months, and years. Boxes to check marked by age and gender – dictated to us to be the norm. Deadlines to meet – forged by societal expectations instilled upon us since birth. College by X. Career by X. Marriage by X. Babies by X. Homeowner by X. We may impose expectations on ourselves that come from some voice within, influenced by the above, centering on words like, “success”, “achievement”, “status”, “wealth”, “affluence”, “worthy”, “accomplished”, “important”, and “majority”. 

Sometimes, parents and prominent figures play a role too, putting us on a fast track to somewhere they want us to go or someone they want us to be. They can also set us up for failure or throw us off our own course, knowingly or unknowingly. Often, we find generational cycles of trauma repeating. Either way, some ways, or all ways, woven into the fabric of our lifetime are the choices we make that determine our course – influenced by nature, nurture, and all that surrounds us as decisions are made and actions are taken.

There are decades that make us and seconds that can break us. There are moments gone in a flash while others seem to drag on endlessly. All the while, time ticks on – unaware that living things only have so much of it to use. Time doesn’t know that a lot of us may squander it, that most of us long for more of it, that work shouldn’t be the brunt of it, that at times we fear it, that we don’t always know what to do with it, that we think we have enough of it, that quality should lie before it, or that might wish to turn it back when we feel like we fucked it up or took it for granted. 

In our youth, we rush time. Hurry up to grow up.

In young adulthood, we underestimate time. It’s infinite and on our side.

In our midlife, we chase time. So much to do and so little time in the day to do it. 

In old age, we question time. How much of it is left for us? 

“I can’t go back.” 

“I can’t start over.”

“I can’t do this again.”

“I can’t change who I am.” 

“I can’t undo what I’ve already done.”

I’ve heard these lines so many times, most often in my own voice. And all but one are a lie.

You have the time. Right here. Right now.

To leave a toxic, unhappy, or unfulfilling relationship or job.

To cease a joyless pursuit.

To start a new career.

To write a book.

To go back to school.

To play an instrument.

To ask for help and support.

To fall in love.

To take that adventure.

To pursue a passion.

To climb that mountain. 

To chase our dreams. 

To reinvent ourselves.

To break some rules.

To let go of expectations, ours and theirs.

To break down walls.

To heal.

To end generational cycles.

To look fear in the face.

To live life the way we want to.

If we don’t know how much time we have left, how do we know we’re too late? Guess what? We don’t. No one can turn back time. We know this. None of us can go back to start over, at least not in this lifetime. But what if we started from here? Today. Now. Tomorrow. This week. We can change the ending by grabbing a hold of the present narrative. Only our past is locked in. And that’s okay. We’re not meant to turn back time. We’re meant to live out the time before us.

We all have a clock. Grab its hands. Make it count.

denial island

Stephanie ULeave a comment

Denial is an island.
One we like to escape to,
frequently.
And sometimes,
some of us,
become permanent residents.

Denial island is easy to find,
and much harder to abandon.
Like Hotel California,
it lets you check out any time you like,
but most will never leave.

One of my earlier tattoos, back when I still had more naked skin than inked, was a modified quote by Henry David Thoreau. The original is from Walden, Chapter 18, and it reads, “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” Mine was taken from the 2007 movie Into the Wild where Emile Hirsch’s character paraphrases Thoreau, “Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness, give me truth.” I liked the extended version, so that’s what I chose. Faith and fairness tend to skew, bend, and abandon truth just as much as the rest.

If life taught me anything up until that point, it was that truth was an endangered species. Rare to catch a glimpse of anywhere out there, even amongst the ones you loved. Sometimes, especially so.

Denial is a fickle bitch. It offers an abundance of comfort. It is there, in that safe guarded place, where we can remain in our false sense of security. We don’t have to face hard and difficult things there. Painful things. It is there where we can defend what we choose to believe, what we prefer to see, what we wish to be.

It is there, where we wrap ourselves up so tight and warm in the alternative narrative of our choosing. A narrative that helps us to justify and excuse our behavior. Or justify and excuse the behavior of others. A narrative that helps us place blame elsewhere so we don’t have to hold ourselves accountable. A narrative that helps us to see the world the way we want to, not the way it really is. See ourselves and others the way we want to, not the way we really are.

Denial island protects us from fear, from failure, from grief, from sadness, from reality. It also helps us to integrate into our families, our relationships, our careers, our religious beliefs, and our social circles, in the normalized dominant way we are presented with. Despite how opposite our authentic self and beliefs are to those things.

When I first read Thoreau’s quote, and then heard it again when I watched Into the Wild for the first time, it struck a deep cord.

Thoreau goes on to write, “I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendence, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board.”

TRUTH – that which lies beyond us, far away from the superficialities of daily life.

TRUTH – that which is a mantle built above status, above wealth, above fame, above material possessions, above the faith we believe in, and yes, even above love. To me, truth is love, even when it seems unkind.

And the lies we tend to tell ourselves are much more painful than the lies we are granted from the mouths of others. To deny ourselves truth, especially our own, is the ultimate travesty.

Years back, on the day those words became permanent on my own body, I promised to leave denial island. It would be a lie to say I haven’t washed up on its shores since then, stayed awhile, and then left once more. But never again, would I choose to be stuck there.

I did not want to walk through this life with rose-colored glasses and kaleidoscope eyes. I chose to see myself clearly. Others clearly. Life clearly. And that includes the pain and the harshness that come with being alive, with being in love, with living true to yourself. And the ultimate truth that change is forever a constant, and loss is inevitable. But to me, an uncomfortable truth will always be more valuable than a reassuring lie.

Like Thoreau, I longed to live beyond, far and away from the superficialities of daily life. I desired wealth of a different kind. And rich in truth, I would become – at the expense of a great many things. First and foremost, the comfort I had been so comfortable in.

I didn’t want to look in the mirror and lie to myself.
I didn’t want to look in the eyes of others and lie to them.
I didn’t want to leave this world living a lie of any kind (if I could help it).

Why stay frozen in comfort when I could run towards truth?
My truth.
Your truth.
The truth of the society.
The many truths of this life.

With truth, we shed expectations.
With truth, we learn awareness.
With truth, we find acceptance.
With truth, we abandon validation.
With truth, we seek authenticity.
With truth, we relinquish the ego.
With truth, we evolve and transform.
With truth, we heal and repair.
With truth, we discover ourselves.
With truth, we break free.

I would rather dine with the man who lives in the hollow tree and speak in all manners of truth, than feast in some great hall overflowing with superficial falsehoods and idle virtues, no matter the company.

Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness, give me truth.