Hi Friends,

The subtitle to my new book It’s Okay is A Book of Permissions. So I’ve got permission slip energy moving through me these days. You don’t need me to give you permission to do anything, of course, but you may need to give it to yourself.

I got up early this morning, straightened up the kitchen as I always do to start the day, sat down on the sofa and fell into the You do not have to zone. It’s an empowering zone. Permission to not do what we’ve been told and believed we need to do in order to be a good person. Whatever that means.

I would love for you to add to this list some of your own You do not have tos, and we’ll offer each other and ourselves a bunch of permission slips that will ultimately (hopefully) lead to more peace, joy, and alignment in our lives.

You do not have to be the same person you’ve long been.

You do not have to like the same things you’ve always liked.

You do not have to laugh at the same jokes you no longer (or never did) find funny.

You do not have to obsess over the news to be a compassionate person.

You do not have to smile because someone expects you to.

You do not have to maintain friendships that feel like shit.

You do not have to take advice from people who don’t know what they’re talking about (or from people who do).

You do not have to finish any book you’re not vibing with.

You do not have to answer the phone, reply to the text, or listen to the voicemail.

You do not have to want the things you’ve been conditioned to want.

You do not have to look a certain way to be beautiful.

You do not have to deprive yourself of joy.

You do not have to be right.

You do not have to know.

You do not have to have your shit figured out by now.

You do not have to stay when you are ready to leave.

You do not have to keep producing if it’s making you miserable.

You do not have to need an excuse to rest.

You do not have to understand every feeling.

You do not have to make sense to other people.

You do not have to be over it already.

You do not have to keep saying yes just because you’ve said it before.

You do not have to keep saying no just because you’ve said it before.

You do not have to hold on to a dream to which you no longer really feel connected.

You do not have to keep performing an inauthentic version of yourself.

You do not have to keep pretending.

This is a list that can go on and on, and I hope you’ll help it do so. Share a thing or three that you want us to know we do not have to do.

Leave a comment

As we notice ourselves doing something that doesn’t really feel that good to do, that doesn’t feel honest, or authentic, or uplifting, or aligned, maybe we can get in the habit of asking ourselves a simple question: Do I have to do this?

If the answer is no, and if we can find the courage to stop doing the things we don’t have to do (which we’re likely to find is most things), we’ll probably begin giving more energy to doing more of what we do want and need to do.

I’m tired of performing, and pretending. Aren’t you?

Good news: we don’t have to.

Sending you all so much love.

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events

DETROIT FRIENDS: Join me on Wednesday, August 19th, at Affirmations Community Center in Ferndale, for the official Book Launch of It’s Okay.

Other News

• The ebook version of my books, Enough as You Are and Big Love, are still on sale for just $0.99 on Amazon, so grab em while they’re cheap.

• I joined Pinterest recently. If you’re thinking, Wait, Pinterest still exists?, then you’re like I was about ten days ago. Then I learned that it can be a great resource for sharing my writing and making people aware of my books. We’ll see. If you’re on there already, you can find me at https://www.pinterest.com/writerscottstabile/

Hi Friends,

Okay first I want to remind you all that I have a new book out. It’s called It’s Okay: A Book of Permissions. I keep imagining those of you who read it being overcome by a growing sense of self-acceptance as you make your way through the pages. Like you may actually embrace the idea of being okay with all aspects of your humanity. Like you may find yourself feeling a bit more peaceful about yourself, a bit more generous with your self-compassion. That’s my vision anyway. My hope.

If you click HERE, it will take you to my website with some ordering options. Please consider buying, reviewing, and spreading the word about It’s Okay. I self-published this one and welcome all and any help getting it out there to more people. For those of you who have already bought it, thank you so much. It means a lot that you support my work, and that my work supports you in a good way.

Let me know what some of your favorite pages/passages are. Where do you need to be reminded that it’s okay?

Leave a comment

In the above audio, I read an excerpt from It’s Okay, and then dive a little deeper into the themes brought up in the excerpt. If attachment to victimhood is something you’ve struggled with—and I suspect most of us have to varying degrees—or if you’re someone who is quick to judge others who present as victims, this may be a helpful listen.

Here’s the excerpt, but you’ll need to listen to the recording to get the deep dive:

It’s okay to move through life like a victim, to let the actions of others shape how you see yourself, and to allow unfair circumstances and past traumas to influence how you show up in the world. It’s okay to believe that bad things always happen to you, and to feel too discouraged to try changing anything because nothing ever seems to work out anyway. Just remember that living from a victim mindset can make it nearly impossible to reclaim your agency and create the changes you long for. You are not responsible for everything that has happened to you, but you are responsible for how you choose to respond to it. You can honor your pain without letting it define you. And it is never too late to grow in self-love, to reclaim your power, to question catastrophic thinking, to explore new ways of meeting your needs, and to decide who you want to be despite the suffering you’ve endured. You may have been the victim of cruel circumstances, but that doesn’t have to be the story of your life. Unless you choose it to be.

As always, I welcome and appreciate your comments. How did this land for you? Anything else you feel is important to add? Let us know.

Leave a comment

I feel it’s important to be real with who we are and what we’re going through, while at the same time recognizing our agency in creating change. The more connected we stay to our personal power, the more likely we are to trust in and utilize it to create more fulfilling shifts in our reality.

I believe in us.

Thank you so much for being here.

And please, if you’ve read It’s Okay, (thank you so much!) take a moment to leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. I appreciate it!

Big Big Love to you all.

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events

DETROIT FRIENDS: Join me on Wednesday, August 19th, at Affirmations Community Center in Ferndale, for the official Book Launch of It’s Okay.

Other News

• The ebook version of my books, Enough as You Are and Big Love, are still on sale for just $0.99 on Amazon, so grab em while they’re cheap.

• I joined Pinterest recently. If you’re thinking, Wait, Pinterest still exists?, then you’re like I was about ten days ago. Then I learned that it can be a great resource for sharing my writing and making people aware of my books. We’ll see. If you’re on there already, you can find me at https://www.pinterest.com/writerscottstabile/

Hi Friends,

Something bit me on the inside of my forearm a few nights ago, I think while I was sleeping. Pretty sure it was a spider. The next night I woke up around 3am because the bite was itching terribly. So much so that I couldn’t go back to sleep and instead pondered the certainty that I’d been bitten by a brown recluse and that the flesh on my arm was going to start dissolving from the spider’s poison and I would ultimately need my arm amputated to stop the spread.

None of this happened of course. At least not yet! The bite still itches a bit but appears to be healing. All is well. If you don’t count the workings of my mind.

I have had the honor this month of spending time with two different loved ones after two different major surgeries. Surgeries from which they are still recovering, and will still be recovering for some time before being back to normal. A new and improved normal for both of them. That’s the hope. That’s the visualization. That’s the very real possibility.

They have both had to face intense fears about their health, about the limitations of their bodies, about their futures. And I spent hours awake thinking about how I’d manage tennis and pickle ball with one arm because of an insect bite. It’s tough to say who’s had it worse.

There’s an obvious segue I hadn’t planned to make but is too perfect not to make and also gives me the opportunity to talk about my new book, It’s Okay, which I had planned to do but not in this way. Anyhoo, here’s the passage that came to mind after writing about my near-death experience above:

It’s okay to be a hypochondriac, whether you acknowledge it or not. You’re just highly attuned to your body and being cautious, right? Don’t fret over the fact that you self-diagnose via online searches several times a day. You have plenty to fret over, given all those calamitous self-diagnoses. Whooping cough. Consumption. Trench foot. It’s terrifying being human. Most people are unaware that a stubbed toe can lead to gangrene. Not you—you know all about gangrene. Just remember that the internet specializes in extremes, not probability, and that WebMD will rarely suggest you’re fine. It’s wise to be vigilant about your health, but constant surveillance may be creating more anxiety than peace. Most days end far less catastrophically than the mind predicts. You’re here and alive, so remember to give at least as much energy to the pleasures of living as you do to the threats of sickness and death.

The whole point of the book is to bring acceptance to the things we typically judge and shame about ourselves. To offer a consistent reminder that whatever is going on is human and okay. And that you are not alone in what you’re thinking and feeling.

I sure as hell know I’m not the only part-time hypochondriac out here. How many of you, given the innocuous…I mean harrowing…circumstance I endured, would have been planning your life with only one arm too?

If you’re feeling it, share a time you may have slightly overreacted to something physical happening with your body. Really, it’s okay.

Leave a comment

Another passage from the book comes to mind. It’s related to what I shared above but comes at it from a different angle.

It’s okay to worry. And that’s a good thing, because you’re a champion catastrophizer. What and if are your two favorite words, especially when paired to start a foreboding question. There’s no worst-case scenario you haven’t considered. Even zombies are low-level threats in your apocalypse—that’s how fucked things get when you write the future. Just remember that your mind may think it knows what’s coming, but the truth is, no one does. While you’re poring over all those dreaded what-ifs, try flipping the script: What if things fall into place more easily than I expect? What if everything works out just fine? What if, somehow, I really will be okay? Even if things don’t go smoothly, you’re capable of handling far more than your mind believes. Still, most of your worst-case scenarios will never actually happen. And if the zombies do show up, you’ll be ready. That’s what all this catastrophizing was for.

What I continue to learn is that it’s not necessary to deny what’s going on in order to stay open to more beneficial possibilities. At any time we can flip the script. We can reframe the anxieties, the fears, the what-ifs, and make ourselves available to more positive outcomes. Not because we’re delusional (I mean, sometimes we are) but because we realize we don’t have to stay committed to envisioning nightmares all the time.

A dear friend suffered for years from a debilitating panic disorder. She went to the emergency room several times believing she was dying—from a heart attack, or a stroke, or a who knew what. She once bit into an apple that tasted funny and became convinced she’d been poisoned. Another trip to the emergency room.

When she eventually learned how to live with her anxiety in a way that no longer overwhelmed her, and no longer found herself in ambulances and emergency rooms, I asked her what had changed. I kept not dying, she said. Something in her clicked that it really was all in her head.

(For the sake of this essay, I greatly oversimplified her experience here. She also went to therapy and took medication, and put a lot of energy and intention into healing. And, the realization of I kept not dying felt equally powerful to her at the time.)

Sometimes the worst-case scenarios do happen. Most of the time they don’t. Remembering that can help create a little more peace within the catastrophizing. And, it’s absolutely okay if you find yourself spinning out. That’s part of being human.

We can hold it all. We are oceans, not bathtubs. Why not practice at holding whatever it is we’re holding—fear, excitement, anxiety, obsession, everything else—without judgment and shame?

It feels so much better to remind ourselves that it’s okay.

Big Big Love to you all.

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events

DETROIT FRIENDS: Join me on Wednesday, August 19th, at Affirmations Community Center in Ferndale, for the official Book Launch of It’s Okay.

Other News

• The ebook version of my books, Enough as You Are and Big Love, are still on sale for just $0.99 on Amazon, so grab em while they’re cheap.

• I joined Pinterest recently. If you’re thinking, Wait, Pinterest still exists?, then you’re like I was about ten days ago. Then I learned that it can be a great resource for sharing my writing and making people aware of my books. We’ll see. If you’re on there already, you can find me at https://www.pinterest.com/writerscottstabile/

A quickie for the weekend.

The kindle versions of my books Enough as You Are and Big Love are on sale right now for just $0.99. A buck a book.

You can get both those books plus It’s Okay in paperback and still spend under 20 bucks. Please spread the word.

Here’s a taste from each book:

Order your $0.99 copy of BIG LOVE here.

Order your $0.99 copy of ENOUGH AS YOU ARE here.

Order your copy of my brand new book, IT’S OKAY, here.

As always, if you’ve enjoyed any or all of the books, I encourage you to leave a review for any or all of them. Reviews help me a lot to spread the word.

Wishing you all a lovely weekend.

Thank you for being here.

With gratitude and love,

xoxo…Scott

First things first…my new book, It’s Okay: A Book of Permissions, is out!

A couple years ago I was camping in the Black Hills of South Dakota, lying in my hammock, happily tripping (in the non-drug way) on the circle of ponderosa pines around me. When out of nowhere, I got a download. From God, the trees, my intuition, all of the above, I don’t know. I heard the words, Here’s your next book. This is not, by the way, something that happens to me often, so I paid attention.

I grabbed my journal and started writing dozens of It’s okay statements. It’s okay to be messy. It’s okay to feel hopeless. It’s okay to celebrate yourself. It’s okay to feel like shit when someone rejects you. It’s okay to forgive someone and not want them to be a part of your life anymore. It’s okay to ignore the group chat. And on and on and on. They poured out of me, and after who knows how long, I put my pen down, a book outline in hand.

Most of the statements I wrote that day ended up in the book. Like my last book, Enough as You Are, every page of It’s Okay is a standalone piece of writing. In this case, each page begins with the words, It’s okay…

I like It’s Okay a lot. It’s a vibe. A let’s melt into the possibility of deep, abiding self-acceptance vibe. It’s the first time I’ve worked on a writing project without having a period of What was I thinking? This writing sucks. That’s been the worst part of every writing project and I’m grateful to have avoided it this time. For now, at least.

Here are a few snippets from the intro to give you a sense of the book:

I wrote this book for myself, and for you. Assuming you too are highly skilled at being unkind to yourself. Maybe even a total asshole at times. You often shame yourself for the choices you make and fall prey to societal conditioning about what is and is not acceptable. In other words, if you have a self-abusive mind and a desire for more self-acceptance, then you’ve come to the right place.

Every thought we think, every word we speak, every action we take is human; otherwise we wouldn’t be thinking, speaking, or taking them. And it is possible to acknowledge all aspects of our humanity with compassion, rather than belittle them with judgment and shame.

This book is as an invitation to self-acceptance of all that makes us human. It’s a clear and confident repudiation of the shame within that insists who we are, and what we do, is not okay.

I chose the subtitle A Book of Permissions because that’s exactly how I see it: permission to be whoever and however we are, in all our human intricacies and weirdness. I mean all of it. Yes, even that. Yes, that too. You don’t need me to give you permission, of course. But you do need to give it to yourself. And why wouldn’t you, when it feels so good?

I decided to self-publish this book. I didn’t feel like going through the process of submitting to publishers, and I didn’t want to wait 12-18 months from contract signing (had I gotten an offer) before it hit the shelves. I signed off on the final draft a month ago, and it’s already available for order online. Wild.

Obviously I’d love for you to get a copy or three of It’s Okay. If you vibe with my energy and writing here, I’m confident you’ll like the book. Buying my books is a terrific way to support my work, and I offer you big thanks for doing so.

Here are some links to order it:

Bookshop.org; Amazon; Barnes & Noble

At Bookshop.org above, a portion of your payment goes to support a local bookstore.

Let me know below when you order the book so I can thank you.

Leave a comment

And please don’t be shy about leaving reviews. You might be the reason someone else picks up the book and (hopefully) sees themself as worthy of deeper self-love and acceptance.

I’ll be sharing more in upcoming emails about the writing process for It’s Okay, as well as essays that expand on some of the themes in the book. We’re going to be hanging out in the self-acceptance zone for a while, understanding that greater love for self always extends beyond self to greater love for others as well.

I’m really excited to share It’s Okay with you.

As always, thanks for being here, and for keeping your heart open in a world that works hard to keep it closed.

Big Big Love,

xoxo…Scott

Hi Friends,

I wanted to send us all into the weekend with something uplifting, a little reflection and a lot of love. So I pulled out my book Enough as You Are, meditated on it for a few moments, and asked it to offer some words for this community. I flipped through the book with my eyes closed and landed on page 107.

I felt like doing my part I felt like doing my part to change the world, so I started by giving thanks for all the blessings in my life, rather than bemoaning all that was missing from it. Then I complimented my reflection in the mirror, instead of criticizing it as I usually did. Next I walked into my neighborhood and offered kindness to everyone I passed, whether or not they offered theirs to me. Each day I did these things, and soon they became habit. Each day I lived with more gratitude, more self-love, and more kindness. And sure enough, the world around me began to change. Because I had decided so, I was single-handedly doing my part to change it.

In the audio above I spend a few minutes diving deeper into the passage, and I hope I give you reason to consider living with more gratitude, more self-love, and more kindness. And remember, you’re worthy and enough, even if you don’t.

Let me know if you like this short recording format. I like connecting with you this way. I was doing it more often in the past but have gotten away from it. And, if you feel inspired, please share with us something you feel grateful for, something you love about yourself, or just some kind words for everyone here.

Leave a comment

Wishing each of you a weekend filled with peace, connection, and more than one moment of delightful surprise.

I’m grateful for your presence here, and in our world. You make this place a much more beautiful place to be.

Big Big Love,

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

Free Talk on Insight Timer: Monday, July 13th, at 10am PT / 1pm ET

HOW TO HAVE THE HARD CONVERSATIONS (YOU KEEP PUTTING OFF)

In this talk we're going to look at how we can communicate more effectively and compassionately, especially with the tough conversations we tend to avoid. Whether it's a romantic partner, co-worker, family member or dear friend, it is within you to be grounded and brave enough to show up — even initiate — the conversations you know you need to have, the ones you’ve been putting off, dreading, and making all kinds of excuses to avoid. Please have pen and paper handy in case you want to take some notes.

Go HERE to add to your calendar.

Hi Friends,

I’m still on Sardinia, in a city called Cagliari, pronounced nothing like any version of how you would say it in English. I’ve had gelato from four different shops now, three of which were THE BEST ICE-CREAM I’VE EVER TASTED!, and the other was just EXCELLENT! and much better than anything I’ve had in the US.

The retreat I co-led with my buddy David Gandelman ended on Saturday. What to say about that? It was THE BEST RETREAT I’VE EVER TASTED! I’m still a little high from it, mixed with a little sad because I miss everyone already. This group connected fast. I almost used all caps again for fast, but enough with the screaming. Really though, I was genuinely wowed by how quickly our crew got into some very vulnerable sharing, and truly exceptional space-holding, and unfiltered goofiness. As a facilitator, it’s so nice to be with a community who shows up with the courage to be seen, and with the compassion to see one another.

I’ve found this to be the case with all the groups David and I have led on retreat, and I could never pick a favorite among them. This Sardinia crew is fresh in my mind and heart though, and I’m feeling all kinds of love and appreciation for them right now. What a bunch of beauties. Shout out to each of you who may be reading this. Thank you for being you.

Speaking of beauty, check out the video I took below. I walked by these flowers, and the butterflies who love them, several times a day on my way to and from the dining room at Soul Valley, the retreat center where we spent the week. Imagine seeing this numerous times a day!

Every time it felt unreal. Like a bit too much beauty. Like Garden of Eden level shit. Not far away was a bed of lavender brimming with bumblebees. You’ve never seen so many bumblebees. Arguably the cutest of the bees. Rob and I just stood there mesmerized by the bees bumbling from flower to flower, living their best bee lives. I took a video of that too, but it didn’t turn out very well or I would share it.

I keep thinking about those flowers and butterflies and bees and how we made a point each day to stop and be with the beauty. And how, each time we stopped, I felt profound awe and gratitude for the gifts of the natural world. Each time we stopped it was as though nothing else existed but color and scent and pollinators pollinating. Nothing but that moment. Nothing but presence.

Granted, it was a ridiculous abundance of beauty that demanded attention, but still, we could’ve just walked on by the way I do any number of trees and plants and flowers I’ve gotten used to in my everyday life.

Sardinia is a breathtakingly stunning island. Flowers explode from every direction, in trees and bushes, up from gardens and fields. Bougainvillea cascades down overhangs and atop walls and fences (see the pic below). Look at the flowers! is one of the more common refrains these days.

Traveling is often a collection of new scenery and experiences, which makes it easier to stop and take it all in. Easier to be curious and grateful and even mesmerized by the sites before you. I understand that if I lived here I’d probably not be proclaiming my love for bougainvillea and gelato multiple times a day. That’s bullshit actually. There’s no way I’d stop proclaiming my love for gelato. It’s deep. It’s real. Damn I love you gelato.

The point is, it’s possible to bring the appreciation and presence that comes with travel into our daily lives. If we choose to. If we practice at it.

One invitation from my time in Sardinia—in the Mediterranean, at the retreat, with the butterflies and bees—feels clear: Make more time for the abundant beauty in your everyday life. Stop instead of walking by, even if just for a moment. Say hello to the peonies in the front yard, no matter how wilted they’ve become. Touch the leaves on the maple you pass by to get to your car. Stop looking at the robin as though it’s some boring bird, as if anything that can fly could ever be boring, or at the squirrels as if they’re wire-walking and tree-climbing skills aren’t some next level Cirque du Soleil magic.

I appreciate the gifts of travel, and I’m aware that it’s within me to bring some of those gifts back home, perhaps especially the simple gift of appreciation.

I don’t have to work at getting mired in what’s ugly on this planet. (Read: the violence, injustice and destruction human beings perpetuate.) The mind is a master at seeing what’s wrong and taking for granted what isn’t. The work, if we want to call it that, is to stop taking all the beauty that surrounds me for granted. I’m not suggesting I’m going to greet every tree and flower in my neighborhood. This is not a Snow White situation. But I do hope I start noticing them more. Acknowledging them more. Appreciating them more. Like, hey Oak, I see you.

And not just what’s outside of my home, but what’s in it too. My office is filled with objects I see as treasures—beach stones and gemstones and cards and books and and and. And, I hardly notice them anymore. I’ve let them become background when they’re damn treasures. I see you, Rumi Oracle Deck. And you too, carnelian stone. What’s up, house plant I’ve been on the brink of killing for months?

It takes so little to appreciate what is around us, and yet so big are the benefits of doing so.

There’s so much from this trip to Sardinia, especially the retreat week, that I’m going to carry back into my life with me. Right now, though, I feel most excited about returning home with a commitment to gratitude. To acknowledging the many beautiful things in my world with a more regular thank you. Because why not?

If you’re feeling it, and if you can do it here, because I don’t even know if you can insert pictures in your comments, share a pic of something in your life you find beautiful. If you can’t share a pic, describe it for us.

Leave a comment

Speaking of gratitude, I sure as hell feel grateful for your presence here. It means a lot to feel connected to so many open-hearted souls. Thank you.

Wishing you all kinds of Big Love.

xoxo…Scott

Hi Friends,

I’m jet-lagging in the town of Cagliari in Sardinia, Italy. Grateful to have slept from 1-4am. Will be even more grateful for another two to three hours.

My retreat with my friend David Gandelman begins tomorrow. The group is starting to make the journey here. The most stressful part of any retreat seems to be arrival day. I wouldn’t say that David and I hold our breath until all the flights arrive and everyone is on the shuttles to the retreat center, but I would say we exhale some big relief once that’s the case.

And then the fun really begins.

Of the many different things I piece together and call a career, I’d say these weeklong retreats are my favorite. It is so enriching to spend a good chunk of time in community with others who recognize the importance of honest self-reflection, open communication, and shared presence.

It’s the thing I miss the most about my cult days. Getting together with like-minded and like-hearted people on the regular to deep dive into spirituality. To hold space for one another as we do it. To do our best to take ownership of our projections and judgments even as we’re immersed in them.

It’s been 17 years since I left the cult and I rarely think about it, about the friends who were my family for so long. On occasion though, I remember how beautiful it felt to be an integral part of a mostly loving community. Guru manipulation and delusions aside.

I haven’t prioritized community enough for many years now. In person community. I’ve moved a lot these past years, and that makes it trickier to establish a group of friends you want to and do see regularly. Being in my mid-fifties and mostly a hermit in a relationship with another mostly hermit makes it trickier too. We’re very comfortable not leaving the house.

I am very much a person who doesn’t make a lot of plans and is almost always happy if any of the few plans I make fall through.

In the weeks leading up to a retreat, I always feel apprehension. It’s a big thing, at least for me, to hold space for 20 people for seven straight days and nights. I don’t think I’d do it without David. We flow together so nicely, and it’s incredibly helpful for there to be two of us to facilitate things.

Here’s a pic of me and David from a couple weeks ago at his place in Colorado.

I feel no apprehension now. Well, aside from the flights all arriving. I feel an excited peacefulness, like even though it’s an almost entirely new group of people, I already know what to expect: open-hearted connection and all the gifts that brings. And a week of Italian food and all the gifts that brings.

I can already hear myself telling my sisters and friends when they ask how the retreat was, that it was so beautiful. That I have no good words for it. That I feel incredibly lucky and grateful to get to do this work.

I guess what I most feel like saying as the sun rises here in Cagliari is that connection, community, truly enriches a life. We need each other. It feels like now more than ever, but I suspect it generally feels that way.

And, now more than ever, we need each other.

You don’t have to join a cult like I did. To be clear, I don’t recommend joining a cult. You can simply be more intentional, in your community or online, with fostering compassionate connections with others. With holding space for others and letting yourself be seen. With saying yes more often to the possibility of fun.

As someone who tends toward introversion, I know that can be a big ask for many of you. But that’s life. Always asking something of us. Whether you answer or not, please don’t doubt your worth, or your lovability. Please don’t doubt that you matter.

Leave a comment

I’m not even going to proof what I just wrote to you. I’m going to trust that my jet-lagged mind did well enough and leave you with a sincere thank you for being here.

I promise to hold a deep prayer for this community as I engage with the retreaters, that we all come into more compassionate and loving alignment with ourselves, and that we find the courage to make choices that serve our hearts’ wisdom.

With so much love,

xoxo…Scott

Hi Friends,

I feel like expanding on something I shared to social media recently.

Here’s the something:

And here’s the expansion:

One gift that comes with age, at least for many of us, is caring less about what people think of us. More than ever, it feels like wasted, unnecessary energy. This is also a gift that comes with self-love, though I think as we get older, we don’t necessarily need to fully love ourselves in order to stop caring so much about whether others do. We older folks are more likely to accept that our personality is our personality, and that we’re not likely to fix our way out of it. And even if we can’t honestly say we love ourselves, we’re no longer spending quite as much time trying to get everyone else to.

What a relief.

It’s not accurate for me to say I don’t care what people think of me. I care some. I want to be liked. And loved. Seen as kind and compassionate and relatively wise, at least sometimes. I just don’t care enough anymore to consistently alter my behavior in order to shift another person’s perception of me. I don’t care enough to continually abandon myself.

And there’s no way around it: if your greatest desire is outside approval, you will inevitably, and often, abandon yourself in pursuit of it. I’ve lived this. We’ve all lived this. Social media has made it even trickier to avoid. We’ve never been subjected to so much constant scrutiny, judgment, comparison, and incentive to fall in line with mob mentality.

When I write, You’ve got to be good with yourself, what I mean is that the more aligned we remain with our soul’s wisdom and heart’s love—also known as living in integrity—the more contented and peaceful we become. That’s not to suggest it’s easy, or comfortable, because living in integrity is neither. Especially at first.

What I continue to see in my own life is that when my actions are out of sync with my heart’s direction, I suffer. When my actions are out of sync with my soul’s wisdom, I suffer. And by the way, my heart and soul have very clear and consistent directives. My heart invites me to love myself and everyone else without exception. My soul encourages me to accept the fullness of my humanity and this human experience, along with the fullness of my own and everyone else’s worthiness within it. That’s the nutshell version, of course, but I think you get the point.

More love + more acceptance = more fulfilling life.

Leave a comment

I don’t think we can fully lie to ourselves. Not really. We can avoid the truth. We can numb it, justify it, perform around it, even convince other people we believe something deeply. But the soul knows. My soul knows. It knows when I’m saying things that don’t genuinely align with my heart, even when part of me wishes they did. And the moment I speak or act against what I know to be true in my bones, I can feel myself fall out of integrity. Because integrity is something I’ve grown to prioritize as much as anything else, when I fall out of it, I suffer. I don’t feel right anymore. I no longer feel at home in myself.

That sounds dramatic, maybe, but it’s true. When my words and actions are aligned with my heart and soul, I feel grounded in myself. When they’re not, I don’t.

And I want to acknowledge that not feeling at home in yourself is part of being human. I don’t begrudge myself for it. I do, however, see the feeling as an invitation to pause and consider where I may not be living in alignment with my integrity. Where does what I’m saying or how I’m acting not match what I truly believe or genuinely feel? As I nudge myself toward more integrous living, I do my best to offer myself a lot of grace and compassion for the ways fear, conditioning, and the longing to belong have kept me stuck in inauthentic places.

You can’t fake integrity. More accurately, you can’t fake the feeling of integrity while living outside of it.

A lot of people (myself included) talk about the importance of authenticity. But a lot of what passes for authenticity is really just conditioning, unchecked fear, ego, and sometimes even cruelty. Which is to say, a lot of us are, best case, delusional, and worst case, full of shit, and too few of us are willing to admit it.

I think it’s helpful to ask, What is actually guiding me right now? Is this choice rooted in compassion? Am I contributing something helpful in this moment? Or, am I simply defending old wounds, inherited beliefs, and a compulsion to be right?

If you’ve only got time for one question, I’d recommend this one: What is love inviting me to do in this moment?

Share

By answering that question, you’re likely to be of service to yourself, whoever else is in front of you, and to our world in general. The thing is, we have to be willing to answer honestly, because sometimes (often) the invitation from love is a big fucking challenge to accept. There are many easier choices than love, but I have yet to find any more fulfilling or helpful ones.

I think we often compromise our integrity in order to fit in. To belong. I’ve nodded along with opinions I don’t actually believe to avoid feeling excluded. I’ve pretended to be okay with things that I don’t like in order to be seen as chill and easygoing. I’ve tailored my writing toward what I thought would be most well-received instead of what felt most honest. The list goes on.

I think these kinds of choices eat at us in more ways than we realize. Maybe not immediately or dramatically, but inevitably. As exhaustion, and resentment, and numbness, and eventually as the deeply unfulfilling reality of fitting in without ever truly being seen.

That’s not the kind of approval I’m seeking, and it certainly isn’t real belonging.

Real belonging, at least as I understand it now, requires truth. It requires showing up as ourselves instead of performing versions of ourselves we think will be easier to love. And yes, that can cost us things. Sometimes significant things. But abandoning yourself costs something too. Usually far more.

I’ll close where I began:

Ultimately, you’ve got to be good with yourself. With your beliefs. With how you move through this world. Even when your path disappoints people. Even when your decisions don’t mirror the crowd. Even when standing in your integrity costs you comfort, approval, or belonging.

Because at the end of the day, the real question isn’t whether everyone else understands your path. The real question is whether you can look at yourself and recognize your own heart and soul in the life you’re living.

And for me, that kind of self-recognition feels a whole lot like peace. In this insane world, I’m looking for all the peace I can get.

So much love to you all,

xoxo…Scott

Hi Friends,

I do puzzles occasionally these days. Is do the verb for puzzling? I started a new one over the weekend: rows of birds against a thinly striped monochrome grey background. If you’re a puzzler, you know that grey background is a bitch. I’m still in the fun-with-the-birds stage, though. Also, a lot of birds are seriously scary-looking.

Working on puzzles seems to suit my personality. I find it relaxing and rewarding. Maybe playing with puzzles is a better way to say it. Meditating with puzzles? Sitting with a puzzle? That feels right, because it’s one of the rare things I can sit with without getting distracted. An hour goes by in a minute.

The only thing I don’t like about puzzling is its effect on my posture. My vanity is concerned enough about cell phone neck without inviting puzzle neck into the picture.

Any other puzzlers out there? Link me to your favorites.

Leave a comment

What I notice about my mind is that it is constantly assessing what I’m doing as bad or good, worthwhile or a waste of time, beneficial toward my evolution or detracting from it. Even with puzzles, my mind appreciates knowing there are cognitive and mental health benefits that come with doing them: improved memory, enhanced fine motor skills, reduced stress. I don’t sit with puzzles for those reasons, but I like having them ready when my mind tells me puzzling is a waste of time. Along with: Who cares, I’m enjoying myself.

I appreciate that I give consideration to the choices I’m making and how they affect my life. It is abundantly clear to me, for example, that when I spend too much time on Threads, as I’m wont to do lately, I tend to feel more stressed, angry, and generally disgusted. It makes sense, then, to spend less time on Threads.

But we often don’t do what makes the most sense. I certainly don’t.

It’s also clear to me that when I judge myself for spending too much time on Threads, I create even more anger and disgust in my life, only this time aimed at myself, which, as we well know, is much less fun than aiming it at others.

What is this compulsion to spend time doing only meaningful things? Or deciding so often that how I’m spending time isn’t meaningful?

I’m much more interested these days in bringing acceptance to the choice of, say, watching TV for six hours straight than I am in watching far less TV while still judging myself for it. To my mind, which is wholly unenlightened but has very clear ideas about enlightenment, no amount of TV is good. The same goes for news, social media, sugar, alcohol, and the list never ends.

If I’m not functioning in a continuous state of altruism, creativity, political awareness and activism, healthy eating, etc., then there’s something wrong with me. This is not how I actually feel, of course, but it is the bullshit my mind keeps trying to sell me. And it’s a highly effective salesman.

Even as I write this, my mind tells me that sharing anything not directly related to the dire political situation in our country has no value. I don’t believe that, but even entertaining the thought takes away from the joy and relief of sharing what’s actually on my mind.

There is no right way to human. And yet I continually judge myself against what I imagine to be one. I bet you do too. We all do. And then, because we don’t want to sit with the discomfort of that self-judgment, we diffuse it by judging each other too.

We become deeply suspicious of rest. Of pleasure. Of distraction. Of anything that doesn’t appear productive or enlightened or useful. Which, as it happens, is a lot.

We struggle to simply enjoy ourselves without needing to justify the enjoyment. Even joy has to become medicinal now. It’s good for the nervous system, and for neuroplasticity, and for longevity. Joy is healing! It’s becoming harder to just like things anymore. Just because we like them. Wait, where’s the supporting research?

I understand this impulse. I live it. I want my choices to support my wellbeing. I want to grow. I want to evolve. Blah blah blah blah blah. But somewhere along the way, many of us started treating ourselves like self-improvement projects instead of human beings. Forgetting that we are in fact enough, just as we are. I think a lot of exhaustion comes from constantly trying to earn the right to exist, and to feel worthy. To earn rest. To earn pleasure. To earn attention.

Self-acceptance doesn’t demand any of this. It says, I see you, you’re worthy, it’s all human. Chill baby, chill.

We hold ourselves to these impossible standards, and then we start holding everyone else to them too.

You’re watching too much TV.
You’re numbing out too often.
You eat too much.
You’re online too much.
You’re not doing enough with your life.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

So much of our judgment of others is just self-rejection looking for another place to land.

I watch a good amount of TV these days. And I judge anyone who watches a good amount of TV. Like, what the hell are we doing with our lives?

That judgment comes because I’m not fully okay with my own TV-viewing habits. I haven’t accepted them as totally fine. And they are totally fine.

I don’t think acceptance means not being aware of whether choices are more or less helpful and fulfilling. I think acceptance is an invitation to end the shame we carry about the choices we’re making. To understand that everything we do here is human, and should we decide to make changes, as much as possible do it from a place of deep grace rather than condemnation. Acceptance encourages us to end the relentless wars we have with ourselves. It reminds us that we no longer need to believe we have to constantly justify our existence.

Maybe this is why I like puzzles so much these days. For an hour or two, my mind gets lost in a project that has nothing to do with judging me.

So much love to you all,

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: If you need a break from the insanity and some time in intentional community in one of the most beautiful places in the world, please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Join me for Online Breathwork this Thursday, April 30th at 8pm ET. Details here.

Hi Friends,

The following is one of the first pieces I shared here on Substack, back in December of 2021. I was reading through some old posts in the hope that I would find one I felt like sharing, and this one stood out to me right now. A reminder to not let the vast brutality and ugliness here prevent you from standing in and sharing your love, your light. I hope it resonates with you and brings you back to your heart, especially if, like me, you’ve been finding yourself mired in the anguished thoughts of your mind more often than you’d like.

Some days I go back and forth by the half hour between deep trust in life’s unfolding and deep anxiety over the state of our world. One moment I feel at peace knowing we are moving evermore toward greater consciousness, and the next I feel anguish in the face of our inhumanity. Perhaps you can relate.

I sat with a wise friend a couple months ago and spoke of my nagging despair, my inability sometimes to be with all the warring and hatred, and how I want to retreat from the world because of it. “No!” he said. “Your job is not to absorb the insane energy of this planet. Your job is to share your loving energy with this planet, and trust in what you have to share.” A simple thought really, and not one new to me. But the way he said it, with such clarity and urgency, struck me, registered, entered my being. To be clear, he was not suggesting I ignore the harsh realities of our world, or pretend all is well when it clearly isn’t. He was reminding me not to get so lost in what’s dark and painful here that I forget the power of my own light.

A couple days ago the same friend shared the following words, by L.R. Knost:

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.

All things break. And all things can be mended.

Not with time, as they say, but with intention.

So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.

The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.

The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you. Now that’s beautiful.

Leave a comment

It’s easy to feel powerless when considering what we can actually do to create any real change in this world. How bright is our light, really? Easy to feel like it’s hopeless, that all is lost. But that can never be the truth, because if we’re here, living and breathing, shining in whatever way we shine, then all is not lost. In fact, all is possible. I don’t say that naively. My days as a Pollyanna are long behind me. I just don’t believe we can ever count out the power of love. Intentional, extravagant, unconditional love. Has there ever been a more potent force on this planet? I don’t think so. Will there ever be? Doubtful. We just have to get in the habit of using it. Of becoming it. Of letting love become us.

I suspect I will always, to some degree, move between trust and anxiety, peace and despair, where our world is concerned. Look around. We humans are a profoundly sick species, terrified to reflect honestly on our delusions and take responsibility for our myriad hypocrisies. We are unwilling to change our minds and unable to acknowledge our wrongs. Most of us, most of the time, anyway. Myself included, some of the time, anyway. We are too often petty and unforgiving and unconscionably violent.

And still, we long for love. To give and receive it. We long to be seen, and appreciated, and loved for who we are. All of us have this longing. And so, love will never stop having a hold on us, no matter how unconscious we become, no matter how committed to hatred and war. Beneath our vast delusions, beyond whatever vile muck we deny or uncover, love waits. Ready. Willing. Able. My hope lives in this belief.

I don’t know much for certain, but I know that love remains, always, everywhere. It is within us, outside of us, ever-present even in its invisibility. And because it’s everywhere, forever with us, we have access to it in every moment. We simply have to choose it. To commit to love, and choose it, throughout each day every day. Intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. Choose love. In our relationships with ourselves, and with others. In our work, in our activism, in our anger. Choose love. In our connection to the earth, to our food, to the plants and animals, to the Source that created and lives within all things. Choose love. We have to be willing to stand in our light and declare ourselves messengers of love.

Our world is broken and love is the glue. We are ripped apart and love is the thread that will mend us. I believe this as much as I believe anything. Every act of kindness inspires more kindness. My vulnerability invites you to be vulnerable. Your compassion awakens my compassion. Our collective courage invites courage in others. We are always affecting each other. Our love, for ourselves and for one another, is the one thing that stands to create healing for real. Not with time, but with intention.

Are you ready, willing to stand in your power and love yourself and everyone else, too? No matter what? I am, and I hope you’ll join me. We need us.

I love us, and I believe in us,

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

ONLINE BREATHWORK — Thursday, April 30th: Come get your mind blown in the best way possible.

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: If you need a break from the insanity and some time in intentional community in one of the most beautiful places in the world, please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Hi Friends,

Some of you may already be familiar with The One You Feed podcast. If not, I highly recommend it, and have even been on it a couple times, talking with Eric, the host, about self-love, and the unpredictable nature of humanity, and all the topics I love to go on about. Eric has become a friend over the years, and is someone I really admire and genuinely like. He’s terrific.

He’s got a new book out, How a Little Becomes A Lot, and we’re doing a really helpful Q & A with him today. I can’t encourage you enough to get his book and connect with his energy. He has a real gift for simplifying complex ideas and staying real and honest through it all.

Here’s some of his proper bio:

Eric Zimmer is an author, teacher, speaker, and the creator of The One You Feed podcast—an award-winning show with over 50 million downloads across 800+ conversations exploring meaningful living. At 24, Eric was homeless, addicted to heroin, and facing prison. His journey from those depths sparked his lifelong inquiry into human transformation and resilience. Eric’s new book, How a Little Becomes A Lot is available here.

1. What’s the difference between trying to fix yourself and trying to care for yourself?

In my mind, the desire to fix ourselves should not come from a sense of brokenness. It should come from a desire to reduce our suffering and, by doing so, make us better able to reduce the suffering of others.

I think the answer is self-compassion, which I define as a midpoint between self-acceptance and self-improvement.

There is a place for trying to change ourselves and become better, happier people. And there is a point where we want to accept and love ourselves exactly as we are.

The nuanced reality is that we’re often doing both at the same time. I have things that I do that manage my depression, and I try to be diligent about doing them. And at the same time, I need to accept that sometimes I get depressed and love myself right through it.

2. How do we stop talking to ourselves in ways we’d never speak to someone we love?

The simplest advice is to talk to yourself like you would talk to a friend.

But for this to work, it really needs to be an imaginative exercise. There is something that researchers at the University of Michigan have coined “Solomon’s Paradox.” Solomon’s paradox refers to the biblical king renowned for his wise advice on his subjects’ dilemmas . . . despite having an absolute mess of a personal life. The next time you feel like a hypocrite, consider the man who, while opining “Better to live on a corner of the roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife,” collected some seven hundred wives and concubines.

In essence, it means we can be very wise and kind to others, but it’s very hard to do for ourselves. But by imagining what we would really say to a friend in this situation, we learn something about what to say to ourselves. This is important because we also find the right words. And the right words do matter so that it feels authentic.

Learning to relate to myself more kindly is probably the biggest upgrade I’ve ever given myself, besides ceasing to burn my life down with drugs.

It’s hard work, but it’s deeply worth it.

3. A lot of us know what would help us feel better—but we still don’t do it. Why is change so hard, even when we want it?

I wish I had an easy answer here, but instead I needed to write an entire book about it. But I think there are two core competencies that we have to figure out in order to be able to change.

The first I call structural. It means we need to know the mechanics of how change works. Things like making good plans, being specific, knowing your why, setting up your environment to make it easier to make the change, asking people to support you. And all of this stuff is important and often ignored.

The second component is to understand what’s happening inside of us at what I call choice points. A choice point is that moment where you are presented with making the change that you want to make. And if we watch ourselves make the choice we wish we didn’t make, very often it is because we are thinking or feeling something that we don’t know how to navigate in that moment.

Many of us fail in our attempts to change because we are missing one or both skills.

4. You write about the tension between what we want now and what we want most. How do we work with that without turning life into one long act of self-denial?

Yes, many of us will find that we end up trading what we want most for what we want now. What we want most are the things that we value. I define values as what the wisest, best part of ourselves has decided is worth wanting. Desires are the things that we want just because.

It’s really important that we work to try and integrate these two things. “Have-to” goals are not effective. “Want-to” goals are.

A simple example of this is the way I approach eating well. If I only look at it as I can’t eat this or that thing that I really like, then I walk around feeling deprived and end up rebelling against myself. But if, on the other hand, I position it as “I want better health, I want more energy,” then I start to see eating right as a gift I’m giving myself.

The goal is not to get rid of desire. Desire is often the energy that fuels life. It’s to try and get our desires more aligned with the things that matter most to us.

I’m also a big fan of the middle way, which means that it is fine to give in to desire some of the time. It’s all about finding the balance that works best for you.

Leave a comment

5. When we last spoke on your show, we touched on how so much of what we call escape is just an attempt to get away from how we feel. What helps us build a life that feels more inhabitable—and less like something we need constant relief from?

Well, we all need relief at points from any kind of life, no matter how well built. In Buddhism, there is the idea of taking refuge. The Sanskrit word translates something close to: “go for protection.”

Our hearts and minds need protection at points from the storms of life. The question really becomes, where do I go for that?

The meditation teacher Tara Brach talked about true and false refuges. True refuges are the places that I go that sustain, encourage, strengthen, and refresh me. False refuges are the places I go that, over time, don’t do any of those things. And very often they start to have the opposite effect.

And I want to be clear—not all of our refuges have to be true. We don’t need to always be journaling or meditating or talking to others about our feelings. Sometimes escape is a perfectly valid option. Watch the terrible movie. Eat the cake. The point isn’t to optimize every moment of rest into some kind of growth experience.

But when escape becomes the primary way we deal with how we feel, that’s when it starts to work against us. We turn to social media because we feel like we need some distraction and are then buffeted by all of the bad news and comparisons that make us feel bad about ourselves. That would be considered a false refuge.

The key here is that no one knows for you which is which. You have to know. And often it’s a matter of degree. For some people, getting high once in a while is a welcome refuge from life and increases connection and well-being. And then there’s people like me that, getting high, leads to destroying my entire life.

So one of the most useful questions I’ve learned to ask is very simple: What happens next? Not just in the moment, but an hour later. The next morning. A week down the line. Do I feel more here in my life, or less? More connected, or more cut off? More able to be with myself, or more in need of the next escape? That question, asked honestly over time, starts to clarify what’s actually helping and what isn’t.

And then there’s a second piece to this, which is that a life we don’t need constant relief from isn’t built all at once. It’s built in very small ways. It’s built by choosing, again and again, the things that are a little more nourishing, a little more honest, a little more aligned with what we actually care about—even when they’re less immediately relieving.

Eric’s new book, How a Little Becomes A Lot is available here. Give yourself the gift of his heart and wisdom.

I hope you all enjoyed this conversation with Eric. I find his energy incredibly grounding, and I appreciate any energy that helps ground me these days.

Wishing you all a peaceful weekend and so much love.

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: If you need a break from the insanity and some time in intentional community in one of the most beautiful places in the world, please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Hi Friends,

First, a reminder to be especially kind to yourself these days, when so much feels out of control and scary. It is never too late to decide to become your own best friend and to practice at it. Try hard to be a place of comfort for yourself, a gentle and supportive voice that reminds you that you’re worthy and loved. Self-love is a commitment, and it matters to say and do things that honor it.

It’s also a skill. And like any skill, the more you practice, the better you get. And as with all things love, it never stops with self. Love serves all. All the time.

One thing that feels so hard to navigate right now is that our individual lives keep moving forward even as the world around us seems to be unraveling. There’s no pause to any of it. No collective exhale where everything stops and we all agree: something is deeply wrong, and we’re all fucked unless we deal with that first. Life keeps asking things of us anyway, like replying to emails and buying groceries and gathering for holidays and tending to our relationships.

I’m back to posting regularly on social media, and with every post there’s a part of me that wonders what’s the point, and a part of me that wants to put loving energy into whatever point there is.

So many of us are moving through our days holding this strange, often disorienting mix of realities. We’re losing it over everyday frustrations—traffic and technology and annoying but ultimately harmless people. Shit that doesn’t really matter. And we’re carrying the relentless heartbreak of personal loss and illness and loneliness and the ache of hoping for things that aren’t working out. And then there’s the weight of the world crushing down every day, flattening us with endless tragedy and despair.

All of this at once. And it’s all asking for our attention. Seriously, what the fuck?!

Leave a comment

It often feels surreal. One moment I’m reading about ICE murdering people on the streets and the next I’m thinking about what to cook for dinner, or wondering why someone didn’t text me back.

Every friend I talk to is experiencing some version of this. I suspect most of you are too. Endless whiplash. It can make you question yourself. Why do I still care about this insignificant thing when so much else feels so urgent? Shouldn’t I be more focused on what actually matters?

But I keep coming back to this: It’s human and necessary to care about the ordinary, even inconsequential, details of our lives. I spent a half an hour on the phone with an insurance company rep recently, and it was a genuinely annoying experience. When I got off the phone, I thought, well that was thirty minutes not spent focused on a potential world war, so there’s that.

I’ve mentioned pickleball a few times recently, but that’s one of the biggest gifts of the sport. When I’m playing pickleball, I’m only thinking about pickleball. About forehands and overheads and how to tweak my serve just right. It’s not just fun. It’s a legitimate reprieve from the insanity.

Small moments like laughing with a friend, binging a great show, feeling annoyed about something trivial, savoring a delicious meal aren’t always distractions from reality. They are reality. The day-to-day acts of living.

I can’t believe some of the stupid shit that fills my mind and my time. And, given the choice, I’d rather my mind be filled with stupid shit than apocalyptic catastrophizing. To be clear, it’s filled with both, but I’m much more grateful for the stupid shit. Even as I often judge myself for it.

The everyday things help ground us, and maybe in that alone they’re not so insignificant. I keep hearing it, and catching myself thinking it too: how can someone be (fill in the blank) right now with everything going on in the world? As though the alternative is to stay mired in fear and rage and hopelessness. I don’t have to work at fear and rage and hopelessness. My mind has that trilogy down to a science.

What I’m working on is not letting everything that is breaking drown out everything that is still intact. I don’t want to become so consumed by the macro that I abandon the micro. It’s more often than not the small, intimate, daily things that actually make up a life. That actually make up my life.

I’m not suggesting we look away from what’s painful or urgent or that we pretend things are fine when they obviously aren’t. I wouldn’t know how to do that at this point even if I tried. If your car is careening off a cliff, some part of you is going to be aware of it. I’m just working on learning to hold it all, to stay aware of what’s happening out there while also honoring what’s happening in here. To grieve and laugh and rage and dance and be with whatever the fuck else comes up in me.

I can’t live exclusively in crisis, and I feel like that’s what our government is trying to force on us, and what so many of us are choosing. Or more accurately, don’t know how not to choose. But I don’t think we’re built for caring only about what is catastrophic, and we hurt ourselves by trying to. We disconnect from the very parts of our humanity that help us care in the first place.

When we do have energy for more, and hopefully that’s often with enough of us, that matters too. Showing up to a meeting, signing a petition, making a call, protesting in the street, donating what we can, checking on a neighbor, making good trouble, raising hell. When we can, let’s honor the acts of resistance / patriotism / love that our hearts calls on us to take. None of it has to be grand. And it can be fucking grand too. Let the heart lead. We don't have to choose between tending to our lives and tending to the world. We can do both, imperfectly, in whatever proportion the day allows.

So if you find yourself still caught up in ordinary, seemingly inconsequential things right now, if you’re spinning out over an insensitive text, or sad because your team lost the big game, or deep in the latest fashion trend, cut yourself some slack. It doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t understand the gravity of what’s happening (though it could mean that). It might just mean you’re still living your life in the midst of the storm. And maybe that’s exactly what helps you find some calm.

In love and solidarity,

Scott

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: If you need a break from the insanity and some time in intentional community in one of the most beautiful places in the world, please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Hi Friends,

I came across this video I recorded a couple years and felt it might be good to share it again right now. It helped me to feel a little more grounded when I rewatched it, and reminded me that no matter what else is going on, there is always beauty, compassion, creativity, and so much other goodness happening too.

Let me know how the video landed for you, and if there’s anything you want to share with us all that might bring a little more peace into this moment, by all means share away.

Leave a comment

Sending you all so much love.

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: If you’re already thinking about taking a European vacation this year, or any kind of vacation, I want to offer this as a different kind of option. Not sightseeing your way into exhaustion. Not rushing from place to place. But settling into one place. One rhythm. One circle of humans. One intentional recalibration. Please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Hi Friends,

There’s so much to hold right now. The amount of tragedy feels unbearable, as does the lack of accountability by those who continue to perpetuate harm. It feels increasingly bizarre to simply live life as usual, and yet I feel grateful for every hour spent on a pickle ball court these days, when my mind let’s me focus on serves and backhands instead of wars and pedophiles. I’m doing my best to say yes to everything right now. To the heartbreak and the fun. To my anger and worry and joy. It’s all happening.

I wanted to offer a prayer I wrote this morning, in hopes it might help you connect to your heart, and to hope, even if just a little bit. Direct the prayer to whomever or whatever you believe in. Or to Mother Earth. Or to the sky. Or to yourself.

Pray in whatever way helps you feel more connected, more peaceful, more seen.

I recorded myself saying the prayer and shared it above, if you’d like to pray with me.

Dear God,

Please give us the strength to be in this moment
without getting lost in the violence and cruelty,
remembering, always, our connection to Source, and to love.

May we not look away from the injustice and suffering in our world,
and may we never let it convince us that there is no hope for change.

May we allow our hearts to break for what is broken,
and there is so much broken here.
But let us not believe that brokenness is our destiny.
Help us remember our capacity to heal and repair.
And help us find the clarity and courage to take steps toward reparation.

Even with the loud, overwhelming cruelty,
let us see that kindness is everywhere,
spreading love in kitchens and hospital rooms,
on city streets and in towns
where strangers choose, again and again, not to harden.

When the world feels impossible to understand,
may we resist the urge to stop asking questions.
May we remember to listen for answers
from the wisdom of our hearts, from our alignment with Source.

May we refuse the lies of patriarchy, that power is proven through control and conquest,
and instead embrace the matriarchal intentions of nurturing, cooperation,
and reverence for all living beings.

May we commit more courageously to compassion.
May we listen more carefully.
May we judge a little less quickly.
May we remember that most people are carrying grief
we will never see.
May we offer ourselves grace for the grief we too are carrying.

For those who are suffering today,
may they be held and supported energetically and physically.
For those causing harm,
may something in them awaken to a more loving way of being.
May their hearts take the lead before more damage is done.

And for ourselves,
when the weight of the world feels too heavy to hold,
may we remember that we were never meant to hold it all,
or to hold it alone.

May we continue to foster community.
May we keep seeking and creating art and beauty.
May we never stop telling the truth.
And may we keep choosing love,
for ourselves and for one another,
even when it feels like the most difficult choice there is.

And when we forget,
may we gently find our way back.

Amen, and blessed be.

Please feel free to share any prayers you are currently holding. I’d love to see them.

Leave a comment

As always, I thank you for being here. For your open hearts and commitment to compassion and love. For your desire to be real. And kind. To be the examples of the world you want to see here.

Big Big love to you all.

xoxo…Scott

ARE YOU A YOGA TEACHER?

David and I typically hire a local yoga practitioner for our retreats. For Sardinia in June, we’re opening this up as a way for a teacher in our community to join us — making the week more financially accessible while sharing your gifts with the group. You’d teach six one-hour classes over the week and receive a $1,500 credit toward your retreat tuition (remaining balance paid by you). If this feels aligned, reply to this email with your teaching experience and a little about you. Please be sure to visit the retreat website to see room options and pricing before replying. Thanks and Love.

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: If you’re already thinking about taking a European vacation this year, or any kind of vacation, I want to offer this as a different kind of option. Not sightseeing your way into exhaustion. Not rushing from place to place. But settling into one place. One rhythm. One circle of humans. One intentional recalibration. Please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

If you’re a yoga teacher, check out the opportunity at the end of this essay to join me and David at our Sardinia retreat at a significantly discounted rate in exchange for sharing your gifts.

Hi Friends,

I played pickle ball last week next to a foursome in their late sixties, I’d guess. Two men and two women. One of the men was a grumpy ass, barking complaints at the other three, being argumentative and defensive. Generally annoying. I could tell the women were used to his behavior, and one in particular seemed to be trying to manage his mood. She gave him a Good shot, Howard more often than he probably deserved. She was the best player out there, for what it’s worth. We had several exchanges when our balls went onto each other’s courts, and she was delightful.

I didn’t get the sense it exhausted her to have to put up with Howard’s behavior. She seemed chill and able to laugh it off. She even gave me a playful smile and eye roll during one of his outbursts. We played beside them for more than an hour, and I kept thinking about the ways in which women have to accommodate men.

This is not to suggest we aren’t all accommodating each other in myriad ways. Of course we are. That’s part of living alongside other humans. We adjust and read the room and compromise. But that experience that night struck me differently. Howard’s energy felt so entitled. It felt like watching one of the basic patterns of patriarchy play out before my eyes.

I recently watched this three-minute video from Kristen Shelt. In it she articulates so well the promise of patriarchy: that men will be centered and deferred to, that our anger is understandable and actions are excusable. Please watch this, especially if you’re a man.

Leave a comment

I’ve heard many women I respect claim that this country hates women, or that this world hates women. They say it so matter-of-factly, and yet it always feels extreme to me.

I am not a Not all men guy. I swear. (I realize that makes me sound like a Not all men guy.) That’s not to suggest I don’t contend with my own sexism and sometimes can be critical of women simply because of sexist ideas I’ve learned since I was a boy. I do my best to own my own prejudices there, and certainly not to express them. As with racism, sexism and misogyny fill the air we breathe and have always breathed here. It’s nearly impossible to extract ourselves from it entirely.

It’s hard to hear women declare that this country hates women because it’s difficult to fathom how it would feel to believe that as a woman. That your country—that our world—hates you. I’m a gay man who knows there are millions in this country and perhaps billions across the globe who hate gay people, and still it doesn’t feel as heavy to me as the general disregard and disrespect women receive so much of the time.

Half the population.

Yes, I know men who love women fiercely. I hope I’m one of those men. I know fathers devoted to their daughters, partners who champion the women in their lives, sons who adore their mothers. I see and know women who are celebrated, supported, elected, promoted, and admired.

And yet.

If we’re looking at systems and patterns, at who is protected and believed, at whose bodies are legislated and whose pain is minimized, it sure does start to look like this country (and world) often doesn’t give a shit about women and girls.

How else do you explain the Epstein files?

Patriarchy protects men. Wealthy white men in particular. This doesn’t mean men don’t suffer. It means our suffering exists inside a structure that still advantages us in specific ways.

I haven’t taken a deep dive into those files but have seen and heard enough to know how cruel and depraved they are, and that’s with the knowledge that they’re even worse than I realize.

Every single person who had anything to do with harming children in any way needs to be held accountable. I do not believe that a person rooted in integrity could see it differently.

And I don’t see how we can rely on our toxic institutions to guarantee accountability. These are the same institutions that have protected these abusers, the same institutions these abusers have funded and controlled. Let the extraordinary sickness of what we are witnessing be a turning point, a refusal to keep normalizing what is broken, and a commitment to dismantle systems that prioritize power of people.

Patriarchy is an operating system. One most of us never consciously install, but we run it anyway. We breathe it every day. All the time. When women say all men, I rarely hear an accusation about individual character. I hear disgust and exhaustion with the operating system.

And the reflex in so many of us is immediate: Not all men. Not me. Not my partner.

I have often felt that reflex too.

But what Kristen articulates so well in the video above is this: even if I’m not abusing power, I was still handed it. Even if I’m not intentionally dominating, I was trained to assume space. That training doesn’t disappear just because I meditate, or teach about love, or consider myself one of the more conscious men.

Which brings me to something I’ve noticed in men’s wellness circles. I move in some of these circles. I know men doing breathwork, men’s groups, shadow work. There are many movements and groups attempting to heal the masculine. And I believe many of these men are sincere. I am. I believe grief work matters. I believe tending to father wounds matters. I believe reclaiming the sacred warrior and tender poet matters.

But it seems to me that too often the work stops short of patriarchy. At least I’m not seeing it in any of the language out there. And if men aren’t discussing the destructive nature of patriarchy, then healing won’t ever be complete. I include myself in this critique.

It’s possible to cry in a circle of men and still expect women to manage your emotions at home. It’s possible to rage against your father and never examine how you dominate your lover. It’s possible to sit in plant medicine ceremonies and still believe your desires deserve priority. It’s possible to talk about holding space without ever noticing how much space you already hold. It’s possible to investigate your shadow without interrogating entitlement. It’s possible to heal your wounds while leaving intact the system that centers you. It’s possible to pride yourself on being one of the good men and never question who gets to decide that.

Share

Healing your pain is not the same thing as relinquishing your power.

If we never ask how we benefit from women softening their no, from women laughing off discomfort, from women absorbing male volatility so gatherings stay pleasant, then we are enforcing the operating system, not rewriting it. And it desperately needs to be rewritten.

Again, consider the Epstein files. No powerful man in the United States has faced meaningful investigation proportional to the gravity of what was uncovered. The machinery of status and maleness closed ranks. The system is absorbing and distracting from the scandal, at least for now. That’s not random. That’s what entrenched power does: it protects itself.

It’s easy to distance ourselves from those men. Harder to look at the structure that insulated them, a structure all men benefit from in quieter ways.

I don’t say this from superiority. I say it as someone shaped by the same culture. As someone who teaches love and is still uncovering where I’ve been centered without noticing. Where I’ve been deferred to without questioning it. Where I’ve been praised for emotional awareness for doing work women are simply expected to do. Where I’ve enjoyed the ease of moving through the world without calculating threat. Where I’ve felt proud of not exploiting power instead of interrogating the fact that I had it.

When I watched grumpy Howard on the pickle ball court, I was struck by how different he and I were, and yet we’re both functioning with the same operating system. I’m sure there are many ways in which he and I are more similar than I would like to admit. Ways in which we both have chosen not to interrupt the system that benefits us both.

So my commitment is this: To question the programming, not just in theory but in practice. To examine not just my wounds, but my advantages. To remain open when my behavior is being challenged. To interrupt the system inside me, even when no one is watching.

I know I will fail. I will miss things. I will default to comfort. And I also know that with intention, I will catch myself more often. Hopefully often enough that interruption becomes instinctual, and accountability becomes reflexive. That a more just operating system begins to take root in me.

I thank you all for being here, and for brining your open hearts and your desire to expand and grow.

Big Big Love to you all.

xoxo…Scott

ARE YOU A YOGA TEACHER?

David and I typically hire a local yoga practitioner for our retreats. For Sardinia in June, we’re opening this up as a way for a teacher in our community to join us — making the week more financially accessible while sharing your gifts with the group. You’d teach six one-hour classes over the week and receive a $1,500 credit toward your retreat tuition (remaining balance paid by you). If this feels aligned, reply to this email with your teaching experience and a little about you. Please be sure to visit the retreat website to see room options and pricing before replying. Thanks and Love.

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: Please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Hi Friends,

It can be profoundly difficult and disorienting to change your mind about someone you once revered.

I know this because I’ve had to do it. And I’m not talking about a celebrity, politician, or influencer I didn’t personally know. I’m talking about my former guru of thirteen years—the person I admired and trusted more than anyone else.

There was a time when I believed he was exactly who he professed himself to be: an enlightened master who would guide me to my own enlightenment. I absorbed his teachings. I organized parts of my inner and outer life around the framework he offered. His guidance shaped how I understood healing, devotion, surrender, love.

He wasn’t just my teacher.
He was a reference point.

I spent thirteen years as his student, in his cult, surrounded by others who believed completely in his enlightenment. Nearly all of them still do. None of them have spoken to me since I ended my relationship with him seventeen years ago.

There came a point when I could no longer lie to myself about what I was seeing and experiencing. I could no longer ignore the widening gap between the persona and the behavior.

And it didn’t simply change how I saw him.

It shook how I saw myself.

Not just disappointing.
Not just heartbreaking.
Not just embarrassing.

Disorienting.

How did I not see this sooner?
Why didn’t I trust my gut when it first stirred?
What did my devotion say about my discernment?
What part of me needed him to be who I imagined?
What would become of my community and friendships now?

When we idolize someone, we aren’t just admiring them—we attach parts of our identity to them. Their goodness becomes proof of our wisdom in choosing them. Their integrity reflects back on ours.

So when that integrity cracks, something inside us cracks too.

This is why it’s so hard to metabolize revelations about admired leaders, especially in the wellness world, where entire brands are built on the promise of integrity. The currency is trust. These are people who speak the language of consciousness and healing. We believe them because we want to believe in goodness, particularly in spaces that promise transformation.

Share

When credible harm comes to light, when accountability becomes necessary, it can feel easier to deny and defend than to let our internal reality rearrange. We minimize. We rationalize. We wait for clarification that never really clarifies.

I certainly did all those things with my guru.

Cognitive dissonance is powerful for a reason. Changing our minds about long-held beliefs can feel like a kind of death—an ego death. It destabilizes the foundation we’ve built our identity around.

We’re seeing this dynamic play out in so many ways today, and blatantly so in the ongoing conversations surrounding the Epstein files. The cruelty and horror of the abuse are undeniable. But what further unsettles people is the possibility that admired, influential figures may have been closer to that depravity than we want to accept.

If someone we admire—or emulate—can participate in such harm, then we have to re-evaluate not only them, but ourselves. And as difficult as it is to hold others accountable, it’s often far more uncomfortable to hold ourselves accountable for what we overlooked, defended, or refused to see.

Leave a comment

There is also a deeper sickness underneath all of this, one rooted in patriarchy and the normalization of male power without consequence. That is an essay of its own, and one I hope to write soon. But it’s impossible to ignore how systems built to protect powerful men continue to fail the vulnerable.

The personal development / wellness industry is the world I work in.

I speak about love and healing. I teach self-acceptance. I talk about integrity and compassion and accountability. I know how easy it is to trust someone who speaks fluently about the heart.

If those of you who have supported my work for years suddenly heard credible accusations about me, you probably wouldn’t want to believe them. And if I denied them, some of you might feel inclined to defend me. You might remind others of how my words helped you through grief. You might point to the good you’ve received. You might say, “That’s not the person I know.”

And you wouldn’t be weak for doing that. It’s human. Loyalty feels noble. Gratitude feels righteous. Protecting someone who has helped you can feel like protecting a part of yourself.

But there is a difference between honoring the good we’ve received and protecting someone from accountability. That distinction took me a long time to internalize.

And here’s what I’ve learned:

Holding someone accountable does not have to erase the good they brought into your life.

My guru’s teachings—and the community around him—helped shape me into the person I am today. I developed a deeper commitment to compassion, forgiveness, and love. That growth was real.

And so was the harm.

Both can be true.

We don’t honor truth by pretending the good cancels out the bad. And we don’t honor ourselves by protecting someone’s image at the expense of reality. Accountability isn’t betrayal. It isn’t cruelty. It isn’t vengeance. It’s integrity.

We don’t become disloyal by adjusting to new information. We become honest. And honesty doesn’t require us to burn everything down. It requires us to widen our capacity and to hold complexity without collapsing into denial or self-righteousness.

The destabilization we feel when an idol falls is an invitation. It asks us to separate our identity from our admiration. To remember that our discernment is allowed to evolve. That our integrity matters more than our allegiance.

Your integrity matters more than your allegiance.

People need to be held accountable for their actions. Power, influence, and charm should increase that responsibility, not shield someone from it.

We are allowed to update our understanding. We are allowed to grieve. We are allowed to feel foolish. We are allowed to still love parts of what we received. What we’re not required to do is pretend.

I’m so fucking tired of pretending. Aren’t you?

What unraveled for me wasn’t just my image of a man. It was the illusion that self-professed enlightenment inoculates someone from ego, exploitation, or shadow.

It doesn’t. Not even close.

Charisma does not define character. Insight does not create immunity. Spiritual language does not prove spiritual embodiment.

The most destabilizing part wasn’t losing faith in him. That sucked, of course, but wasn’t as challenging as learning to trust my own evolving discernment more than my loyalty to an idol, and to a community. Changing your mind about someone you idolized isn’t weakness. It’s growth.

And sometimes, because this reality can be just plain brutal, growth feels more like grief than anything else.

If it is not abundantly clear where I stand regarding the Epstein files, allow me to make it so:

Everyone who participated in, enabled, concealed, or benefited from the abuse of children and adults must be held accountable for their actions. Full stop.

The fact that this is even up for debate reveals how deeply distorted our moral compass has become, and how entrenched and destructive patriarchy truly is.

As we continue to awaken to, confront, and grieve the myriad injustices and cruelties that exist here and around the world, let us stay committed to making space for connection, peace, and whatever moments of joy present themselves.

It’s a great time to give energy to creativity, however that might look and feel for you. Invite your child-like wonder. Sing. Dance. Play. All of this helps us to stay more grounded as we show up for this moment however we feel called to show up.

Sending so much love to you all. Today and always.

Thanks for being here.

xoxo…Scott

ARE YOU A YOGA TEACHER?

David and I typically hire a local yoga practitioner for our retreats. For Sardinia in June, we’re opening this up as a way for a teacher in our community to join us — making the week more financially accessible while sharing your gifts with the group. You’d teach six one-hour classes over the week and receive a $1,500 credit toward your retreat tuition (remaining balance paid by you). If this feels aligned, reply to this email with your teaching experience and a little about you. Please be sure to visit the retreat website to see room options and pricing before replying. Thanks and Love.

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: Please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

This past Sunday I offered the sermon/reflection at the First Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Ann Arbor. I spoke about something I’ve been wrestling with for years now: how to stay rooted in my heart when I’m confronted with words and actions that feel ignorant or cruel—and how to do that without abandoning my integrity.

If you’re struggling similarly, I hope this talk is helpful in some way. Please let me know how it landed and/or how you’re staying heart-centered these days.

Leave a comment

If you’d rather read than watch the video above, the original manuscript is below.

Good morning, everyone.

Thank you, Manish, for inviting me into your congregation.

I’m really happy to be here with you all on Valentine’s Day weekend—a time when love is often framed in solely romantic terms. Chocolates. Roses. A nice meal, hopefully. All good things, to be sure.

But today, I want to talk about love in a much broader, more consequential sense. The kind of love that matters not just in our relationships, but in moments like this one—when the world feels fractured, frightening, and at times deeply cruel.

Many of us are carrying a lot right now. Grief. Anger. Fear. Exhaustion. A sense of disbelief about what is happening in our country, and about what forms of cruelty are being normalized in plain sight.

I’m not here this morning to offer spiritual platitudes or forced optimism.
I’m here to honor and advocate for the power of love.

I experience love as an energy—alive within us and around us at all times. Which means we get to intentionally engage with that energy whenever we choose.

When we engage creative energy, we may feel compelled to sing, or dance, or cook, or write.

When we engage love’s energy, we feel compelled to be kind. Compassionate. To forgive. To empathize. To honor the clarity of our heart over the fears of our mind.

And I want to be clear: choosing love does not mean looking away. It does not mean compromising our convictions or pretending harm isn’t happening.

Love asks something braver of us.

It asks us to stay present—to what’s happening around us and within us—without abandoning our integrity or our humanity.

That’s what I want to explore with you this morning:
What does it mean, really, to live from love in a time like this?

One of the most persistent myths about love—especially in spiritual contexts—is that it’s passive. That it’s synonymous with being agreeable, or quiet, or endlessly patient.

Love may show up that way at times, but often, choosing love is the hardest, bravest choice one can make, especially in these divisive times. And it’s certainly not a quiet choice right now.

Love is not separate from activism, or resistance.
Love is what gives these things their depth and direction.

Living from love doesn’t mean we stop naming cruelty. It doesn’t mean we stop—if we feel called—organizing, protesting, protecting the vulnerable, drawing firm boundaries.

Living from love means we refuse to let fear, contempt, or dehumanization become the fuel for our actions.

Because when they do—even in the name of justice—we risk recreating the very harm we set out to dismantle.

I know how easy that is to say, and how hard it is to live.

For thirteen years of my life, I was part of a cult—a small spiritual community centered around a guru whom I believed to be enlightened, and whom I believed would help me become enlightened.

I didn’t join because I was naïve or lacking discernment. I joined because I was seeking belonging, meaning, certainty. I wanted to feel safe, and seen. I wanted to feel chosen.

At first, it felt like all of that had been found. There was clarity. Community. So much love and compassion. A shared moral framework.

But slowly—and surely—I began to override my own inner knowing.

Doubt was reframed as weakness. Discomfort meant I needed to try harder. Questions were discouraged. Challenges to the guru were framed as resistance to God’s will.

My guru described himself as a puppet of God. If I objected to him, I was objecting to God.

And I grew to believe that. I was surrounded by people who believed that.

What I lost during those years—even inside what looked like a loving spiritual container—was my capacity to trust myself.

I learned to surrender my own discernment in order to belong.

And that experience has shaped some of how I understand what’s happening in our culture right now—because this dynamic is not unique to cults. It is a deeply human vulnerability.

Any group—spiritual, political, or cultural—that requires us to abandon our inner authority in exchange for belonging is, first and foremost, pretty culty. It is asking us to trade integrity for inclusion.

And that trade is everywhere.

It’s easy to see this dynamic at work in movements we oppose. It’s tempting to locate it entirely in MAGA culture, Christian nationalism, authoritarian leadership—and there is no doubt that groupthink, cognitive dissonance, and moral outsourcing in these groups are causing real harm. We’re seeing and feeling it every day.

But if we’re being honest, we have to acknowledge that progressive spaces struggle with this too.

Nearly all spaces do. Because this is human.

The pressure to conform.
The fear of being cast out.
The subtle rewards for certainty.
The rejection of—even punishment for—nuance.

When belonging feels conditional, integrity becomes fragile.

We posture. We perform righteousness. We shame others to reassure ourselves we’re on the right side. We dehumanize those whose dehumanizing efforts we’re resisting.

And while that may feel momentarily empowering, it comes at a cost.

Because shame—whether directed outward or inward—hardens us. Narrows our vision. Distances us from the very values we claim to be protecting. The very future we say we want to co-create.

I want to be clear: compassion is not approval. It is not forgiveness on demand. And it is not something we demand from those who have been harmed.

Compassion is a practice we engage in so that we don’t become what we’re resisting.

Author Glennon Doyle often shares the story of a Vietnam War protester who stood outside the White House every night with a single candle. When asked if he thought his actions would change the administration, he replied:

“I don’t come here every night so that I change them. I come here every night so that they don’t change me.”

His words really struck me.

I’ve struggled with this administration to stay in my heart. I’ve struggled, within all the divisiveness, to remain compassionate. In the face of so much cruelty, I’ve struggled to stay connected to my integrity, to who I truly am beyond all this noise and insanity.

Because that’s the question underneath all of this:å

How do we resist cruelty without letting cruelty reshape us?

How do we stay in our hearts when we’re outraged?

How do we face dehumanizers without dehumanizing?

How do we tell the truth without abandoning our humanity?

In my experience, one answer to these questions is simple—but not easy:

We prioritize self-love.

That may sound counterintuitive. I’m speaking about showing up with more compassion for others, and now I’m talking about self-love?

But how we relate to ourselves informs how we relate to everyone and everything else.

We cannot remain in integrity with the world if we are constantly betraying and abandoning ourselves.

When we haven’t learned to treat ourselves with kindness and grace—especially when we’re anxious, wrong, overwhelmed, or afraid—we are far more likely to outsource our worth to groups and ideologies.

We become reactive instead of rooted.
Performative instead of present.

When I am willing to recognize my inherent worth—worthy simply because I was born, worthy until the day I die—then I am much more likely to recognize the inherent worth and dignity of every other human being.

That principle—the inherent worth and dignity of every person—is not just beautiful theology. It is revolutionary practice.

If I believe I am only worthy when I am right, then I will treat others as only worthy when they are right.

If I relate to myself with shame and harshness, I will relate to others with shame and harshness. This is how it works. We tend to give what we practice.

But when I offer compassion to my flawed humanity, even when I react from fear instead of respond from love, I am more capable of offering compassion to others who do the same.

We cannot say, with certainty, how we would show up right now had we lived the lives of those whose words and actions we find so abhorrent. Had we experienced their conditioning, and traumas, and fears, we may have ended up exactly where they are, saying and doing the things we find so ignorant and cruel. Let this understanding be a pathway to empathy and compassion.

This is no way suggesting agreement or condoning harm.
It is refusing to ignore the heart. Refusing to bypass love.

It’s holding that candle in front of the White House so as not to let the cruelty and evils we see change us.

Self-love is what allows us to pause, to return to our hearts, and to respond—not react—from there.
It’s what helps us resist shame as a strategy—toward ourselves and others.
It’s what anchors our resistance in empathy rather than contempt.

Self-love doesn’t dilute our moral clarity.
It stabilizes it. It energizes us to show up for others as we do ourselves.

And Every wisdom tradition on the planet speaks to loving others as ourselves:

Jesus said, Love your neighbor as yourself.

Buddha said, Considering others as oneself, one should neither harm nor cause harm.

Muhammed said, None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.

Nature shows us that survival itself is relational—nothing lives only for itself, and everything that endures does so by giving and receiving in balance. Ecosystems survive not through domination, but through reciprocity—life sustaining life.

This too, in my opinion, comes back to self-love. I actually do believe that we’re loving our neighbors as we love ourselves, which is to say, not very well at all. With shame. With fear. With endless criticism.

We treat ourselves harshly, and so we treat each other harshly.

We bypass kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. We reject love—at our own expense, and at the expense of our society.

I don’t speak about this as theory. I know the cost of rejecting love.

When I was fourteen years old, my parents were shot and killed in a fruit market they owned in Detroit.

For years, when I thought about the man who killed them, I hated him. I wanted him to suffer. To die.

But that hatred was poisoning me.

So I made a conscious effort—not to forgive him—but to understand him. I imagined what kind of despair must exist in someone to reach that point. I imagined his fear and loneliness. That he must have felt so angry and lost, unseen and unloved.

And I recognized those feelings in myself. Even the violence, which I told myself I could never relate to, I actually could relate to, at least in thought. I had imagined terrible deaths for him.

The more I empathized with his humanity, the more the hatred dissolved. He became not just a killer but a human being—in pain—who made a terrible choice. I felt more and more compassion for him. And then one day, almost miraculously, I realized I had forgiven him.

Empathy was the pathway to forgiveness.
And that forgiveness became one of the greatest gifts of my life, and one of the most potent indicators of the power of love.

Recently, I watched a video of people standing outside an ICE headquarters in Minneapolis, singing:

“It’s okay to change your mind. Show us your courage, leave this behind. It’s okay to change your mind, then you can join us, join us here anytime.”

That is our potential. That is empathy, and compassion. That is an invitation.

I’ve also watched many videos of people screaming profanities at ICE agents, and I’ve found myself cheering them on.

And if I witnessed someone being dragged from their home, I don’t know how I would respond. I can feel my blood boil just imagining it.

But I do know this:

The world I want to help co-create—the beloved community so many of us long for—cannot be built from contempt. It’s not possible.

It must be built from courage, integrity, and love.

And because I have power over only myself, it is incumbent upon me to rest in integrity, to listen to the guidance of my heart, and to love myself and my fellow human beings as fiercely as I can.

The question isn’t whether we want to create a more compassionate and loving world. Of course we do.
The question is this: from what place will we create it?

I’d like to share a poem by Thich Nhat Hahn that speaks to our capacity for empathy and compassion.

Please Call Me by My True Names

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow --
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

I’ll end with a short prayer.

Feel free to close your eyes and place your hands over your heart if that feels good.

May we learn to live from love—not as a concept, but as a daily embodied practice.
May we remember our inherent worth and dignity, even when we falter.
May we stay anchored in self-respect when fear invites us to abandon ourselves.
May we tell the truth without cruelty, and resist harm without perpetuating it.
May we hold fast to compassion so that the forces we oppose do not shape who we become.
And may the way we love ourselves quietly ripple outward—into our relationships, our activism, our communities—helping us co-create a more just, courageous, and compassionate world.

Amen. Blessed be. Thank you.

I hope this reflection was helpful to you all, and I pray we can continue to remain in our hearts, in love, no matter how else we choose to show up in these times.

Big Big Love,

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: Please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Hi Friends,

I came across the following post a couple nights ago from a guy named Kevin on Threads.

Hey Y'all. Today might be one of the hardest days of my life. Please tell me something beautiful.

Here are a handful of the 500 responses—and a couple pics—he received from “strangers” on the app:

When I was really young, we were dirt poor. My dad cut wood and my stepmom worked for the forestry department. We got commodities and our clothes were handz-me-downs from cousins and the church thrift store. Christmas was coming, and my dad was upset every day that he couldn't get us anything. On Christmas Eve, we heard loud bells, and then footsteps on our roof. My dad ran outside to see what was going on and found bags of wrapped gifts all stacked on our porch. The fire chief was climbing off the roof. Neighbors, friends, and the people at the forestry dept had gotten together, and made Christmas for my whole family. For years, I thought it was all from Santa. I believed in him for way longer than a kid should. Now, I make sure I am Santa for anyone that needs it.The world is full of good things. Sometimes, the good thing is just us being kind to each other.

I work at a Bath & Body Works. At least two middle school kids have come in nervously with cash to buy valentine’s gifts for their crushes. Love is alive amongst the babies.

My father and I spent many years not speaking to each other. Out of the blue after getting his life together he wanted to meet his grandson for the first time. He treats us to McDonald’s which was the only thing in his budget. He regularly sent us both a few dollars like an allowance after that. After he passed suddenly I was cleaning his apt. Found a journal as a gift for me. It caught me up on the years we missed. He showed love while also respecting my space for what I lost. I’m whole again.

There is a profound beauty in human resilience. The fact that you can experience deep pain and still look for something beautiful is a testament to the strength of your spirit. It is the "kintsugi" of the soul: the cracks are where the gold gets poured in.

Today my nonverbal son told me he loved me with his talking device. It was the first time he's ever done it.I hope whatever you're going through today turns out in your favor. I'm sending positive vibes your way!

You’ve got kind eyes, and a trustworthy face. The energy that runs through your body is the same as the energy the allows the stars to shine in the night sky. You are relative to the cosmos and nothing can stop you.

Studies of birds’ brains show that not only do they dream in their sleep, they’re dreaming in song, practicing the melodies of their calls for when they wake up. So whatever you’re going through today, whatever darkness you’re in, your brain and heart and music are all still there, resilient and immovable, and there WILL come a morning again when you wake up ready to sing.

I'm not sure what you're facing, but I know that you're still here and surviving. If we could only have a picture show of what we have already been through in our lives and then see that we made it. I'm so glad that you reached out. Together is always stronger. We're with you now.

Humans still make art cats nap near books dogs have lovely adventures and naps and an entire community is rallying around you. All the love.

The moon exists.

And here was his response the next morning:

Good morning you beautiful souls! Thank you for the kind words and the support yesterday. It matters more to me than you can all ever know. Life is tough, tougher alone, but that's just an illusion. We're never alone, not if we have the courage to reach out and the humility to accept others love when so freely and unconditionally offered. I love you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Three times it is said. Blessed Be. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤍🖤

As we all grapple with how brutal and depraved human beings can be, let us remember how compassionate and kind we can be too. During this seemingly endless difficult time, let’s not forget to be intentional about tapping into the beauty here. The beauty in one another. And asking for help when we need it. A simple please tell me something beautiful can change the course of your day.

On that note, please tell me something beautiful.

Leave a comment

Friends, we are powerful beyond measure when united in love.

In love and solidarity,

xoxo…Scott

Upcoming Events:

SOUL RENEWAL RETREAT — June 6th - 13th, 2026: Please read what I wrote about this retreat below:

Details and registration here.

Hi Friends,

I feel uneasy writing this newsletter today—about an upcoming retreat—because so much in our world feels unbearably heavy. So many people are struggling financially, emotionally, spiritually. There’s so much uncertainty, grief, outrage, and exhaustion floating through the collective air. I feel it every day, and I know most of you do too.

At the same time I also sense a shift happening, a growing hope around the ways so many of us are waking up to the levels of greed, corruption, and abuse present in our politics and beyond, and the ways in which people from all ideologies are saying no more.

Still, it can feel tone-deaf in this moment to say, Hey, come to Italy with me this June. And it feels a little strange to promote something expensive right now.

And yet, this is my work. It’s one of the ways I support myself. One of my very favorite ways in fact.

So…

This June, my good friend David Gandelman and I will be hosting our fifth retreat together—Soul Renewal—this time in Sardinia, Italy. These retreats have become some of the most meaningful, nourishing experiences of my life. The depth of connection, reflection, and revelation that happens never ceases to amaze me. Even though, by now, I expect it.

I’ve watched what unfolds when people step out of their daily noise and into intentional, loving community. I’ve seen what a week of slowing down, breathing deeply, being witnessed, laughing, crying, resting, and remembering who you are can do to a nervous system. To a body. To a heart.

This retreat is about reconnecting with your inner wisdom, and experiencing the grounding that comes from saying yes to what feels most true to you. We’ll do this through meditation, breathwork, yoga, writing, and lots of heart-centered discussion. If you’re craving depth, spaciousness, and a chance to come home to yourself in community, this retreat was created with you in mind.

And we’ll be doing all this in one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

If you’re already thinking about taking a European vacation this year, or any kind of vacation, I want to offer this as a different kind of option. Not sightseeing your way into exhaustion. Not rushing from place to place. But settling into one place. One rhythm. One circle of humans. One intentional recalibration.

We meditate.
We talk about real things.
We rest.
We explore.
We eat incredible food.
We laugh a ton.

It truly is the best vacation I can imagine at this time. If it resonates and feels accessible to you, I’d love for you to join us.

If you want to learn more about the retreat, you can find all the details here:
https://www.meditationschool.us/sardinia-retreat

And if not, thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for continuing to choose compassion and love in a world that too often rewards the opposite.

With gratitude, and Big Big Love.

xoxo…Scott