Counting Lessons, Not Days

On transformation, fatherhood, and the tools we keep forgetting

May 07, 2026

Are the days blurring together? I am noticing time slipping, stretching, accelerating, and fading, like I am grasping at living smoke. I don’t even count the days anymore… it seems more practical to count the lessons instead. These aren’t easy times that we’re in. The world is changing at the speed of thought, and so am I. Metamorphosis is a daunting undertaking. It can be uncomfortable, painful, frightening, overwhelming.

But on the other side of it is everything we were meant for.

All my life, I’ve been juggling many different identities. Son, father, lover. Builder, leader, provider. But these are just labels and roles… hats and masks we put on to play the game of life.

With identity comes values, priorities, and responsibilities. Trying to carry it all has cost me dearly. I learned at a young age how to stretch beyond my capacity. How to ignore my needs, sever my connection to the body, and push through pain. I betrayed myself so consistently that my body stopped trusting me, tightening in panic. Now, I sit in silence every day, listening to the signals within. I’m searching for ways to rebuild that connection, undo the damage, and understand myself.

As I explore my inner world, I find myself in a vast, dimly lit museum. Surrounded by shadowy silhouettes, unable to read the signs, wandering aimlessly with a small persistent candle named Inquiry. I’m stumbling into wounds that feel like they don’t belong to me, emotions that feel ancient. I’m falling into a cavern in my chest where my heart should be.

Why am I feeling this way? Where did these beliefs come from? How did I get so far from myself? Who am I, truly? The questions lead me deeper into the museum, revealing more stairs and labyrinths. Perhaps there is no end. Perhaps reaching it isn’t the goal. Perhaps the point is finding meaning in each step.

I have a long way to go.

And I’m going to savor every minute of it.

As I move through this difficult process of transformation, all the tools I need to navigate it are at my disposal: love, joy, gratitude. How peculiar, that we forget these tools so easily when we’re alone in the shadows? What a gift to have family and community to remind us. How fortunate that compassion arrives whether or not we think we’ve earned it.

Remembering what we love

When I need to re-center myself, I try to recall the things I love and what I am grateful for. It’s not a mental exercise, but instead accessing some non-physical space within the heart. It’s touching a feeling that transcends rational thought. It’s connecting to a power that lives outside the body yet reverberates through it. It is the act of holding something sacred.

I love my children with all my heart, a feeling so deep and true that no amount of words, songs, or hugs can ever fully express it. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I think of our mornings together, waking up to the birds singing and walking to school. We cook meals, dance in the kitchen, and share gratitudes & gossip at the dinner table. Each evening, I tuck them in with a bedtime story, meditation, and a good night kiss. Between play dates, sleepovers, and movie nights with their friends - our home is filled with laughter. I’m clinging on to every last bit of their childhood that I can, and I see them doing the same.

Sleepover Party Pillow Fort — Pillow Fort - Sleepover Party

Yet I am witnessing my daughters gradually cross the threshold into teenage years. I feel them growing - physically, mentally, emotionally - as they drift from my embrace. They are cultivating friendships with their peers, exploring their own interests and passions. They are solidifying their relationship as inseparable sisters and BFFs. They are fending for themselves, taking on chores, making playlists, proposals, and decisions.

Gone are the days where I’d nervously jump to “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” every 10 minutes or so. I am immensely proud, yet I recognize that they are spreading their wings and floating towards new territory. My place in their lives will forever change. To know the finality of things is a bittersweet sting, yet it reminds me to savor every moment I have with them.

My favorite emotion

Of all the roles I play in this life, I am most grateful to be a father. At our last Agartha residency, I asked the group, ‘what is your favorite emotion?’, and realized I didn’t know my own answer. It only took a moment to come clear: the love of a child. A connection so powerful that you can lift a car with your bare hands to rescue them, walk barefoot across the earth to reach them, or look death in the face and say ‘no, thank you, I’m not done yet’.

My love for my children drives me to be a better person, to be present, to invest in myself so I can show up for them as a whole being. It is worth any price I pay.

My wish for you

To my friends and family I haven’t seen or spoken to in some time: I wish for you to remember that which you love, that which you hold sacred. I wish for you to feel that peace and joy in your heart as the memories return to you.

We are all walking the path, we are all works in progress. May these words bring you some ease on your journey. May our roads lead back to each other, one day, in loving embrace.

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