I wake in the early hours of the night, chain-smoking my way to dawn. Thoughts swirl in my head, dancing between the shadows and the light.

The more I walk this path to spiritual enlightenment, the more shadows I face, like the layers of an onion.

I’ve done Ayahuasca five times. I’ve studied breathwork. Hell, I even got myself certified as an instructor. Deep inside, a healer wants to emerge.

I say, “You are your medicine. You create your reality. So, create and live a life you love.”

I know that I am a mere mortal, a spiritual being having this human experience.

And on this quest to heal my wounds, I find the moments of joy, ecstasy, and bliss are fleeting at best, not fully integrated and sustained experiences yet.

The Air That I Breathe. Is this My Hero’s Journey?

A Hero’s Journey Removes the Masks, Labels and Boxes?

A web designer. An artist. A blogger. A YouTuber. A breathwork facilitator. A teacher. A spiritual teacher. A coach. The caretaker of a golden retriever. A gay man. An openly gay man. A spiritual gay man. An American living in Mexico. A foreigner, slowly learning a new language. Gringo Loco Mexicano. A son. A brother. A friend. A lover. A tormented soul. A happy soul. A guy who prays to angels, spirit guide, the Universe, but still questions “God.”

I am a guy who wallows in regret and despair—praying for a change—for something positive to come and transform my life once and for all.

I am very good at wearing all my masks. I’m very good at believing my bullshit.

And the truth is, at the end of the day: the only thing holding me back from achieving what I desire is me. I cherish that day when I finally practice what I preach.

I am courageous, and I have no problem being vulnerable. I don’t mind facing my truth. Hell, I relish in it.

And yes, it has pushed many people away. Or maybe because I face my truth, it scares people. Or perhaps, they are just tired of my daggers, lashing out whenever my unrealistic expectations are not met.

I have finally learned to tell myself, it’s either a “hell yes,” or it is “fuck no!” And the people pleaser in me is finally starting to put my needs first.

It’s not easy. It’s not selfish. It’s not greedy. But, it has been a slow, painful process getting this far.

I’m stubborn as fuck. But that’s what I signed up for. No one chose this for me. I am NOT a victim.

I am just a boy, 45 years of age in this lifetime. Aware of many past lives, my angels, my guides, the truth that we are all connected, we are all one.

The Universe is energy, vibration, and frequency. God dwells in me, as me.

And you, I, we are just mirror reflections of one another: teaching lessons, growth opportunities.

The sun has risen on this new day, the ashes on the ground, from the many burned cigarettes, piled high, reminding me of the KD Lang album, “Drag” (sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe and don’t smoke in bed). I love the irony of that album.

Begging me to question: is that a symbol of what I’ve done to my lungs? A blackened heart.

The Air That I Breathe. Is this My Hero’s Journey?

A Samadhi Breath? Is this My Hero’s Journey?

A Samadhi Breath. I am at peace, a tormented soul. On a very slow hero’s journey (as Joseph Campbell called it in “A Hero with a Thousand Faces”), distinctly my own.

Have I found my peace, my joy, my bliss? I thought I did. And maybe I have. Perhaps I am already there. I don’t know.

I guess, in the end, it all comes down to this: Jason, what is your intention? What do you want? What is going to make your heart sing?

And am I going to do what it takes to manifest that joy and abundance? Trusting that the Universe has my back and all I have to do is meet it halfway.

The sun has risen, just as it did the day before and the day before that. Make your bed Jason, get up, show up, and begin another day. You are here, and you are alive.

Happy or sad. It’s okay. Jason, you made it to today. Thank you. Namaste. And I love you. Even if you still haven’t fully learned to love yourself.