Grieving the Loss of a Beloved Parent

I haven’t written in a long time. For that, I apologize. I think that keeping a regular blog benefits me and those interested in following along with my journey and greater purpose. It seems like some of us live our lives trying to avoid the inevitable truth that someday (hopefully many years from now) we will cross over into The Great Mystery: Death. Over the last year, the reality of this fact has become abundantly clear as I witnessed my mother’s illness manifest, progress, and ultimately take her life.

It has been one of the most painful and difficult experiences I have faced so far in my life. My Mom was my Person. We were best friends, and she was an endless wellspring of love and support throughout my entire life. She developed a rare blood disease when she was an adolescent and had controlled it with medication and monthly blood tests for most of her life. When she was in her 71’st year, during the year of the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic it morphed into a rare and aggressive form of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.

I had already been spending each day with her because of Covid, but I made even more effort to enjoy and relish our time together. None of us really know when our number will be punched. Our family had high hopes that her chemo and radiation treatments would work. Over the next year and 3 months, we took her to Stanford for multiple treatments and hospital stays. The solutions that the doctors began to present became increasingly fringe, with success rates that were rarely boasted to be ‘successful’.

My mother eventually decided to stop treatments altogether and be enrolled into Hospice. That was a difficult conversation that we shared, with a flood of tears on my part. The two of us enjoyed a lovely and nostalgic vacation to Maui, to our favorite spot to travel to when I was a boy. In late September 2021, I alongside her husband and their two dogs held her hand as she drew her last breath.

I am not going to go into much detail of my grieving process in this post. I mostly just wanted to update my audience with what has happened this last couple of years. I will more regularly and in greater detail about this in the coming months. Below is a picture of us taken a couple of months before she passed.

I will treasure the time that we got to spend forever.

In Awe of Nature

I recently had the opportunity to finally ‘get out of Dodge’ and traveled with my cousin (also Jon) cross country from California to Pennsylvania. We stopped at 3 national parks on our migration east. In my past as a child, I used to travel to Yosemite each year with my fathers’ side of the family. Even though my memory of it was one of beauty, I found myself immensely dumbstruck by the sheer scale of the place as an adult. It had probably been 20 years since I had been back.

The last time that I was there, my father and I had attempted to climb Upper Yosemite Falls. For those who don’t know, that hike contains three and half miles of off-set stone stairs. It is a steep, switchback trail with absolutely breathtaking views. When I was a child, my Dad only made it about 2/3 of the way there before requesting that we turn around. Needless to say, I made it a bucket list item to someday return and make it to the peak.

Thankfully, on this trip I checked that item off of my bucket list! I was extremely motivated to make it to the top, and it only took me 2 hours. The views were absolutely stunning. I had forgotten just how spectacular Yosemite is. The immensity of the vertical granite walls is indescribable. It really needs to be seen to believed. There were a couple of times that our group stopped, sat down, and meditated on how dramatic the landscape is. I was so grateful to have been able to make it to the top of the falls, as well as get out and about in the world again as the pandemic (at this point) seems to be calming down.

Skepticism, and Critical Thinking

It’s been a little while since I have had the opportunity to blog. Sorry about that! It has been an interesting few months. It is now 2021, and with it brings another time of contemplation pertaining to the previous year. 2020 was a time unlike any other that we have experienced. Mainly, we were plunged into (and are still in the middle of) a global pandemic. Our entire lives shifted and changed. It provided me with significant block of time to slow down, and contemplate many aspects of myself that I hadn’t taken the time to look at.

in the first quarter of last year, I broke my foot falling off of my unicycle. During the healing process, the dark depression I had found myself in since November, 2019 reached its climax. Near my birthday in May, I attempted suicide. Thankfully, I was not successful, but it forced me to question the groups that I had been a part of. Pretty much since the start of my recovery journey, I had taken a liking to two different Youtube “guru” channels. One was disguised as a personal development channel, but really was pointing me in the direction of needing to use psychedelics to achieve some sort of “spiritual enlightenment”. Basically to realize that I am God and am creating the universe. Thankfully I was just in it for the personal development advice. One of the topics that this person spoke about was self-actualization. I had really resonated with an idea they stated: If I don’t go out into the world and fulfil my life’s purpose, then I will grow old and look back on my life and have regrets. I really took this on as truth, and it began to shape the way I thought of myself and how I was living my life.

I also was buying into another self appointed master, who took more of a new age spirituality approach to their teachings. Thankfully, they started to fall into the pit of conspiracy theories as the pandemic became more and more of a focal point. I quit buying into their “teachings” rather quickly. As I began to question the truth of this content, I began taking an interest in skepticism, and critical thinking. I began learning about cults, and Steven Hassan’s BITE Model (Behavior, Intuition, Thought, Emotion control).

When everything came crumbling down was when I applied critical thinking and skepticism to everything that I believed. This included the program of “traditional recovery” that I had been a part of, and even my religion. What I realized was that without knowing it, I had fallen prey to a series of cults. After my suicide attempt, I re-evaluated everything that I was a part of. I quit seeking advice from self-appointed gurus, and began looking inside of myself for answers. The most difficult shift was the detachment from my recovery community.

This was a group of individuals that I had spent the last 18 months shaping my life around. I had created a community around these people and dove head first into their way of life. In the end, I had to ask myself if participating was moving me forward and causing me to feel healthy mentally, physically, and spiritually. The answer that I arrived at was no. It was a difficult thing to realize. I have since been doing my own research to find different ways & methods of recovery that make more sense to my individual personality.

After I moved on, I went through a period of anger. This seems to be normal when detaching from a cult that has participated in brainwashing and manipulating my thinking. I also had to come to terms with the fact that I would be losing people in that community that I thought were my friends. I understand that they might feel that I now pose a risk to them and that they need to protect themselves. I don’t hold anything against them and wish them the best. It was definitely an interesting experience, and I am glad that I am where I am at now. True friendship is unconditional (with proper boundaries).

There is no denying that I feel much, much better since I left. I have grown immensely last year. I am much more comfortable in my own skin, and many days I feel like I make the choice to love myself. I had to learn to not put other people or programs on pedestals. I now have more of a vision for myself and what I want my life to be. I feel more confident, and have a great hope for 2021. I will eventually forge more friendships. Ones that are more based in common hobbies and who accept me because of who I am, not what I am a part of.

On Manifestation . . .

Most of what I have learned about the term “manifesting” has stemmed from a sort of New Age Spirituality. Tied in with the Law of Attraction and “raising your vibrational frequency to attract what is on par with it”. There was a time when I subscribed to this notion, but what came along with it was the eventual brainwashing of two online cults, which ended up doing me more harm than good. I have however began to ponder what manifesting means to me, and then I had an epiphany.

By going out into the world and living my purpose, certain people resonate with what I am doing and occasionally make themselves known to me. I will provide an example: I try to go and ride my unicycle by the ocean every day. I put on my headphones and dance with my arms because usually I am filled with joy, and that is how it expresses itself through my body. Someone in their car driving along side of me got my attention and beckoned me to pull onto a side street so we could talk. It turns out that he is a pilot instructor and also enjoys unicycling!

We met up for a ride about a month later and are becoming friends. It was shortly after this that I began to think about the truth of living authentically. It seems that when we venture out into the world and let people see who we really are, we attract those who either share something in common with us. Whether it be the activity itself, or the bravery of our vulnerability; people can sense something. Whether that means making another person smile. or eventually leading to a new friendship: Being ourselves means something profound. It allows us to truly find our own tribe.

. . . To Be Anything At All

It seems like many of us become caught up attempting to excel in the rat race of living in a 1st world country. We’re bombarded with distractions and sometimes it feels as if the main purpose of life can be to work and make enough money to survive. From an early age, we learn about the societal programs that seem to dominate our lives: go to school, fit in, go to college, get a good career, get married, have a family. While there isn’t anything particularly wrong with this path or any path for that matter, it does feel like many times the point of all this seems lost in the rushing. There seems to be a overwhelming fixation on what is aptly called “destination addiction”.

I definitely have spent so much time focused on this type of thinking. “When I achieve this (career, degree, business, relationship, net worth, etc.) I will allow myself to feel (content, successful, proud, love, etc.)” To a certain extent I think it is very important to have our basic needs met. I do, however find myself pausing more and more to attempt to absorb the beauty of what it means to be and experience anything at all. To be a human being on this spinning spacecraft called Earth is a astounding experience. Slowing down to just think about how all of this could have possibly came to be regularly blows my mind.

I often feel this sense of wonder when I ride my unicycle by the ocean and dance to my music. I also feel this wonderful peace when I am out in nature as well. I feel like it is important in my life to slow down when I can remember and attempt to remember that just to have a sliver of time on this planet as a human is a glorious gift. There was a long time that I didn’t think so. I was absorbed in pain, and spent many years intoxicated in order to numb out emotions from the past that I didn’t wish to examine. Now that I have put in a extreme amount of effort to confront and embrace my demons, I am finally beginning to see with clearer vision how profound it is to be alive.

Redwood Apocalypse

Sky Choked Orange

I decided to depart on a longer than normal unicycle ride. I began with my usual ride along the Ocean in Santa Cruz on my 36’er. I noticed that the color of the sky was a bit on the orange side from the CZU Lightning Complex Fire that has been ravaging the Santa Cruz Mountains as of late. It didn’t seem at first to be especially smoky as I rode along West Cliff Dr.

I switched out my Kris Holm 36’er for my Nimbus Hatchet 27.5 when I arrived back to my home. I then proceeded to pedal my way toward the redwood forest. I couldn’t make the distinction at first, but soon after I began riding higher into the forest the smoke became much thicker. The sky had turned a ominous color of orangish-red. The feeling that overcame me could only be described as apocalyptic. As I climbed higher and higher, the tree coverage seemed to consume what little light remained.

I attempted to climb about 1,000 feet into the mountains, while attempting to avoid countless roots and rocks with very little light. It was an odd feeling to barely be able to see in front of me at 3 in the afternoon. I had been shown a trail by a new unicyclist friend I had met recently that I had originally planned to ride down. The trail was dubbed “Lock Em Up” because of the necessity to lock said brakes up while attempting to circumnavigate the trail back down.

By the time I reached it, the visibility had turned worse than poor. Even in normal daylight the trail is so steep that walking it requires serious caution and care. My shoes slipped and slid as I tried to walk down it the best I could. To attempt to ride in these conditions would have been a death sentence. I could hear the sound of crows nearby my who seemed to be mocking the fact that I somehow thought this was a good idea.

As I stopped and took in the scene around me, it felt like I was suddenly becoming the protagonist in some kind of sick horror film set in the forest. I can’t explain it even now, but it felt like I wasn’t alone. The sky had turned an even more sinister shade of orange. It was as if I was I was standing in a factory smokestack belching out smoke and muck at full tilt. I began to breathe more heavily and decided that it would be a better idea to leave the forest as quickly as possible. My mind began to play tricks on me. I could have sworn I heard rustling behind me and glowing eyes peeking out and watching in my peripheral vision.

Finally when I made it back out of the redwoods safely, the sky hanging over Santa Cruz was the unlike anything I had ever seen. It was only 5 pm at this point, but it might have well been nighttime. What light was left was shaded completely and utterly red. The rest of the evening was spent talking to family and friends about how we had never experienced anything like this in our beloved city.

I am glad that I made it out safe, and look forward to embarking on those trails again in perhaps. . . . Better conditions?