A lot of people aren’t failing to get what they want.
They’re resisting having it.
That’s a different problem.
It’s easy to look at the outside and say:
“I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I need a better strategy.”
“I need more time.”
Sometimes that’s true.
But sometimes…
you can feel it.
You want something—
more money, deeper love, real connection, momentum—
and right behind the desire…
there’s a tightening somewhere in your body.
A hesitation.
A quiet “not yet.”
Or even:
“Not me.”
That’s the part most people don’t look at.
Because it’s subtle.
It can look like patience.
It can sound like wisdom.
It can disguise itself as:
“I’m just waiting for the right time.”
But underneath…
there’s often something else.
So you reach…
and pull back.
You move forward…
and stall.
You say you want it…
but you don’t fully open to receiving it.
And you feel betrayed in your gut because the thing pushing it away is you.
Because on the surface, you’re trying.
But under the surface, you’re resisting.
I’ve been seeing this in myself lately.
Not as some big dramatic sabotage…
but in small, almost invisible ways.
A hesitation here.
A question there.
A subtle sense that I need to “earn it more” before I can fully have it.
Not forcing.
Not grinding harder.
Just noticing:
Where am I not actually available for the thing I say I want?
Because sometimes…
nothing outside needs to change.
Just your surrender.
Money Problems
Some people don’t have a money problem.
They have a meaning problem.
They want money…
but they also carry a story that money means:
greed,
corruption,
shallowness,
selling out,
or becoming the kind of person they never wanted to be.
So they split.
Part of them wants more.
Part of them resists it.
Part of them wants to be supported.
Part of them wants to prove:
“I’m still worthy without it.”
That conflict is the crux. It's always an interior conflict. That's how you know you have found it.
Because if money unconsciously means
betrayal,
ego,
or becoming like your parents…
you won’t just go make it cleanly.
You’ll hesitate.
Delay.
Complicate it.
Spiritualize it.
Judge it.
Push it away…
while still wanting it.
That’s a brutal loop.
The shift, for me, is not becoming someone who worships money.
It’s simpler than that.
It’s admitting:
I already have value without money.
And I’m allowed to have value
while making money too.
That changes the whole game.
Now money doesn’t have to prove I matter.
And rejecting money doesn’t prove I’m pure.
Now it can just be what it is:
Support.
Resource.
Exchange.
Fuel for the mission.
There you go. Boom!
We Tried War
We tried war.
Men vs women.
Power. Control. Damage.
We tried neutrality.
“We’re all the same.”
No edges. No tension. No spark.
And now?
We sit in a quiet, polite…
deadness.
Here’s the truth no one wants to say:
Energy without structure is chaos.
Structure without energy is lifeless.
The feminine expands.
That’s what it does.
Like a river. Like fire. Like a storm.
The masculine contains.
Not to control—
but to give it form.
The river needs banks.
The sun needs gravity.
Even atoms bond.
Not oppression.
Structure.
And here’s the part that scares people:
You have both.
Your feminine wants to move, feel, explode, create.
Your masculine must be strong enough to hold it… and guide it with heart.
Most men? Collapse.
Most women? Overflow.
No judgment. Just untrained energy.
But when it’s refined…
When structure meets flow
without fear…
Something else happens.
Not safety.
Not control.
Magic.
We don’t need less polarity.
We need
conscious polarity.
On Mars
3/22/2026 – On Mars
Today I finally set up On Mars again.
This game has been sitting in my orbit for about a year.
Not because I don’t want to play it.
Because it’s a beast.
Heavy game.
Complex game.
The kind of game that creates what I call turbulence in the mind.
That feeling of:
“I don’t know enough yet.”
“I need one more video.”
“One more rules pass.”
“One more round of preparation before I begin.”
And yet I’ve learned a lot of hard games.
So it’s always interesting when the mind still reacts like the unknown is a threat.
That’s what I noticed today.
I was setting it up…
feeling that old pressure…
that old background anxiety of
“Damn it, I should have learned this already”—
and then another voice cut through:
This is fun.
That changed the whole field.
Because it is fun.
It’s challenging.
It’s mentally demanding.
It asks something of me.
But that’s part of the pleasure.
I don’t actually need to eliminate the turbulence before I begin. I just need to begin.
That’s true in board games.
Probably true in half of life.
One of the worst ways for me to learn a game is when someone tries to explain every rule before the first move.
My way is simpler:
Start.
Make a move.
Be confused.
See what happens.
Learn by entering the system.
Not elegant.
Not perfect.
But real.
There’s something deeply satisfying about continuing to learn hard things.
New systems.
New patterns.
New maps.
It reminds me that even when the mind gets dramatic,
it is still capable.
Still adaptive.
Still alive.
So today’s scrapbook entry is this:
Mars.
Complexity.
Mental turbulence.
And the quiet satisfaction of not backing away.
Sometimes the move is not to understand everything first.
Sometimes the move is just to sit at the table…
and play.
One Piece Season 2 Review
3/22/2026 – Review Sunday
Finished Season 2 of One Piece last night.
It’s loud.
Colorful.
Absurd as hell.
Snail phones.
Rubber pirates.
A blue-nosed reindeer doctor.
On paper… it shouldn’t work.
And yet—it does.
Because underneath all the chaos…
there’s heart.
Real heart.
You’ve got Luffy—Monkey D. Luffy—
this reckless, smiling idiot genius
who just decides:
“I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”
No backup plan.
No strategy.
No apology.
Just belief.
And somehow…
He keeps being right about people.
Then his crew—
Zoro, discipline and steel.
Nami, sharp, grounded, the one who actually sees the map.
Sanji, fire and flavor and devotion.
Usopp… the liar slowly becoming the man he pretends to be.
They’re different.
They give each other shit.
They clash.
And they’d die for each other.
That’s the magic.
It’s not the powers.
It’s the crew.
The whole world is stitched together from chaos—
bits of culture, myth, nonsense, brilliance—
like someone took everything they loved as a kid
and refused to let it die.
And instead of making it “cool” or “serious”…
they made it true.
That’s the rare part.
There’s no wink to the camera.
No hiding behind irony.
Just:
Dreams matter.
Loyalty matters.
Heart matters.
And yeah…
part of me wonders if this story ever ends.
If “the One Piece” is real
or just the thing that keeps them moving.
But as a viewer?
I want both.
The journey…
and the treasure.
Either way—
I didn’t expect this show to hit like it does.
But it does.
Tony Tony Tony Chopper.
Illenium
The Sphere
Introduced to EDM by my son—through the portal of Excision—I’ve since become a fan.
So when Illenium announced his short residency at the Sphere, I called my daughter and said,
“Let’s go.”
I did the research.
Got the exact tickets I wanted.
And then waited… six months.
The day finally arrived.
I was already in Vegas for a board game convention.
Amethyst flew in, Ubered over, and we got ready.
Toast!
Energy building.
Then up… up… up the escalators…
and into the arena.
People say you have to see the Sphere.
They’re wrong.
You don’t have to.
But if you do…
…it’s better than expected.
Way better.
There are things in life I recommend if you’re inclined.
The Sphere?
It blows past recommendation.
It’s BUILT for EDM.
Illenium put a year into that show.
You could feel it.
It wasn’t just good.
It was transportive.
And the wild part?
You didn’t even need to be an Illenium fan to enjoy it.
(Though it didn’t hurt…)
As an Excision fan, hearing I Prevail, Gold, Zombie—
those collabs hit different.
But the real moment?
I kept looking over at my daughter.
Eyes wide.
Fully lit up.
And I thought—
Who gets to do this with their daughter?
What a gift.
That she came.
That we shared it.
Pure magic.
We even met people in the row ahead of us—
also from Utah.
Of course we did.
After the show, standing in the taxi line at midnight…
t-shirt, shorts…
Perfect weather.
Vegas, just… cooperating.
And then the cherry on top—
Back at the hotel,
Tom and Jennie were (kind of) awake.
Tom held strong longer.
We sat there… talking it all through.
Still buzzing.
My recommendation?
Do the small things daily.
You know I believe in that. Core 4. Discipline. Alignment.
But every once in a while—
Do something big.
Something memorable.
Something that cracks life open a little wider.
You’re worth it.
And so are the people you love.
Intimacy Needs Constant Attention
Intimacy isn’t like a skill.
People say,
“Relationships take practice.”
Sure.
But it’s not like picking up a guitar again after 10 years.
Alex Lifeson and Geddy Lee can step back in,
fumble a bit,
run scales,
get their fingers back…
And the guitar just sits there.
Patient.
Neutral.
Unaffected.
It doesn’t feel neglected.
It doesn’t close down.
It doesn’t test you.
But intimacy?
That’s alive.
You don’t “pause” it.
You abandon it.
And when you come back…
you’re not picking up where you left off—
you’re meeting whatever grew in the absence.
Distance.
Resentment.
Walls.
Withdrawal.
Silence.
Or sometimes…
a quiet ache that says:
“Are you really here this time?”
Skills wait for you.
People don’t.
They adapt.
They protect.
They change.
So yeah—intimacy takes practice.
But not the kind where you disappear for a while.
It’s a living thing.
And it knows when you’ve been gone.
Intimacy is Art
Intimacy is art.
You can study technique for years.
Say the right words.
Touch the right way.
Breathe, lead, soften…
And sometimes…
…it still falls flat.
No spark.
No opening.
No magic.
And then another night—
with less effort, less precision—
something opens that feels almost divine.
It’s strange.
The same man.
The same woman.
The same bodies.
Completely different result.
If this were just technique,
we could master it.
But it’s not.
It’s art.
Even the best musicians walk off stage some nights thinking:
"That was incredible."
And other nights:
"That sucked."
Same skill.
Different mystery.
And the worst thing you can do?
Try to recreate the incredible night.
You remember exactly how it felt.
You try to set the same scene.
Same mood.
Same moves.
But you're not present anymore—
you’re hunting a ghost.
And ghosts don’t come when called.
The grasping is the thing that kills it.
So maybe this isn’t about controlling the outcome.
Maybe it’s not even about repeating what worked.
Maybe it’s about showing up
honest… present… available…
and letting whatever happens, happen.
Because in art—
magic doesn’t come on command.
It doesn’t come on replay.
But if you keep playing…
it visits.
The Poison Becomes the Wisdom
The Poison Becomes Wisdom
Most people are trying to feel better.
That’s not wrong. It’s just early.
Stage One: Liberation
“I don’t want to feel this.”
You witness the emotion.
You breathe into it.
You watch it without becoming it.
Anger softens.
Anxiety loosens its grip.
The storm passes because you stop feeding it.
This is real.
This works.
And for a long time, this feels like the destination.
But there’s a hidden assumption underneath it:
Negative emotion is a problem to remove.
So you get good at removing it—
fast, clean, efficient.
And you call that mastery.
Stage Two: Alchemy
“Can I use this?”
Now you’re not just clearing the emotion—
you’re recycling it.
Anger becomes clarity.
Becomes boundaries.
Fear becomes preparation.
Becomes care.
Sadness becomes depth.
Becomes the capacity to truly meet another person.
This is transmutation.
This is real power.
The frame shifts: emotion is raw material.
And something else shifts too—
it stops being only about you.
The anger you alchemize becomes the boundary that protects someone else.
The fear you metabolize becomes the foresight that serves your people.
Service enters the picture.
This feels like mastery.
And it is—a deeper one.
But there’s still a move being made.
Still a frame.
Still an improvement being applied to the emotion.
Stage Three: Initiation
“What if nothing is wrong with this at all?”
This is the turn.
Not: remove it.
Not: convert it.
Enter it. Fully.
Go all the way in—
no agenda,
no improvement project,
no extraction plan.
And here’s the paradox:
When an emotion is completely felt—
not suppressed,
not reframed,
not alchemized into something more useful—
it stops being negative.
The negativity wasn’t in the emotion.
It was in the resistance to the emotion.
The intensity you’ve been managing, softening, redirecting?
It was always the doorway.
You just had to stop trying to do something with it long enough to walk through.
The poison doesn’t become wisdom because you handled it well.
It becomes wisdom
because you finally stopped handling it at all.
Past Jason
Past Jason took care of Future Jason…
so TODAY Jason can relax.
A little board game challenge —
bitter defeat and ecstatic victory.
A little visit to the Sphere with my daughter
to watch Illenium.
The drive to Vegas.
Long talks about seeing —
past our own layers of defense and protection.
Taking care of Mom and Dad.
Taking care of the castle and the cats.
Stewardship…
in case we leave permanently someday.
A quiet message to the kids:
We love you.
We're sorry we’re gone.
Here is how to do things as easily as possible.
And once again… we love you.
All of that manifested
from sitting in the still rhythm of the morning.
Alignment produces results.
And now those results are integrated
the same way they were created.
By listening to the silence.
Watching everything arise from nothing.
And incarnating fully in gratitude…
in the NOW.
bro you forgot me.
Feet the Beat
Feel the beat.
Every coach out there says the same thing.
Morning routine.
Wake up early.
Calibrate.
Pay attention.
Wait…
Pay attention.
And you know what?
They're right.
But not the way they think.
So try something simple.
Wake up.
Sit.
Just sit.
No phone.
No plan.
No productivity hack.
Just sit and watch.
What happens?
What arises?
Boom.
Awake in this breath.
Boom.
Joy rises in the now.
Boom.
Offer what you are.
Those are just words that showed up this morning.
What showed up for you?
What did you discover when you actually stopped?
When you breathed.
When you paid attention.
Look.
Look.
Look.
People say they want certainty.
They want a coach to tell them what to do.
“God, please tell me the plan.”
And God smiles.
No.
You get to figure that shit out yourself.
“But I don’t know what to do next.”
God says:
I’ll make you a deal.
I won’t do it for you.
No.
No.
No.
Sing it.
No, no, no.
I won’t do it for you.
But when you get stuck…
ask for a hint.
And I’ll give you one.
Just remember.
Sometimes the hint is as loud as a 747 screaming over your head.
And sometimes…
it’s as soft
as the whisper
of a snail.
The Corners of the Room
The Corners of the Room
This morning I sat quietly at my desk and listened to the house.
Refrigerator humming.
Wood creaking.
My own voice appearing in the room as I spoke.
It's strange when you notice it…
You never actually know what the next word will be until it comes out of your mouth.
Life is doing that constantly.
So I ran a little experiment.
I put my awareness in the four corners of the room.
Not looking at them.
Placing awareness there.
Something shifted immediately. The whole space felt alive.
Then I tried something even stranger.
Instead of observing the corner…
I became the corner.
A warmth spread through my chest.
A low electric hum through the skin.
Like the room and the body were suddenly the same thing.
Three things revealed themselves in about thirty seconds:
Awareness can witness.
Awareness can direct.
Awareness can become what it touches.
You don't actually have to force the next moment to happen.
You can relax and watch.
And something fascinating happens when you do.
The next moment shows up anyway.
Try it today.
Sit quietly.
Feel the room.
Put your awareness in the corners.
Then become one.
And see what happens next.
Structure and Light
I’ve been deep in structure these last two months.
Cleaning the house.
Organizing systems.
Working with clients.
Planning trips.
Cooking.
Stewarding the details of a life.
The masculine part of me loves that work.
Build the container.
Strengthen the foundation.
Prepare the ground.
But this morning I was reminded of something important.
A container without light inside it is just a box.
What brings it alive is energy.
Radiance.
Emotion.
Movement.
Sunlight on the water.
Laughter.
The presence of a woman whose heart is open and whose energy is flowing.
The masculine builds the structure of life.
The feminine fills it with life.
The stronger the structure becomes, the more light it needs inside it.
This morning I was reminded of that.
And I’m grateful for the light.
The Body Doesn't Lie
The Body Doesn't Lie
Input: Effort. Show up.
Output: Do the practices. Have the conversations. Sit in the fire.
Outcome: Results.
Most people stop at the first two.
They show up.
They journal.
They read.
They listen to podcasts.
They talk about growth.
That feels good.
Effort feels noble.
Doing the work feels productive.
But what are the results?
Has your body actually changed?
Has your nervous system softened?
Are you speaking and touching your partner differently?
Are you clearer about your next move?
Or are you just more informed?
You can read a thousand books.
You can talk with a therapist for years.
You can have profound conversations with AI at 2am and gain real insight — and I mean real.
You can understand yourself deeply in your mind.
But until something shifts in your body — until you actually feel different — the transformation is partial.
Real change shows up in outcomes.
Health.
Meaning.
Relationship.
Wealth.
Not theory.
Not language.
Results.
And results don't come from intensity.
They come from embodiment.
Most people live from the neck up.
Transformation happens when you come home to your body.
That's it.
Embodiment
I used to hate a man named Mo.
I’m at an expensive workshop trying to save my marriage…
And instead of sitting in a room with the teacher I paid to see…
I’m outside with the men, working with a different coach.
And this man named Mo challenges him:
“We’re doing too much mental stuff here.
Can’t you do something that embodies this?
Get us moving?
Or are we just going to sit and think the whole time?”
I’m looking at Mo like:
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
We aren’t here to exercise.
We are here to talk-therapy our way out of a pit in our relationships.
And our coach, the late great James Baye, got a twinkle in his eye and said:
“Alright.”
So instead of working on our issues with our wives…
For the next two hours James ran us into the ground.
The pinnacle moment:
Twelve men.
An ancient oak tree.
Chi generation pose.
Squatting. Arms overhead.
Thighs BURNING.
Shoulders ACHING.
What the hell was I doing here?
And then James asked:
“Can you keep your heart open
in the midst of this turbulence?
This pain?
This suffering?”
Something cracked.
This… was life.
And that was the day I stopped hiding in my mind.
You can’t solve your problems — with your work, your partner, your world — without incarnation.
The body is not optional.
If your growth never touches your body…
you’re still hiding.
Mo, if you ever read this — thank you.
I hated you that day.
BUT you were right.
Riley
Riley
I am Father.
This much was clear from early on in my life.
I knew I was going to have children, and be not only A father, but FATHER.
Today is my son Riley's 30th birthday.
I remember the clarity of wanting him, and I remember the moment he was born — a SWOOSH of energy flooded the entire room and I swear I could hear angels singing.
He, like my son before him, and my daughter after, came to me intentionally and with deep focus and allowing.
As with all my kids, soon after they were born, I held them, wrapped in the new blankets, and took them for a walk.
A Jason tradition:
Let's walk and talk son.
Welcome to earth.
Welcome to my family.
I am sure you know me already, but let me introduce myself.
I'm am known on this planet as Jason.
You will be known as Riley.
We talked, as I had talked with Asher, would later talk with Amethyst.
Some of the things said will never be repeated, none of them ever will be forgotten.
Words weren't the only way we communicated, we talked soul to soul.
Thirty years later, I am still walking with you, son.
Open. Energized. Excited.
Open. Energized. Excited.
After morning alignment I distill all the work I've done calibrating into a short sentence that fits on a 3x5 card.
In the fashion of pulling a Tarot card, I often pull one of these cards from the giant stack and contemplate it for the day.
Today's work resulted in these three words. And so I share them with you, and hope they resonate in whatever way helps you the most.
I have an Ai Image Program named Sora, which helps me by adding these words to this photo of me, which is a lot easier than doing it in Adobe photoshop. I'm grateful for the ease and magic of these images.
Fire Your Coach
Fire your coach. Fire your therapist. Work with Chat. And watch nothing change.
That's what I heard this week. "AI is going to wipe out coaches. Thinking. Talking. Strategy. Frameworks. Dead."
And honestly? If all you do is talk… yeah. Probably.
Because thinking is cheap now. Language is cheap. Frameworks are cheap.
But there is one thing AI cannot do.
It cannot walk across a room. It cannot feel its spine collapse. It cannot watch its wife look it in the eye and say,
"Three."
Out of ten.
Years ago Jennie and I were doing a practice. Simple. I walk across the room toward her. She gives me a number. 1–10. How present am I?
First round. "Four."
Again. "Five."
Again. "Three."
And something started happening. Not in my head. In my body.
My chest tightened. Jaw locked. Heat rising.
I wasn't trying to impress her. I was trying to be present.
And the harder I tried… the lower the number went.
Ego flared. Defensiveness. Anger. At her. At myself.
"How the hell is this a three?"
But the more I burned, the less present I became.
And that's when it hit.
You don't think your way into presence. You don't talk your way into embodiment. You don't concept your way into polarity.
You break. You feel. You stay.
That practice took everything I thought I'd built — every insight, every rep, every proud moment of growth — and dashed it on the rocks of bitter disappointment.
I couldn't even walk across a room with presence.
Talk about rubbing your nose in your own shit.
But I didn't learn it as an idea. I learned it in my nervous system.
That's the difference.
When you come to Shades of Intimacy… When you come to Modern Day Warrior… When you come to Heber Meditation Retreat…
You don't take notes. You don't sit in the back of the room. You don't consume content.
You walk across the room.
You breathe while someone watches you. You feel your collapse. You feel your edge. You feel your power. You feel your bullshit.
And then you stay.
Cold water. Eye contact. Voice shaking. Heart pounding.
Threshold. Not theory.
Here's the truth:
AI will beat you at thinking. It will beat you at strategy. It will beat you at copy.
It cannot beat you at embodied initiation.
And that's what I've been building for 15+ years.
Not a content machine.
A threshold.
If coaching is dying… good.
Let the talking heads fade.
The future belongs to those willing to step into the room…
and walk.
Across it.
Tightness
This morning
there was a catch in my throat.
Not resistance to presence.
Protection of momentum.
Somewhere in the wiring
my body learned:
If I stop — I stall.
If I slow — I fall.
Last night proved the pattern.
TV glow.
Energy low.
Drought.
Hard to restart.
Old wiring says:
Keep moving.
Don't pause.
Don't breathe too long.
But this morning rewrote it.
I stopped.
Sat.
Listened.
Heat through the vent.
Chair against my back.
Tractor beeping somewhere in the distance.
Space between sounds.
No urgency.
No collapse.
Just… peace.
Absence.
Spaciousness.
Room.
And from that room
something subtle returned.
Not hype.
Not grind.
Not force.
Momentum.
Slow is fast.
Not motivational poster fast.
Mechanical fast.
When I stop fighting the moment,
the moment stops fighting me.
And then it moves.