July 28, 2026 | Issue Archive
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Back to work this week after a few days away with Megan, and I’m feeling grateful.
We found a small window in the middle of a crazy summer, blocked it off, and Megan planned what she called a “mystery trip.”
I knew we were flying to San Diego. That was about it.
Then we drove into the mountains in Julian, CA, pulled up to a little cabin tucked among the trees... and as Megan predicted, I got a little teary.
She knows me.
Mountains over ocean? Every time.
Give me trees, trails, animals and a little adventure and something inside me settles.
Over the next few days there were horses, llamas, dolphins, sea lions, California sunshine—and thankfully no rattlesnakes or mountain lions. 😂
We rode horses. Hiked. Ate good food. Went looking for whales and found dolphins instead.
And for a few days, we stepped outside the normal rhythm of appointments, kids, work, responsibilities and everything else that makes life… life.
Megan planned the whole thing beautifully.
And I’m grateful.
Reflecting on it all, here’s something that hit me:
Sometimes calm is something you create in a moment.
Sometimes calm requires creating some space.
I teach box breathing from the stage because it’s one of the simplest tools I know for interrupting our automatic survival response.
Inhale for four seconds.
Hold for four.
Exhale for four.
Hold for four.
Repeat.
You can use it before the difficult conversation. Before walking onto the stage. Sitting in your car before going into the house. In the middle of a chaotic workday.
But we can’t expect a 60-second breathing exercise to compensate indefinitely for a life with no room to recover.
Sometimes you need an hour.
Sometimes an afternoon.
Sometimes a walk in the woods.
And sometimes, if you’re fortunate enough to make it happen, you need a few days in a cabin in the mountains with someone you love.
Calm isn’t just something we practice in the chaos.
Sometimes we need to step outside the chaos long enough to remember what calm feels like.
And now?
I’m excited to be back.
There are programs to create. A book to finish. A keynote to keep improving. New tools and resources I want to build for you.
The work is still here.
But I’m returning to it differently.
That’s what recovery can do.
THIS ENDS NOW
Waiting until you’re completely depleted to give yourself permission to recharge.
THIS MOMENT MATTERS
Maybe you can’t disappear to California this week.
That’s okay.
Don’t make restoration so elaborate that it becomes impossible.
Ask yourself:
Where do I go—or what do I do—that helps me come back to myself?
Maybe it’s the mountains.
Maybe it’s the water.
Maybe it’s your garden, the gym, a trail, a coffee shop, a porch, an hour with your phone turned off.
You already know some of the places.
Put one on the calendar.
Mastering the Moments isn’t about grinding your way through every moment life gives you.
It’s knowing when to breathe.
When to pause.
When to step away.
And when to come back.
No more treating recovery like a reward.
Recovery is part of the practice.
Up we go—
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