I owe my life to ten deep inhalations and exhalations. Just ten full cycles of breath. I’m doing it now between sentences.
These founder pages aren’t really about me, they’re about the company, the people behind it, and the product we believe in. I’m just a person doing meaningful work to occupy my time and stay connected to a sense of purpose. At this stage, my intention is to draw less attention to myself and more attention to what we’re building together. These pages aren’t for bragging. They’re a journal, a tool for self-reflection and growth. I share them with the hope that, if you’re reading this, we’re walking a similar path, and maybe we can learn something from each other along the way.
When I first started this practice it didn’t help. I was too wound up. In my early 40s I was flooded with testosterone, caffeine, adrenaline, PTSD, ambition, bad decisions, and unconscious habits. But somehow through all my chaos the breath found me.
I remember one moment clearly. I was skydiving with my coach practicing head-down flying, which is about 160 mph if you're doing it right. Max flew up to me mid-fall, grabbed my harness, and signaled to breathe. I had been holding my breath, which I often did when scared. And skydiving, for all its thrill, made me nervous.
Another time after a major breakup and a string of failures I went to the drop zone with zero attachment left. I wasn’t suicidal. I just didn’t care anymore. I climbed out of the plane, stood on the step, and fell backward into a sunset completely at peace. No thoughts. Just breathing. I was upside down, relaxed, and calm in the freefall. It was dangerous but the feeling stayed with me.
Skydiving helped me. But it also jacked my nervous system up even more. I was sober but much of that decade is a blur. Looking back I am kind to myself. I’m alive. But I can say this. If I had a regulated nervous system I probably would not have done 80 percent of the wild things I dreamed up and chased.