Re-Gain

The Attitude of Mitakuye Oyasin One of my dearest friends once told me that the single most important word in the English language’ve held onto that truth. For over two-thirds of my life, I’ve wrestled with deep sorrow over how we, as humans, treat the Earth—especially when it comes to trash. But I’ve come to see that when I let despair, depression, or even apathy take root, I only add to the harm. Now, just a few years shy of 70, I find myself entering a season of life where things are beginning to break down—physically, emotionally, materially. And yet, I’m more drawn than ever to plant seeds of possibility, purpose, and potential. My measure of quality in life is no longer about accumulation or achievement, but about contribution. It’s about finding that sacred sweet spot where I can be of service—where what I offer matters. As a visitor here on this sacred Earth, how I leave it—and what I leave behind—matters deeply to me. I live with the intention to treat all things a...

Give your best to this land, and it will return its best to you.   Now, approaching the threshold of social security, I reflect on all those who risked their lives for my freedom. The baby boomer generation holds a staggering $84 trillion in wealth—half of the world's total—according to the UBS Global Wealth Report 2024. Yet wealth alone is not the legacy that matters most. We are all shareholders in securing our children's future. We must maximize the value of our land and minimize its loss—because sustainable action now will save us trillions of dollars in the long run. Current economic systems fail to reward preservation. The American dollar thrives on faith in the Federal Reserve, but without TRUST, the system crumbles. What enduring environmental-economic security measures exist for the long haul? We must now channel that same unity toward safeguarding our collective future. If all Americans unite, financial and insurance institutions can offer a viable Plan B. But...

Or: How to Stop Wrestling with Yourself and Learn the Happy Dance There’s a great cosmic joke hidden in plain sight—the way reveals the way… when I stop tripping over my own feet. Turns out, life isn’t a labyrinth of riddles but more like a wacky treasure hunt where X marks the spot, but only when I stop squinting so hard at the map.   What I cherish most are those glorious, technicolor moments of unity—the kind that make me feel like the whole world is in on some grand, cosmic flash mob. That *zing* of interconnectedness where I cease being just me and morph into a joyful ripple in the great pond of existence

We humans are a curious bunch, navigating existential crises while also wondering if we left the stove on. We ask ourselves grand, sweeping questions like:   • How do I find inner peace?   • What does it mean to truly live?   • Where are my car keys??   For me, the path to peace involves embracing contradictions. I have learned that wisdom hides in foolishness and that missteps can be the very best teachers. I have tripped—both metaphorically and literally—many times. And each time, I uncover new lessons (and occasionally new bruises).   With gratitude may I walk this path fearless, joyful, and occasionally ridiculous. May my heart remain happy, free, and open to possibility.    At any moment, I can choose presence, joy, and curiosity—or succumb to fear, regret, and the familiar grip of my old anxieties. But lately, I prefer the first option, with a splash of humor and a dash of adventure.   So, here’s to ...

Country Club or Club for Our Country *"I would never join a club that would have me as a member."* – Groucho Marx   Growing up, my playgrounds were public parks. The city streets and green spaces of Washington, D.C., were open to all—except those with country club memberships. These clubs, with their manicured lawns and exclusive gates, were foreign to us.   My parents valued education. My father graduated law school, yet most of my siblings never finished college. I left George Washington University despite having a full scholarship, finishing high school a year early. Like Thoreau, I believed formal education truly begins when it ends. That belief deepened when I moved from struggling public schools in D.C. to the best institutions in the suburbs. It was my first real lesson in inequality.   Later, as a tennis professional, I lived in two worlds: one of hard pavement, sweat, and labor, and another of affluence and ease. I became, in essence, a...

   In the last decade, I’ve witnessed a growing fervor in religious expression—bold, righteous, and unyielding. Yet reverence, true and humble, appears more scarce.   I live in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley, where faith is woven into daily life. The people here are warm, the landscape breathtaking, and the traditions deeply rooted. My grandfather was a minister, though I never had the chance to meet him. His legacy, however, speaks to me—not through grand sermons or rigid doctrines, but through the quiet humility that embodies true reverence.   Some wield their faith like a weapon, driven more by desperation than inspiration. Their fervor alienates rather than uplifts, replacing grace with aggression. Divisiveness has transformed discourse into hostility, turning victories into violent rhetoric. Fear Mongering fuels cycles of anxiety and conflict, eroding the very virtues faith should cultivate.   Yet in the quiet acts of kindness...