What do I have to do before I die?

Day 10: What Must I Do Before I Die

I've decided to do my own course—the practices I offer in my men's programs.

So here I am, on a 90-day practice of discovering what I'm actually here to offer the world. It's been many things through the years, all in this search for freedom, this hunt for completion. And now I'm back at the beginning, not knowing what the hell I'm here for.

So I go into my cave of practice, spending a lot of time just sitting, open to what is.

Sticking with it through the motivational phase, and into where it gets sticky, boring, and uncomfortable.

This is Day 10.

October 22- 2025

Today I realized: I am a failure.

I failed at being perfect. I failed at giving my best. I failed at being a good boy, a good son, a good brother. I failed school. I failed at losing. I failed in love—God, did I fail in love. I failed at offering my heart fully. I failed at saying "I love you." I failed at meeting you. I failed your trust in me. I failed at going deep in my life. I failed at my business. I failed at taking adult responsibility. I failed at growing up, and a part of me knows that if I dont wake up tomorrow, I will fail as a father.

These days have been full of rain.

Three days of constant jungle pouring now, rivers are forming in the banks that last week was dry. 

Water seeping through cracks in the roof. We're back to placing buckets around the floor, that hollow drip- marking time.

A new roof sits outside on the grass, but the worker we hired never showed—just before the rains came, and I refuse to do it, even though its my trade, I am not going back up on that roof!

 Brazil Grande Mestre - Great Master teacher.

Always challenging the comfort of ease.

Yesterday I painted boards I planned to install today. The first coat dried well. I gave it a second coat. This morning, rain had gotten through the roof onto two of the sheets, leaving trails down the middle.

The rest hadn't dried—the air too moist, the paint refusing to set. 

There's this cold water in the air now.

The frogs and crickers are loving it, though. They sing their praises to the Goddess of waters every evening after sunset, I like to imagine they are having a big party, sure sounds like it.

I've listened to rain pouring for three days straight. It does something to the psyche. Brings an uneasy feeling. 

Reminds me of traveling times—sleeping in cheap tents when rain started.

That uneasiness. If you touch the sides, water enters. And if it rains enough, perhaps the protection can't withstand it, and you start getting wet. Lots of sleepless nights.

Maybe that's why I couldn't wake up at 5am this morning like usual. I needed sleep, so I took it until 6am. It felt good. But then I had to shorten my morning practice, which at this point feels terrible. Incomplete.

The question I ask every morning and night: "What must I do before I die, so I can die complete?"

Today's answer: I must become a failure.

And to become a failure?

I must try with all my heart.

There's something about opening yourself fully to life—to the rain that won't stop, to the paint that won't dry, to the worker who doesn't show, to the roof that leaks, to every way you've fallen short of who you thought you should be.

This practice is my cure for seeking perfection. It's about staying with the question when everything feels incomplete. 

It's the negotiation of the integrity of the moment that says 6am instead of 5am and calling that enough. 

It's about trying with all your heart, knowing you'll fail. And trying anyway.

Chopped down on the battle field before you even got swing your sword.

Because maybe that's what it means to die complete—not having succeeded at everything, but having given yourself fully to the trying, just like 50 Cents said it.. :D

Even when it rains.

Especially when it rains.

'Thanks to our Sun, our great giver and teacher to just give, no matter what' Casper Veda