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I’ve been an IT Engineer my entire adult life.
Servers, programming, cybersecurity—you name it.
I spent years in the trenches analyzing, troubleshooting, and architecting my way through life.

When my world fell apart in 2020, I had the chance to rethink everything.
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When life as you know it completely disintegrates, it can also be an invitation to start over.
Of course, at the time, I wasn’t exactly celebrating like, “Oh wow, everything’s destroyed—yay, I get to rebuild, woo hoo!”​
But you get the picture.

I realized my hyper-analytical, brainiac way of living wasn’t serving me anymore.
I’d been operating almost exclusively from the left side of my brain—the logical, linear, language-based side.
But the right side?
That’s where creativity, intuition, and flow live.
I had shut that part down long ago.

Who has time to be creative or at ease when they’re in constant survival mode?
I NEEDED TO FIGURE THINGS OUT!

This next chapter of my life has been about expanding my horizons.
Trying new things.
Getting uncomfortable.
Reconnecting with what’s real.

One of the biggest steps I took was enrolling in yoga teacher training.
I never planned to teach yoga; I did it for me.
It was a selfish endeavor, in the best way—a chance to go deeper into my own practice of living well, meditating, and moving with intention.

One of the most profound realizations I had on that journey was that nothing was truly sacred when I was growing up.
Life felt shallow, material, surface-level.
There was no ritual, no reverence, no depth.
It’s no one’s fault—it just was.

We did have church, but most of it felt mechanical.
It was just something we did.
The Christmas Eve service, though—that was different.
It carried a sense of reverence and togetherness.
It was special, and we did it as a family.
But it happened once a year.

Having sacred time, sacred rituals, sacred spaces, and sacred relationships—these things are vital to the human experience.
They give us a foundation to stand on.
They bring comfort, confidence, mindfulness, and a quiet appreciation for the beauty in the little things.
They keep us grounded, centered, and connected.

Many of us who grew up in America have little sense of ancestral lineage.
My roots came mostly from Kellogg’s and Saturday morning cartoons.
That was my sacred time as a kid—a giant bowl of Sugar Smacks, the glow of the TV, and the Smurfs before dawn.
Silly as it sounds, it was sacred to me.

Since rediscovering the importance of sacredness, I’ve leaned into the rituals and wisdom of the indigenous traditions around me and the teachings found through yoga.
Ancient texts outline how to optimize our human experience—how to live in harmony with others, and how to cultivate love, acceptance, honor, and forgiveness.

I have so much gratitude for the path I’m on—and for my life falling apart.
This is the life I always wanted to live.
I went through literal hell to get here, but I’m here now, and I’m taking it all in.

You don’t have to dance naked around a fire or walk across hot coals to find the sacredness I speak of.
Light a candle and say a prayer.
Take a sacred pause in reverence for life.
Whisper a moment of gratitude for another day on Earth.
That is enough.

Daily mindfulness makes the entire day sacred.
Presence is sacred.
Not being in the past (memory), nor the future (imagination).
Just right here, right now.
That is sacred.

There is a spirit of surrender, respect, love, and gratitude in all things sacred.
I hope you can find this—it is here whenever you take the time to notice it.

Check out my latest video: The End Of Suffering Starts Here​

Much love,

Casey