Some weeks leave a mark—not because they’re louder than the rest, but because something within them clicks into place. This past week was one of those.
I wrote about Portland—not the version most people have made up their minds about, but the one I still believe in. I stepped into conversations on homelessness and the war on drugs, not because I have all the answers, but because I refuse to accept that we’re out of options. I called attention to the humanity behind the laborers who build the machines of our future. I published a piece on Commander’s Intent—a concept from my time in the military that now guides my life with clarity and purpose: know the mission, hold the line, adapt when needed, but never lose sight of the goal. And I spent time, as I often do, searching for the people who see the world with the same kind of wide-open heart and clear-eyed determination I try to bring to mine.
None of it was planned. None of it was performative. It’s just… what I do.
Those who know me best don’t ask why I take on so much. They know that I was born with a heart that feels everything, a mind that doesn't stop turning things over, and shoulders that were somehow made to carry weight others can’t—or won’t. This isn’t a burden to me. It’s where I find meaning. It’s where I come alive.
Writing about the hardest things is not a performance of courage. It’s a responsibility I can’t shake. We live in complicated times. But I believe with everything in me that complexity is not an excuse for inaction. That discomfort is not a reason to stay quiet. That criticism is not something to fear when you’re anchored in something deeper.
My convictions are not trends. They’re not marketing points or slogans to workshop. They’re the foundation. They’ve been forged over a lifetime of experiences, tested under pressure, and made real through the choices I’ve had to make—often when no one was watching.
I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I hope to write. I feel like I’m just getting started. The floodgates are open now. Every idea I’ve carried for years is asking to be shared, challenged, shaped. And I welcome that. Because this isn’t about being right—it’s about being effective. It's about putting real ideas into the world and being willing to fight for them, evolve them, and see them through.
Over the last month, 99% of the feedback has been positive. That’s a gift, and I don’t take it lightly. But I’m not writing for applause. I’m writing because I believe we can still build something better. Because I think the future is still up for grabs—and that people are hungry for something more honest, more unifying, more courageous.
I’m not here to posture. I’m here to work. And I’m not going anywhere.
The only force that can pull me away from this path is my family. They are my sacred responsibility—my home, my breath, my reason for everything. But outside of them, this is the call I answer. This is the place I’m meant to stand.
My compass is set. My North Star is fixed.
Unity isn’t a fantasy. It’s a choice—a harder choice, maybe, but one worth making again and again. I still believe in America. I still believe in her people. And I still believe that we can do extraordinary things if we return to the simple act of believing in one another.
So if you’re reading this, and you’re feeling the same pull—to be part of something bigger than the noise, to build instead of break, to speak with courage and live with conviction—then good. Let's walk this road together.
The real work is just beginning. And I’m ready for all of it.
If you’re still here, it probably means you feel that same pull—the one toward action, toward unity, toward something more honest than the noise that surrounds us.
I’m not writing, speaking, or building for applause. I’m doing it because I believe the future is still up for grabs. Because I know there are others out there—just like you—who are ready to stop watching from the sidelines and start doing the work that matters.
If this episode resonated, share it with someone who needs a reminder that they’re not alone. That showing up, carrying weight, and standing firm in your convictions still means something.
Subscribe for more episodes like this—and as always, stay principled, stay engaged, and don’t let anyone convince you that unity is naïve. It’s not. It’s the bravest choice we can make.
Until next time—let’s keep going. The real work is just beginning.
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