Craig

Some thoughts on what I believe is wrong with the self-help industry - as someone who's in the space.

I'll share some practices I utilized to rebuild and reinvent my life after federal prison. This list is not all-inclusive; just some of the highlights.

I hope it's helpful

It was the summer between 8th and 9th grade, and it was my first day of sleep-away camp.

Camp Med-O-Lark in Maine, to be exact.

My friend Adam had gone the year before, and he said I should join him. My parents, maybe too quickly, agreed.

We were settling into our log cabin in the woods on Washington Pond as kids from all over walked in with their bags.

One kid walked in and caught everyone's attention.

He had long hair at a time when I didn't know anyone with long hair. He brought a boom box to camp.

He was very clearly the cool kid.

He threw his bag on his bunk and proceeded to set up his boombox, which grew a small crowd.

He pulls a tape cassette out, no cover, no idea what it was, maybe it was just me, maybe it was the afternoon sun peeking through the window - but the tape seemed to glow.

This cool mystery kid, who we still didn't know what to call, held the tape up and said,

"Do you guys want to hear something?"

Like a bunch of bobblehead dolls on a truck dashboard, we all nodded mindlessly yes.

Cool kid pops the tape in and hits play.

A single, gentle guitar played; it was melodic yet hinted at something much more significant; a second guitar joins in, its beautiful, lulling me, and then...

All fucking hell breaks loose in what can only be described as pure unadulterated organized chaos.

Driving guitar, pounding drums, an unrelenting cacophony of an unstoppable force with a voice like I'd never heard before.

There was cool music in my house growing up, Queen, David Bowie, Creedence, Bob Seeger, Crosby, Stills and Nash - but nothing like this.

I was thirteen years old, I didn't know what the hell I was listening to, but I knew this was all I ever wanted to listen to.

My musical taste was cemented in that cabin in the woods on Washington Pond, thanks to some cool kid who didn't yet have a name.

This music struck every chord in my body.

I had just been introduced to Metallica, specifically the first song on their album Master of Puppets. Believe it or not, it is the only heavy metal album in the Library of Congress because it's culturally and artistically significant.

I've seen them 6 times in concert, and their music has quite frankly saved my life. I reference Metallica in my TEDx and my memoir.

I'm not sure these are the best, any maybe some aren't considered metal, but these are the ones I still listen to daily.

Someone I love attempted suicide last week.

They're dealing with adversity and we've been speaking regularly - but I didn't see this coming.

I thought about others who may be dealing with a loved one who's going through adversity and I came up with this list.

I hope it helps.

I took up paddleboarding last year, and it's quickly become one of my favorite activities to invest my time in.

I love my work and still count the seconds until I can hit the water.

The cocktail of serenity, peace, and challenge is extraordinary.

Every morning for the past 8+ years, I write what I'm grateful for, it's a practice I began in prison, and the return on investment has exceeded anything I could have ever imagined.

This morning I wrote how grateful I am for yesterday's paddleboard session and a question I like to ask occasionally in my gratitude practice bubbled to the surface.

"Why?"

Why do I enjoy paddle boarding so much?

As I wrote my answers, a picture began to form, and it's so much more than the activity itself.

I see paddleboarding as a metaphor for life.

Before going to prison I chased materialism, status, and power to give my life a sense of meaning and fulfillment. It didn't work.

Here are 10 things I learned.

My memoir, "Blank Canvas, How I Reinvented My Life After Prison," received its first 1-star review on Amazon.

It definetley stung, but it made me realize a lot of valuble info.