Ain’t that America…

Reporting live from Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina

Any Wim Hof fans out there?

If you’ve never heard of Hof before… prepare to have your mind blown.

This dude, known as The Iceman, can withstand the coldest colds and endure the hottest hots for practically as long as he wants all because he can control his mind and, through that, his core temperature, all through a radical breathing technique of his.

I’ve lost nearly half of my lung capacity due to a side effect called graft versus host disease after from my bone marrow transplant so, apart from the fact my survival rate chances were in the cellar, I never expected to be able to do much in the way of cardiovascular work ever again.

My son turned me onto Hof last year and, while I’m still in my initial stages of learning from this guy, you should see me going for it on the exercise bike and with the weights. I cannot imagine how much more I will be able to progress the more I progress with Hof’s techniques.

Reminder, as per clearly stated in my Terms & Disclaimers I am not a doctor so don’t go doing this stuff without consulting the experts first.

But if you want to experience a new reality of living… watch the fascinating Vice documentary about him below and then go check out this wild man’s youtube site.


Leave it to me

How should I know
I don’t

But I will find out
I will find out for the both of us
I will find out for the all of us

Until death do I part

I will seek
I will listen
I will meditate
I will know

And I will forget

I know
I will forget

Mostly I will forget
I mostly will forget
I will forget most

Like a tree I’ll drop knowledge
like a forsaken leaf

I will forget
I know


The hawk
so high

floating with such unaccomplished perfection

It’s obvious to me now
So obvious

Like a koan epiphany
floating high on the dismal breeze
it’s so obvious

If I Were A Samurai

If I were a samurai
I would know

when to bow
and when to ignore
when to speak
and when to be silent
when to eat
and when to fast
when to think
and when to meditate
when to advance
and when to hold
when to strike
and when to parry
when to kill
and when to die



Step Into the Grass

I’ll bare my feet
and step into the grass;
and, for the first time
since the sun
last set on my naked
I’ll prostrate myself
before the rising moon.

So much time has
passed since then,
since I last felt raw
moonglow on
my rusty skin,
that I have forgotten
how the breath of night
can upturn a sallow face.

Long ago,
when I could still remember
how to pause,
and how to listen,
and how to breathe,
for more reasons
than just to breathe,
I knew fields
and wood,
and calico aster;
I knew how to kneel,
and how to observe,
and how to bring myself to quiet.

And I knew,
without knowing,
that if I lay
on my back
beneath the reeds
and remained hushed,
as night clouds
floated by,
shadowed and silent,
that my Self
would simply fall



as ignorant,
as simple,
as pure,
and as free
as the flowing
freedom of sudden
Dogen insight—

a sudden insight of…



I’ll bare my feet
and step old and aching
into the caliginous balm
of the cool redemptive night.


from Poems From the River: a collection of reflections