Only Don’t Know: Notes on a February Spring

Broadcaster’s Note: You’ve reached a soft signal in a loud world. I’m a 73-year-old Zen-disruptor learning to trade the vertical life of a therapist for the horizontal life of the fire-side. These transmissions are for the edgy travelers who are ready to love reality, live in the uncertainty, and practice the holy art of "only don't know."

My Gus...

Did you see me cold plunge? Did you hear me talk about being Zen Adjacent?

Lately, the questions have been loud. Am I leaning too hard into the influence of AI? Am I wandering down another dead-end path, convinced—as I’ve been before—that this is finally "the one"? Is it foolish to want what I want?

Sometimes it feels like punishment. Sometimes it feels like there’s no real reason for hope. I wonder: Am I still just chasing an outcome?

The seasons are blurring; Spring is arriving in February, a casualty of the climate crisis. In the face of all this, I ask: Do my personal efforts as a Zen-disruptor of suffering make any difference at all? Even the name The Wild Zen Co. feels like it's still searching for its final signal—a static frequency that doesn't quite match the pulse.

Then, Omi-san speaks. My educator, my elder, the female warrior with the samurai training. She cuts through the noise and asks: “What are your gut and your nervous system speaking to you?”

They answer: Rested. Glad. My body loves that I am finally listening—respecting the signal and adapting daily. It likes that I dare to move without the weight of "shoulds." It loves nature, movement, and the company of my people. It craves touch, laughter, and the holy release of crying. It thrives on creating and the courage to keep questioning.

The message from the Grove is clear: Keep practicing patience and trust. Learn to love reality as it is, and learn to live within the uncertainty of "only don't know."

You are held. You are protected. You are safe.

You are love.