SPIRITUALITY....
We all chase something. Money, abs, success, validation. The big house, the nice car, the bank account that screams I made it. And sure, those things matter. They make life comfortable, exciting, even fun. But here’s the thing no one tells you—if you don’t have something deeper anchoring you, all that shit will feel empty sooner or later.
If you break life down into five buckets—Financial, Physical, Emotional, Mental, and Spiritual—most people focus on the first two. Make money, look good naked, repeat. Maybe they do some mental work—therapy, podcasts, a self-help book they never finish. But spirituality? That gets shoved into the I’ll deal with it later pile, right next to fixing their relationship and stretching after workouts.
And then boom—life sucker punches them. The money stops feeling like enough, the body starts breaking down, the success loses its flavour. And suddenly, they’re looking around, wondering why they feel lost as fuck. That’s because they’ve been drifting without an anchor.
What the Hell is an Anchor?
An anchor is what keeps you from getting dragged out to sea when the storm hits. And trust me, the storm will hit. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, you’re going to lose something. Someone. You’re going to face something money can’t fix and muscles can’t carry you through. And when that happens, you better have something holding you steady.
A lot of people think their anchor is their job, their success, their status. But those aren’t anchors. They’re paper-thin lifeboats that sink the second shit gets real. A real anchor isn’t external. It’s internal. It’s that thing inside you that doesn’t shake when everything around you does.
Spirituality: The Shit That Actually Keeps You Grounded
Let’s clear something up right now—spirituality isn’t religion. It’s not beads, chanting, or some guru charging you $5,000 to sit in a tent and breathe deeply. It’s what makes you feel connected—to yourself, to your purpose, to something bigger than your bank account and your biceps.
Here’s what it actually looks like in real life from my life experience:
The feeling of absolute peace when you’re alone in the ocean at dawn, realizing how small you are and how okay that is.
Training for something—not for the six-pack, not for Instagram—but for the discipline, for the challenge, for the way it forces you into the now.
Mentoring someone younger, passing on lessons instead of hoarding them.
Realizing that real respect isn’t about what you’ve got, it’s about who the fuck you are when no one’s watching.
The unshakable gut feeling that tells you when something is right or wrong, even before your brain catches up.
The way creativity—writing, music, painting, building—feels like tapping into something ancient, something bigger than just “expression.”
The spiritual experience of movement—yoga, running, dance—when it’s not about weight loss or goals but about being.
That moment when you stop waiting for someone to “complete” you and realize you’ve been whole all along.
The first time you stop and wonder, Is this actually what I want? Or just what I was told to chase?
Finding meaning in something real—not just your job, not just your followers, but in something that makes your soul light up.
Traveling alone, standing somewhere completely unfamiliar, and realizing that the world is bigger than your problems.
Understanding that your value isn’t in likes, money, or status—it’s in how you feel about yourself when the WiFi goes out.
Waking up one day and realizing you spent your whole life building instead of living.
Losing the roles that once defined you—boss, manager, head coach, athlete, whatever—and realizing you have no clue who the fuck you are without them.
Watching younger people chase the same empty shit you did and wanting to shake them and yell, It won’t make you happy!
Finally embracing peace, stillness, and depth—things you once avoided because they didn’t look productive.
Proactive vs. Reactive Spirituality (AKA, Why a Retreat Won’t Fix Your Shit)
Most people treat spirituality like they treat the gym—they only go when shit starts falling apart. Their relationship is crumbling? Time for a yoga retreat. Business tanked? Time to “find themselves” in Costa Rica. They throw money at spirituality like it’s a weekend detox instead of a daily practice.
Here’s the hard truth: spirituality isn’t a fucking emergency button. You don’t just wake up lost one day, take a trip to Bali, and suddenly become enlightened. It’s something you have to work on before the storm hits. It’s not a retreat—it’s a lifestyle. The following are very much based on personal experience... unfortunately lol.
You don’t meditate when you’re already on the edge of burnout—you do it so you never get there.
You don’t search for meaning after everything collapses—you build it into your daily life.
You don’t pray (or whatever your version of prayer is) only when shit gets hard—you stay connected all the time.
If you wait until you’re drowning to start looking for an anchor, you’re already fucked.
Spirituality in Relationships (Or Why Your Partner Secretly Hates You)
Most relationships don’t fail because of big things. Sure the big things are what seal the breakup.. but the big things are a bi-product of all those little things that didn't get tended to because of "lack of time". They fail because people are spiritually empty, and usually they expect their partner to fill that void.
If you don’t have an anchor, you put all your emotional weight on your partner. You expect them to be your happiness, your calm, your purpose. And when they inevitably fail? Resentment. Distance. Another relationship bites the dust.
When two people actually have a sense of purpose outside the relationship? That’s when shit works. That’s when you grow together instead of clinging to each other out of fear of being alone.
Spirituality in Recovery (The Real Kind, Not the Bullshit Kind)
If you’ve ever battled addiction, you know this—sobriety isn’t the goal. Recovery is. And recovery isn’t just quitting the thing that was wrecking your life; it’s figuring out why the fuck you needed it in the first place.
It’s filling the hole. The one you don’t like to talk about. The one that started god-knows-when—somewhere between childhood and that first time you realized life felt easier when you were numb. That hole doesn’t disappear just because you stopped using. If you don’t build something real in its place, it’ll eat you alive.
The people who make it? They’re the ones who stop looking for escape routes and start building actual structure. They wake up early, even when they don’t want to. They move their body. They surround themselves with people who aren’t drowning in the same shit. They do the small, boring, unsexy things that seem pointless—until one day, they realize they don’t need the high anymore.
The ones who don’t? They white-knuckle it. They stay clean but never heal. They keep running from whatever’s chasing them, hoping willpower will be enough. It never is.
Recovery isn’t about stopping. It’s about becoming—the version of you that doesn’t need to escape your own fucking life.
So Where the Hell Do You Start?
Let’s keep this simple (if you're still actually reading HA!)
You don’t need to shave your head, move to the mountains, or start drinking herbal teas named after constellations. You just need to start small. Right now.
Stop distracting yourself. Turn off the TV, put down the phone, sit with your own thoughts for ten fucking minutes. If that makes you uncomfortable, congrats—you just found your problem.
Ask yourself better questions. Not “What do I want?” but “Why do I want it?” If the answer is anything about impressing people, try again.
Move your body, but do it for the right reason. Not to look better, but to feel present. Go for a run without music. Lift weights without checking your reflection. Just fucking be.
Find something that makes you lose track of time. Writing, surfing, building, playing music. If you can’t name anything, you’re overdue for some soul-searching.
Help someone. Not for money. Not for clout. Just because it makes you feel like a goddamn human.
Talk to someone who gets it. That’s what I do. I help people stop running in circles and actually figure their shit out. If you need an anchor, I can help you find one.
You don’t have to believe in God. You don’t have to chant, meditate, or join a monastery. You just have to stop living like life is a checklist and start searching for something more.
Find what keeps you grounded. What makes you feel connected. What gives your life meaning beyond work, sex, money, and status. Because if you don’t? You’ll spend your life chasing happiness instead of feeling it.
And that, my friend, is the biggest waste of all.
