Hey all,

After a year and a half in Mexico, Diana and I are back in Austin.

For those who don't know, we’d been living in Valle de Bravo, a quiet mountain town two hours west of Mexico City.

We moved because, two years ago, I was feeling restless and wasn’t sure why or what to do about it. Our lease was expiring, I didn’t want to stay, but I had no desire to look for a new place in Austin.

Then one morning, I woke up with an strong impulse.

“Let’s move to Mexico,” I announced to Diana.

She looked at me skeptically, but quickly realized I was resolved.

“Okay.”

She loves Mexico, speaks fluent Spanish, and was excited to be closer to the heart of the Mayan world, which is her passion.

The plan was to travel around, stay a month or so in different places, try them out, and then settle wherever felt good. A year? Two years? Forever? We didn’t know.

It was a bold and exciting new adventure.

Then I started freaking out.

Was I crazy? Mexico is dangerous. I don’t speak Spanish. Was I running away from something? Or was this just the normal contraction after making a big decision?

Diana was not pleased with this turnaround. I couldn’t blame her. But I was now in the grips of my fear.

Uncertain what to do, I prayed and asked for guidance: “Give me a sign, Lord.”

I do this whenever I feel frozen and don’t trust my rational mind to make a big decision — and it’s never let me down. When I ask for signs, I get them.

And this time was no different.

It came two days later, after appearing on Jon Callahan's The Great Unlearn Podcast, when the producer, Chase, started asking me about my work.

“Have you ever sat with ayahuasca?”

“Many times. You?”

“I have,” he said.

“Where?”

“Mexico.”

Here we go.

“Where in Mexico?”

“Yelapa.”

“With Jon?!”

“Yeah, with Jon!”

I’d sat with Jon many times, in Mexico and on Vancouver Island. He’d become a good friend. And he was one of the three people I knew living in Mexico.

But just to make sure I couldn’t write this off as coincidence, I got another sign the next day.

I was with my camera guy, setting up for an interview at my office.

“I’m thinking about moving to Mexico,” I told him.

“Cool,” he said. “I follow a guy on Twitter who moved to Mexico. He loves it.”

“Who?” I asked.

“This guy Haralabos Voulgaris,” he said, reasonably assuming I’d have no idea who that was.

Haralabos is one of my oldest friends. He moved to Puerto Vallarta four years ago.

Then, a couple of days later, I got a text from the third person I know who lives in Mexico, telling me he was coming to Austin and asking if I wanted to have lunch.

Three for three.

Now, here’s the thing when you ask for signs: when you get them, you must follow through.

So we moved to Mexico — which wasn’t easy. But every time we faced obstacles, I relied on the faith the signs had given me. This was God’s will, after all, and it wasn’t for me to question how or why.

I didn’t need to ask for signs to make the decision to come back to Austin. Despite how much we loved “Pueblo Mágico” Valle de Bravo, Diana and I both knew it was time to go home.

But where would we live? Which neighborhood? In the city or the country? Furnished or unfurnished? Diana wanted a plan, which I refused to give her. “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

She didn’t like that, and it became a point of contention. But I held firm — because despite my tendency toward neuroticism, there’s a part of me that trusts things will always work out, and trying to “make a plan” just gets in the way.

We landed at an Airbnb and started looking on Zillow. There were plenty of options, but nothing popped.

Then I met up with Chase, who’d become a friend, and he offered some suggestions on neighborhoods.

“Lakeway is nice.”

We hadn’t looked there because I thought it was too far from the city.

“No, it’s only thirty minutes away. It’s great.”

I got home, opened Zillow, and zeroed in on the Lakeway area. I clicked on the first house that looked good and knew right away this was it.

It was a stylish new house, spacious, with a view, in a quiet, woodsy neighborhood. Perfect.

But the kicker was the street name: Crazy Horse Pass.

For those who don’t know, I’ve been walking the Red Road for the last nine years, learning and working in the Lakota tradition.

It’s opened me up to another world. A world where spirit feels more real than the “real world.” Where magical synchronicities are commonplace. Where a mysterious order continually emerges out of what seems like chaos.

And here it was again, offering me the perfect house on a street named for the most famous Lakota man in history.

But it also scared me, because I intuitively knew this offering came with a responsibility.

I’m being asked to deepen my commitment. This means making sacrifices, specifically around what I want. Or more accurately, what my ego wants: recognition, certainty, comfort, and control.

Iknow that whenever I let go to God and give up control, things manage to come to me without much effort or strain.

But I forget. Then my fear takes over, my mind gets involved, and I start trying to “figure things out.”

I suspect a lot of us are doing this right now, as the world comes apart and AI is set to revolutionize our lives in ways no one can comprehend.

Apparently none of us will have jobs in five years, and if you don’t have a Claude bot you’re “not going to make it” (NGMI).

The purveyors of fear are everywhere. It’s not that they don’t have a point — what’s happening is scary. But when I succumb to that fear, I lose my connection to God, who has demonstrated, time and time again, that when I have faith in His plan, I'm always guided and given what I need.

I'm pretty sure AI can't do that for me.

❤️👊🏼 Dave

​Emotional Mastery For Men starts March 10

​Austin Men's Retreat - March 27-29