Gleaning Wisdom Beyond Belief

You know, when I was an atheist for about 10 years — after leaving home at age 17 to join the military — I wasn’t mad at religious people. Not at all. In fact, even as an atheist, I still embraced many biblical principles. After all, you can’t argue with goodness, love, and treating people right. These are universal truths, and I tried to live by them, even during that chapter of my life.

From a young age, I was also drawn deeply into philosophy — particularly Chinese philosophy — probably because I was a martial artist and immersed myself in that world early on. I found inspiration in thinkers like Lin Yutang, whose book The Importance of Living, written around the 1920s or 30s, profoundly shaped how I saw life.

Another powerful influence was Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning — his reflections on surviving the Holocaust and the deep insight he gained through suffering and survival left an indelible mark on me.

That’s why I find it amazing — and a bit sad — when I see people reject everything contained in the Bible simply because they have an issue with Christianity as an institution. I have a buddy like that. He rejects the Christian God outright. But not long ago, he was enthusiastically sharing with me about the Tibetan Book of the Dead and how much he embraces its teachings. I just smiled and thought, "What’s the difference?" Both are human attempts to understand life, death, meaning, and purpose.

It’s the same when I see Muslims or others who try to recruit me into their belief systems. My response is simple: Why would I trade one religious structure for another? It’s not about the religion itself. It’s about the wisdom you can find if you have eyes to see it.

Getting back to philosophy and holy books — there’s so much good stuff in them. The issue isn’t the books. It’s the rigid control, the manipulation, and the misuse of religion by leaders who use fear and guilt to dominate people’s lives. The texts themselves often contain deep, beautiful truths — if you’re willing to read them for the message, not just the history.

Even when I speak in churches today, and referencing the Bible, I’m not necessarily claiming that every story literally happened. That’s not the point. It’s about the message — the moral lessons that can shape our lives for the better.

It’s like reading Aesop’s fables. Did the tortoise and the hare really have a race? Of course not. But the lessons — persistence, humility, not underestimating others — are timeless.

We don’t stop telling those stories just because they aren’t factually “true.” We share them because the truth within them is deeper than fact — it’s about principles that guide a better life.

That’s why I encourage people — especially those feeling stuck, disillusioned, or unfulfilled — to start exploring philosophy books and holy texts with an open heart. Don’t worry so much about whether you believe every historical detail. Ask yourself instead: Can I glean something valuable from this for my life?

Today, my life is about 99.9% drama-free. I’m happy, at peace, and moving forward.But I look around and see so many people living in quiet misery, refusing to search for answers.

Well — I’m giving you an answer right now:Start feeding your mind and spirit with the good. Seek out the wisdom. Gravitate toward what uplifts, strengthens, and liberates you — and reject anything that poisons your heart.

If you do, you’ll be amazed at how your attitude will begin to change. And when your attitude changes, your life will follow.

Take it from me — I know.

Hereditary Illness or Hereditary Habits? A Different Way to Think About Health

Too often, we react to challenges by choosing the easy way out. I was reminded of this recently during conversations with some folks over the holiday week. We talked about so-called hereditary illnesses — diabetes, high blood pressure, cholesterol problems, heart issues, and the like.

My simple response was this: most of the time, it’s not truly hereditary. It’s that we’re eating the same foods and living the same sedentary lifestyles as the generations before us. What’s passed down isn’t just DNA — it’s habits. It’s culture. It's daily choices around food and movement that stretch on, generation after generation, creating the illusion of inevitability.

Longevity, I firmly believe, has more to do with diet and exercise than it does with a family history of illness. It’s easy to say, “Well, my mama had it,” or, “My granddaddy had it,” but the deeper truth often lies in what was on the dinner table and what kind of life they led.

I think about my mother. She lived to be a vibrant 97 years old.

Growing up, we used to tease her for always snacking on radishes, celery, cottage cheese — all that healthy, “boring” stuff. But now, looking back, I have to believe that her eating habits played a major role in her longevity. She was health-conscious long before it was trendy. She exercised regularly and even had one of the very first stationary workout bikes. (I wish we’d kept it — it’s probably a collector’s item now.)

Even well into her 80s and 90s, my mother stayed active. She cared about her waistline, not out of vanity, but out of a deep respect for her body. She never allowed herself to get too far off track. She lived with intention, and her choices reflected it.

Today, her baby sister is still alive at 100 years old, and her younger brother is pushing 98. They, too, have lived long lives rooted in healthy eating and movement. It’s no coincidence.

It’s fascinating, really. Her family grew up during the 1920s and 1930s, right through the Great Depression.

I remember my sister once asking my mother, “How did you all survive the Depression?” My mother, being half Black and half Mexican, laughed and said, “We didn’t even know there was a Depression — we were already poor.” That kind of resilience shaped her mindset. She would later joke about how you didn’t see Black folks jumping out of windows during those years — because they knew how to endure hardship.

I know I’ve drifted a bit, but the point remains: what we often blame on genetics is really the result of lifestyles passed down unexamined.

I guess I’m reflecting on all this because this morning, I finished my 40-minute martial arts cardio routine — 1,000 punches, 900 kicks in just 40 minutes. I’ll be turning 67 later this year, 2025, and I’m trying every day to make the best choices I can. I eat healthy most of the time. I exercise daily. And we'll see where this path leads.

More than anything, I want to pass down a different kind of inheritance to my children — not one of hereditary illness, but of hereditary health and intentional living. I believe I already see the results: my son is strong, muscular, and disciplined in his workouts, alternating upper and lower body every other day. My daughter, remarkably, has cut sugar completely out of her diet, eats clean, and maintains a consistent gym routine.

Honestly, they’re doing better than I was at their age. When I was young, health wasn’t even a thought in my mind. Like so many others, I took my youth for granted, not realizing that the decisions we make when we feel invincible will either protect us or haunt us later in life.

We all have a choice. We can continue the generational patterns of poor health and call it “heredity,” or we can break the cycle through conscious living. It's not genetics — it's momentum. And it’s up to us to decide which kind of legacy we want to pass on.

Just something to think about.

The Missed Opportunity — and the High Cost of Hubris

If Donald Trump had been wise, upon winning the recent election, he would have preserved the most qualified individuals in his cabinet, the judiciary, and our intelligence agencies. Rather than purging the experienced hands who had long safeguarded our nation’s stability, he should have recognized the importance of institutional wisdom. He should have leaned on it. Instead, he dismantled it.

Trump chose loyalty over competence, replacing seasoned professionals with individuals who had little to no experience or understanding of the roles they were thrust into. Their primary qualification was not expertise, but unwavering personal allegiance to him. In doing so, Trump gutted the institutional backbone that helped maintain America’s prosperity, security, and international standing.

Today, we find ourselves in an economic mess, with no real prospect of near-term reversal. Trump never understood the delicate international tightrope we walked — the complex web of alliances, trade relationships, and diplomatic agreements that quietly sustained America’s wealth and global influence. Those relationships, built over decades, were not just handshakes and photo ops; they were a masterful, fragile balancing act. One that Trump treated with reckless disregard.

Even more troubling is what the American public often never saw: the disasters, both domestic and international, that were quietly averted by the professionalism of the previous cabinet members, the FBI, and the CIA. These were people who understood the stakes — who played critical roles behind the scenes to prevent chaos from breaking loose. Their expertise and silent vigilance preserved national security in ways the average citizen could never fully appreciate.

Now, with so much of that infrastructure dismantled, what benefit remains? I see only one potential outcome: America being humbled — brought so low economically, diplomatically, and morally — that the toxic ideologies fueling MAGA extremism and the Christian Right will collapse under the weight of their own failure. Their vision of "greatness" was built on hubris, not substance. And history has always dealt harshly with such delusions.

In the end, Trump's pursuit of loyalty over leadership may have satisfied his ego, but it left the nation vulnerable, weakened, and divided. It is a bitter but necessary reckoning.