I want to talk to you about something we don't often give ourselves permission to do, especially when life feels like it's just too much: being gentle with ourselves. I know how hard that can be, especially when the weight of everything we're going through makes it feel like we're barely keeping our heads above water. But here's the truth—self-compassion isn't a luxury; it's a necessity. It's not a soft option or something we should only do when things are going well. It's the best thing we can offer ourselves, especially during the storm. It's easy to slip into self-criticism when life gets hard—and I mean gut-wrenchingly hard. We start telling ourselves that we're not strong enough, that we should handle things better, and that if only we were tougher, smarter, and more resilient, we wouldn't feel this way. But I need you to hear this: being hard on yourself doesn't make you stronger. It just makes the pain harder to bear. And here's the thing: we can't heal what we refuse to feel and grow when we're at war with ourselves. Being gentle with yourself is not about letting yourself off the hook. It's about recognizing that you are human—you're allowed to feel tired, overwhelmed, and afraid. It's about acknowledging that you're doing your best with what you have. And sometimes, that "best" doesn't look like much. Sometimes, it's just getting through the day. But that is still enough. Let's talk about what gentleness looks like because it feels foreign for so many of us. It might look like giving yourself permission to rest when you're exhausted, even if a part of you says you don't deserve it. It might look like choosing to speak to yourself with kindness when you only want to beat yourself up for not having it all together. It might look like holding space for your grief, your anger, and your frustration without trying to rush through it or bury it. And I get it. Being gentle with ourselves can feel so uncomfortable. We've been taught to believe that toughness is strength and that pushing through pain is a badge of honor.

For me, this question hits close to home. My husband and I recently made the decision to let go of our attachments to material things—things we had been collecting for years, including our home. It wasn’t easy at first; there were so many memories tied to those items, and part of me felt like they were an extension of my identity. But we realized we were craving something deeper—a life filled with experiences rather than things. We made the choice to travel full-time, checking off our bucket list one item at a time. And let me tell you, the sense of freedom and peace that came from this decision has been beyond what I imagined. We’ve traded physical belongings for memories, and I feel more connected to my inner self than ever before. There’s a certain joy in waking up in a new place, with new adventures awaiting. It’s reminded me that sometimes, the things we hold onto can hold us back from what we truly need to grow. Letting go of those material attachments has created space for something much more profound: inner peace, connection, and a deep sense of freedom. I’d love to hear from you—what have you let go of that’s opened up new possibilities for you?

This feels cool. Wasn't really thinking about it but it just popped up.

You're invited to join me and other heart-centered peeps who are excited about manifesting amazing, soul aligned clients who are excited to pay high ticket prices because they TOTALLY value your work. And, we do this without the hustle. Instead, we take care of our spirits, minds, bodies, and selves with somatic healing work, business practices that feel 100% aligned, incredible clear and effective messaging, and manifesting practices that work when other manifesting practices don't. Come join me here! https://www.skool.com/manifest-soul-aligned-clients/about

I've got something really personal to share. I felt utterly unqualified when I began this Skool community—this wild, beautiful idea of stepping out on my own and creating something that mattered. I wasn't just doubting whether I could pull it off; I was questioning whether I even was worthy to try. The self-doubt was suffocating. The fear? Overwhelming. I'd tell myself, "Randy, you're not built for this. Who are you to even consider this? You don't have what it takes." And for a long time, I believed that voice. It was so loud, so convincing. But I just couldn't get rid of this vision to build a community that supports folks who aren't into typical recovery programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous. I want to help out the overthinkers, perfectionists, people pleasers, and their families who are affected by alcoholism or addiction. But there came a moment—an almost imperceptible shift—when I realized something important. All the fear I was feeling wasn't about failure or success. It was about purpose. I had been looking at this whole thing—this dream, this vision—through the wrong lens. I thought I had to prove myself, make my business work, and somehow earn my place in the world. But then it hit me: the world doesn't need more businesses. It needs more solutions. Easier Ways is not a business! We help people first, and then if they want to financially support us to continue our work, they will. And that realization changed everything. You see, we often get tangled up in the idea of business as a cutthroat arena where success is measured by numbers. But the truth—the deep, profound truth—is that the most transformative businesses, the ones that leave a legacy, are the ones that solve real human problems. They're born out of a need to make things better, not a need to be the best. Take Airbnb, for example. When they started, they didn't have a grand vision of dominating the hospitality industry. They saw a problem: people needed more affordable, personal, and flexible options for places to stay. And beyond that, people wanted connection, not just another impersonal hotel room. So, they offered a solution. Was it perfect from day one? Absolutely not. But they stayed focused on the problem they wanted to solve, which turned their idea into a global phenomenon.