Thank God For Broken Glass
Written and Hand Illustrated by Joe Hawley
Chapter 1: The Drive Home
One wrong word had the potential to sever our connection forever. My wife, Sarah, sat in the passenger seat, tears welling up in her eyes. I felt her closing off, sinking deeper into herself. The same way I felt her do so many times before and I knew whatever pain I was feeling had to have been a million times worse for her.
A few months prior, late one evening. Our two year old son, Luka, was asleep in bed. I was trying to relax on the couch, my mind scattered as I tried to make sense of the precarious financial situation I’d put us in. My business was crumbling and we were running out of money. Distraught and barely holding it together, I sank deeper into the couch. I heard the front door open, Sarah walked by and headed straight to the bathroom without saying a word. I could feel her discontent. Deeper into the couch I sank, wishing I could somehow hide, unsure how to tell her that I no longer wanted to be in this relationship. A few moments later she slowly opened the door. She looked pale as a ghost as she walked over to me. I didn’t know what to say, or how to move through the pain I knew we both felt. As she came closer, I saw her holding something. My heart wrenched in disbelief as the words left her mouth, “I’m pregnant.” I burst into tears. Sarah looked at me with fear in her eyes, waiting for the reassurance that never came. I sank deeper into the couch, frozen, unable to speak. The only thing I wanted to do was run.
That look in Sarah’s eyes was the same now as it was then. I looked down at the dash; the low fuel icon illuminated. I pulled off at the next exit. The silence intensified as we both did our best to keep the volcano from erupting. How did we get back here, I thought to myself.
Luka began crying in the back as he felt the tension build between us once again. I know he just wanted to help. I got out and walked around the truck to get him out of his car seat. I tried to keep my composure; a part of me wanted to scream, knowing it’d help release some of the pressure I felt inside, but I didn’t want to panic my son.
Energy shot through my hand as I grabbed for the door handle, gripping it with a violence I honed over eight years in the NFL. The door swung open. As I went to unbuckle my son, a glass bottle he must’ve dropped on the floor rolled out slowly; before I could grab it, it hit the ground hard and shattered into a million pieces.
My anger quickly turned to rage as Luka and Sarah were both on the verge of total breakdowns. The weight of everything I’d been holding became too heavy as I slowly collapsed to my knees. Frustration boiled over. I thought I was past this.
I took a deep breath in, asking God for help.
Please, show me how to come back to love, I silently pleaded.
I allowed myself to sink deeper into this chaotic moment. Frustrated at my inability to move through the energy. I started to pick up the little pieces of glass scattered across the ground. And as I did, I was transported back to Chirping Pines, three weeks prior, sitting around that sacred fire one last time before stepping across the threshold and into that dense forest–alone.
Chapter 2: Why Are You Here?
“Why are you here?” Our guides inquire in an almost accusatory tone, demanding we dig deeper, past the surface, to come up with a power statement that represents our commitment; something that we can take into the forest to support us through the upcoming ordeal. I can feel the nervous anticipation from the group as we circle around the fire one last time. Jeddy, our lead facilitator reminds us of their role–to prepare us thoroughly enough to spend four days and four nights in the wilderness alone, not just to survive the ordeal but to make sure we’re 100% clear on why we’re doing this—to let those things that no longer serve us die.
I’d been preparing for this rite-of-passage for the past eight weeks with nine other men. All of us answered the call to this “death / rebirth” ritual for deeply personal reasons; seeking clarity of vision, purpose and healing.
After listening to a few of the men pour out their hearts, sharing the rawness of their current challenges, I was deeply humbled by their stories. One man was tired of carrying the pain of his infidelity. Another man was tired of gripping so tightly to life. Another, unable to open his heart, frustrated by his inability to feel, wasn’t ready to give up on his marriage. I saw a little piece of my Self in each man as they shared. Next was Ryan, a wise man and dedicated father. He reminded me of Alan Watts, not just because of his wiry look but the way he carried himself. Somewhere amidst his powerful and personally relatable share, he mentioned how his youngest son would throw glass anytime he and his wife would get into it. He thought it peculiar. And as a student of esoteric wisdom, he explained the impact that broken glass has on the energetics of a space, how it breaks the tension and redirects awareness. “We don’t give our children enough credit,” he said, honoring the intuitive nature of his two year old boy. “I owe so much to my family, and my kids.” He said, a father of seven, continuing his story. Something about how much this man loved his family hit me hard. I thought about my own family. The emotions stirred deep within me as my turn approached. I was next.
I took a deep breath as the attention from the group sharpened its focus on me. Why was I really here? I thought to myself.
The fire burned bright as Jeddy threw another log on, illuminating the faces of the other men as they patiently waited for me to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath in, opened my heart and started to share my story.
After hearing the news, I was terrified; I felt alone; all I wanted to do was run. Finding out my wife was pregnant triggered my deepest fear. I was unable to handle the reality of my life; my failing business, financial worries and now this? Everything was crumbling around me. I couldn’t keep the part of me that felt like a victim at bay as I confronted my deepest wounds: failure, rejection and unworthiness all came flooding in from the depths of my unconscious as I felt the crushing weight of the responsibility I was unprepared to hold.
When she told me the news, Sarah was an emotional wreck. She was crying; confused. I felt dissociated as I listened to the words coming from her mouth, unable to fully track what she was saying. For a moment, it felt like I was underwater, the sounds from the world drowned out into a faint echo as my mind tried to focus. “Wha doo you waann?” Sarah repeated, holding the pregnancy test in her hand, noticing that I wasn’t fully there. The words became clear as I brought my awareness back. “What do you want?” she repeated, finally making her question known. I had no idea how to communicate what I wanted. I was exhausted, my eyes heavy from the tears. The only thing I knew for certain in that moment was hard to share; the implications were life altering. The only alternative was to push it down, deep. But I knew that’d only build resentment. I had to speak my truth now, even if I didn’t know how to properly communicate it. “I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore..”
I told my wife I didn’t want to be with her, pregnancy test in hand. “How fucked up is that?” I said with an embarrassed chuckle, trying to keep the heaviness of my emotions at bay as the men continued holding space for me. “I’m tired of running.” My voice cracked slightly as I felt the grief bubbling to the surface, “I’m ready to let that part of me die,” tears began welling up in my eyes, “that scared little boy, always running” I paused, unable to hold back my emotions any longer.
Chapter 3: The Compass
“A man without a purpose is no man at all. He’s still a boy, searching for the compass that’ll lead him back home.”
Up to this point, I’d spent my entire life in pursuit of one thing–freedom. But what does it mean to truly be free? I thought I knew.
“A boy thinks freedom is being able to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He attaches his highest value on the ability to freely travel to the edges of the earth on a drop of the hat. He has no desire to “settle down” because marriage is an outdated ideology. Why would he forfeit his life to another. A boy doesn’t commit because he fears responsibility.” - Journal Entry by Joe Hawley, somewhere in the forest.
I had all of these things: money in the bank, time to travel the world and nothing tying me down. I was free, until I met Sarah.
We fell in love during the pandemic, going on our first date a few days after the world began shutting down. An avid traveler and valuer of freedom herself, with nowhere to go, we decided to quarantine together. It was only going to be for a couple weeks after all, a dream scenario for new lovers.
Two weeks turned to four, then to eight, and then, once things started opening up, three months after our first date, we attended a plant medicine retreat together. The experience was one of our first as a couple, although I’m not sure our relationship was as clearly defined at the time.
As the retreat came to an end, I could feel Sarah’s hesitancy to fully share the depth of her experience with me. I assured her that whatever it was, I could hold it. “A soul visited me,” she said shyly, waiting patiently to see how I would respond. “Anddddd…..” I replied curiously, wanting to know more. “I don’t want to freak you out,” she said, worried I’d think she was crazy. “Just tell me,” I encouraged her with a smile. “He said he wants you and I to be his parents..”
This soul desired for me to be his father? I thought, what an honor; what a responsibility. After processing my initial fear, I settled into the idea. The pandemic had warped time. I’d only known this woman for a few months, yet, something about this felt so much bigger than me; a calling. But I was in no rush.
Three days later, a simple test revealed that Sarah had already been pregnant. After processing the news, the only choice became: how am I going to show up for this? Luka was on his way.
"A man knows what he wants; knows who he is. And is able to commit to his purpose above anything else including his family and his partner. But purpose–true purpose–requires commitment, responsibility and devotion to something greater than the self. A real man finds freedom in his commitments. And is wholly responsible for his life” - Journal Entry by Joe Hawley, somewhere in the forest.
I’ve been searching for big things and big purpose my whole life. And in searching, I’ve become stuck. It’s much easier to hide behind the searching, always keeping my purpose somewhere “out there” needing to be found, then to realize it’s right here waiting to be embodied.
How do I reach my highest potential?
How do I know the truth?
How do I find my purpose?
How.. How.. How..
In front of that ancient fire with Ryan and the other men bearing witness, Jeddy, our lead guide, asked me a simple question that pierced through all of my pain, “what if you stopped focusing on the how, and started focusing on who you must become?”
The next moment my power statement came through and I said it out loud with fervor:
“I am a free man ready to claim his kingdom.”
Chapter 4: Alone in the Forest
My life flashed in front of my eyes. Memories– elaborate, exuberant, random memories–flowed across my awareness like a river, one after the other. Thirty four years worth of memories. The moment I first laid eyes on my high school sweetheart, reminded of the innocence of our love. A time I stayed out all night in college drinking with my buddies without a care in the world. The moment my phone rang on draft day, a childhood dream realized. Spending the weekends at the beach with my family, growing up in Southern California. So many adventures. So many memories.
“Wow, I’ve lived an incredible life,” I said out loud from a place of complete rapture as I surrendered deeper into the process, void of any fear. I was welcoming what felt like death as the veil continued to thin. And then, as soon as I was about to let go completely, heavy rain began to fall from above.
Alone deep in the forest, I was entering the final night of my rite-of-passage. The only instructions we received for this final ritual were 1. construct a circle, a place, to reside in for the entirety of the night, and 2. stay awake. You’ll know it's time to head back when the sun rises and you can see the color in the leaves. Already in a state of total delirium from 4 full days without food, I was determined to honor this process, staying put and staying awake.
After what felt like a few hours, the rain stopped. The forest began to feel more mystical as the moisture from the heavy rain lingered in the air between the trees. I entered a liminal space. Green specks began to flicker in the dark. I looked around in awe as the forest came to life. Dragon flies began dancing all around me, hundreds of them. Their presence filled the forest and made me feel the furthest from alone.
My knees and back began to ache; the pain from my old football injuries making themselves known. The makeshift circle I called home for the night began to feel increasingly cramped; I paced back and forth. As I began to feel more uncomfortable in my body, my mind became increasingly manic and I started to bustle. The voice in my head got louder as I started to question how I was going to make it the rest of the night in this confined space.
Fuck this!
I don’t want to be here any more!
I need to get out!
The walls started constricting around me. The pressure continued to build. My nervous system couldn’t take it. I wanted to run.
I looked up to the sky, clouds still thick from the storm that was passing overhead. I began to pray for the sun, almost willing it to rise. Delirium was slowly turning to insanity as I felt myself trying to fast forward the night, anything to escape the discomfort. I was bewildered when the forest began to slowly illuminate.
Chapter 5: Reborn
Holy shit. Thank God. It's time to get out of here, I thought to myself.
I fell for my own delusion. I stepped out of my power circle and began packing up my camp.
They said as soon as it was light enough to see the leaves. I repeated to myself as I hastily packed up my camp, ready for this experience to be over, justifying my early exit. As soon as my tarp, sleeping bag and hammock were packed, the clouds parted, revealing the brightest full moon I’d ever seen, illuminating the forest and creating an illusion of the morning light. I decided to walk the mile and half back through the forest in the middle of the night. I knew it’d be difficult to track the bright pink trail ties I wrapped around tree branches like bread crumbs but decided to take my chances. So I followed them back towards the threshold, leading me out of the forest.
There’s a reason they advised us to stay until the sun came up at first light. And that reason became abundantly clear as soon as the moon receded back across the horizon, leaving me stranded in the middle of the pitch black forest alone; lost. I was stuck with nowhere to go. I took a seat with my back to the nearest tree. The only thing I could do was wait. The hours sludged by at an almost snail's pace as time felt like it was coming to a stand still. In a state of complete delirium–sleep deprived, depleted and undernourished–I began to hallucinate. The forest came to life. I sat in awe, not one ounce of fear in my body. I was no longer in the forest but one with it–with all of nature–as it presented me with the gift of witnessing its multi-dimensionality.
Where are you running? I contemplated the question.
Why are you in such a hurry? Time stood still.
Stop running, what you’re seeking is here.
The feeling of eternity finally came to an end as the sun's rays made their way into the forest. The dawn will come, I thought, it always does. I found myself thinking about all of the pain I’d experienced–all the pain I caused–over the past few months; fear, uncertainty and the responsibility that felt too heavy to hold. I thought about how much I loved Sarah. Then I thought about Luka. And then my unborn son, Avery.
Stop running, what you’re seeking is here. The words etched into my heart.
I paused. And looked around at the beauty of this wild, natural place. Overcome with gratitude, it was finally time for me to walk out of the forest as a free man. I got up, put my pack on and made my way out, finally stepping back across the threshold–reborn.
Chapter 6: Arriving Back Home
I continued picking up the little pieces of glass that spread out across the ground. It’d been three weeks since I walked out of that forest. I knew the moment I did, I was a changed man forever. A changed man who still gets triggered by old wounds. Although I could still feel that part of me crying out, wanting to run, something was different, something more spacious.
Fuck this! You don’t need anyone.
I took a deep breath. Reminded of the dragon flies. You’ll never be alone.
But it’s too much to hold..
I let the air leave my lungs as I exhaled, letting the weight fall away. You’re a free man.
What if I get hurt again?
Reminded of the moment that sun finally made its way into the forest, calling forth a new dawn.
The sun will always rise, no matter how dark the night.
I closed my eyes. And was taken back to the middle of that dark forest where time stood still.
What is there to fear when you know there is no separation?
I opened my heart.
Stop running, what you’re seeking is here.
I got back in the truck. I didn’t speak right away. We had a little more than six hours left till we arrived back home. Sarah asked if she could share what was coming up for her. A memory–an old memory, many lives ago, when she was sixteen. I could feel her vulnerability, and the fragility of the moment. What she was really asking: is it safe for me to open my heart?
I put my pain and discomfort to the side. Stop running. I let my heart open. What you’re seeking is here. As I did, I could feel the depth of her pain, how closed off and confused she was. I could feel her inner child hurting, in need of love. I sensed her feel my heart open. Knowing that it was now safe to share, she began to recount one of her first intimate experiences as a tear slowly dripped down the side of her cheek. I softened as she shared the feelings of shame and rejection, knowing the pain caused by young kids exploring themselves, not having the experience nor understanding to navigate such interactions with proper love and acceptance. The more she shared, the more I felt like I was getting to know her, getting to know my Self. I desired more. So I asked about her next relationship, and then the next one, and the next after that. For the next six hours, she shared every serious relationship she’d been in; how they met, why they broke up, and what patterns showed up between them. I felt like I was getting to know my wife all over again as she revealed intimate details of her life for the very first time. I got to know those she loved, and where they got lost; disconnected. It was raw; unfiltered. And possibly the first time she allowed herself to be witnessed in that way. A gift I’ll never forget; falling in love all over again.
By the time she was done sharing, we were twenty miles from home and the empty gas icon was blinking once more. I pulled into the gas station to top off my tank one last time. Before getting out of the truck, I looked back in the rear view mirror at Luka and smiled, reminded of what Ryan shared around that sacred fire three weeks before, how “we don’t give our kids enough credit.” Luka looked back at me with a smirk, and I thought to myself..
Thank God for broken glass.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. In a world that is constantly vying for your attention, it means so much that you’d invest your time here. This story speaks to the challenging year my family and I experienced. The creative process of bringing this story to life has been powerful, offering deeper insights, healing and growth through the process. This is my first real published piece of art. I hope that it’s essence inspired you on some level. If you feel called to share it with one or two people in your life, I’d appreciated you even more than I already do. If you’d like to share how this piece impacted you, I’d love to hear from you directly. You can either leave a comment or email me via the contact button on the header. And if you enjoyed this story, I’ll be publishing more like it, so be sure to subscribe to my mailing list to stay in touch.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
Thank you to my wife Sarah for diving deep and holding it down. Your ability to excavate the unconscious and desire only for the truth is one of the many reasons I love you. Thanks for not giving up on us.
Huge shout out to David Alder and his course “Parables of Change.” He is the reason this story has been told. Thank you for showing me the power of story, the importance of time constraints, and for helping me fall in love with the creative process again. *If you feel called to go through “Parables of Change” please reach out and I’ll connect you with David. The world needs to hear your story.
Thank you to the Creator of this life. I’m grateful for all of the challenges, within them I find deeper layers of truth, love and freedom. Thanks for supporting me always; knowing that real faith is earned through experience.
