A Journey from Magic to Mindfulness
As a child, I was absolutely certain I would grow up to be a world-renowned magician.
Not a hobbyist. Not a guy who does card tricks at parties. A world-renowned magician.
I rehearsed relentlessly, fundraised to buy expensive props, and devoured every magic special I could find as a teenager growing up in rural Montana. I started performing at 14, adding elaborate balloon sculptures to my act for extra flair. I traveled, performed shows, and even received accolades—like the Rising Star Award from the International Brotherhood of Magicians. I once met Siegfried and Roy and David Copperfield.
Hope was high. Confidence was… perhaps misplaced.
Reality, it turns out, had other plans.
Looking back at old videos of my teenage performances, it’s now clear that “world-renowned magician” was not my destiny. There were signs. Many signs.
There was the time I took a sword to the ribs during a “torture basket” routine. The time I landed in the hospital after attempting fire breathing. The balloon sculpture incident involving a woman with a latex allergy who was evacuated by ambulance. The moment I sliced myself open while juggling kitchen knives in front of a room full of children.
Balloon sculptures, inconveniently, began getting banned due to rising latex allergies.
And finally—my personal magnum opus—I performed a magic show in college that ended with the theater being evacuated and the fire department being called.
At that point, even I had to admit it.
I quit magic and balloons for good.
I just wasn’t that good at magic tricks.
Letting go of that dream was painful. I had to release it piece by piece. But something unexpected happened along the way: the skills I developed as a young magician—confidence, improvisation, reading a room, staying calm under pressure—didn’t disappear. They transferred.
Years later, while working for the AIDS Network, I was asked to give a speech in a high-pressure situation. A colleague nervously warned me beforehand. I realized I should have been nervous—but I’d stood in front of tough audiences before. This was different, yes, but not unfamiliar.
Magic didn’t become my career. But it still shaped me.
That pattern—letting go of what wasn’t meant to be while discovering what was—has repeated itself many times.
When I was diagnosed with epilepsy.
When I came out as a gay man.
When my first love broke my heart.
Each moment forced me to confront a hard truth: fighting reality only deepens suffering. Accepting it—however unfair—creates space to move forward.
This is what psychologists call Radical Acceptance, a core skill in Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), developed by Marsha Linehan. At the Center for Trauma and Stress Education, where I teach and train alongside Harvard-trained physicians, we emphasize this skill often—because it works.
Radical Acceptance doesn’t mean approval.
It doesn’t mean liking what happened.
It means acknowledging reality as it is, so we can respond effectively instead of remaining stuck.
Where many of us struggle most is when reality feels unjust.
I once applied for a leadership position in an organization I had volunteered for extensively. I was told I was a “shoo-in.” The job went to someone else. A board member later explained it was about “optics”—they didn’t want a gay man in charge.
I spent a camping trip with my husband simmering in rage, replaying the injustice, ruining what should have been a beautiful escape. My refusal to accept reality cost me far more than the job ever did.
Another time, I served on a board and discovered serious financial mismanagement from before my tenure. When original members left, the remaining few—including me—were left holding the bill. I couldn’t afford it. I paid anyway. Then I retreated to our dark basement for a week, crying to Disney movies.
It was my husband who finally turned on the lights—literally—and coaxed me back upstairs. Acceptance didn’t erase the bill. But it allowed me to breathe, regroup, and figure out what came next.
Across the country, I see the same pattern. I’ve listened to flood victims unable to move forward because they’re consumed by blame. I’ve worked with teachers frozen by escalating challenges and shrinking resources. I’ve listened to individuals across the country rage over our current politics and in pain every day from that rage. People suffering not only from what happened—but from the inability to accept that it did.
A failure to accept reality—however painful—keeps us stuck.
Radical Acceptance asks us to do four things:
- Fully acknowledge reality—mentally, emotionally, physically—without denial.
- Release resistance, recognizing that fighting reality often hurts more than the reality itself.
- Redirect energy toward what can be changed.
- Remember acceptance is not approval—it’s clarity.
This Christmas, I’m reminded that Radical Acceptance may be one of the most generous gifts we can give ourselves.
I’ve never returned to magic or balloon shows. But every time I step onto a stage to teach, train, or speak, I use the skills I learned back then—minus the swords, fire, and latex.
Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way we imagined.
Sometimes the trick fails.
Sometimes the fire department shows up.
And sometimes, acceptance is what allows us to stop fighting the illusion—and start building a life that actually works.
That, I’ve learned, is real magic.
