Faith, Fatherhood, and Abundance

NO PLAYBOOK
There’s no playbook this week.
No 3-step system. No tidy framework.
Just what’s real and alive for me right now.

For most of my life, I didn’t believe in God. Not in a way that meant anything. I was raised Catholic—Sunday school, communion, the whole thing. But after we moved from Connecticut to New York, church stopped being routine. Then the headlines started coming. The abuse. The betrayal. It all confused the hell out of me.

So I threw the whole thing out.
God. Religion. Spirit. All of it.
Didn’t believe in anything bigger than my own problems.

I’VE SHARED THIS BEFORE
Fast forward to 2021—I've talked about this before, so I won’t drag it out.
But I wasn’t doing great.
Darkness was creeping in. I never saw a doctor, so I won’t claim clinical depression, but I had all the signs: numbness, no vision, no purpose. Struggling to get out of bed. Walking through life like a fucking zombie.

But that spring, something changed.

A friend brought over some psilocybin. I’d never done mushrooms before. Didn’t even know if I believed in any of that. But I gave it a shot.

And it cracked something open.

The clouds were more beautiful than I’d ever seen. The ground felt like it was breathing. I bit into a strawberry and could feel its energy. I laid in the grass, stared at the sky, and for the first time in years — maybe ever — I felt connected.

That was the moment I knew:
There’s more.
This life isn’t all there is.
There’s something bigger going on.

That knowing—that certainty—set the foundation for everything that came next.

THE NIGHT I DIED
Eventually, I went deeper. Took a heavy dose — 7 or 8 grams.

That night, I experienced death.

I left my body. Not metaphorically. I was gone. Wherever we go when our bodies stop working — that’s where I went.

It was overwhelming. Terrifying.
Until I accepted it.

And then… it was beautiful.
Peaceful. Euphoric.
Like every burden I’d ever carried was lifted.

But then I thought of Kallie.
And the fact that I had left her behind.

And I knew I wasn’t ready.

I fought like hell to come back. Not physically — spiritually. Like I was grabbing a rope and dragging my soul back into my body. When I finally returned, I was exhausted. But different.

That was when I knew — I’m not alone in this.

THE CONVERSATION AT THE BOAT RAMP
In April, I was pacing the shoreline by the boat ramp in our neighborhood. Staring out across the lake.

Kallie and I had been trying to have a baby for four years.
Four years since the ectopic pregnancy.
Four years since Kallie almost fucking died.

And in that moment, I broke open again.

I wasn’t asking for help. I was begging God.

Begging Him to make us parents.
Begging Him to see that we were ready.
I didn’t know what else I could possibly do to prove it — to Him or to myself.

I was pleading.
Not just for me — for Kallie too.

And I asked for a sign.
Something. Anything.

I looked down. And right in front of me was a blue horseshoe.

Now, sure — there’s a horseshoe pit near the lake. Could’ve been a coincidence. But I’ve walked that path hundreds of times. Never seen one like that. Especially not then.

Less than a week later, we found out Kallie was pregnant.

THE DIFFERENCE
When I did mushrooms, I knew there was more going on than what we can see.

But this? This was different.
This was the moment I said,
Alright God, I see you.

I’m not doing this alone.
You’re here.
You’ve been here.

And it changed everything.

MONEY IS ENERGY
Let me shift gears for a second.
Because this part matters too.

A lot of people are weird about money. I used to be one of them. I thought wanting more money made me greedy. I felt guilty for desiring it.

But here’s what I believe now:
Money is energy.
And it amplifies who you are at your core.

I wasn’t always ready for more money.
If I’d gotten it back when I was still the man I used to be, it would’ve been a fucking disaster. For me, and for everyone around me.

But now? Now it’s aligned.
More money just means more love.
More freedom.
More impact.
More experiences with my family.
More giving.

And I’m so damn grateful that now is when it’s coming.

THE VISUALIZATION THAT HIT DIFFERENT
Yesterday, I was out on the porch doing my visual meditation.

There’s a practice I’ve been doing lately — it’s all about abundance. You picture yourself standing on a beach. The water is endless, green with a gold shimmer. It represents wealth.

You walk to the edge, scoop that water up — with a bucket, a wheelbarrow, whatever you want. It’s light. Easy. You carry it to the shore, pour it out, and it turns to cash.

That’s what money is.
It’s always there.
It never runs out.
And there’s more than enough.

Usually when I do this, I pour it out for myself. For my family. For our life.

But yesterday…

I was on the beach from my childhood in Newport, Rhode Island — the one my mom used to take me to before we moved. It’s always felt like home.

And in the visualization, Kallie was behind me. We had two kids — a boy and a girl — playing in the sand.

The sun was warm. The water sparkled.

I broke down crying.

Not because I was sad. But because I was so fucking happy.

Kallie came up behind me, hand on my back.
She told me she loved me. Said they were proud of me.
And told me to come join when I was ready.

And this time — for the first time ever — I took the bucket of abundance and walked down the beach…

And poured it out for someone else’s family.

THE SHIFT
I finished that visualization with tears pouring down my face.

And instead of just sitting in it, I opened my calendar and asked:
What do I need to do to make this real?

That’s the power of belief.

The more clearly you can see it…
The more deeply you believe it’s already yours…
The more urgently you act like a man who’s receiving it.

I looked at what I’m building.
What Kallie and I are preparing for.
What Landstream needs to break even.
What my businesses need to scale.
And I got to work.

With energy.
With joy.
With fire.

Because this life I’m living?
It’s not just happening to me.
I’m creating it.

And I’m not doing it alone.

As always, thanks for reading

— Kyle

Song of the Week
 "Wish You Were Here" – Incubus

“I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
Strewn across a blue blanket…”

That line hits different this week.

I saw it in my visualization — standing on that beach in Newport, the one that always felt like home. My kids laughing in the sand. The sun warming my back. Kallie behind me, hand on my shoulder. The green and gold water stretching out forever.

That beach. That moment. That feeling… it was all real.