Aiming to stop conflict nearly broke us; learning to create peace brought us back. That’s the arc we explore with our guest, Graceilah Coolidge—born in Iowa, raised in Venezuela through coups and shutdowns, trained in nonproliferation, and recruited into intelligence after 9/11. The work was high‑stakes and mission‑driven, until a harsh realization landed: data doesn’t always drive decisions when agendas are in play. When that worldview cracked, she didn’t double down on noise; she went to the redwoods.

We talk about forest immersion as a practical, grounded practice: days in nature with water, warmth, and no distractions; fasting that quiets the body; stillness that lets memory and meaning surface. Senses sharpen. Awe returns. Priorities reorder. And because belonging is medicine, the process is held in community so reintegration is real, not just a peak moment. We dig into why fear spreads so easily in a media economy, how data addiction can bankrupt attention, and why presence—not more information—is the antidote. Santa Cruz becomes a character in this story: a place of radical expression and prickly borders, contradictions and care, redwoods and neighborhood kindness that keep us rooted as the town keeps changing.

We also get practical about civic agency. Voting won’t hand us peace, but it’s one lever that keeps space open for peace to grow. If America is a promise to keep trying, we renew that promise by showing up: in the booth, under the trees, with our neighbors. Come for the intelligence-to-intuition pivot; stay for the tools—fasting, attention, community—that make peace a daily practice. If you’re ready to trade doomscrolling for presence and find a more resilient way to live, press play, share with someone who needs it, and leave a review to help more listeners find the show.

What does it truly mean to coach youth sports in today's hyper-competitive world? In this candid conversation, host Michael "Coach Powers" Howard sits down with Little League coaches Matt Kuhn and Frank Schonig to unpack the beautiful mess that is youth baseball in Santa Cruz County.

The trio begins by sharing their uniquely Santa Cruz upbringings – from Frank's "mountain boy" childhood with dirt bike tracks and paintball courses on 10 acres of redwoods to Matt's journey from Ben Lomond to Live Oak. Their stories capture a freedom and independence that shaped their coaching philosophies years later. Neither planned to become baseball coaches, but as Frank puts it, they were "the last assholes standing" when volunteers were needed. What started as a way to spend time with their sons evolved into something much deeper.

At the heart of their coaching approach is a revolutionary idea: winning matters, but it's not everything. "Culture is the behavior that is acceptable for the team," Matt explains as they discuss building environments where kids feel safe to fail. Frank, drawing from his firefighter background, teaches players to focus on "controllables" – attitude and effort – while developing the "goldfish mentality" to quickly move past mistakes. Together with their coaching pod, they've created a space where practices feel like birthday parties, complete with sing-alongs and dancing, yet still produce championship teams.

The coaches don't shy away from tough topics, confronting the ego that drives all coaches while acknowledging that success can be measured in different ways – not just by wins and losses, but by whether kids return the following season and leave games happy regardless of the score. Their mission extends beyond developing athletes to raising "good humans" who will strengthen their community.

For parents considering coaching, their message is clear: don't be intimidated by lack of experience. Everyone brings different strengths, and coaching doesn't have to be done alone. The rewards – seeing young people develop determination, grit, and meaningful connections – far outweigh the challenges.

Ready to rethink your approach to youth sports? Listen now and discover how three ordinary guys created extraordinary experiences for kids through baseball.

Ever wonder what it's like to grow up inside "a bubble within a bubble"? Neil Sprenkel takes us into the unique world of Capitola, California—where neighborhoods feel like sanctuaries and surf spots become territories with unwritten rules that shape young lives in profound ways.

When his parents divorced during his seventh grade year, Neil found himself drawn deeper into surfing—not just as a sport, but as therapy. "I would go underwater and scream until I felt that energy leave my body," he reveals, describing how the ocean became his sanctuary during emotional turmoil. This raw confession opens the door to a broader truth: "Half of surfers surf because of trauma," Neil observes. Not that they choose surfing because of trauma, but they discover its healing qualities and can't let go.

The conversation takes a remarkable turn as Neil shares his deliberate journey toward mental health through a year of sobriety and silence. "I wanted my behavior to be true and intentional," he explains, detailing how therapy helped him break down emotional barriers built since childhood. Through this process, he discovered what genuine joy feels like—perhaps for the first time—and now wakes up energized even without an alarm clock. "I think I'm happy," he tells his girlfriend, almost surprised by the realization.

Both Neil and host Michael Howard explore how their relationship with surfing has evolved from competitive identity to something more peaceful and intentional. Their shared experiences reveal how confronting wounds, embracing silence, and practicing presence can transform not just our relationship with sports like surfing, but with ourselves and everyone around us.

Have you been seeking clarity in your own life? Or wondering how to break free from patterns that no longer serve you? This conversation might just be the nudge you need to dive beneath the surface of your own story. Subscribe now and join us for more authentic conversations that explore the true impact of Santa Cruz culture on the people who call it home.