What Spirituality Means to Me
For those of us who played at the highest levels, whether it was pro or college sports, the game wasn’t just what we did. It was who we were.
The field, the rink, the court, the bus rides, the locker room, the team meals, the wins, the losses, the grind, the camaraderie, it all became our world. It was more than a career or a dream. It was our identity. It was our family. It was spiritual, even if we didn’t call it that.
When it’s over, that loss cuts deep.
You don’t just lose the sport. You lose the spirituality of it. The connection. The purpose. The meaning that came from being part of something bigger than yourself. You lose the tribe that understood you without explanation. That was your church. And when that’s gone, it leaves a void most people never prepare for.
That void gets filled somehow. For me, it was with alcohol.
I didn’t drink because I wanted to party. I drank because I didn’t know how to exist without the noise, the validation, and the constant movement. The game had given me identity, structure, and significance. When it ended, I had no idea who I was without it.
I was chasing something that couldn’t be replicated. The adrenaline. The routine. The feeling of being part of something that mattered. And when I couldn’t find it again, I filled the space with chaos. I thought I needed to prove myself all over again in the real world. But what I didn’t realize was that I never truly validated myself to begin with.
That’s when I started to understand spirituality. Not religion. Not tradition. But connection. That deep awareness of who you are when the jersey is gone and the lights go out.
The Four Pillars: Physical, Mental, Emotional, Spiritual
For most of my life, I thought success was built on three things: physical strength, mental toughness, and emotional control. Those were the pillars I trained and coached through. But as I’ve grown older, and been through enough wins and losses to understand the game behind the game, I realized there’s a fourth pillar that quietly holds everything together.
Spirituality.
Not religion. Not crystals or mantras. But that connection between who I am, what I do, and why I’m here.
The physical pillar is easy to understand because it’s measurable. You can feel when you’re strong, tired, or weak. You can see your results in the mirror or on a scoreboard. The body is a reflection of discipline and consistency.
The mental pillar is how you think, your habits, your self talk, your focus, and your systems. It’s your software. You can be in shape physically, but if your operating system is full of negative loops, limiting beliefs, and distraction, you’ll burn out fast.
The emotional pillar is how you connect with yourself, with others, and with the world around you. It’s what allows you to show empathy, to regulate stress, to love and be loved, and to not let anger or fear run your life.
And then there’s the spiritual pillar. It’s not about what you believe. It’s about alignment. When the other three pillars are dialed in but you’re still restless, chasing the next thing, questioning what it’s all for, that’s the missing piece. Spirituality brings coherence to the system.
When I’m in tune spiritually, everything runs smoother. My body recovers faster. My thoughts slow down. My emotions balance out. I make better decisions, not because I’m trying harder, but because I’m more connected to purpose.
The Chase for Happiness
Most of us spend our lives chasing happiness like it’s a trophy. We’re told it lives on the other side of success, money, followers, or the next achievement. Society markets happiness as something you can buy, drink, or post about. But the truth is, happiness isn’t out there. It’s in alignment.
Happiness isn’t something you chase. It’s something you uncover when the noise dies down.
We’ve been programmed to compare. Social media is built on it. You scroll, you compare, and your brain floods with dopamine and envy. You start to believe you’re behind. That everyone else figured it out. And before you know it, your worth is tied to someone else’s highlight reel.
The spiritual pillar is what pulls you back from that cliff. It’s what reminds you that happiness is not found through comparison, but through connection.
Why People Avoid the Spiritual Side
Most people avoid spirituality because it’s invisible. You can’t measure it with a heart rate monitor or a blood test. You can’t track it in your journal like macros or miles. It doesn’t post well on Instagram.
We live in a culture built on outcome. We want proof. We want to see progress. The problem is, the spiritual side isn’t built for instant feedback. It’s quiet. It’s reflection, solitude, gratitude, forgiveness, and humility. All the things that don’t get celebrated publicly.
Science has a word for what happens when we live out of alignment with that side of ourselves: incoherence.
The human heart produces an electromagnetic field that changes with our emotional state. When we’re stressed, angry, or disconnected, that field becomes chaotic. When we’re calm, grateful, and aligned, the heart and brain synchronize. This is called heart-brain coherence, and it directly impacts performance, immune function, recovery, and even cognitive speed.
In other words, spirituality isn’t mystical fluff. It’s physiology.
The Role of Alcohol in Disconnecting the Spirit
When I drank, every ounce of spirituality left me. I was disconnected from purpose, from people, and from myself. Alcohol numbs the noise, but it also kills the signal. It blocks your ability to feel, reflect, and grow. You stop listening to your intuition. You stop connecting to the truth.
Alcohol made me chase highs that never lasted. It fed my ego while starving my soul. It turned spirituality into survival. And when you’re surviving, you can’t grow.
Sobriety didn’t just clear my body. It reconnected my spirit. It brought back awareness, clarity, and stillness. The things I used to run from became the exact things that now keep me grounded.
Spirituality in Sports: Surrendering the Outcome
In sports, spirituality shows up as surrender. Not giving up, but letting go of control. It’s trusting the work you’ve done, allowing flow to take over, and playing without fear of the result.
When you’re spiritual in sport, you’re free. You compete with intensity, but not anxiety. You’re in the moment, not trapped by what’s next. You respect the game, the opponent, and the process. You don’t need to prove. You just perform.
The best athletes I’ve coached are spiritual whether they know it or not. They play connected. They breathe differently. They flow.
The Strength to Slow Down
Spirituality has given me something I never expected, the ability to slow down while everyone else is speeding up.
I watch friends hustling, complaining, chasing. They’re exhausted, and I get it, because I used to live like that too. Now, I move slower, but I’m actually passing them. It’s a tortoise and the hare thing. I’m not frantic. I’m not chasing. I’m building. I have faith, and I use that word in my own context, that my systems will work, that my consistency will win, and that patience is power.
Spirituality gave me the strength to trust the process when the results aren’t immediate. It taught me that calm is not weakness. It’s control.
Mortality, Truth, and the Lies We Tell Ourselves
As I’ve gotten older, mortality has become more real. You start losing people you thought you’d have forever. Teammates, friends, family. Sometimes suddenly, sometimes slowly. I’ve seen it first-hand, and it never gets easier.
Losing people forces you to look at your own life differently. It reminds you how fragile this all is. It strips away the noise and leaves you staring at what really matters. When I’ve helped others through loss, or faced my own, spirituality has been my anchor. It’s what allows me to stay grounded when life feels unfair.
The body gets weaker. The mind can fade. But the spirit, if you take care of it, only gets stronger.
I’m not old old, but I’m old enough to know time is speeding up. That’s why I do this work. I’m keeping the connection alive now, so when I hit those golden years and I’m looking in the mirror, I still see someone who matters. Even if that dude has a few wrinkles and saggy tattoos. That’s the point of all this, to keep meaning alive as you evolve. To keep building something real inside that no one can take away.
But here’s the truth. Most of us don’t look in the mirror to connect with ourselves. We look to check the image. To see how well we’re performing. We tell ourselves we’re fine, we’re strong, we’re happy, when deep down we’re restless, confused, or numb. We’ve built a society that rewards image over integrity, so we wear masks to protect an identity that doesn’t even exist.
We’ve been conditioned to perform. To look successful. To look confident. To keep the smile on our face even when we’re falling apart inside. We’ve bought into one of the biggest lies in performance culture... the “look good, feel good” mindset. The idea that if we can just look the part, we’ll eventually become it. New gear, new car, new body, new post. We chase the external in hopes it will fix the internal.
But it doesn’t. It never has. Because looking good is temporary. Feeling good is internal. And the two only align when your spirit is in check.
That mask might fool others, but it drains you. You can’t heal what you keep pretending doesn’t hurt.
And here’s where mortality creeps in again. The older you get, the more you start to realize time isn’t endless. You start to see people around you disappear... friends, teammates, family, and it forces you to face yourself. You start to wonder, what would happen if this was it? Would I be proud of who I’ve become? Or would I just be proud of how well I played the act?
Mortality has a way of stripping away the nonsense. You start to care less about what people think, and more about how you feel when you’re alone. That’s when the truth shows up. That’s when spirituality starts to matter. Because you can’t take the masks, the titles, or the trophies with you. You can only take peace.
We also lie to ourselves because of comparison. The constant measuring stick of other people’s highlight reels. We scroll through social media and convince ourselves that everyone else is doing better. We compare our behind-the-scenes with their best moments, and it breeds insecurity. It tells our brain, I’m behind, I’m not enough, I need to do more.
The science behind that is simple but brutal. Every time you compare, your brain releases dopamine, the same neurotransmitter that spikes with gambling or addiction. The hit feels good for a second, but it’s followed by a crash that reinforces the cycle. You become addicted to the illusion that happiness lives outside of you.
That’s why honesty is so powerful. When you tell yourself the truth, you break that loop. You stop living reactively and start rewiring your brain for authenticity. You move from ego-driven survival to purpose-driven awareness.
And I’ll be honest... this part of me is still a work in progress. I’m far from a finished product. Ask my wife, she’ll tell you. The old me still sneaks out sometimes. The snappy athlete. The overbearing competitor. The insecure kid who needed sport for validation. It’s all still buried somewhere in my subconscious. But the daily reflection, the self-work, the quiet moments... they chip away at that part of me a little more every day. That’s what growth looks like. It’s not instant transformation. It’s daily correction.
Real confidence doesn’t come from pretending. It comes from alignment. It’s looking yourself in the eye and saying, “I’m not where I want to be, but I’m working on it.”
The “look good, feel good” mindset might boost your surface, but truth builds your foundation. The lie might protect your ego, but it disconnects your spirit. And when the spirit disconnects, life starts to feel heavy, chaotic, and hollow.
Truth, on the other hand, grounds you. It gives you the strength to face mortality with peace instead of fear. It helps you appreciate the time you have instead of chasing validation you’ll never catch.
When you stop lying to yourself, you stop dying a little every day. You start living with presence. You start building something real.
And part of that truth is understanding that spirituality looks different for everyone. For some, it’s faith or religion. That’s their connection, their anchor, their way of making sense of the world. Their belief drives their internal peace, and that’s beautiful. For others, spirituality isn’t found in a church, it’s found in quiet reflection, nature, stillness, or service.
The danger is when faith becomes performance. When religion turns into eye wash. When people practice for appearance instead of connection.
Spirituality isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s not owned by any group or belief system. It lives inside each of us. It’s how we connect to something greater, whatever that is for you. It’s how we find meaning in the chaos and peace in the storm.
And the more you nurture that connection, the more you realize that truth, faith, and purpose are all speaking the same language. They’re just different ways of finding your way back home.
The Science of Self Talk, Visualization, and Meditation
Self talk, visualization, and meditation aren’t spiritual trends. They’re neurological training. Your brain doesn’t know the difference between a vividly imagined experience and a real one. When you visualize success, you’re building neural pathways that prepare your body and mind for it.
Positive self talk rewires your subconscious. Every thought fires a pattern. Repeated often enough, it becomes a belief. And beliefs create behaviour.
Meditation allows your prefrontal cortex, the part responsible for judgement and fear, to quiet down while your parasympathetic nervous system restores balance. It creates space. That’s where spirituality lives...in the space between thoughts.
Being Spiritual Doesn’t Mean You’re Not Dangerous
Being spiritual doesn’t mean you’re soft. It doesn’t mean you don’t have an edge. It means you understand when to use it.
You can be calm and still be dangerous. You can meditate and still compete like hell. You can live with compassion and still refuse to be walked on.
Spirituality isn’t weakness. It’s control. It’s mastering your energy so you can direct it with precision instead of reacting out of chaos.
What We See in the Mirror
When you look in the mirror, who do you see? Are you happy with that person? Why or why not?
Is it age that bothers you? Or is it regret? Those lines, those bags under your eyes—are they just exhaustion, or are they reminders of what you’ve been avoiding?
Do you love yourself, really? Or do you just tolerate yourself?
If you’re not sure how to start, start small. Start by being honest. Start by forgiving yourself. Start by getting quiet enough to hear your own voice again.
Spirituality isn’t about perfection. It’s about awareness. It’s about truth. It’s about taking off the mask and meeting yourself again.
And if you don’t know where to begin, that’s okay. I can help you start.
Why I Built Mindset U
Mindset U was built for that reason. For the next generation of athletes who are rising through the systems, chasing their dreams, and trying to find who they are through sport. I want them to understand early what most of us learned too late, that your worth is not tied to performance. That mental, emotional, and spiritual growth matters as much as physical training.
But this work isn’t just about feeling good. It’s about performance. Because when an athlete learns to connect all four pillars.. physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual, they unlock something most players never reach.
They recover faster. They focus deeper. They perform under pressure because they’re not afraid to fail. Their nervous system stays balanced, their heart rate stabilizes, and their confidence becomes internal instead of situational.
Mindset U builds that from the ground up. It teaches young athletes to play from peace, not panic. To stay centered in chaos. To lead through calm.
I built Mindset U to help young athletes love themselves before the game tries to define them. To build their four pillars early.. so when the lights eventually go out, they already know who they are, and they have the tools to keep growing long after the final game ends.
What It Means to Me
For me, spirituality is the daily practice of getting quiet enough to hear myself think. It’s not a belief system. It’s an awareness system.
It’s morning silence before the gym. It’s gratitude for my breath. It’s being fully present when my daughter is telling me about her soccer game instead of half-listening while scrolling my phone.
It’s realizing that the best version of me isn’t separate from the world. It’s connected to it.
When I’m aligned spiritually, I don’t chase success. I attract it. My body, mind, and emotions all work in rhythm with something bigger than me. That’s when I’m at my best as a coach, a husband, a father, and a man.
Final Thought
The four pillars... physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual aren’t four separate things. They’re four corners of the same foundation. Ignore one, and the structure leans. Strengthen all four, and life stops feeling like a grind and starts feeling like flow.
Spirituality isn’t an add-on. It’s the glue that holds the other three together. And the moment you stop chasing happiness and start building from the inside out, everything changes.
