The Hand of Sam.

The Hand of Sam. Lessons we learn in our transition.

04/18/2025

The Whisper

“Unless you have a story, you don’t have a way to persuade people.” – Michael Lewis

The better your story, the better the impact.

My story is about overcoming the heavy weight of self-doubt—when all the evidence pointed toward failure, toward the abyss. As a highly logical person, I examined that evidence from every angle, and the conclusion seemed inescapable.

I was met with silence, rejection, and the pain of being ignored. But I did something irrational: I tricked myself into believing anyway.

Despite how unlikely my dream was, I chose to believe in it. Not because the facts supported me, but because the possibility meant more than the probability.

I overcame not just the external circumstances, but the internal voice that said, “Give up.”
Instead, I listened to the whisper that said, “Keep going.”

That whisper changed everything.

03/27/2025

*The Death of the Boy, The Birth of the Man*

There comes a moment in every person’s life when they realize they can no longer be who they once were. It is not a sudden revelation but a slow unfolding—a realization that the habits, desires, and perspectives that once defined them no longer serve their future. I have reached that moment.

For the past five months, I have wandered in a space between who I was and who I am becoming. I have indulged in the echoes of my younger self—spending time with friends, celebrating, chasing fleeting pleasures, and reveling in the comfort of familiarity. But beneath it all, there was a growing dissonance. I was no longer that boy. And yet, I still lived as if I were.

Change, however, is relentless. It does not ask for permission; it demands transformation. It forces us to choose—remain trapped in the comforts of the past or embrace the unknown. I found myself at a crossroads. The path behind me was familiar, a reflection of my past, but the way forward was dark, uncertain, and intimidating. For a moment, I hesitated. But then, clarity came: the boy I once was had to die for the man within me to emerge.

This realization was not easy. Letting go of who I have been for over a quarter of a century feels like saying goodbye to an old friend. It is the same grief a person feels when they must put down a beloved dog they’ve had since childhood—necessary, but painful. The boy within me was not bad; he simply no longer belonged in my future. He had carried me this far, but he could take me no further.

Now, as I take my first steps into this new chapter, I do so with faith. I do not pray for the strength to endure suffering; I pray for the wisdom to walk through life with confidence, clarity, and grace. I ask not just for resilience, but for purpose—to be a blessing, to be wise, to be bold, to be a man who brings light to others.

The boy is gone, but his lessons remain. The man is here, and his journey has just begun.

03/01/2025

*Chronicles of Colorado: Between Motion and Meaning*

The goal was simple—play some tennis, reconnect with old friends, and break up the journey back from Texas. I planned to split my time between two friends, but when one became unavailable, I found myself spending all seven days with just one. Seven days in Colorado.

The hospitality? Unmatched. Warmth, kindness, generosity—it reminded me of home, of past experiences that shaped my understanding of what it means to be taken care of. Food was provided. Drinks flowed. Anything I could think of, I had.

And then came Friday night.

A Reminder of Purpose
Before heading downtown, my friend reminded me of something I had said years ago:

"It is not the achievement of the man that makes him whole, but the purpose of his being."

That line stopped me. Seven years ago, it had been a lifeline—a light in the darkness. But that night, it became a mirror, reflecting the conflict within me.

Was I walking in my purpose, or was I just moving?

A Night of Encounters
11:57 PM. The music pulsed, the air electric. Then I saw them—three Ethiopian women. I just knew. The way they carried themselves, the way they spoke Amharic. I’ve been around enough Ethiopians to recognize the energy. One stood out. Tamar.

We danced. About 45 minutes of rhythm, movement without words, connection without obligation. We talked about Maryland, where she was from. She asked if I was enjoying myself, and the answer was hell yes.

Her friends left the dance floor, but she stayed. Another 30 minutes, dancing, talking, existing in that moment.

Then came Heather after Tamar left. She resisted at first, but when she let go, she moved like a wave—fluid, effortless, magnetic. A fleeting exchange, over as quickly as it began.

Then there was Adriana. She wasn’t there for the dance—she was there for the conversation. Striking, poised, ambitious. A paralegal, passionate about justice, celebrating Biden’s policy to abolish the federal death penalty.

She had conviction. A woman dedicated to something greater than herself.

And yet, my mind wandered.

I met another one—Peach. (Or was it Paige?) She wanted to be a psychologist, still in school, but something in her energy didn’t spark. Not like Adriana’s. Not like Tamar’s.

I wanted to get her Adriana’s number. Or Tamar’s. But I never did. I thought, may never see them again.

And now, I sit here, replaying the night, asking myself:

What was I really chasing?

Purpose or Distraction?
Colorado wasn’t just a trip. It was a lesson.

The thrill of the night—the music, the movement, the fleeting connections—was intoxicating. But was it meaningful? The moments were intense, but did they last?

Some experiences leave us full. Others leave us empty. Some moments feed the soul. Others only feed the distraction.

As friend group sung my praise, I walked away from that night with no numbers, no lasting connections—just questions. Maybe that’s what I needed.

Not another dance. Not another encounter.

But another moment of clarity.

12/25/2024

* The Weight of Dreams, The Will to Rise*

I gaze at the roof, my thoughts adrift,
Wandering through dreams that seem so swift.
A life I seek, yet fear I’ll fail,
Chasing winds that refuse to sail.

I long for love, a heart that’s true,
A partner strong to see me through.
The dream job to quench my ego
Yet doubt whispers, “Are you worthy of fame?”

The path feels steep, the load so great,
I wrestle with dreams, I wrestle with fate.
I want the world, yet fear its weight,
How long must I wait? How long must I wait?

A home, a wife, a love divine,
A card so green to bridge the space and time.
To visit my father, my mother, my kin,
To feel whole again, to begin again.

But storms rage loud within my mind,
Inadequacy whispers, cruel and unkind.
Yet through the noise, a spark remains,
A quiet voice breaking chains.

“Patience,” it softly says,
“Trust the work; brighter days.”
You are more than fear, more than doubt,
There’s victory ahead—just ride it out.

So I rise each day, though it feels uphill,
With faith in my hands and unbending will.
For dreams are not built on ease or chance,
But by those who dare to rise and dance.

I will persevere,
Through every trial, through every tear.
One step at a time, I’ll make my way,
Until the dawn of a brighter day.

12/06/2024

*The Encounter with a Stripper*

It was a Friday night around 8:30 PM on the soccer field when I first noticed her. At the time, she was just another player on the field, blending in with the rest. I didn’t think much of her then, but a week later, everything changed.

The following Friday, I found myself in a position of influence. I was tasked with selecting players to join my team. As I scanned through 25 players, searching for tactically and technically sound players who fit my style, my eyes caught sight of her again—the same player I had seen on the field the week before. Without hesitation, I told our leader, “Pick her. I think she’ll make a great impact on our team.” Little did I know that two weekends after that, I’d be hanging out with her off the field.

You might be wondering, How did I get her to spend time with me?
Well, let’s just say we had a good game on the field.

-An Unlikely Revelation-
After exchanging numbers on second Friday after the game, I sent her my address on the Friday, and she pulled up around a quarter past 9. I was excited to see her. I gave her a quick tour of the house and explained that it wasn’t my place—I was just visiting a friend. I joked about how my friend was lucky to have a girlfriend who helped make the house look so beautiful. If it had been just him, the place wouldn’t have been nearly as nice. She laughed and agreed.

Then, out of nowhere, she dropped the bombshell: “I’m a stripper.” That was her answer for what she did for work.

At first, I thought she was messing with me. I laughed it off, convincing myself it was a joke. But as the evening went on, she doubled down on her claim. She explained:

No s*x. No touching. Purely entertainment.
Curious, I asked her more questions:
“Where do you work?”
“Is it at a club?”
“How do you find your clients?”

She patiently answered: most of her services were private. Clients booked her through an app or by word of mouth.

She then psychoanalyzed me, saying, “You’re the kind of person who overthinks everything.”
I couldn’t argue with that—she was right. I tend to think things through carefully. She, on the other hand, described herself as impulsive, someone who acts on instinct without overanalyzing.

Even now, I’m still in disbelief. I met a stripper, and not just any stripper—one who was fearless, confident, and unapologetically herself. More pressingly, a good soccer player!

-A Night of Unfiltered Conversations-
That evening wasn’t just about her revelation. We delved into deep and controversial topics—perhaps too deep for a first hangout. One hypothetical question she asked caught me off guard:
“What would you do if your close friend, child, or family member came out as gay?”

Looking back, I wish I’d deflected that conversation and steered us toward lighter, more playful topics. Controversial debates aren’t exactly first-date material.

-Reflections on an Unforgettable Night-
Despite the surprises, that night left a lasting impression. She was fearless, beautiful, and courageous—a reminder that people can defy your expectations in the most unexpected ways.

While I still can’t fully wrap my head around the fact that I met a stripper, it was an unforgettable experience. It’s not every day that life introduces you to someone so unfiltered, bold, and entirely comfortable in their own skin.

The Faceless Voice Science helps us to understand that fear is a defensive mechanism that guides us to safety. While tha...
02/12/2021

The Faceless Voice

Science helps us to understand that fear is a defensive mechanism that guides us to safety. While that may be true, I have come to see a different perspective on the subject. When fear is left uncontrolled, the possibilities are rather predictable.

In my story, fear reminded me of previous failures and suggested I am inadequate. Fear froze my brains, it silenced my speech when I had to speak out, it gave me a voice when I had to be silent. It thwarted my progress to pertinent relationships. Fear made me confused when I needed clarity. Fear gave me motivation to walk away from my difficulties. It kept me in solitude and prevented me from doing what was best for me. Fear painted a mental picture of all what could go wrong and made me believe that was the only option. With fear, I lost my battles before I actually began because I could not wield myself to believe in the possibility of success. As long as I can remember, fear took more than it ever gave me.

I have come to understand that following a fearless path does not mean absence of failure. Being fearless has allowed me to achieve more than what fear ever gave me. In being fearless, I have come to enjoy the rise and fall of adrenaline. I feel joy and passion in pursuit of what I find important. In times of difficulties, hope and faith keeps me on my toes in fighting for my dreams.

I face endless possibilities from believing and taking actions on what matters to me. At the end of my battles, win or lose, there is an unquestionable feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment; rarely do I feel regret.

I believe I am a new creation destined for greatness. On my journey, I will continue to wield fearlessness in pursuit of my dreams and aspirations. More than ever, I am cognizant that not only do I owe myself a fearless path, but also on one can do it for me. I dare to be brave and challenge every blockade on my journey when needed. I stand up for myself because I owe myself that at least.

When you doubt yourself, take a leap and believe in the possible because if you believe and fight hard enough, you might just achieve your dream. My days ahead will be filled with adventures and I have a better chance of a better tomorrow because I am fearless.

12/29/2020

Power and Liberation
The scars we bear in our hearts and minds: we carry them. They make us different from the world. For me, it has made me a stranger to my world and yet, I wield its power.
I have cut all forms of relationships short and some as simple as ugly. Even more pressing, in some relationships, silence and void describes all forms of activities.
These scars I carry, I have carried them because I find solace and satisfaction in it. But that is my story. You do not have to bear the scars. You always have the choice to choose better. You can learn from this and make a better decision.
If you choose to carry the scars, then you must know that it is heavy, very heavy and in fact, it will most likely weigh you down to the point where your mind, heart and body will believe that that is where you belong.
The same scars that bring one down can also serve as fuel that elevates one to greater heights. In my story, I found comfort in holding on my scars because it fueled me to great heights. At some point, the fuel ran out, so I had to liberate myself of the scars because it had no beneficial use to my being.
Letting go of my scar brought about new possibilities. There are millions and billions of memories an individual can make in life. Why hold on to a couple of bad ones that will not serve you any good. Before you decide to hold to a scar, know its value because most scars have no value. I guess I was lucky, but will you be?

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