Yoga of Writing, Boulder, CO (2025)

04/07/2025

Here I am, getting ready for tomorrow’s first session of Writing the Soul. I’m very excited

Thirteen incredible humans have already said yes. Some are writers. Others are seekers. A few are arriving with a specific project in mind—a memoir, a body of work they can feel taking shape. Others are coming with a deeper question in their chest: How can I show up more fully in the world? How can I live from the deepest part of myself?

I have room for two more.

This course has been a labor of love and attention. And I’m not doing this alone. I’m joined by six extraordinary co-teachers—Melissa Walker, Radha Marcum, Adam Guzman-Poole, Michelle Dowd, Emily Rapp Black, and Scott Youmans—each of whom brings a unique voice and hard-won wisdom to the circle. I trust them with my own soul, and I trust them with yours.

Writing the Soul is an eight-week journey into the deep interior. It’s part writing class, part spiritual exploration, part refuge. Each week, we explore a different facet of the self: the hidden, the wild, the embodied and sexual, thd archetypal. We write not just to say something—but to listen for what our lives are trying to tell us.

I’ve been preparing in the usual way—outlines, edits, long work sessions.
And I’ve also been preparing the soul way—by walking, pausing, listening. Letting what’s true rise up from beneath the noise.

When I say “soul,” I don’t mean a religious idea. I mean the Deep Self—that ancient, intimate, intelligent part of us that remembers who we are. It’s the thread that connects us to one another, to nature, to something larger. Some call it mystery. Some call it God. I just know it’s real—and I trust it more than ever.

That’s the place we’ll write from.
That’s the space we’ll hold.

If something in you stirs while reading this, DM me. Or sign up at my website—I’ll drop the link in the comments.

Let’s begin.

10/17/2024

Have you ever felt torn between two worlds? One built on cold, hard facts, the other filled with mystery you can’t quite explain?

That’s been my story for years—pulled between what I know in my gut and what I can prove with my mind. Maybe you’ve felt that same tension, like your heart and mind are locked in a fight neither of them can win.

This morning, as I sat in candlelight, meditating before the sun came up, an old memory hit me. Gene Savoy. The explorer I met years ago in Hawaii while reporting an article for *The New York Times Magazine*. We were sitting in a dingy seaside bar on the North Shore of Oahu. I can still smell the salt air mixing with spilled beer and whiskey. He was thin, hunched over the table, wearing a white captain’s hat emblazoned with an anchor emblem, a pipe dangling from his mouth. He told me about a time in the 1960s when he and his team got lost in the jungles of Peru.

There was something about him—a mix of arrogance and desperation. He had spent his life searching for pre-Incan ruins and wisdom in far-off places, but his ego always seemed to get in the way. He was brilliant, but there was something small and broken in him, too.

Savoy described how he and his crew pushed deeper into the jungle every day, the path swallowed by vines and overgrowth. They were lost, and fear crept in. But Savoy refused to show it.

One day, while poring over maps in his tent, he heard a sound—*Riiiiiing, riiiiiing*—cutting through the thick, stifling air. He ran outside and found his men hacking at vines with their machetes. He grabbed one and swung it himself. The same ringing echoed with every strike.

His eyes lit up as he told me this, gripping my hand.

“Mr. Bradley,” he said, “I knew we were saved. We weren’t going to die.”

I was confused. “How?”

“We’d found an ancient Incan road,” he said. “A road goes somewhere. Maybe it would take us to ruins, but more importantly, it would take us back to civilization. Roads can lead you home.”

Back then, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. His words felt like a koan. But years later, after I began facing the PTSD and addiction that had taken hold of me, his story made more sense. I saw that road as a metaphor for my own journey out of the pit and back to myself.

But today, decades later, I’m seeing it differently.

The Road Home isn’t about finding oneself. It’s about finding humility, about opening up to something bigger than yourself. What all those ancient books say is true: *To have it all, you must give it all away.*

What does that mean? It means letting go of the need to be correct. It means giving up the certainty I once clung to as a journalist, and even the certainty I reached for in my spiritual practice.

For years, I held too tightly to both sides of myself: the part that craved logic and the part that wanted to surrender to mystery. I thought I had to choose between them. But I don’t.

Real healing began when I let go, stopped trying to force life to fit into the boxes I had built for it. Giving it all away means being okay with the mess, the tension, and the not knowing. I spent years trying to nail down who I was, what I believed, and what life should look like. The truth is, I had to let it all go.

The hardest part? Humility meant unwinding the toxic masculinity I didn’t even know I was carrying—the certainty, the arrogance, the way I pushed forward to achieve and attain without stopping to listen. At 58, I’m learning to be a better listener now. I’m learning to stop talking long enough to hear what life is trying to tell me. Letting go of the need to be right. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m learning.

This new road I’m on is about bringing the two sides of my mind together—the part of me that demands things make sense, and the part of me that knows there’s a mystery you can’t touch with logic. I wonder if you’ve felt that same split inside—like you’re torn between what you “know” and what you “feel.”

I know I’m not alone. We live in a culture that’s as divided as I’ve been. Some of us put all our faith in science and logic, while others cling to religious dogma that doesn’t fit reality. Neither side feels whole. There’s no clear path to reconcile the split, to heal the chasm between our scientific minds and our deep human desire to experience the sacred.

Maybe you’ve felt this longing, too. Have you ever felt like parts of yourself aren’t talking to each other? Like your mind and your heart are at war?

I’m learning that the real work isn’t about picking a side. It’s about finding humility. And when I did, a road through the jungle appeared. Logic and mystery can walk side by side.

So, as I sit here thinking about Gene Savoy’s story, I wonder—where are you on your journey? Do you feel like you’re walking a road that connects all the parts of yourself? Or are you still stuck, trying to figure out which side to choose?

What would it look like to find a road that leads you home? A road where your mind and heart don’t have to fight anymore. A road where the logical and the mystical can finally live together.

As I keep walking this road, I’ve been working on something new—another memoir with reporting mixed in. This book is about the process of bringing the pieces of myself together—figuring out how to let the logical and spiritual sides of me live in the same space. But here’s the truth: I couldn’t have arrived at this hard-earned wisdom if my life as an adventure writer hadn’t been taken from me by addiction and PTSD. Losing that life broke me, but it also set me on this road. And I’m learning that the road to balance, like Savoy’s ancient road, is always there, waiting to take us somewhere deeper. It always leads us home.

for more like this, see my Enlightened-ish newsletter on Substack

10/15/2024

Three years ago, my dear friend and client Victress Hitchcock, or Vicky as I know her, reached out for guidance as she embarked on her memoir journey. Already a successful filmmaker, teacher, and devoted Buddhist who had studied with Trungpa Rinpoche, her writing was steeped in poetic beauty. What she needed was a bit of memoir craft to transform that poetry into something even more profound, and someone to simply witness her process, standing beside her as she shaped her story. I didn’t need to do much beyond helping her stay on course, but in that time, a deep friendship blossomed. I spent a month at her home in Crestone while working on *Into the Soul of the World*, and through it all, I’ve had the privilege of watching her bring this deeply moving book to life.

Today, I want to share how truly beautiful I find *A Tree with My Name on It.* I’m immensely proud of Vicky, of her persistence, and of the way she opened her heart on the page. And I’m filled with gratitude for the friendship we’ve built along the way.

The following excerpt takes place in the third act. Vicky's husband, Joe, has left the ranch—the dream property they’d bought together as empty nesters. But the isolation, her PTSD symptoms, and perhaps the valley itself, had other plans for their marriage. This scene unfolds as Vicky finally accepts the loss and begins to trust herself more deeply, finding a profound connection with her own heart. I hope you enjoy it and that you will purchase the book.

Excerpt:

The snow had stopped falling. From my office window, I could see a thick blanket of hard-crusted snow covering the hillside and trees, the whole valley glistening in brilliant sunlight. I needed to get out of the house. I needed fresh air. I didn’t care if it was ten degrees outside. I decided to plow the driveway. It would be my maiden voyage.

The truck with the plow was parked next to the house, facing outward. I trudged out, snow up to my knees, and after what seemed like hours scraping and brushing the snow off the windshield, I climbed aboard. It took an anxious few moments before the ignition caught and a few more freezing minutes to warm up the engine. I was ready to roll. I was feeling good, the air sparkling with a mist of swirling snow, the trusty engine chugging under me. I took off. Slowly. I turned on the windshield wipers and peered up the driveway. It seemed longer and steeper than I remembered. I felt a moment of panic, but I took a deep breath and powered forward.

As I headed up, the snow flying off to the sides, I was feeling almost cocky. And then, just as we hit the steepest part of the driveway, the truck crapped out. Right away I was hot and swearing. “Sh*t, f**k, no, no, no!” I yelled while I flipped it into neutral and slid back down the hill. At the bottom, I threw on the emergency brake, cranked the key, pumping furiously on the gas. Off we went again, and once again it died, at the very same spot. I started swearing again, pounding the wheel. “What the f**k? You can’t do this to me.”

Suddenly I felt my mind zoom back, and I saw the whole picture from a distance. Me, stranded in the middle of a very long driveway, in three feet of snow, yelling at a truck that wasn’t doing what I wanted.

I needed to “change my attitude and relax as it is.” I took a deep breath. Relax. I sat back and watched a load of snow cascade off a spruce tree across the road. As it is.

Out of the blue, I was visited by an image of finding myself in the same situation a week before with Rain. We were in the arena at Rancho Loco, and I was struggling to get him to lope. He didn’t want to. Each time I asked, he would half-heartedly lope a couple of paces and then sputter back into a ragged trot. Right away, I lost my seat, my legs stiffened, my back constricted, my breath became shallow. Frustrated, I kicked him and he broke into a faster, jerkier, trot. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I was the one at fault. Whatever it was I was doing was making it impossible for Rain to keep cantering. I didn’t trust that he would do what I asked him to do, and I was trying to force him. Sure enough, when I relaxed and let him do his part, everything went smoothly.

“Okay, I know you’re not a horse,” I said to my truck, “but I trust that you can do this. I’ve seen you do it. So, I’m just going to relax and let you do your job.” I took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over on the first try, we were off and running, and we plowed all the way to the top.

“Yes!” I shouted, pumping my fist in the air, and then I effortlessly shifted into reverse, backed up just enough to turn, and drove back down the driveway. Mission accomplished. It was all good.

10/11/2024

My latest Enlightened-ish Newsletter from Substack:

I'm working on a new book about my quest to find a god I can believe in—one that feels real in a world that often doesn't. This search, and book, is as much about doubt as it is about faith. It's a messy, gritty process with dead ends, quiet revelations, and a lot of questioning along the way. In that spirit, I've pulled together this list, a mix of what's been shaking up my perspective lately and pushing me to dig deeper. It's not clean or easy, but this journey is neither.

YouTube Video I'm Watching (and Rewatching): Windfall of Grace (Directed by Anjali Singh)

Lately, I've been leaning on this quiet sense of presence, letting it guide me toward something real. I've been watching and rewatching Windfall of Grace, a documentary that peels back the layers of Neem Karoli Baba's life. He's the guru who transformed many lives, including Ram Dass's. There's something profoundly simple yet mystifying about being in the presence of a teacher, even from afar—no words, no instruction, just that silent transmission of energy that shifts something inside.

This documentary has become a spiritual practice for me. It's helping me reconnect with what feels authentic, with that essence that speaks to a part of me that's been seeking for so long. It reminds me that sometimes God doesn't appear in explanations or sermons but in that quiet, unspoken presence.

Watch it on YouTube here:

Spiritual Book I'm Reading: Godmen of India by Peter Brent

India is back on my mind this week. It seems to call to me whenever I'm on the edge of a breakthrough—or breakdown. I've been diving into *Godmen of India* by Peter Brent, and it's been stirring something in me. Brent explores the raw, unfiltered encounters between Westerners and Eastern spiritual teachers, like the kind we rarely see today. There's no fixing, no self-help mantras—just presence. Just darshan, where you sit with a guru and absorb their energy, trusting that something more significant is happening even if you can't fully understand it.

This book brings me face-to-face with my longing for a deeper connection, a God I can sit with in silence without needing to explain or fix anything. It's about absorbing the moment, absorbing the mystery. Sometimes, that's all faith is—a willingness to sit in the unknown and trust that something is there.

Get it here.

Writing Craft Book I'm Rereading: The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick

As I think about how to tell my story—how to tell this messy, complicated search for God—I've been revisiting Vivian Gornick's The Situation and the Story. She reminds us that storytelling isn't just recounting facts. It's about digging into the emotional truth beneath the surface. It's about pulling out the essence of an experience and laying it bare.

Gornick talks about a student giving a eulogy to their doctor. Instead of just listing accomplishments, the student weaves their own life into the doctor's story. That synergy is what makes the eulogy come alive. That's what I want for my writing—to pull out the emotional threads and let them breathe.

Get it here.

A Quote I'm Pondering: Jonathan Pageau on Symbols

Symbols have always fascinated me because they speak to something deeper. Jonathan Pageau talks about how symbols help us see the invisible patterns that shape our reality:

"Symbols help us see the invisible patterns that govern the world. They transform our perception, allowing us to engage with reality more profoundly. Through symbols, we are invited to see the world not just as matter, but as imbued with purpose and meaning."

This is a reminder that finding God might not come through logic or reason but through seeing life differently—seeing the purpose in the chaos and the meaning behind the material. Symbols are a gateway to that deeper reality I've been searching for all along.

Memoir Tip: I've Been Speaking with My Students About Finding Your Voice

Your writing voice, like your spiritual voice, emerges when you stop trying to sound like someone else and start tapping into your truth. I've told my students that writing, like spirituality, isn't about forcing it. It's about letting it rise naturally from your experiences, from those deeper currents you're often unaware of.

Strong verbs, vivid descriptions, sensory details—that's where the truth is. And when you find it, it's unmistakable.

Class I'm Teaching: The Soul of Your Story: Intro to Memoir Writing

In my memoir class, which kicks off next week, I'll help writers uncover the deeper layers of their stories. We'll explore the first and last chapters of your memoir, the bookends that often hold the most weight. This isn't just about writing—it's about understanding your journey, finding the patterns in your life, and, hopefully, uncovering the bigger picture that ties it all together.

Spiritual Tip: Noticing Nature to Reveal Deeper Truths

As I work on my next book, I've reflected on how nature often holds the key to seeing beyond the surface. In one chapter of my memoir, Into the Soul of the World: My Journey to Healing (Hachette, 2023), I wrote about how paying attention to the natural world opened my eyes to something bigger. I saw the world differently: hawks perched on the same tree, turtles sunning themselves by the creek—things I'd never noticed before suddenly became vibrant, alive. It was as if the world showed me its hidden soul, and I was finally ready to see it.

I believe that's how we can begin to understand God—not by searching but by noticing—by being open to what's already there, waiting to be seen.

Find my book here.

That's where I'm at this week—deep in reflection, trying to make sense of this journey toward finding a God I can believe in. Thanks for walking alongside me.

10/10/2024

There’s something about the crisper fall air that always pulls me into reflection. Maybe it’s the shift in the light, but lately, I’ve been thinking back on my 35 years as a writer and editor—and the 1.5 years since Into the Soul of the World came out. I’m not the same person I was when I signed that book deal in the summer of 2021. Writing and publishing my memoir changed me in ways I never saw coming.

Today, I know I live with more purpose, clarity, and joy than I ever thought possible. Writing my book helped me put some of the painful chapters of my life in the rearview mirror. There’s something raw and transformative about shaping your life into a narrative, about facing down the messy and broken parts of your story. That process changed me. As Leonard Cohen wrote, "There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in." It was through those cracks—those raw, vulnerable places—that I found healing and meaning.

Of course, the work didn’t stop there. I’ve stayed committed to the 12 steps, therapy, yoga—all of it. But nothing cracked me open and changed me more than writing this book. And now, as I work on the proposal for my follow-up, about my quest for faith in a higher power, I’m once again reminded that writing is where the real transformation happens. It’s messy and challenging, especially for a thinker trying to find faith in a world built on materialism. But it’s on the page where I begin to make sense of it all.

Over the years, I’ve edited hundreds of memoirs and guided countless others through my coaching and classes. Working as both an editor and a writer gives me a unique lens when it comes to helping others tell their stories. I’m not just an observer—I’ve been in the trenches, wrestling with my own story, turning the dark parts into light.

Next Wednesday, I’m kicking off another session of my Intro to Memoir Writing course. This is one of my favorite things I do. It’s not just about teaching—it’s about helping people make sense of their lives through storytelling. Writing a memoir isn’t just about cataloging your life’s events. It’s about stepping into your story and finding the meaning within it. It’s hard work, but it’s the kind of work that changes you.

If you’ve been thinking about writing your story, or you’re feeling stuck and don’t know how to move forward, this course could be the nudge you need. We’ll meet Wednesdays at 1 PM MT, and you’ll walk away with more than just chapters—you’ll walk away with a clearer sense of yourself and your journey.

Writing your memoir is transformative. It changed me, and I believe it can change you too. If you’re ready to dive in, I’d love to help you tell your story. DM me and I'll tell you more.

10/09/2024

This week, I've had the honor of co-teaching a free 5-day journaling challenge with my friend Adam Guzman-Poole. Last night, Adam and I reflected on how the simple act of journaling has allowed us to dive deeper into our own stories. It's been a powerful tool for self-discovery, helping us make sense of life’s twists and turns—and even fostering healing along the way.

It’s not too late to join us. There are still three evenings left, and the journey continues. I invite you to check out the 5-Day Journaling Challenge Facebook event and dive into your own story.

On another note, I’m excited to announce that my quarterly Intro to Memoir Writing course begins next Wednesday, October 16th. Over five weeks, you’ll draft the first and last chapters of your memoir, create a clear roadmap for completing your story, and gather the tools and mindsets you need to bring your memoir to life.

One of the unique aspects of this course is that once you join, you get lifetime access. I offer it four times a year, continually updating the material, and many students return, finding a supportive writing community that grows with them.

If you’ve been dreaming of telling your story but didn’t know where to start—or if you’ve begun but got stuck along the way—this course will guide you through. My approach centers on the art of storytelling and reflection: memoir is a conversation between your past and the meaning you bring to it now.

If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join us. It’s shaping up to be a fantastic group, and I look forward to helping you tell your story.

10/07/2024

In about an hour and a half, we will begin the 5-Day Journaling Challenge I've created with my friend Adam Guzman-Poole. If you haven't already signed up, I hope you will. We will be guiding a great group through a journey of developing journaling skills to find more clarity, purpose, and joy in your life. If this sounds like something you could benefit from, go to this link: https://www.facebook.com/events/822475999870580

09/25/2024

I hear there are two types of people. Well, there’s obviously more than that. But there are two types of people when it comes to announcing a new a creative project. For one type, it’s unwise to announce you’re intentions because announcing it can prevent you from ever really doing it. The second type SHOULD announce their intentions because the external pressure motivates them to actually do it.

I’m type number two.

Four years ago, I launched a podcast called ENLIGHTENED-ish: Spiritually Imperfect.

It ran for about ten episodes and inspired about a thousand downloads. And then I closed it down to write my memoir.

Well, after a few hiccups and false starts, I’m finally relaunching it. And I’ve tweaked my little write up about it.

Here it is:

If you’re like me, you’ve probably spent years searching for meaning, healing, and wisdom. My path has taken me around the world—from the dense Amazon jungle, where I sought spiritual advice from a witch doctor, to holy deserts of Palestine, to the sacred caves of India, where I chanted with a 100-year-old yogi in a Himalayan cave.

In the process, I learned that the search for enlightenment isn’t a clean, linear path. It’s messy, filled with detours and setbacks. But the setbacks—the cracks—that’s where the light comes in.

In my book, “Into the Soul of the World, I talk about my earlier struggles with PTSD and how I’ve used spiritual practices to heal.

But here’s the thing—I’ve come to realize that healing is a process, not an end state. There’s no perfect "arrival" point where everything makes sense.

That’s why this podcast isn’t about having it all figured out—it’s about the journey, the questions, the moments when life falls apart and we have to find a way to keep moving.

In Enlighted-ish, we’ll dive into the intersection of spirituality and mental health. I’ll share personal stories of how my spiritual practices helped me during my darkest moments and how I’ve learned to embrace imperfection along the way. I’ll introduce you to guests with profound stories of they’ve lived to tell. We’ll also talk about practical tools you can use to integrate spirituality into your own life and mental health journey. Because here’s the truth: enlightenment is a process, not an end state.

Let’s explore this beautiful, messy, imperfect path together.

Ok then. I hope you’ll stay tuned this fall for new episodes. I already have a few in the can.

07/15/2024

For many years now, J Brown Yoga Talks has been a favorite podcast.

Yes, I know how to be vulnerable in my writing, and I'm good at teaching others how to write with vulnerability.

But J speaks it, and he does it every week, week in and week out. And he throws in a lot of enthusiasm and humor, too. No matter what subject he's discussing, J is always entertaining and real.

I've learned so much about yoga from J, too. I've learned about the business, history, ancient texts, fallen gurus, and more.

I turn to his podcast every Monday, the day his episodes drop.

As with every Monday, I tuned in this morning to listen to J this morning, but today he had an interview with...me, not some famous yoga teacher or scholar. I knew this, of course.

A couple of weeks ago, I sat for an interview/talk with J. We talked about my memoir, Into the Soul of the World, and much more....

Here's the podcast description from J.

Brad Wetzler, author of Into the Soul of the World, talks with J about overcoming addiction, spiritual interventions, and laying ourselves bare in order to heal. They discuss the pandemic period they met in, getting misdiagnosed as bipolar and becoming addicted to medication, mental health care diagnosis and treatment, community yoga, saints and gurus, walking in the footsteps of Jesus, undoing learned narcissism, receiving shaktipat, swimming in the waters of materialism, devotion, being softened by love, and finding real humanity.

I hope you'll have a listen. It's available wherever you get your podcasts. ❤

06/27/2024

I thought I'd check in today.

I've had a lot on my mind in recent weeks--mostly good stuff--but I haven't had a lot to say or share. I've settled in to life in Colorado. I've had about 20 doctor's appointments, and 10 physical therapy appointments, and they've all gone well, and I'm very healthy after a little scare this winter. I've even lost 15 pounds since March, most of it from hiking in the front range with Tommy.

I've been working hard on growing my memoir coaching and teaching business and writing my next book proposal.

It's taken a while to settle into exactly what I want to write about next. For most of the past two years, since I turned in my manuscript for Into the Soul of the World, I've felt like I've said everything I have to say.

But no longer!

Thanks to some throwing-spaghetti-against-the-wall calls with Emily Rapp Black, I've got a new plan. More about this soon, once I'm further along in my proposal.

By the way, if you or somebody you know is trying to write a memoir or wants to write a memoir, whether they want to aim for publishing or simply to write to heal or write for the fun of it, I'd love to guide you (or them) through the process. I specialize in teaching memoirs about personal transformation. I've been doing this for 10-plus years (and working as a professional editor and writer for 30-plus years). I know what I'm doing, and I've developed an effective way to teach others. Drop me a message!

I'm off to Austin, Texas, this weekend for a visit. Yes, life is complicated. ;-)

More to come!

Here's a picture of Tommy and me on the Sanitas Valley Trail.

❤
Brad

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