I’m rolling around in bed all night, I just cannot sleep. The stress feels so “real”, the kind that almost seems as if it has bypassed fear, it just feels “real”. My stomach aches, and my body is in pain. I was in trouble and I knew it, and this time it felt like real trouble. I’m in the middle of a horrible few business deals and I can’t seem to figure it out, the pressure has been heating up and tonight it feels as if it is all piled upon me. “I need to get ‘above’ it,” I tell myself.

I get out of bed, walk into my office and fire up the computer. While it is booting up I roll through the kitchen and hit brew on the coffee maker and snag a glass of water. On the walk back towards my office, a sudden thrust of cold energy strikes me and moves me back. It literally hurt my arm and shoulder inside of the bone, it just felt so “real”. I think to myself “Farbz, you  really need to get above this, it has to be fear messing with you. There is a way through this, so get above it and solve it man”.

I sit down at my desk and I begin to think of myself getting “above” this “real” feeling playing with my mind and body that is trying to penetrate my soul. I begin to meditate into this thought of rising above it so that it cannot stay above me, smothering me in its shadow. My meditative state has me visualizing laying on a hillside at our farm in Northern Michigan in my sacred place. There is a gentle breeze, the sun warms my whole body. I can see for miles, staring down on the rolling fields beneath and the massive sections of contiguous hardwoods that appear to go on as far as the eye can see. I am entering a state of consciousness as I have moved above the situation, above the room that I am sitting in, above my sacred place on that amazing side hill up north. My breathing becomes rhythmic. I am watching the computer screen, I watch my fingers stroke the keys and see the words fill the screen as I write all of my fears and then pros and cons with certain strategic moves I can make, and the fear barrier is felt and then passed in reverse. Yes, I am above it now.

The printer pushes the pages out. I grab them, pour a cup of coffee from the pot and walk outside and lay on the ground staring into the sky. It is very early still. The birds have not yet begun to sing, it is nearly silent and a full moon illuminates the sky. Under the moonlight surrounded by massive mature oak trees on top of a steep ravine in Franklin, Michigan where I was living at the time, I read the words that I just finished writing in a state of consciousness. I realize it is all just fear. I hear movement down below the steep ravine I am on top of and my eyes reach the figure that is making these sounds: it is a beautiful buck, probably a 10 pointer, and I lose myself in him. He starts rubbing his antlers on a tree and then looks up the steep ravine and stares deeply at me. He is unsure of my presence, but he can feel me and I can feel him, the energy exchange is real and he trots off. I move back into a deep state of mediation.

The sun is now starting to rise, it has been hours since I laid on the ground. I look at the gorgeous sky and the trees that surround me. I feel better now and I realize how deeply I meditated. It was not real – it was merely fear. I have indeed risen above it again. An idea crystallizes in my mind about how to approach these issues and as I get up off the ground I feel thankful that nature and mediation has once again helped bring in a new day.

Do you ever feel that stress is becoming unbearable and do you wish to pass these moments more quickly? Perhaps trying to visualize yourself getting above it all will help. Do you have a sacred place in nature that is your retreat spot to visualize? A place that is always waiting for you and you can go there any time in your mind? If so, use it, and if not maybe try visualizing this place in nature as it can set you free and help you rise above trying times.

The alarm clock begins to blare “egh, egh, egh”, I quickly open my eyes and I smile and just lay there in bed on my back for a moment. I breathe in deeply and say to myself in a quiet but excited voice “it’s opening day of bow season baby, oh yeah!” In one motion I jump up and out of my bed. I walk to the bathroom, brush my teeth, bang out a quick scent-free shower, head down the stairs and turn the coffee maker on. For the moment I am respecting everyone’s slumber state on the couches in the living room and in the bunk beds down stairs. I fire up the frying pan and scramble some eggs and cheese. We will sit a good 6 hours this morning, so we don’t want growling stomachs.

I then tip toe into the living room of the farmhouse and I load the CD player with Shaggy and as I can hear the sound start coming on, I crank it up on full blast. As I stood there in my boxer shorts, I laughed hysterically as Jay and Steve came shooting off the couches terrified as did my buddies RJ and John in the bunk room maybe 15 feet away. Soon I have been gang tackled in the living room and we all begin to laugh and start chanting “opening day yo, opening day, opening day yo, opening day!” Thirty minutes later it is time to make our move. I needed to show a couple of the guys how to get to their stands so it was a good 90 minutes before daybreak as we headed out.

After successfully aligning all my pals that are hunting with me on this opening day, it was time for me to make my way to my stand. For weeks I had strategized for this day and calculated wind and weather dependent upon where I would sit. The day’s lucky stand would be the Salad Bar Slammer, for the wind was out of the northwest. The Slammer is located along the edge of a cedar swamp that turns into a crab apple line of trees and then lets out into a corn field. The stand, given the year’s crop rotation, should make for an exciting opening morning.

As I park the golf cart off the road, I carefully snag my bow and backpack and get on my way. As I begin my journey, I am conscious of each step that I take. I am mindful of every branch or twig that might make noise if stepped on. One wrong move and I know my morning chances of scoring Mr. Big could be over in a flash. I walk in as straight of a line as possible to minimize the amount of scent my boots might leave on the ground. Amazingly, I do not jump a single deer and the wind stays in my face just like planned. I ease my way to my tree, which is an old tall hemlock pine that is nestled in between the apple trees and the swamp. From my vantage point at 22 feet, I will be able to see the edge of the field. If and when he comes I should be able to put my eyes on him first, allowing me to be prepared to close the deal once in range.

A clean path in life is always best. I am not saying that we need to be camouflaged at all times, however leaving a clean path is typically preferred. Too often in life our ego gets in the way and this is no longer possible to achieve. We say something hurtful to a co-worker, to a friend, to our spouse, or even our children. We say something that we immediately regret. I believe that by consciously focusing on a clean path that respects the fragility of most relationships, situations and people we end up in a far better place in life. Ask yourself this question: when you think about a path or a wake in water, what type of wake do you want to leave?

In a deeper life sense, a wake is something that represents the end of our human life. When our friends, relatives, and acquaintances come together to say good-bye and we are in our place of worship, or in a funeral home, or about to be put into the ground, how do you want to be remembered? Do you want to be known as a person that was mindful and thoughtful of people and the universe, or were you a drainer that sucked energy from the world? For me, that choice is easy. I want to be known by my family and friends as someone who was loved and loved others. I want to be known as someone who lived a life driven by passion, love, and achievement. Always more important to me than financial success or gain will be how I made people feel. Did I contribute to the world more than I took from it or did I leave a messy trail? A true steward of the outdoors is always mindful of his or her path. This hopefully transcends into general life as well, and I believe it often does.

Did I shoot a deer that opening morning, you may ask? Does it really matter? To me it does not, as I remember the alarm clock, the blaring of the music, the showing my friends where they needed to be, the stealth climb up the tree, the way I felt as the sun rose on another opening day of bow season, the rush of it all, the amazing memories. To me it is far more about the moment, and far less about the kill. I believe that deep down, 99% of all true hunters feel this way. It is too bad that as a society we have allowed ourselves to only view the distinct differences of opinion, instead of the commonality of passion and life. No matter whether you are an anti-hunter, a hard-core hunter, or neutral on the whole subject, let us look at what we have in common, not in opposition. Let us think about leaving a clean path together and let us create memories that move the world forward.

I am sitting in my backyard nursing a hangover from the Coldplay concert last night. We went big and I can feel the cobwebs from that extra shot of tequila I could have done without. The sun is just beginning to rise, I take it all in. The sun is beautiful today, she has this beam or rather gleam of orange power that radiates the surroundings. I sip my coffee and I lean my head back and stand against a tall pine tree in awe of her beauty. Few things are as important to me as the sunrise. The sunrise does something to energize my spirits, it lifts me up when I feel asleep in life. It is the needed start to my nearly everyday. Few things make me sadder than missing a good sunrise.

Since childhood I have found that rising earlier then most provides me with a peak activity period which gives me a massive advantage. My capacity to be productive is in an abnormal turbo-like mode and clarity accompanies it. The true hunter knows the sunrise well, it is their friend, it is their guiding light. The sunrise represents the moment when the noises below in the woods come within visual sight of a body. As your view becomes clearer and the woods open up, so does life. Sunrise marks the start of a new day, and what in life is more precious then that?

If you feel sluggish in life, dissatisfied, unfulfilled, or you simply want more out of it, try the sunrise. Challenge yourself to meet her more often, she will always guide you to a better place. Your days will be fuller, your mind will be used to higher degrees, and your life will lift in its purpose. I love the sunrise, for it is where it all begins.

I was in Atlanta back in 2000 for Super Bowl XXXIV when Tennessee came oh-so-close to being crowned champions in a thrilling finish. Certainly, those days were the highlight of Air McNair, who has since passed. As the clock struck midnight after the game, I realized three things simultaneously:

1. It was January 31, closing day of the Alabama firearms season and I still had a tag from a hunt earlier in the month hunt that proved non-fatal
2. I was only 2 hours from Cusseta, Alabama, an area I had hunted before
3. My boy Vance Kilgore, a total deer junkie and hunting pal of mine, was bound to still have his crazy Alabama butt wide-awake. The dude has crazy Energizer Bunny energy like me, so it’s not wonder we get along so well for a Yankee and a southern boy.

I dialed up Vance and gave him my 20 and told him I wanted one more shot at that big old 8-point I was after earlier in the month with my bow. He said in a Vance-like way, “Alllright Farbz, getcho Yankee ass over here and I’ll put you along a cut that sits right up on some X-mas trees. We saw that buck out in the cow pasture right by that stand 2 mornings ago chasing tail. I’ll drop you and you can make your way to it as the sun rises.”

Upon receiving this exciting news, I decided to cut the partying short and retreated to the hotel room and fell into bed to snag a few hours of shut-eye before getting up at 4 am to drive to ‘Bama.

I popped out of bed like a morel mushroom does out of the ground on a perfect spring day and jumped into the rental car and hit the road. As I made my way towards Alabama, I started thinking to myself “One of the key things to do in life is to take action”. I mean, here I am in Atlanta for the Super Bowl and the partying but I’ll be damned if I can pass on a chance to get after old “Freak Nasty”, as my Bone Collector homies call the “monarch of the woods”. I have always believed that to miss a great morning hunt, unless the excuse is your health or a pressing family matter, is a crying shame.

The weather was stellar, the roads were a little frosted over and the temperature was a chilly 28 degrees. I had “the feeling” on this day and I just felt that the old 8-pointer and I had a date with destiny this morning. I pulled into Cusseta and to the parking lot where Vance and I meet up and he started laughing at the little Toyota rental car I was driving. We jumped in his maroon Chevy Silverado that has been to hell and back several times, drank some coffee, ate a couple of biscuits and drove to the land lease that held the buck I was after. Vance pointed in the direction where the stand was hung and just like that I was on my way.

Dressed in a green trench coat, a pair of loafers with the warmest socks I could find and not much for layers, I set out to find the stand. As I was walking I thought to myself, “Farbz, this is pretty damn cool. I feel like it’s going down today.”

The sun was starting to make its way up into the sky and I had to stop for a moment and breathe it in to admire its beauty. It was one of those surreal sunrises, and with each breath the air was filled with smoke and I just knew this was a morning where I was not confusing activity with results. With Vance’s .30-30 in hand, I made my way into the cut to where I guessed the stand was hung based on his directions. Much to my pleasure, I was right on the money and I climbed up into the ladder stand. I had no gloves other than a thin gardening pair Vance loaned me. I also had an old school grunt call and a pack of chips. I started giggling to myself as I looked at my mustard-colored socks that stuck out like a hunter’s sore thumb. There I sat on the stand, looking ridiculous but positive the big 8 was coming to me on that morning. I felt it and I knew it.

In life, we have times where we decide not to act on something that we feel deep inside of us. I believe these are the moments where we run a risk of having regrets in our future. When it comes to hunting, business, family, you name it, I always trust my intuition. I trust that there is a certain perfect order to the world and it will guide me in fluid fashion when I trust it. This morning was a perfect example of trusting my gut, trusting that this random treestand in Alabama was the perfect place for me to be. As the sun rose it was bitter cold and I was literally shivering. Even though I am a Michigan boy with cold-blooded loving threaded through me, it was undeniably cold on this morning in Alabama of all places. I have since surmised that the damp cold of Alabama can be downright bone-chilling in late January.

I glanced down at my watch and noticed it was 7:48 am. As I looked up, a doe heavily in heat came trotting past my stand. Another doe following her came to a screeching halt and stared straight up the tree at me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his rack sticking out above some tangle to the north. As he came closer, I saw his neck was massive and his rack was bone-white. There was no doubt about it, this was him.

My shivering from the cold instantly converted to hard core buck fever shaking. I had to remain as still as I could as the second doe and I were in a deep stare down; she knew I was there but couldn’t prove it with her eyes. I kept thinking what I wouldn’t do to have camo on, as I felt so darn naked up there in my cheesy J.Crew trench coat and exposed mustard socks. Nonetheless as the buck made his way behind the does, he pushed Miss Suspicious on her way. The white-horned 8-point was a mere 40 yards away. I shouldered the .30-30 and put the iron sights behind his shoulder, turned off my safety and BAM. The buck kept moving as if nothing happened so I racked another shell and let it fly and he kept on chasing with his head down.

Reaching into my trench coat pocket with my near-frost-bitten hand, I grabbed my old grey Motorola Nextel jumbo size phone and called Vance. “Dude, I think I smoked that big 8-point but I am not sure. It all happened so damn quick man.” Vance replied, “Coooool man, real cool. Sit tight, Farbz, and I’ll be there fast as I’m just down yonder. I am bringing Buddy with me in case we need some help with the blood.” Buddy is a bad ass yellow lab that is beyond loyal to Vance and he also is one heck of a dog on blood. Years later I would name a dog after him, another yellow lab and my Buddy is loyal like Vance’s Buddy.

Fifteen minutes later I heard the bed of Vance’s truck rattling and within no time Buddy was out on the prowl. As I was climbing down the tree I heard Vance yell out, “Oh yeah buddy this is him alright. Nice shooting Farbz. You put both shots in him man!” Few things after shooting at a big buck that you do not see fall are more relieving, exhilarating, and awesome then being told your buck is down and recovered. Forgetting I was in loafers and a trench coat, I sprinted into the X-mas trees and red clay-covered ground, completely trashing my clothes.

Walking up to this awesome Alabama creature I was admittedly choked up. I looked at Vance and said, “man, this was fate today bro. I mean something inside me said get out there and make this happen. Sometimes you have to call an audible and follow your gut. You know what I mean Vance? I got to see a Super Bowl and I even got to harvest a Super Bowl Buck, hell yes man!”

Vance nodded his head put his arm around me as I embraced Buddy and gave him mad praise for his recovery of this beautiful animal. I caped the buck out and we ate a back strap for a late morning brunch. As the air warmed up and the sun began to take its course, I cracked a PBR and to this day that was one of the best cold beers I have consumed. Sometimes in life we have to follow the advice from the movie Risky Business and just say “what the heck” and go for it. This was one of those days. The old white-horned 8-point Alabama monarch will always be “The Super Bowl Buck” to me!

As I stood there on top of a mountain in Idaho with my bow and pack strapped to me, I felt so damn alive. Sweat poured down my camo-covered face. I felt tiny on top of this massive peak, a mere speck in the vast wilderness. However, I felt strong: I had trained and conditioned myself for this moment for a long time. I was not short of breath, I was not exhausted; rather I was completely exhilarated. I felt on top of the world and forgot that I was even hunting for a moment and instead was simply one with this mountain and one with nature. It was an incredible rush of adrenaline and I could hardly believe that it was even real. I looked back at my guide Billy and asked if we could sit against a rock and simply take it all in. He saw what I saw and nodded and we sat down.

As it often happens in the field amongst hunters or outdoorsmen and women in general, the two of us decided it was time to do some soul searching. Billy began to tell me about his life, where he grew up and some personal struggles he as dealing with. He spoke of the ways that the outdoors, hunting, and nature as a whole has helped him through so many rough patches. I shared some of my recent emotional issues that were nagging at me and also explained how the outdoors is my foundation for getting my head right. We talked for a couple of hours and then we took 15 or 20 minutes of total silence to breathe in this mountainous Idaho beauty. As we stood back up to head down into a canyon where we heard some serious bugling, we both knew we had just become brothers for life.

I believe that nature, as untamed as she is, has a way of equalizing human order. Nature also has a way of creating bonds amongst hunters, amongst friends and family that are inexplicable. Just minutes before we stood on that mountaintop, we were total strangers and now we were brothers – it really happens like that in the outdoors.

In case you are wondering, we did not kill on that trip, although we had some insanely close calls with a monster bull. That said, I would not trade the friendship built for a 300 inch bull. Now a 400 incher? Well sorry, Billy, but he would be taking my arrow over the buddies thing, just kidding…

I was cruising along a ridge that divides a swamp in Antrim County, Michigan. The weather was a gorgeous 60 plus degree day with a sky so clear it was like staring into the Caribbean on an upward angle. It was what my mother calls a northern Michigan “world-class day” and that is no exaggeration, it was one of those special spring moments in northern Michigan. I was on a quest for the ever elusive black morel mushroom and I was in my zone, hunting in a state of deep concentration. Through years of practice and concentration, I have trained my vision to do super human like things in my ability to differentiate shapes, colors, movement, and frankly my favorite thing to hunt morel mushrooms! As I moved along at a fast pace, I was catching visions of so many different objects and varying types of nature while keeping pace. As I turned to the south, out of the corner of my left eye I saw a massive ash tree hidden behind some pines and cedar trees roughly 300 yards from where I stood.

“I have walked this ridge many times before, yet I never noticed that amazing ash tree,” I thought to myself. As I walked up to the lone ash tree, I was overjoyed to find its surroundings we’re covered in a bumper crop of nearly 100 black morels, the best crop of black morels I have found still to this day.

I found another dozen or so mushrooms hunting that afternoon but I couldn’t believe this ash tree experience. I was so proud of myself for having spotted that tree and was blown away how my intuition told me “go to it” and trust that my awareness had led me to such an experience. As I hiked back to my house I thought to myself how freaking cool that moment had been and how amazingly “awake” I was. I was totally out-of-body on that hike and my consciousness was so alive, it just felt damn good to be so “awake”. As I sat down on my couch I went deep into thought about what occurred earlier. I thought “man, what if I could learn to live my whole life this awake?” I would certainly stop myself from losing my temper in hostile situations, I would be more prepared, and more successful, I figured. I then thought about how sadly “asleep” too many people are in their lives and how little they extract from and give back to the world.

Over the next several years I would experiment with this theory of being conscious or being awake and I’ll be damned if things didn’t start coming to me easier. The more I watched, the more I was out-of-body instead of stuck in my damn mind, the more things seemed to flow together. I applied this to business, to friendships, to family, to intimate relationships and it just kept working. I was 30 years old that day and I still remind myself of this need on a regular basis, but man I feel so blessed to have this gift as I believe that in some ways this energy is making the world a better place and that feels damn good.

The next time you feel yourself ready to lose your temper, ready to snap, get above it and “watch”. The person who is “awake” sees far more than the person who is “asleep”. Oh and after this deep thought go and get your butt in the woods and become immersed in it and be woken up or you’ll miss too much in life.