Life is Priceless Until it's not...

I'm sitting in a coffee shop—something I do often—in Erwin, Tennessee. The room has a sleek cabin aesthetic, great coffee roasts, and one table occupied by three older women: two with short hair and one with shoulder-length white hair. It's a typical small-town scene. 
After taking a sip of my cooled coffee, I got up to go to the restroom and felt inspired to ask the group a question, “What is the meaning of life?”
First, I asked if I could interrupt their conversation, and they kindly invited me to sit in the fourth seat at their table. I was dressed like a “bro,” wearing a bright blue hoodie and a flat-bill cap with the Colorado flag logo. I looked unassuming. I framed my question: “I’m writing an article for my counseling business, and I was wondering if I could get your perspective on what matters most in life.”
The woman to my left looked through her black-framed glasses and said, “My relationship with the Lord.” I remained composed, but internally, her statement triggered the disdain I have for the South. Regardless, I listened as the woman across from me expanded on her answer. “My relationship with the Lord has carried me through everything.” The third woman remained silent. The consensus seemed to be that faith in God gave life its meaning.
I wasn’t satisfied with that answer, because I believe that focusing on an afterlife is superfluous, especially since my career revolves around helping people deal with this life. So, I asked, “What else matters besides your relationship with God?” The woman to my left, a retired teacher, chimed in: “Family, and having a career that’s a contribution.”
She confirmed my suspicions. We introduced ourselves, and I shared one of my taglines: “My parents died in my 20s, and I had to figure life out. Now I help others do the same.”
Essentially, my career is a reaction to their death—a feeble attempt to make sense of life.
When I share what I do and why I do it, I feel detached because I have to frame it in a way that demonstrates “benefit to others.” The women at the table were right: family, career, and spiritual relationships are fundamental to life. But this article isn’t about that. Most of us already know how important these things are. Further, billions of humans experience a gap between having a safe family, meaningful career, and substitute spirituality with drugs or porn. We’re so busy fearing that life will pass us by that we behave in ways that guarantee it will. Our best attempts at living often look like we’re trying to escape it.
This is why, even though people find comfort in the idea of heaven, I feel it’s psychologically harmful. How does the notion that life will be perfect after we die—“No more sorrow, no more pain”—help any of us stay present for the day-to-day? It doesn’t. Life demands payment in time, resources, thoughts, feelings, and most importantly, in our relationships.
You might not fully grasp what I’m saying, especially in 2024, when literacy is declining. Alongside this is the erosion of work ethic, the institution of marriage, and the depth of community; bowling leagues, sewing circles, and meaningful connections have all but vanished. In their place, we have our devices, which remove us from life more often than they connect us to it. We all understand concepts like J.O.Y. (Jesus, Others, You), which reflects what matters in life, but we also know what tears it apart.
This article is meant to shake the reader awake: slap yourself in the face and scream, “I can’t believe this!” Instead of waiting for a crisis and then embracing “God” as a flotation device, imagine investing in understanding how to navigate life. This isn’t about “controlling outcomes”—what will be will be—but learning how to live intentionally requires the same investment as university: thousands of dollars and years of effort.
I am the gold standard in the personal development industry because I am unencumbered by the conniving overlords that control insurance. I’m not impinged upon as a therapist who is overwhelmed by a massive caseload, where data entry takes precedence over client care. I position myself as a public figure because attention is the new MVP, but my intention is to provide meticulous care for my clients. My devotion to extraordinary client care is so deep that I sift through the sea of people who remain stuck in mediocrity, convinced that life can only be afforded through poverty, destruction, and chaos.
My services are for people who understand that investing $25,000 is more than just about money—it’s an affirmation that peace of mind is a priority. It’s an aspiration. You become an example of protecting your family’s well-being through personal development. You stand as a beacon of hope because you’re committed to your spiritual practice. You won’t be “outworked” in your career, shifting from seeking promotion to becoming someone others are drawn to. The intangible qualities of life provide security, instill confidence, and inspire mastery.
A therapist can’t hold a candle to the depth and scope of what I offer. To best communicate with people who understand that life is priceless until you put a price on it, I’ve labeled myself a “Relationship Coach.” It's a sufficient title meant to articulate the value of investing into what's priceless. I offer my clients guidance that preserves what matters most.