Sometimes Just Say Yes and Let It Fly

Movement 01

No Way Out but Through

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where every instinct in your body is screaming: "Get out."

Not because you're in danger. Not because you've made a terrible mistake. But because you've wandered so far outside your comfort zone that every step forward feels wrong.

You start looking for exits. You scan the room. You begin negotiating with yourself. "Maybe I don’t have to do this." "Maybe I can leave." "Maybe I can find another way."

But every door you look for is gone.

And at some point, whether you like it or not, you realize: You’re not getting out of this. You’re going through it.

And strangely enough... that’s exactly where life does some of its best work.

Because some of the most important moments in our lives aren’t the ones we planned. They aren’t the moments we carefully mapped out on a vision board. They’re the moments we accidentally stumble into. The moments we resist. The moments that scare us.

The moments that force us to become fully present because survival is the only thing our brain has time to focus on.

Life slows down. The noise disappears. And for a brief moment, you’re no longer worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. You’re simply trying to navigate the next thirty seconds.

I’ve had a few moments like that in my life. But one stands above all the others.

A night that began with me bartending a normal shift in Chicago... and ended with me being electrocuted in front of two hundred screaming strangers.

And as ridiculous as that sounds... it may have been one of the most important nights of my life.

Movement 02

When Life Had Gone Small

Back in 2000, life had completely knocked the wind out of me.

My company had failed. I had spent four years building something I believed in, only to watch it crumble in a matter of months. I had to lay off employees I cared about. I was going through a divorce. And I had been forced to leave San Francisco—the city I thought I would spend the rest of my life in.

Everything felt broken. Everything felt uncertain.

I moved back to Chicago and into my grandmother’s house. My grandmother had suffered a stroke and was bedridden. And in many ways, I felt bedridden too.

Not physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.

I wasn’t moving forward. I wasn’t rebuilding. I wasn’t dreaming. I was just trying to survive.

Some days I would lie around the house until noon. Other days I would stare at the ceiling wondering how everything had gone so wrong so quickly.

If you’ve ever had life knock you flat on your back, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not just losing something. It’s losing your momentum. Losing your identity. Losing your belief that tomorrow is going to look any different than today.

Eventually I realized I had to do something. Anything.

So I enrolled in a bartending course. Not because it was my dream. Not because I had a grand plan. I just needed movement.

Sometimes healing doesn’t begin with a master strategy. Sometimes it begins with taking one small step.

Bartending became that step.

I got a job at a local bar. For the first few months I would show up, work my shift, collect my tips, and head home. But slowly something unexpected happened.

The regulars began pulling me back into life.

They were an interesting cast of characters. A little wild. A little unconventional. A lot entertaining. Among them were two high-end call girls and their boyfriends. Three nights a week they would show up. We would laugh, tell stories, and talk about life.

Looking back, they probably had no idea what they were doing for me. They weren’t fixing my problems. They were simply reminding me there was still life happening outside my pain.

And sometimes that’s enough.

Movement 03

The Invitation

Then one night everything changed. The four of them walked into the bar and asked: "Hey Paul, we’re heading to a fight club after this. Want to come?"

Now before you judge my decision-making... you need to understand something.

At that point in my life I had adopted a philosophy. A very simple philosophy.

Say yes.

Life had become so small after my company failed that I realized I needed to start saying yes to experiences again. Yes to people. Yes to invitations. Yes to opportunities. Yes to life.

So when they asked me if I wanted to go... I said yes.

After all, I wasn’t fighting. I was just going to watch.

What could possibly go wrong?

We drove to a warehouse in a neighborhood that immediately made me question my life choices.

That little voice inside my head started speaking up. "You know... you don’t have to do this."

I considered leaving. But there was no Uber. No easy ride home. And honestly, I didn’t want to stand alone on a dark street searching for a taxi.

So I kept moving forward.

That’s how life gets you sometimes. One small step at a time. Not enough discomfort to turn around. Just enough commitment to keep going.

We walked inside. Concrete floors. Makeshift bar. Wooden bleachers. A boxing ring in the middle. Music pumping. Energy building. Several hundred people filling the seats.

And as I looked around, I realized I was definitely in the minority. The crowd was primarily Puerto Rican and Black. I stuck out like a lighthouse.

Which made me even more committed to staying invisible.

My plan was simple. Sit in the back. Watch the fights. Leave quietly.

Movement 04

When the Crowd Found Me

Then the MC stepped into the ring. The music got louder. The crowd got louder. And he began asking for volunteers.

One of my friends jumped up immediately. He ran down to the ring. I stood up and cheered.

Still safe. Still a spectator. Still anonymous.

Then my friend grabbed the microphone. Pointed directly at me. And said:

"The white guy in the back wants to come down."

The place exploded. "WHITE GUY!" "WHITE GUY!" "WHITE GUY!"

The crowd started chanting. People around me started laughing. The girls I came with started pushing me toward the stairs.

Suddenly two hundred people knew exactly who I was.

And I was no longer a spectator. I was part of the show.

Pure panic swept through my body. I started calculating exits.

Maybe I can explain I don’t box. Maybe I can say I have an injury. Maybe I can fake a medical condition.

Maybe... maybe... maybe...

But every option disappeared.

The current had me. I was in the rapids now. And there was no shore in sight.

Movement 05

The Chair

Then something happened that changed everything.

The lights went dark. Techno music started blasting. A spotlight appeared in the center of the ring.

And then... the floor opened.

And a chair rose out of the ground.

A chair. A strange metal chair.

And I remember thinking: "What in the world is happening?"

The answer came quickly. Far too quickly.

The MC walked me over. The crowd was going crazy. I sat down.

And suddenly—electricity shot through my body.

My hands locked around the metal handles. My eyes got big. My muscles tightened.

And I thought: "Well that’s unexpected."

Fortunately it only lasted a few seconds. When it stopped, I thought: Okay. That wasn’t fun. But I survived.

Then the MC looked at me and said: "Want to do it again?"

The crowd erupted.

And here’s the important detail. I thought I understood what was about to happen. I thought I had seen the movie. I thought I knew the ending.

So I said yes.

Because at that point, I still thought I was in control. I thought I was choosing. I thought I was managing the situation. I thought I had figured it out.

Big mistake.

The second shock hit. And this one was different.

My entire body locked. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t blink. My teeth clenched together. My hands froze around the chair. Every muscle in my body became concrete.

And suddenly... time slowed down.

You ever notice how that happens?

In certain moments life becomes crystal clear. Everything slows. Every detail sharpens. Every thought becomes louder.

And there I was. Being electrocuted in front of two hundred screaming strangers. Looking at my friends. Looking at the crowd.

And thinking: "What the hell am I doing here?"

I tried to yell. Nothing came out. I tried to move. Nothing moved.

I was trapped in that moment. Fully present. Fully alive. And completely unable to escape.

The only thing left to do... was endure it.

The only thing left to do... was go through it.

Movement 06

What Woke Up

Eventually it stopped.

I stood up. Walked back to my seat. And honestly, I don’t remember much after that.

I vaguely remember getting dropped off at my grandmother’s house. I remember lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling.

Thinking: This morning I woke up as a bartender. Tonight I got electrocuted in front of two hundred people. How is this my life?

Did that really happen? Or did I somehow dream the whole thing?

But here’s where the story gets interesting.

Because the electric chair wasn’t the lesson.

It was the doorway.

Within days something changed.

I felt compelled to write. Constantly.

Creativity started pouring out of me. Thoughts came easier. Ideas came easier. My intuition became sharper. I started having vivid dreams. I could read people differently. Understand situations differently.

It’s as if pathways inside me that had been dormant suddenly lit up.

Now maybe it was the electricity. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the fact that life had finally shocked me out of my grief.

I don’t know.

And honestly, it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that something awakened.

Something that had been sleeping.

Something I didn’t know was there.

Movement 07

The Gift on the Other Side

And that’s why I tell this story.

Because sometimes life tricks us into growth.

It disguises transformation as discomfort. It wraps opportunity inside fear. It hides our next chapter behind something we’d never willingly choose.

And if we’re lucky... life doesn’t give us enough time to talk ourselves out of it.

It simply pushes us into the rapids.

Looking back now, twenty-five years later, I don’t remember the pain.

I remember the gift. I remember the awakening. I remember discovering parts of myself that would shape the rest of my life.

The writing. The creativity. The intuition. The willingness to trust life’s strange invitations.

So if life is currently pulling you toward something that scares you... something uncomfortable... something that feels bigger than you...

Maybe don’t run.

Maybe don’t overanalyze.

Maybe don’t spend all your energy looking for exits.

Because sometimes the thing you’re resisting... is the thing that is trying to wake you up.

Sometimes life knows something you don’t.

Sometimes the universe stacks the deck.

Sometimes every escape route closes for a reason.

And sometimes... you just say yes.

And let it fly.

Because you never know what part of yourself is waiting on the other side of the thing you’re trying to avoid.

And if you’re lucky... years later you’ll look back at one of the craziest nights of your life and realize...

It was never about the fight club.

It was never about the crowd.

It wasn’t even about the electric chair.

It was about life reminding you that you were still alive.

And sometimes that’s exactly the shock we need.