Notes From Doing The Work

I grew up in Illinois as an upper-middle-class kid in a blended family. I am the fourth of five children. All of us kids are roughly five years apart in age. My two older sisters, with whom I shared a father, lived full-time with their mom and stepdad, and we saw them somewhat regularly. Then at 16, one of those sisters chose to be adopted by her stepdad. From then on, my dad referred to her as his “dead” daughter. I was 10 years old.

My parents were self-employed and worked all the time. When they came home, work came with them. There was never a delineation between work and home. Our parents loved us and provided us with everything we could ask for. They also fought a lot. Yelling, screaming, and name-calling were how I learned to communicate with other people. While never physical, my dad was often emotionally and verbally abusive. At a young age, I learned if I could make him laugh it reduced the yelling, name-calling, and abuse, so humor became my go-to in just about every situation. I still use humor today to connect with people and to lighten the mood.

Throughout my childhood, I was an excellent student, a decent athlete, and I was involved in many activities. I was president of my high school class all four years. I graduated 19th out of 450 students with a 4.2 GPA. I lettered in golf and speech, and I was an all-star baseball player. I was also in Who’s Who of American High School Students. To my father though, none of that mattered. In my dad’s eyes, I was never good enough.

For college, Dad wanted me to go to the Air Force Academy. I worked my ass off, somehow passed the physical requirements, and was nominated by my congressman. I decided that my dream was to be an astronaut and a fighter pilot, and I could be both at the Academy. I also wanted to serve my country as many of my relatives had done before me. I thought if I did all that, it would make my dad proud.

Ultimately, I didn’t get an appointment to the Air Force Academy, so being a fighter pilot was out of the equation. I could still be an astronaut, though, and that’s how I ended up at Purdue University in their Astronautical and Aeronautical Engineering program. Purdue has produced the second most astronauts behind the Air Force Academy and is considered by many to be one of the most prestigious public schools in America. It is one of the few times in my life I have remembered my dad saying he was proud of me.

When I got there, though, I decided that my chances of becoming an astronaut were slim to none and I didn’t want to end up building or designing airplanes for a living, so I switched to Computer Science. I informed my parents of my decision while we were on campus for Freshman Orientation. Dad informed me if I was just going to play computer games for a living, I could do that at the community college near home. He was disappointed once again, and I’m beginning to see a pattern developing.

Just like in high school, at Purdue I excelled in academics and participated in a lot of extra-curricular activities. I graduated in 1991 with a 3.45 GPA and landed a job as a systems analyst with Exxon, which is how I ended up living in Houston. Dad said he was proud of me again! He had been a successful entrepreneur his entire life but wanted me to work for a big company for my career.

In October 1992, I married my college sweetheart. Two years later, on my 25th birthday, she told me she no longer wanted to be married. Well, not to me anyway. Happy birthday to me and more disappointment for Dad.

While this was an incredibly difficult time, like most failures in life, it was also a blessing in disguise. It was the first time I remember asking myself the question, “What actions did I take that led to this conclusion? What was my responsibility? What could I have done differently to avoid this outcome?”

As it turns out, people in a relationship don’t have to put up with being yelled at and called names. I’m grateful that my first wife helped me learn that lesson at such an early age because it changed how I treated people I love from that point forward. It also jump-started me on the path of personal growth and self-discovery I’ve been on for the last 30 years.

Around this same time, I realized I was burned out working for Exxon, so I began looking for something else to do with my life. I was making great money. I was working for a huge corporation with great benefits. It was a pretty cushy job. I was miserable, though, and struggled to get out of bed in the morning. It was my first real experience with depression.

I was working on my MBA at the University of Houston when I got a call from a recruiter at New York Life about the life insurance business, and I told him no in language I won’t repeat here. I had a conversation with my dad about changing careers into financial services, and guess what? He was disappointed in me. He didn’t pay all that money for me to get educated at Purdue just to “throw it all away.” I asked him if I did get into that business, would he move his money over to me and allow me to help him manage it. He told me I “wasn’t qualified to ever manage his money.” Meanwhile, he was working with a stockbroker who was buying and selling in his account and losing hundreds of thousands of dollars. This rebuke caused a rift in our relationship which never fully healed.

Long story short, I ultimately chose to go with New York Life because I knew they had a good training program and name recognition. I was determined to show my dad he was wrong about me.

In my first three years of being in business, I proved to be one of the worst life insurance agents around. I should have failed out of the business numerous times, but I was either too stubborn or too stupid to quit. During this time, I was also pursuing my Certified Financial Planning Practitioner® designation, and I passed the exam in March 2000. Surely this credential would prove me worthy of my dad’s approval and business. It didn’t. The rift between us grew wider. We didn’t speak for over a year. And then in August of 2001, he died.

My dad was 65 years old when he died of a heart attack. He had been in poor health for some time, but his death was completely unexpected. I would never get to repair the relationship with him. The last things we said to each other were not very nice. I struggled with not only the loss of the relationship but also with the fact I could never undo what had been said and done. The words we speak have so much power.

Eight years went by, and I was doing better in my business. I was making a good living and had remarried. My second wife and I had two young children. I didn’t know how much my life was about to change, though, when I was sitting in the office of one of my clients and casually asked him about a rubber cockroach in a shadow box on his wall. He told me he had attended a personal growth training course a few months earlier which had completely changed his life. He suggested I take the class, and I signed up based solely on his recommendation.

I don’t even know where to begin with how much that class changed my life. After only four days I looked at everything differently. I was more self-confident, empathetic, courageous, and trusting. Most importantly, I learned how to forgive my dad and to make peace with him even though he had been dead for almost 10 years. I also learned it was never about my dad. It was about making myself proud. External approval is nice, but recognizing ourselves when we do a good job is where the good stuff is.

At the end of the class, one of the owners of the company asked if I’d be willing to be a part-time trainer for them, and I immediately accepted. The next four and a half years flew by as I continued to implement the things I was learning and teaching. Sadly, it also led to the dissolution of my second marriage. I was playing life at a whole new level and my wife wasn’t willing to join me there. After 17 years of marriage, we divorced. My boys were 15 and 13 at the time and leaving them was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Around this same time my now wife Michelle came back into my life.

We reconnected through Facebook after not seeing or thinking about each other for almost 25 years. We went to high school together, hung out with common friend groups, but never dated. We reconnected as old friends and then something sparked a relationship between us that is like a fairytale. At my request, she took the same personal growth training, and it changed her life too. We were now operating with the same knowledge and on the same wavelength. She, too, became a trainer, and we now have the privilege of traveling around the world sharing this gift with thousands of people.

I made another hard decision in 2015 when I decided to move to Chicago to be with Michelle. Not only was I running my financial planning practice, but I was also the National Sales Trainer for a financial planning software company. I had the opportunity to travel the country speaking to hundreds of agents, sometimes 700 to 1,000 people from the main stage, and I was in absolute heaven. Life was going great. And then, for the first time in my life, I got fired. Let go by a new owner of the company whose vision didn’t include me.

I was crushed. And, as you’ve probably heard, when one door closes another one opens. I got a call asking if I wanted to work full-time for a company teaching the personal growth class that had changed my life. I made the choice to put my planning practice on the back burner and give professional training for a living a shot.

Once again, everything was going great. I was making more money than I had when I was self-employed, and I was training hundreds of teammates using the processes that had made such a difference in my life. I felt like I was living my life’s purpose. And then, for the second time in a year, I got fired. Following the rules and playing corporate politics isn’t my thing, and it got me fired.

This time the depression got a hold of me big time. I thought I was managing it pretty well until I had a panic attack for the first time in my life. That night I came seconds away from stepping in front of an oncoming train. The stories in my head were telling me my dad had been right all along: I wasn’t good enough, and the world and my family would be better off without me.

I don’t know what stopped me that night. I want to believe it was because I asked myself what I was grateful for at that moment. As the train rumbled by and the tears streamed down my cheeks, I thought of my children, my wife, and everyone in my life I loved and cared about. I went home and asked my wife for help. I talked through my fears and got back on medication. I am happy to report I no longer have thoughts like those. It was a terrifying experience, and I learned a lot from it.

Then, once again, another door opened. My good friend and mentor, Barb Moses, started High5 Leadership and asked Michelle, me, and another friend, Chad, to come along for the ride. We spent the next four years helping hundreds more people around the country become better versions of themselves. And then COVID shut our Chicago world down in March 2020, and it took High5 with it by July.

As the world around us ground to a halt, we circled up as a family and began to figure out what was next. I pulled my planning practice off the back burner and got back into it. Gradually, as the world started getting back to normal, we were able to start doing some High5 classes again. I also began doing some life coaching and started Life Wizard Coaching.

Which brings me to the present day. I’m still doing financial planning, life coaching, and High5 Leadership training. Michelle and I travel the world making memories for ourselves and our loved ones. My relationship with our children is better than it has ever been. We focus on gratitude, love, understanding, and acceptance. I forgive easily and often.

In life, there will be peaks and valleys. As long as we stay focused on our outcomes there will always be another peak to follow the valley. My message is one of forgiveness, kindness, and love. If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know.

If I have offended or harmed you in any way, please forgive me, as I forgive you, too. I love you and I’m grateful for you.

Hugs and love,
Kevin

This one is about the personal finance side of my work, and I hope it gives you some clarity on an issue we’re all facing: the national debt.

The U.S. national debt has surpassed $36 trillion, with annual interest payments exceeding $1 trillion. That makes interest on the debt the third-largest federal expenditure, ahead of defense spending and only behind Medicare/Medicaid and Social Security. These numbers should alarm every American.

Here’s what the numbers tell us. U.S. federal tax revenue is about $5 trillion a year. U.S. federal spending is about $7.1 trillion. That leaves a federal budget deficit of roughly $2 trillion, the shortfall between spending and revenue that requires us to borrow more every single year.

The largest budget items are Medicare/Medicaid at $1.8 trillion, Social Security at $1.5 trillion, defense at $947 billion, and interest on the debt at $1 trillion. U.S. unfunded liabilities, future promises for Medicare and Social Security with no funding behind them, sit at roughly $221 trillion. Total U.S. national assets, the combined value of all property, businesses, and assets in the country, come in around $219 trillion. Even if we sold everything, we couldn’t cover it.

Let’s simplify: as a country, we’re broke. Imagine these numbers as your own finances. You owe $36 trillion on your credit card. Your income is $5 trillion, but you’re spending $7 trillion, putting you $2 trillion further into debt every year. Your interest payments alone are so high that there’s little room left for anything else.

It’s only getting worse. By 2028, the deficit is projected to hit $4.5 trillion annually, with total debt reaching $51 trillion. If the largest expenses already exceed our revenue, everything else the government does, education, infrastructure, law enforcement, is funded through borrowed money.

Why isn’t Congress doing something? Two uncomfortable truths. First, the government can create money to cover its debts, unlike you and me, but this devalues our currency and fuels inflation. Second, rising interest rates make servicing the debt more expensive. If rates don’t come down, interest on the debt could soon become the largest budget item of all.

The question is no longer if taxes will rise. It’s how much they’ll increase. Ask yourself: will future taxes be higher than they are today? Could they be significantly higher? Do you want to pay them? If your answer is no, it’s time to act. The key is having a strategy to pay taxes now, while rates are historically low, and avoid future liabilities.

Over nearly three decades of working with clients, I’ve helped countless individuals mitigate their tax burdens. I can help you too.

This isn’t just about numbers. It’s about our collective future. My message is one of awareness, compassion, and action.

Hugs and love,
Kevin

Life is full of those “uh oh, now what?” moments, isn’t it? Decisions that make you question everything, leave you feeling stuck, or even make you want to hide under the covers and pretend the whole thing never happened.

I’ve got to be honest with you: there have been times in my life when I’ve really struggled with making those decisions. You know those moments when you’re faced with a tough choice, and your head is telling you one thing, but your heart is pulling you in another direction?

For me, the best way to navigate those moments, the ones that test my patience, my kindness, or my ability to make a smart choice, is to ask myself a simple question: “What would love do?”

Now, I know what you might be thinking: that’s a bit woo-woo. But hear me out, because I firmly believe that embracing this mindset can make a world of difference in how we navigate our toughest challenges.

Here’s how it plays out in my head. First, I get honest about the situation. What’s actually going on? What are the choices I need to make? I get super specific, because the more detail I have, the better I can see where love fits into the equation.

Then I put on my “love hat.” This is where things get fun. Imagine love itself, pure, selfless, and overflowing with compassion. How would love approach this situation? Would love prioritize understanding and empathy? Would love be willing to forgive, even when it’s hard?

The next step is to think about the impact. What effect would my choice have on everyone involved? Would it create more connection, joy, and well-being? Or would it lead to hurt, conflict, and a whole lot of regret?

Finally, I listen to my gut. After all that soul-searching, I take a moment to check in with my intuition. What feels right? Does the choice feel aligned with my core values and the kind of person I want to be?

Asking the “what would love do” question helps me get in touch with my heart brain, and then I check in with my gut to make sure it feels right. It’s not always easy to follow this process, but it has made a huge difference for me.

Let me give you an example. I recently had to deal with a tough situation with my family. Instead of letting my emotions get the best of me and lashing out, I took a deep breath and asked myself, “What would love do?” The answer was clear: love would act with kindness, understanding, and a willingness to communicate honestly and openly. It helped me make a decision that, while not easy, was ultimately the right one.

Another important aspect of love is self-compassion, and trust me, I’ve struggled with this one. It’s easy for me to be my own worst critic, especially when I feel I’ve made a mistake. But when I remember to ask, “What would love do?” I realize that love isn’t about harsh judgments, it’s about nurturing and understanding.

Forgiveness is another key element of love that has transformed my approach to decision-making. I’ve had moments where I’ve held onto grudges, both against myself and others. But when I think, “What would love do?” it nudges me to consider the beauty of letting go.

Now, let me be clear: using “What would love do?” doesn’t mean we ignore our own needs or boundaries. Love isn’t about people-pleasing or sacrificing ourselves. It’s about finding the balance between self-care and compassion for others. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is set a firm but gentle boundary.

The key is to approach each situation with an open heart and a willingness to see the highest good, even when it’s not obvious. When we make decisions through the lens of love, we tap into our intuition, our empathy, and our ability to find creative solutions.

So the next time you’re faced with a challenging choice, pause, take a deep breath, and ask yourself: “What would love do?” Let that question guide you, and you may be surprised by the clarity and peace it brings.

Hugs and love,
Kevin

Many people wonder, “What is this thing you do called NLP?” so I wanted to use this post to give you a chance to understand a little bit about what it is and how it works.

The truth is, most of us go through life on autopilot without even realizing it. This doesn’t just mean going through the motions; it goes much deeper. The way we think, react, and see the world is like software in our brains, shaping every decision, belief, and experience we have.

Here’s the surprising part: a lot of this software was downloaded without us even knowing. Think about a teacher’s casual comment you heard when you were a kid, or a worried tone from a parent about money. Maybe it was an embarrassing moment in front of others. Over time, these experiences build up and create unconscious programs that influence how we feel and how we respond in different situations.

Some of these programs are helpful, giving us confidence and resilience. But others can hold us back. That’s where Neuro-Linguistic Programming, or NLP, comes in.

NLP is like a user manual for your brain. It helps you find those hidden programs and gives you tools to change them. It’s a way to look at your reality and improve your experiences.

NLP was created in the 1970s by Richard Bandler, a psychologist, and John Grinder, a linguist. They studied how some therapists could help their clients make big changes quickly while others struggled. By looking at the methods of great therapists like Milton Erickson, they found patterns in thoughts, language, and behavior that could be taught to others. This led to powerful techniques for improving personal growth and communication.

Today, athletes use NLP to focus better. Negotiators use it to connect with others quickly. Therapists use it to help people overcome fears. And everyday people use NLP to think better, feel better, and perform better.

So why does NLP work? Our brains love patterns. If you’ve ever driven somewhere and barely remembered how you got there, you were following a pattern. If you hear a song from childhood and feel nostalgic, that’s a pattern too. Feeling nervous before speaking in front of a group, even if you know there’s nothing to fear? That’s a pattern as well. The good news is, you can change these patterns.

Here’s a simple way to start using NLP today. Next time you catch yourself saying something negative, like “I’m bad at remembering names” or “I can’t handle stress,” take a moment to pause. Ask yourself: what if that’s not true? What if I’m actually good at this, and just haven’t realized it yet? What would someone who is great at this be thinking right now?

These questions aren’t just random, they help your brain think differently and consider new possibilities. Once your mind starts looking for a new answer, you’ve already begun to change the program. That’s what makes NLP so powerful. It changes how your mind processes what’s happening around you. It doesn’t change the events in the world, but it can transform how you respond to them.

Think about how you remember bad experiences. Most people replay those memories over and over, which keeps the emotions tied to them alive. With some NLP techniques, you can change how your brain stores those memories, making them smaller, less emotional, and even turning painful memories into neutral or funny ones.

NLP also helps you notice patterns in others. You’ll become aware of their words, small changes in their breathing, and habits they might not know they have. This can improve your communication. When you understand how someone else perceives the world, you can talk in a way that truly connects with them.

Language is a powerful tool. Just a small change in what you say can help someone feel stuck or encourage them to move forward with confidence. Our words have so much power. Make sure you’re using your words to build and empower others and not to tear them down. This includes the words you use with yourself.

In my coaching practice, I use NLP tools and hypnosis to help clients identify and challenge their limiting beliefs through targeted questioning and visualization techniques. We explore their past experiences to uncover patterns that no longer serve them and replace those with more empowering narratives. Don’t let old patterns hold you back. Your mind has the power to shape your reality, and I’d love to have a conversation with you.

Hugs and love,
Kevin

Have you ever been asked, “What business are you in?” How do you respond? Do you simply label yourself, saying, “I’m a teacher, lawyer, doctor, financial advisor, or insurance agent”?

While this might seem straightforward, it gives others the chance to define you based on their experiences or biases, even if your approach is entirely unique.

When I first entered the financial services and insurance industry, I would introduce myself as a financial planner, financial advisor, or insurance specialist. The responses I received were often predictable: “Oh, that’s nice,” or “I don’t need one of those.” It was frustrating, as I was offering a process and insights that were quite different from what they typically encountered.

Then, during a seminar, I heard a speaker say something that transformed my perspective: “Never let someone else define what you do. Make them curious enough to ask how you do that or to learn more.”

Inspired, I crafted a few creative labels that couldn’t easily be defined by others. A Financial Oncologist: I cure financial cancer, and everyone has it. A Financial Swing Coach: think of it as the difference between buying new clubs and working on your swing. A Financial Mechanic: I help people turbo boost their financial plans without taking extra risks or compromising their lifestyles. A Retirement Guide: I assist others in answering the four most common questions about retirement.

These labels provoke curiosity and encourage deeper conversations about what I do.

My current title of Life Wizard was actually given to me by one of my coaching clients. After one session working on her self-confidence and helping her overcome some limiting beliefs, she looked me right in the eye and said, “I don’t know how you did that, but it worked like magic. You’re like some kind of a life wizard.” What can I say? It stuck.

As I transition more into public speaking and coaching, I’ve been playing with a few more thought-provoking labels. Brainwashing Specialist: because of our past experiences and teachings, our belief systems can be skewed, and my role is to help people reframe their experiences and install powerful, positive beliefs. Honey Badger of Human Potential: during my personal growth journey, my biggest barrier to success was my desire to be liked, and I learned to embrace the honey badger’s fearless attitude. Mindset Alchemist: I help people transform the heavy baggage of their past into gold for their future.

So, what do you think? If you’d like to brainstorm some creative labels that represent what you do, I’d love to help. Let’s inspire curiosity in others and encourage the question, “How do you do that?”

Hugs and love,
Kevin

If you had told me a year ago that Michelle and I would be packing up and moving back to the Quad Cities, on the border between Illinois and Iowa, I probably would’ve laughed and said, “Not a chance.” And yet, here we are.

Let’s be real. We didn’t wake up one morning and decide it sounded amazing to move back to the town we grew up in, the one we left two years ago, right before winter hits. This decision came from a very real place: life threw us one of those curveballs that makes you stop and ask what really matters.

The truth? Our bold career pivots, me stepping fully into professional speaking and coaching, Michelle diving into her podcast for women over 50, haven’t caught up yet in the income department. I’m not ready to announce to the world that we’re broke, but I do want to be honest that this move is about making a smart choice for our family while we get stabilized.

So we’re heading back to Iowa, moving in with Michelle’s sister-in-law, Joan. Her husband, Michelle’s brother Bryan, passed away a few years ago, and she’s been in that big house as an empty nester ever since. Moving in means we get to keep her company, share meals, and actually be present with family instead of waving through holiday video calls.

At first, all I could see were the negatives. The drama. The freezing cold. And the story I told myself: how can moving back to small-town Iowa possibly help my speaking career? That’s when my coach, yes, even coaches have and need coaches, reminded me: this isn’t the ending. It’s just a detour on the grand adventure of life. A road trip pit stop, not the final destination.

And honestly, Houston wasn’t ever going to be our final destination either. When we moved there two years ago, we hoped it would be a good fit, but the reality was different. Still, our time there wasn’t wasted. We reconnected with old friends, built new friendships, spent time with my boys, and created some memories we’ll carry forever.

So here’s the tool I want to share with you: reframing. At High5 Leadership, we often use the heart rate monitor as a metaphor for life. On the monitor, a beating heart has peaks and valleys. That’s how you know you’re alive. The flatline is death. Michelle and I even have matching heartbeat tattoos on our forearms to remind us of this truth.

That’s what reframing does: it takes what looks like a setback and helps you see it as part of the rhythm of being alive. The pit stops, the detours, the valleys, they’re not the end of your story. They’re what make the next rise possible.

So yeah, I’m not thrilled about shoveling snow or driving in it again. But I am grateful that life is giving us this time with family, this chance to regroup, and this reminder that the adventure isn’t over. It’s just taking a different route.

And if you’re facing your own valley right now: pause. Breathe. Reframe. Remember, every time negative shows up, positive is available. Ask yourself: how could this be part of the adventure instead of the end of the road?

I’ve been sitting with some hard news cycles lately. The tension. The fear. The anger. The stories flying in every direction. I’m not writing this to argue policy or pick sides. Plenty of people are doing that already. I’m writing because moments like this feel like a reminder that somewhere along the way, we’ve forgotten how to see each other as human beings first.

And oddly enough, this brought me back to my own childhood. I grew up in a house where my dad was Jewish and my mom was Christian. It was decided that we’d be raised Jewish: Hebrew school, Sunday school, bar mitzvah at 13. And yet, we celebrated everything. Christmas and Hanukkah. Easter and Passover.

As a kid, it was confusing. Not in an intellectual way, but in a quiet emotional one. I wanted to please both of my parents. I didn’t understand why they believed differently. I was already “different” in plenty of ways growing up. Being Jewish was just one more thing that made it easy for my bullies. I learned early how complicated identity can feel when you don’t fit neatly into one box.

Fast forward to Purdue. When I got to college, curiosity kicked in. I started taking classes on religion, religions of the East and West, the philosophy of religion, comparative belief systems. Before I knew it, I had a minor in religious studies. And here’s what surprised me: across traditions, across cultures, across thousands of years, the foundation was almost always the same. Compassion. Care for others. Responsibility for how we treat one another. Love. Different language. Different rituals. Same foundational heartbeat.

Somewhere in that process, I quietly stopped practicing formal religion. Not out of anger. Not out of rebellion. It just didn’t feel like the right path for me anymore. Today, if I had to put a label on myself, I’d say I’m closest to Buddhism. Not as a religion, but as a practice. Compassion. Personal responsibility. Reducing suffering. Non-attachment. It’s less about what you believe and more about how you show up.

One thing my studies taught me, and later my work in personal growth and development helped put words to, is this idea: every belief system is a map. Religion is a map. Politics is a map. Ideology is a map. Each one is an attempt to help humans make sense of fear, suffering, and uncertainty. But a map is not the ground.

Kindness is the ground. Empathy. Compassion. Human dignity are all the ground. You don’t have to agree on the map to stop hurting the people sharing the same space.

What breaks my heart isn’t disagreement. It’s how quickly fear hardens us. How easily we forget that behind every headline are parents, children, neighbors, and human beings wanting to feel safe and seen. Every major religion I’ve ever studied points us back to the same truth: how we treat one another matters.

We don’t fix moments like this by yelling louder or digging deeper into our corners. We fix them by remembering who we are when we’re not afraid. This isn’t a call to action. It’s a call to awareness. To pause. To soften. To see. To love.

We are far more alike than we are different. And empathy, kindness, and love aren’t weaknesses. They’re the only things that have ever actually moved us forward.

Hugs and love,
Kevin