One of the biggest tragedies of modern society is the lack of role models.
And the older I get, the more the field narrows.
It’s a simple question, but it’s profoundly hard to find the answer.
“Who do I want to be like?”
Not theoretically. I mean in the most practical, tangible sense. Men who embody the values and fulfill the roles that I want to emulate. Entrepreneur. Husband. Father. Fitness. Wisdom. Integrity. Compassion. Intentionality.
There are plenty of men who are good at some, even most of these.
But it is extraordinarily rare to find them all in the same package. I’ve been blessed to have some amazing mentors in business, but I never wanted their life.
Sadly, we’ve come to accept the fatally flawed hero as the cost of greatness.
Jobs. Musk. Tiger. Lance.
We can appreciate their accomplishments. But I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be like them.
So instead of looking outside of myself for inspiration, I decided to live it.
But the path is lonely. We need friends, brothers to support and challenge us.
Several years ago, I committed to finding a group of men to comprise my inner circle that embodied the same values as I do – across the board. No exceptions. No allowances. No buts.
It’s taken years, but I am incredibly privileged to have gathered a strong circle of men who live my same values. They came into my life, one by one, and we bonded over commitment to the path.
Now, it’s a non-negotiable. Here’s the unfiltered truth: if you are good at business, but a terrible father, I’m not going to spend my precious time with you.
And then we upped the game.
It started almost by accident. Three guys. A barrel sauna & cold plunge. We call it Sauna Squad, as if we are a band of superheroes. A Thursday ritual born out of friendship and a shared desire to stay honest in a world that rewards illusion.
We decided to meet once a week to talk about the real stuff. Parenting. Fear. Marriage. Ego. Doubt. Identity. Spirituality. Things you can’t say in most rooms, especially when you’re the one others come to for answers.
We’ve been doing it for two and a half years now. Every week. Through babies being born and identities falling apart. Through massive wins and brutal losses. Through all the seasons that make a man question who he really is.
Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about accountability. That’s the word people use when they don’t trust themselves. What we built was something else. Call it presence. Call it remembrance. Whatever name you give it, the truth is the same: every man needs a mirror he can’t lie to.
Last weekend, the three of us sat in a retreat container—no sauna, just stillness. A gifted facilitator. Two and a half years of trust. And the kind of safety that only comes from long-term earned proximity.
We covered everything that truly matters in the human experience. Purpose, death, meaning, alignment. We sat, we witnessed each other, we laughed, we sang, and we cried.
And at some point, our facilitator gave us a prompt that we all answered thoughtfully, deeply, honestly.
What is the purpose of life?
Then she made a simple, almost playful suggestion. Go ask your kids the same question and see what they say.
Not what you think. Not what some ancient text says. Ask the people who haven’t forgotten.
So I did. I asked my seven-year-old daughter, Parker.
She paused for a moment. Then, in her little voice with total clarity, she gave me her four-part answer:
A. Learn
B. Keep ourselves safe
C. Have fun
D. Be nice so we can get good things in life
That’s it. She even listed the letters.
No talk of legacy. No desire to be remembered. No pressure to win or conquer or achieve. Just four simple anchors.
Learn. Stay safe. Have fun. Be kind.
And it landed. Not as a cute kid answer, but as something that might actually be closer to the truth than all the books and frameworks and quests for enlightenment I’ve spent the last decade chasing.
The further down the path I get, the more I realize that alignment isn’t a lightning strike. It’s not something you stumble into at the end of a vision quest or a peak experience. It’s the quiet, consistent act of telling yourself the truth. And making sure the people closest to you are doing the same.
More precisely, it’s a process of letting go of what is untrue. Burning away the falsehoods, over and over.
It’s not about setting better goals. It’s about choosing better people.
That’s what Sauna Squad has become. A place where the metrics don’t matter and the masks don’t work. Where the question isn’t “How are you doing?” but “Is that true?” Where we don’t have to collapse into performance or isolate in self-reliance. Because we’ve built something stronger than either. Trust.
If I could give every man I know one gift, it would be this: a place to tell the whole truth without judgment.
A place to be seen and sharpened, without being fixed.
A place to practice love, and honor truth.
A place to sit every week and remember what actually matters.
Like what Parker already knows.
Learn.
Stay safe.
Have fun.
Be nice.
Turns out, that’s not a bad map.
And if you’re walking it with the right people?
That might just be enough.
To a seven-year-old’s wisdom,
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