By now you've given language to your loss. You've come back to your body and mapped what's alive in you, even amid the confusion. Today we do something most men never do. 

We ritualize the change. We mark the moment. 

My name's Nelson Pahl. I'm an experiential psychologist that makes it easy for midlife men to reclaim identity and reinvent themselves.

And today, in part 3 of the Good Grief John Doe audio mini-course, we plan an event that makes that shift real. 

We cross thresholds every day, but how often do we actually pause and declare, "That part of me is done. This part begins now." 

What would it mean to mark the end of one identity and the beginning of another? 

This isn't about ceremony for ceremony's sake.

This is about creating a lived embodied gesture that says, "I'm no longer who I was and I'm now willing to find out who I'm becoming." 

What event could symbolize this transition for you? 

Here are some ideas. 

The burn pile. 

Write down names, memories, or symbols of that chapter and burn them in a fire pit, either alone or with trusted witnesses.

The final playlist. 

Create a playlist of songs from that era of your life. Listen to it start to finish on a long walk or drive. Then, delete it. 

The office box. 

Clear out an old office or workspace. Box the awards, the nameplates, the business cards. Thank them, then store or let them go. 

The field visit.

Stand on the field, court, or track where you once competed. Spend a few minutes remembering, then walk off without looking back. 

The Road Back 

Drive a route from your past. Park, sit with the memories, then take a different way home. 

The Quiet Table 

Dine alone at a spot you once shared with someone special. Order their favorite meal or drink. Toast them silently, then leave.

You can get as detailed or as elaborate as you wish. 

Here's an example from my own life. 

Many, many, many years ago, I skied competitively. One Friday in late March, at a place called Stratton Mountain, I achieved what had been a lifelong dream to that point:

I won a U.S. National Championship in my particular event. 

Again, that was many, many, many years ago. So obviously, I'm not the guy today that I was back then. 

But it can take a long time for a world-class athlete to fully digest something like that. 

I mean, it's a little bit like that captain of the high school football team. He's now 32 and working at Foot Locker, yet he still wears his letter jacket to work every day. 

Yeah, it's a little bit like that with any athlete that's ever spent time on a World Cup tour. Yet, as you probably know by now, midlife has a way of knocking us on our ass.

So, sensing that I had reached a point where I might have to formally say goodbye to that part of me, to that identity, I planned an event to officially ritualize the farewell. 

And it was powerful. 

Here's what I did...

I dug up an old DVD of the event, which aired at the time on ESPN, then held a funeral of sorts.

I grabbed some popcorn, my two dogs Izzy and Moose, popped the DVD into the borrowed DVD player, because, I mean, who owns a DVD player anymore? And we all three sat up on the couch together and watched the entire 30-minute ESPN recap coverage. 

I watched this kid of 21 lay down the run of his life and pretty much obliterate the rest of the field.

I won the event by almost three points. That margin of victory is insane. It was utter magic. It was me at my physical peak destroying the competition, albeit in a pretty obscure event that doesn't even exist today. 

Nonetheless, that's not the point. The point here is, once upon a time, that was me.

The TV coverage ended with the cameras panning out to yours truly standing atop a U.S. Nationals podium, smiling ear to ear and thrusting a ski in the air as a salute to the massacre. 

And that was it. 

That was the last I saw of that guy. I even burned the DVD after that viewing.

Now, you don't have to go to these extremes. You just have to answer the question, what gesture would mark that I'm choosing to live differently? 

Don't overthink it. It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to mean something to you. 

This is the moment we move from passive to active, from drifting to declaring. 

So take five to ten minutes, design your event on paper, give it a theme.

Give it a date. 

Make it real. 

This is how we reclaim authorship. 

This is how we stop waiting for permission. 

If this mini-course has stirred something awake in you, the ache, the hunger, the readiness, then here's something you must know. This is just the threshold.

The real work, the deeper work, happens inside Resurrection Camp. My powerful 28-day challenge for midlife men looking to reclaim identity and reinvent themselves. Men like you. Men that aren't satisfied with merely surviving midlife. Men that are looking for more of the magic. 

I invite you to enroll in Resurrection Camp today. Just log on to resurrection.camp.

You'll also find that link in the show notes of this podcast. 

Until next time.