There’s a kind of pain that hits differently. The kind that breaks you open in places you didn’t know existed. For me, it was the pain of having my family torn apart. The person I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with… she walked away. From me, from the family, from the dream we had built. And it shattered me.

What followed was the darkest time I’ve ever known. A dark night of the soul. I was stripped bare. I questioned everything. Every story I had ever told myself. Every decision. Every moment. I kept wondering… was it me? Did I mess this up? Was my love not enough?

There were days I didn’t want to be here. I mean really. There were thoughts that scared me, thoughts that I didn’t even recognise as mine. And yet, they were. That’s how deep it went.

But strangely… somehow… this pain led me somewhere else. It cracked me open and pointed me toward something bigger. Every meditation was a small step back toward center. The stillness kept bringing me home to my heart. Then came the breakthrough breathwork sessions – moments that reminded me I’m not my thoughts, that I’m something deeper. One session in the mountains, in particular, shifted everything. I realised that everything happening to me was actually happening “for” me. The conversations along the way with loved ones, friends, family, my kids – they helped me find that ember inside that’s now become my fire.

It’s wild to say now, but that heartbreak gave me the greatest outcome I could’ve asked for. It forced me to find a deeper kind of peace, one I had never known.

I went deeper into meditation. Vedic knowledge started to pull me in. I sat in stillness more often, sometimes for hours. I studied breathwork like my life depended on it, because in many ways, it did. That’s how I found my way to becoming a facilitator. And eventually to creating a business that feels like home. A business that serves. That brings people back to themselves. That reminds people they’re not broken, just disconnected.

The truth is, I never thought I’d be able to feel this whole again. But I do. And now I get to help others do the same.

To feel gratitude for the hot water in the shower. To breathe deeply and actually feel it. To cry in a room full of strangers and realise they’re not strangers anymore. To be heard. To heal. To come home.

If you’re going through it right now – the heartache, the loss, the fog – I want to tell you something simple.

This too shall pass.

I know it doesn’t feel like it. I know it feels endless. But pain has a funny way of becoming a doorway. A turning point. A reset. One that’ll lead you toward something you can’t see just yet. A version of you that’s clearer, wiser, stronger, more loving.

You just have to hold on. Get still when you can. Let yourself feel the mess of it. Trust that a new version of you is forming in the ashes of the old one. It might not look like you thought it would, but that’s the point.

Life doesn’t give us what we want. It gives us what we need to grow. I spent so much energy wanting to avoid the pain, looking for ways around it. But I needed to walk straight through that fire to find my calling – to discover I was meant to help others navigate their own dark nights.

One last thing. Hold your commitments loosely. Let nature do its thing. Because if something’s not your path anymore, clinging only makes the pain worse. You end up dragged behind the car instead of stepping out with grace. I’ve lived both.

And remember, the process is the outcome.

Don’t chase the destination. Just walk your path. Do the inner work. Let go of needing it to be perfect. And slowly, you’ll feel it, that pull toward aliveness, toward meaning, toward the version of you that was waiting on the other side of it all.

Big Love,
Dino

P.S – If this hit home, flick me a message or tap like. Honestly, it means more than you know.