THE CLIMB: THE CROSSING

On June 10th, 1990, I walked into a treatment center in Salina, Kansas and spoke the truth about what happened for the first time in my life.

On June 10th, 2026, I walked into my boss's office and gave my resignation.

I didn't plan either of those dates.

---

## I. The Call

June 10th, 1990 was my first day sober. I was 19 years old. I spent about a month at St. John's in Salina and there was a woman there — Sister Mary — who took me under her wings and just connected with me in a way that not many have, that fast. She is a great lady that I don't mention enough. Her name is also my mother's name, which has never been lost on me.

For more than 30 years I celebrated that date every year. Then somewhere down the line I started drinking again. Then plant medicine came into my life. And somewhere in between all of that the date got complicated and I stopped celebrating it.

But a date doesn't stop being what it was just because you stop celebrating it. June 10th was always the day I chose to change my life. I just forgot that was what it was for.

---

## II. The Fracture

There's something in me that has always wanted to get out in front of people and speak and tell a story and just be exactly who I am.

In the sixth grade I stood up in front of my class and sang a Kenny Rogers song at our class talent show. That was right after my traumatic event. Months after. I was in musicals in the 8th grade and my freshman year. I started a radio show in college. When I came out of treatment a teacher at my high school let me come speak to her class. I wasn't prepared. She never asked me back. But I wanted to do it so badly. I know I wanted to do it for the right reasons.

I didn't care if people thought I'd look like an idiot or if I sounded bad or any of that. I did it because I just wanted to.

Then my grandfather died when I was fifteen and a half and that was the breaking point. Not his fault. It's something I have inside of me that is still there, I just need to find it. But he was the one who gave it to me without giving it to me. He was the one who was just there until he wasn't. That was the breaking point.

And I buried it. A lot of years of burying that. A lot of hard work of burying that.

Here's the honest part: I'm scared to fail and look bad. I am petrified of not succeeding, not winning, not looking like the best version of me. Scared of pretending, being a fraud, everyone telling me I told you so. And what I spent most of my life doing was pointing that outward. Gossip. Stories. Pointing out everybody else's shortcomings so no one would have to see mine. I pointed it out in others because it was something that I did not want people to see in me — cuz that's what I see when I see myself.

I've gotten a lot better at turning around and facing what is actually there.

---

## III. The Forge

The morning of June 10th, 2026, the Jaguar came.

Not necessarily in front of me looking at me. It was almost as if it was a feeling of him being inside me and at the same time looking directly into my eyes. And he kept repeating it. You teach self leadership. You teach self leadership. And I started growing in confidence in taking pride in hearing that. Started repeating it back.

As I kept going through all of it the teaching for the day started coming through. I was going to see people that day I'd known for years, people who mattered to me. And what kept coming back was: that's not how you do this. That's not how you teach. You don't teach them by telling them how you see they've changed or what you see they need to do. You listen, you ask questions, you let them talk more than you.

And then it landed, the thing I'd been circling for weeks.

I don't need to teach them how to lead others. They will learn how to lead others by teaching themselves how to lead themselves.

That's it. That's the whole thing.

And then something else arrived in that same morning, right before I walked out the door. Three words.

I don't perform.

---

## IV. The Collapse

The night before I didn't sleep great.

I had three dreams. One was about the adult versions of kids I played with on the playground in elementary school. One was about a woman who kept showing up wherever I was. And one was about packing my childhood house. Not this apartment. The house I grew up in. My dad was there. Mom was around a little but it was mostly him and I. There wasn't a lot of talking. It was just us in that house, packing. Just a dream. Not good or bad. Just a dream.

The morning came and I gave myself permission for something: it's okay to be sad, it's okay to have a mourning period. I was there a long time, it served a purpose, it had been my life for sixteen years good bad and ugly. The fear of leaving is real. The safety net of it is real.

I know what I'm doing right, I know what I need to do. Doesn't mean I'm not scared, doesn't mean I'm not going to have feelings about it.

Everything was already done. Computer wiped. Devices set up. The box from home taken up to my office. Whatever they needed left in there, whatever I needed taken out. I went through what was left.

And there was the phone number. I've had that number my entire time in Tulsa. They would let me port it out. I'm not going to. I'm giving it back. That number belongs here. I don't.

---

## V. The Return

Him and I talked like we haven't in many many years.

I sat in his office and I had my phone recording just in case things went sideways and it was quite the opposite. He's a devout Christian and we talked about spirituality, we talked about plant medicine, we talked about everything I've been doing. It was just a really good talk. About two hours.

He was supportive. He was generous. We got the timeline worked out, my devices, my vacation hours paid in full. He offered a consultation arrangement for the transition. Better than I could have actually ever imagined.

I walked around afterward and talked to a few people I wanted to talk to. Sent all the emails out — the official resignation with the date, then one to all my external vendors I've worked with for many years, then one to the internal people I wanted to know either from a business standpoint or just from a long relationship.

And then that evening I called my mother.

I told her there was no reason we shouldn't celebrate June 10th again. It wasn't about the addiction. It was about the step to change my life. That's what that day was in 1990 and that's what it was today. And now we have another reason to celebrate that day. Every year.

Two steps. Same date. Thirty-six years apart.

---

## VI. The Walk

The next morning's meditation was phenomenal from start to finish.

At one point during the Jaguar song it was my legs as a Jaguar's legs walking. Walking the path of my life with his legs. And I could feel it. And at another point my hands started moving like I was typing on a laptop. Writing.

I seen what I needed to see. I feel what I needed to feel. The parts told me what they needed to tell me. There was so much in it and at the same time there's not a lot to say about it.

And then after my playlist finished a song came on randomly. And there was a part in it where the voice sang: who am I.

I said it out loud with a smirk on my face.

I'm Cory J Riggs.

Just a cool moment.

You got to celebrate yourself. You have to allow yourself to sit in the victories and enjoy them so that way the next time you are down you have that memory. You know you'll get to that feeling again. You have a point of reference.

The date had more to give than I knew. It gave twice.

That's worth celebrating. Every year. Whatever your version of June 10th is — whatever the day is that marked a step to change your life — that date doesn't stop being what it was just because you stopped celebrating it.

It's still there. It's still yours.

That is the crossing.

That is the climb.