Spiritual Infinity

"Spiritual Infinity: Where stories of spiritual awakening inspire your own transformative journey, hosted by Zenzi Sewaah."
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Spiritual Infinity is your gateway to deeper self-awareness, transformation, and connection with the limitless power within. Hosted by Zenzi Sewaah, Through inspiring conversations with guest speakers from around the world, we uncover personal journeys of spiritual awakening, the methods that transformed their lives, and how these practices can empower you. Whether you’re seeking healing, enlightenment, or a greater understanding of the universe, Spiritual Infinity provides wisdom and insights to support your journey. Join us as we navigate the infinite possibilities of spirituality, one episode at a time. zenzisewaah.substack.com

  1. 2d ago

    Who Am I Supposed to Be? | Henry Maxwell on Men’s Identity, Addiction & Finding a Life That Fits

    What happens when a young man feels he does not belong, cannot settle within himself and discovers that substances offer, however temporarily, the feeling that he can finally breathe? In this episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Henry Maxwell, a behavioural health consultant and coach whose professional work grew directly from his own journey through depression, anxiety, addiction and recovery. Henry grew up in a small rural community near Aspen, Colorado. As a creative young man, he struggled with identity and belonging. He did not feel that he fitted easily into the culture around him, and adolescence brought the questions so many young people carry: Who am I? Where do I fit? Where are my people? Alongside that came depression, anxiety and an internal tension that Henry later came to understand through the lens of trauma. Substances initially gave him relief. For perhaps the first time, he felt able to exhale. But what began as escape progressed rapidly. By 17, Henry was injecting heroin. His addiction led to hospitalisation and a point at which the suffering of the previous years could no longer be ignored. He was offered treatment. And, somehow, he was ready to accept it. Henry does not romanticise that turning point or pretend to have a simple explanation for why he became willing to change when others may go through repeated treatment before reaching that place. Looking back, he describes something that felt almost like grace—an openness to receiving help and trying another way. Recovery was not an overnight transformation. Henry returned home, engaged with the recovery community and received therapy, psychiatric care and support from teachers, therapists, friends and family. Day by day, he often could not see much change within himself. Yet when he looked back after a year, he realised how dramatically his life had improved. There is something important in that for anyone struggling. Transformation is not always accompanied by a great revelation. Sometimes it is persistence. Sometimes it is accepting today’s help, making today’s healthier choice and doing it again tomorrow. Henry eventually found work in a community mental-health detox centre and discovered something unexpected: he loved working with people in crisis. That became his path. He trained as a counsellor, worked within treatment services and eventually moved into working more directly with individuals and families experiencing serious mental-health and substance-use difficulties. Along the way, he married, built a business and rebuilt relationships within his own family. The young man who once struggled to understand where he belonged had found somewhere that his lived experience could become of value to another human being. From there, our conversation moves into the wider crisis Henry now sees among men. Depression and anxiety are part of it. Addiction is part of it. But beneath many of the presenting problems, Henry sees something broader: a loss of meaning, purpose, community, connection and identity. Men are asking: Where do I fit? What am I supposed to be doing? Who am I supposed to be? And this question of identity has surfaced repeatedly throughout my conversations about men’s trauma. For generations, Western masculinity carried a recognisable model: the man was expected to be strong, tough, self-reliant, the provider, the authority—the one who did not need help and certainly did not talk too much about his feelings. Henry believes we have rightly challenged many damaging aspects of that model. But another question has emerged in its place. If that is not what a man has to be, what does healthy masculinity look like now? For Henry, some qualities traditionally associated with masculinity can have healthy expressions: responsibility towards community, appropriate self-sacrifice, recognising one’s competence and using it to contribute positively to the world. The problem comes when strength becomes emotional silence, independence becomes isolation and leadership becomes domination. We also explore another powerful influence on modern identity: comparison. Human beings have always compared themselves with others, but technology has radically enlarged the field of comparison. Once, a person might primarily have compared themselves with neighbours, colleagues or others within their community. Today we can compare our income, homes, bodies, relationships, careers, parenting and lifestyles with carefully presented images of people anywhere in the world. And we can begin constructing our lives around what we think we should be rather than asking what actually matters to us. For men who already feel pressure to succeed, provide and demonstrate competence, this can become another burden. Henry sees different expressions of distress across different stages of men’s lives. Among adolescents and younger men, he frequently encounters depression, anxiety, ADHD, substance use and difficulties managing life’s responsibilities. But he emphasises that a diagnosis alone does not describe the whole person. Medication or therapy may form part of somebody’s treatment, but some people also need practical support, executive-function coaching, mentorship, safe adults and—critically—authentic community. Henry puts it beautifully: Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in community. For men in their thirties, forties and into middle age, the pressures can look different. Marriage. Children. Work. Financial responsibility. Providing for a family. Maintaining relationships. Trying to achieve while still wondering whether the life being built actually feels meaningful. Henry describes the overwhelm that can result when somebody is carrying all of those responsibilities without the inner tools or support necessary to experience peace. His approach brings the conversation back to values. Instead of constantly asking, How am I doing compared with everybody else?, another question becomes possible: How do I want to show up in my own life? What matters to me? What kind of husband, father, friend or man do I want to be? What do I value? Am I actually living those values? As men grow older, another layer appears. The question may become less about achievement and more about reflection: Did I live a fulfilling life? Did I prioritise what really mattered? Did I live according to my values? What am I leaving behind? And even here, our past does not have to become a sentence upon our future. We can spend years judging ourselves for what we did not do, what went wrong or who we failed to become. But while life remains, another question is available: What can I do now? What can I contribute now? What can I give now? Who can I help now? Henry’s own life demonstrates that possibility. His addiction did not become the final definition of him. His struggle became part of the experience through which he discovered where he could contribute. And perhaps that is one of the strongest threads running throughout this conversation. Identity cannot safely be built entirely upon what society tells us a man should be. Nor can it rest upon income, possessions, status, social-media approval or comparison with somebody else’s carefully displayed life. Eventually we have to come home to ourselves. Henry’s final advice is deceptively simple: reflect upon how you want to show up in your life. Recognise where you are not doing that. Identify the support and community you need to help you live differently—and then do your best. There is no shame in needing that support. Henry’s life changed when he became willing to receive help. His recovery grew through treatment, therapy, community and human connection. Years later, those experiences became part of what allows him to help others. Perhaps, then, the question is not simply Who am I supposed to be? Perhaps we need to stop allowing the world to answer that question for us. Look within. Discover what you value. Find the people with whom you can belong authentically. Accept help when you need it. And recognise the gifts within you that can become of value to someone else. We cannot always choose what brings us to the crossroads of our lives. But we can choose what we begin building from there. — Zenzi SewaahFounder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Henry Maxwell is a behavioural health consultant and coach whose work is informed by both professional experience and his own long-term recovery from addiction and mental-health challenges. After beginning his career in a community mental-health detox centre, he became a counsellor, worked within treatment services and progressed into supporting individuals and families experiencing significant mental-health and substance-use difficulties. Through Maxwell Recovery Services, Henry helps individuals and families identify appropriate treatment and support, including residential treatment, psychiatric care, therapy and other resources according to individual need. Website: MaxwellRecoveryServices.comSocial media: Maxwell Recovery Services is on Instagram and Facebook.Contact: Henry invites individuals and families to make contact through the website, where they can reach him or a member of his team. Get full access to Zenzi’s Substack at zenzisewaah.substack.com/subscribe

  2. 4d ago

    When a Man Stops Hiding | Devon Lebrun on Addiction, Vulnerability & Finding His Way Back to Himself

    A man can appear successful, capable and completely in control while privately carrying a very different reality. In this episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Devon Lebrun, a health and human performance coach in Colorado whose journey took him through childhood emotional challenges, addiction, corporate pressure, burnout, moments of suicidal despair and, ultimately, a profound process of personal and spiritual transformation. transcript_2026-09-29T19_59_37.… Devon describes himself as someone who became very good at adapting to whatever environment he entered. He could show up as the person the situation required. But beneath that adaptability was disconnection. Growing up, there was love in his family, but there was also anger and unrest. As a child, Devon learned to mediate, protect himself and put up walls. For years, he concentrated on what those experiences had taught him rather than acknowledging what they had cost him. That pattern followed him into adulthood. He worked hard, pursued success in the corporate world, played sports and continually pushed himself forward. From the outside, he appeared functional. Inside, however, he was struggling. Alcohol and other addictive behaviours became ways of dissociating. He stayed up late, rose early, neglected sleep and pushed his body while trying to maintain the polished image expected within his professional life. Devon calls himself a former “closet hippie”—the person he felt himself to be privately was very different from the person he believed he needed to present professionally. And therein lies an important part of men’s emotional suffering. What happens when a man becomes so skilled at performing that nobody sees the person underneath—including himself? Devon was carrying secrets. People around him did not know the extent of his addictions or what was happening internally. He could discuss personal development almost intellectually, as though writing a self-help book, while still avoiding the deepest parts of himself. He also carried a punishing need for perfection. Every mistake became another burden. Everything he had done that did not fit his idea of who he should be became evidence against himself. Eventually, the burden became so great that Devon began questioning his own worth and purpose. At 43, something had to change. One of the realisations that struck him was surprisingly simple: despite being a husband and father, part of him still felt like a boy. He had never experienced a clear internal transition into manhood. That discovery became important not only for Devon but for how he now thinks about raising his three sons. He does not want them simply to inherit somebody else’s definition of masculinity. He wants them to grow into whole men who understand themselves. At the height of his struggle, there were moments when Devon questioned whether he wanted to continue living. He wondered how necessary he really was, even in the lives of his children. But instead of allowing that despair to have the final word, he gave himself what he describes as one more chance. He decided to rise. Devon had a phoenix rising from a lotus tattooed onto his chest as a physical symbol of that commitment. He stopped drinking and began dismantling the life he had been using to avoid himself. He describes entering “the void.” Friendships, addictions, distractions and even familiar sources of pleasure were stripped back. Rather than immediately replacing everything, he deliberately created emptiness. And in that emptiness, he began listening. Breath became important. Movement became important. Sleep and restoration became important. The way he nourished his body became important. So did the mental and emotional material he consumed. But perhaps one of the most difficult practices for a man accustomed to constantly doing was stillness. For years, Devon could act, achieve, push and move. Stopping was harder. Yet he discovered that some of the understanding he had been seeking was waiting precisely there—in the spaces where he was no longer distracting himself. He also sought support. Talk therapy gave him somewhere to verbalise thoughts he had previously allowed to circle internally. He explored breath practices and undertook a vision quest. Out of that experience came a small group of men who have continued meeting regularly. Their gathering, which they call a Soul Council, operates differently from the stereotypical idea of men coming together to solve each other’s problems. They do not meet primarily to fix one another. They witness. They listen. They hold space. And sometimes, when a man can see only his weakness, the others reflect back the strength they can still see within him. That kind of brotherhood has become deeply important to Devon. It also challenges another assumption about masculinity: that vulnerability somehow makes a man less powerful. Devon discovered almost the opposite. When he finally became honest with his wife and children about what he was experiencing, he expected his vulnerability might diminish him in their eyes. Instead, he found more love than he had realised was there. His relationships deepened. Today, he can speak vulnerably with his sons—particularly his eldest—and have conversations about relationships, feelings, masculinity and life that he doubts would have been possible had he continued hiding behind the old persona. And I find his message to his sons particularly beautiful. He does not expect them to become better versions of him. He wants them to become the best versions of themselves. That distinction matters. Children do not come into this world to fulfil the unfinished ambitions of their parents. They will have their own journeys, make their own mistakes and learn some lessons that no parent can teach on their behalf. But what we can give them is a safer foundation from which to make that journey. We can show our boys that a man can speak. A man can feel. A man can admit he does not know. A man can ask for help. A man can be strong without becoming emotionally unreachable. Devon’s understanding of masculinity has also expanded through what he describes as integrating the masculine and feminine within himself. For a time, he looked externally for the nurturing energy he felt he lacked. Eventually, he realised that wholeness could not depend upon somebody else continually filling what he perceived as missing within him. He had to learn to nurture himself. To give himself grace. To trust himself. To become a safe place for himself. For Devon, genuine power therefore does not mean power over somebody else. It is internal. It is the ability to pause between what happens to us and how we respond. It is personal agency, accountability and the recognition that although we cannot always choose the circumstances before us, we can ask: What is the next best choice I can make from here? That understanding now informs his professional work. Devon focuses particularly on people in corporate leadership because those occupying positions of authority affect the people beneath them. He wants leaders to understand power not as domination, but as something grounded internally and expressed through responsibility, love, acceptance and the ability to help others flourish. He is also developing spaces for men, including plans for men’s groups in Colorado and virtually, where men can speak without immediately being judged or “fixed.” One of the simplest things Devon now does is answer honestly when somebody asks, “How are you?” Not automatically “fine.” Not the socially convenient answer. The truth. And he has discovered that when one person is willing to be genuine, another person often feels permission to do the same. That is particularly important when somebody is approaching despair. Devon knows what it is to question whether life is worth continuing. His message to another man reaching that place is not to carry the secret alone. Tell one person. There may already be somebody in your life who wants to know you more deeply, who loves you and who would rather hear your pain than lose you. And if the first person cannot hold what you share, keep reaching until you find somebody who can. Our conversation eventually moves into spirituality, because Devon’s transformation has not been merely physical, emotional or psychological. There has also been an awakening. He speaks of the soul, stillness and his belief that when we truly listen, something greater can begin guiding us. This is where our experiences meet. We each have our own path to walk. Nobody can live it for us. But having an individual path does not mean that we are abandoned upon it. For me, that greater presence is the Creator. When human beings cannot understand, when loneliness enters and when we ask, Who is there for me?, there remains a Light and intelligence greater than ourselves to which we can turn. But we must become still enough to hear. Devon leaves us with a wonderfully practical sequence: Pause. Breathe. Feel. Think. Act. Not simply act, act, act. Not suppress, perform and keep moving. Pause. Come back into the body. Breathe. Allow yourself to recognise what you are actually feeling. Think from that clearer place. Then choose your action. And for those of us who love men—partners, wives, husbands, parents, friends and families—there is responsibility on our side too. If we ask men to become vulnerable, we must create spaces in which their vulnerability can actually be received. Their emotions may not emerge perfectly. Years of suppressed pain may initially appear as anger, frustration, confusion or tears. That does not excuse violence or harm, but it does mean we should not demand polished vulnerability from somebody who is only beginning to learn the language of his own emotions. Healing is a journey. So is becoming whole. Perhaps the man beneath the armour was never weak. Perhaps he was simply waiting for somewhere

  3. 5d ago

    The Men We Forgot to Teach How to Feel | Dr Teyhou Smyth on Male Mental Health, Isolation & Emotional Connection

    For generations, boys have been taught to be strong, independent and resilient. They have been told not to cry, not to complain and, too often, not to reveal vulnerability. But what happens when those boys become men and encounter divorce, loneliness, financial pressure, fatherhood, rejection, grief or a life that simply does not unfold as expected? In this episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Dr Teyhou Smyth, a clinical counselor with around 15 years’ experience in mental health, whose work includes relationships and attachment, addiction, clinical supervision and extensive work with male clients. transcript_2026-09-29T20_17_19.… Our conversation examines men’s mental health not simply as a male problem, but as a human problem—one that families, partners and communities all have a part in addressing. Dr Smyth explains that she once saw predominantly women in her private practice. Today, the balance has shifted and she works primarily with men. Through her clinical work, including years spent working in addiction settings and facilitating male support groups, she began noticing something repeatedly: men who appeared very different on the surface were often carrying remarkably similar experiences of loneliness, isolation and disconnection. transcript_2026-09-29T20_17_19.… One of the most fascinating parts of our conversation is Dr Smyth’s distinction between the challenges facing different generations of men. Young men are trying to understand themselves in a world transformed by dating apps, pornography, social media, changing relationship expectations and shifting definitions of masculinity. Dr Smyth sees many struggling with identity, social anxiety, relationships and a lack of meaningful mentorship. Then there are men in the middle years. Some have married and divorced. Some are negotiating co-parenting, beginning relationships again or dealing with financial pressures. Some feel that the life they were told to build has disappeared beneath them. And because many were raised to derive identity from being the provider, husband or father, the loss or disruption of those roles can leave an enormous emotional vacuum. Older men face another transition. Many grew up in an era in which emotional difficulties were rarely discussed openly. The message was often simply: get on with it. But surviving something does not necessarily mean we have healed from it. Unresolved patterns can pass quietly from one generation to another—not because parents deliberately intend to harm their children, but because we often parent from what we ourselves were taught. This is why we must look again at how we raise our boys. If a little girl cries, we may comfort her. When a little boy cries, how quickly do we tell him to toughen up? If we repeatedly teach boys that vulnerability is weakness, we cannot be surprised when adult men struggle to articulate fear, sadness, loneliness or emotional pain. Then, when relationships require emotional intimacy, we ask those same men to speak a language we may never have helped them learn. That does not remove personal responsibility. Nor does understanding the origins of someone’s behaviour excuse abuse or harmful conduct. But understanding matters if we genuinely want change. Dr Smyth also challenges the stigma that can still surround counseling. Therapy does not have to mean that something is “wrong” with you. It can simply mean that you want to understand yourself. That you want to grow. That you want better relationships. That you want to become a healthier version of yourself. And perhaps this is especially important for men who have been conditioned to believe that asking for help somehow diminishes their masculinity. Whether a man feels more comfortable speaking with another man, a woman or a professional matters less than the fundamental point: Speak to somebody rather than nobody. Community becomes essential here. Women often create emotional networks naturally—we talk, share, telephone one another, cry together and process what is happening in our lives. Many men do not have an equivalent support structure. Dr Smyth saw the difference when she facilitated men’s groups. Once men were given a space in which they could actually talk, they discovered that the man sitting beside them was often carrying something remarkably similar. Suddenly, I am the only one becomes you too? And there is enormous healing potential in that recognition. Our conversation also moves beyond men and asks what responsibility women, parents and society carry. We cannot complain that men are emotionally unavailable while continuing to raise boys to suppress emotion. We cannot ask men to become vulnerable and then ridicule them when they are. We cannot tell boys that certain household, parenting or emotional responsibilities belong to women and then expect those boys, as men, to move effortlessly into equal partnerships. Our sons need to learn the full spectrum of being human. They can cook. They can clean. They can nurture. They can comfort. They can cry. They can ask for help. And they can still be men. There is another challenge affecting all of us: technology. We now have extraordinary tools, but Dr Smyth raises an important question about what happens when digital communication begins replacing rather than supporting human interaction. Relationships teach us things that technology cannot completely replicate. Another human being disagrees with us. Misunderstands us. Challenges us. Requires compromise. Makes us consider how our words and behaviour affect somebody outside ourselves. Those experiences develop emotional and relational maturity. If we increasingly retreat into environments where everything can be personalised around our own preferences, we risk losing some of the very skills required to live together. Presence matters. Conversation matters. Community matters. Human beings need human beings. And perhaps that is one of the deepest messages to emerge from this conversation. Men’s mental health cannot be solved simply by telling men to talk. We also have to ask whether we have created a world in which they feel safe enough to speak—and whether, when they finally do speak, somebody is prepared to listen. This conversation has been part of my continuing exploration of men’s mental health because the more I listen, the more I recognise that there is much for all of us to learn. Our boys do not need to become less masculine. They need permission to become more fully human. Our adult men do not need shame for the emotional skills they may never have been taught. They need responsibility, opportunity, support and spaces in which those skills can be developed. And we women must be willing to examine our role too—not by accepting responsibility for every choice a man makes, but by recognising that families and cultures are created collectively. We all teach the next generation. So perhaps the question is no longer simply, What is wrong with men? Perhaps a more useful question is: What have we taught our boys about being men—and what do we need to teach differently now? When a man is struggling, let us not wait until his pain becomes addiction, complete isolation or despair before we decide it matters. Let us listen earlier. Let us encourage our boys to speak earlier. Let us create communities again. And let us remember that beneath every label—male, female, masculine, feminine—we are human beings seeking connection, understanding and somewhere safe enough to be known. — Zenzi SewaahFounder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Dr Teyhou Smyth is a clinical counselor with approximately 15 years’ experience in the mental-health field. Educated largely in the United States after growing up in the UK, she works with individual clients and specializes in relationship and attachment issues. Her professional background also includes addiction treatment, community mental health, facilitating groups, clinical supervision and work with diverse client populations. She is also a clinical supervisor who trains and oversees newer clinicians and has served as a consultant and subject-matter expert to California’s Board of Behavioral Sciences. Website: drteyhou.com Get full access to Zenzi’s Substack at zenzisewaah.substack.com/subscribe

  4. Oct 22

    Let Boys Be Kids First | Raelene S. Weaver on Raising Emotionally Healthy Boys and Healing Male Trauma

    What happens when a little boy learns that crying is weakness, that showing emotion is unacceptable, and that becoming a man means hiding his pain? These are the questions at the heart of my conversation with Raelene S. Weaver, retired therapist and author of Let Boys Be Kids First, as we continue our Spiritual Infinity series exploring men’s emotional and psychological trauma. For generations, boys have grown up hearing familiar instructions: Man up. Stop crying. Be strong. Don’t show weakness. Although often spoken with the intention of preparing boys for adulthood, these messages can teach them to disconnect from their emotions before they have even learned to understand them. Raelene challenges this conditioning and asks us to reconsider what genuine strength means. She believes that boys need opportunities to develop emotional resilience alongside their physical and intellectual abilities. A boy who can express sadness, ask for help, show compassion and understand another person’s feelings is not becoming weaker. He is developing the foundations of a more balanced adulthood. The Little Girl Who Saw Her Father’s Pain One of the most moving moments of our conversation comes when Raelene shares her childhood. At just eight years old, she lost her mother to breast cancer. Her father, struggling with grief while raising two children and running his grocery business, began drinking more heavily. Raelene remembers being deeply concerned about him and writing him a letter. Yet, despite their close relationship, the family never truly spoke about their grief. Her father made sure the children were fed, cared for and attended school. Neighbors and relatives helped. Life continued, but the emotional conversations were missing. That experience stayed with Raelene and eventually helped inspire her decision to become a therapist, creating a safe space where men could speak openly about grief, addiction, loss and the emotions they had learned to suppress. Her story raises an important question: How many men are doing everything expected of them while silently struggling with pain nobody has invited them to express? Changing the Old Boy Code Through her book, Let Boys Be Kids First, Raelene encourages parents to examine the messages they inherited from their own childhoods. She contrasts the traditional expectations of masculinity with a healthier approach that values responsibility, kindness, emotional expression and authenticity. She describes two possible responses to a teenage boy found crying in a school stairwell. One adult tells him to stop crying and get to class. Another acknowledges his distress, reassures him and offers to listen. Both may expect the boy to return to class, but only one response tells him that his feelings matter. We discuss how mothers and fathers can unknowingly treat boys and girls differently, comforting a crying daughter while expecting a son to control his emotions. These patterns can continue across generations without anyone consciously choosing them. Raelene reminds us that toughness and tenderness can coexist in the same person. Emotional sensitivity does not diminish masculinity, and allowing boys to express themselves does not prevent them from becoming responsible, capable adults. The Pain Beneath Anger Our discussion also explores what happens when emotional wounds remain unacknowledged into adulthood. Drawing on her therapeutic experience, Raelene explains that anger can sometimes conceal deeper feelings of sadness, rejection, inadequacy or emotional neglect. A man who was repeatedly told he was not good enough, or whose feelings were dismissed throughout childhood, may carry those experiences into his relationships without recognizing their influence. Understanding what lies beneath anger can be an important part of healing. Raelene emphasizes that seeking professional support requires courage, particularly for men who have been conditioned to believe that asking for help is a weakness. We also discuss relationships in which men become so focused on keeping their partners happy that they neglect their own emotional needs. Healthy relationships require mutual consideration, communication and personal responsibility, rather than one person carrying the emotional burden of both. Breaking the Generational Cycle A particularly powerful part of our conversation concerns fathers and grandfathers who recognize that the emotional restrictions they experienced do not have to be passed on to their sons. Raelene speaks about the courage required for a father to acknowledge that he was never allowed to cry, while choosing to create a different experience for his child. This is where genuine change can begin. We also explore the idea of the inner child, the younger self who may never have felt safe enough to express sadness, ask for comfort or communicate emotional needs. Healing can involve recognizing that child’s experiences with compassion rather than continuing the same patterns of judgment and suppression. As parents, grandparents, partners and members of society, we have an opportunity to change the emotional environment in which boys grow up. When children learn that their feelings are valid, they can begin developing empathy for themselves and others. This matters not only for boys and men, but also for the women, children and communities with whom they share their lives. Self-Love Is Not Selfishness Towards the end of our conversation, Raelene offers practical encouragement. She urges men to talk, share their feelings, listen to others and seek supportive environments where difficult experiences can be discussed without shame. She asks parents to question the internal messages that may prevent them from hugging or comforting their sons. For those navigating relationships, she emphasizes the importance of self-reflection, emotional well-being and healthy outlets such as journaling, creative activities or therapy. Her final message makes a vital distinction: taking care of yourself is not selfish. It allows you to become more emotionally available to others. And she leaves parents with a beautifully simple reminder: tell your boys you love them. As I reflect on this conversation, I am reminded that transformation begins when we become conscious of the beliefs we have inherited and choose not to repeat those that cause suffering. We cannot expect men to understand and communicate their emotions if we have spent their childhood teaching them to suppress those very feelings. Nor can we expect compassion and emotional understanding to flourish in our relationships if we do not first make space for them within ourselves. At Spiritual Infinity, our work is about reconnecting with the deeper truth of who we are. Beneath the expectations, conditioning and emotional defenses, there is a human being deserving of love, understanding and connection. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can offer the next generation is the freedom to grow into adulthood without first having to disconnect from their hearts. Let our boys be children first. Let them cry, laugh, feel, question and know they are loved. Let them become men who understand that compassion and strength belong together. Because when we change how we nurture our children, we begin changing the future of our families, relationships and communities. — Zenzi Sewaah Founder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Raelene S. Weaver is a retired therapist, author and advocate for healthier emotional development in boys and men, based in San Jose, California. Her work focuses on challenging traditional expectations of masculinity, encouraging emotional communication, and helping parents recognize how childhood conditioning can influence adult relationships and well-being. Drawing on her personal experiences and professional background, Raelene advocates for greater emotional safety, empathy and resilience. She delivered a TED Talk in 2022 and published her book, Let Boys Be Kids First, in 2023. She continues to share her message through speaking engagements and media appearances. Website: letboysbekidsfirst.com Book: Let Boys Be Kids First (2023) TED Talk: Information available through her website. Contact: Visit her website for information about her work and available contact channels. Get full access to Zenzi’s Substack at zenzisewaah.substack.com/subscribe

  5. Oct 18

    A Man Needs Peace Too | Darius Ross on Relationships, Vulnerability & Male Identity

    What happens when a man feels he has nowhere left to find peace? In this episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Darius Ross in a candid and at times provocative conversation about men, masculinity, relationships, identity and the emotional pressures that can leave some men feeling increasingly isolated. This conversation forms part of my continuing exploration of male trauma and emotional wellbeing—not because there is one explanation for the pain men experience, but because we need to become more willing to listen to what men themselves are telling us. Darius begins with a challenge to one of the most familiar phrases directed towards men: what a man is “supposed” to be. Strong. Unshakeable. Provider. Protector. Leader. Emotionally controlled. But where, he asks, does the vulnerable human being fit within those expectations? For Darius, men are sensitive. They experience fear, exhaustion, insecurity and emotional pain. They need space for feelings and spirituality. Yet many have learned that admitting vulnerability risks being regarded as weak or somehow less masculine. He speaks particularly from his perspective as a Black man, describing the additional pressures he believes men of colour can encounter through discrimination, financial expectations, cultural history and questions of identity. But one of the most striking parts of our conversation concerns peace. Darius speaks from personal experience about reaching a place where a man can feel that there is no sanctuary anywhere—not in society, not in his relationship and not even in his own home. He describes what it is like when the person to whom you should be able to turn is also someone around whom you feel unable to lower your guard. His words bring us back to something fundamental: behind discussions about masculinity are human beings who need somewhere they can feel emotionally safe. Our conversation therefore moves deeply into relationships. Darius holds strong views about masculinity, femininity and male leadership. Some listeners will agree with him; others may challenge parts of what he says. But that is also why conversations such as this matter. We do not learn by speaking only with people whose experiences and perspectives mirror our own. Throughout our exchange, we continually return to respect. Words have power. We readily recognise the damage caused when women are degraded or insulted, but Darius asks us to consider the emotional impact of repeatedly telling a man that he is weak, useless, inadequate or “not a man.” Those words do not simply disappear once they have been spoken. At the same time, this cannot become a conversation in which responsibility rests entirely with women—or entirely with men. Both people bring themselves into a relationship. Both need to examine how they communicate. Both need boundaries. Both deserve respect. And both must be willing to recognise when a relationship is no longer healthy for them. One of the things I found myself considering during our conversation was how much we have inherited about the roles of men and women—and how much of it we may need to examine again. We have changed socially and economically. Women have fought for independence and equality, while traditional expectations placed upon men have also been shifting. Yet our emotional expectations have not necessarily evolved at the same pace. So where does the modern man locate his identity? If he is no longer defined solely by being the provider, protector or head of the household, who is he? Darius believes that this question of identity deserves far greater attention when we discuss male distress. His perspective is that some men become so attached to a relationship, role or particular understanding of masculinity that when it collapses, they can feel as though they themselves have disappeared with it. And this leads to the most important message towards the end of our conversation: A relationship can end without your identity ending with it. You still exist. Your worth does not disappear because somebody no longer wants to be with you. You may need to step away, reassess yourself, rediscover who you are and decide where you belong next. Darius also reminds us that sometimes staying is not strength. There are relationships in which two people may simply be wrong for one another. Remaining together because of fear, appearances, children or the belief that separation represents failure does not automatically create a healthy home. Sometimes parting may ultimately allow two people to relate to one another with greater peace and respect. And perhaps there is something much larger for us to consider here. When a man reaches the point where he believes there is nothing left, we cannot wait until that moment to begin asking what happened. We need to become curious earlier. What is happening behind the silence? What is underneath the anger? What does the man who appears strong believe he is forbidden to say? Where does he go when he is exhausted? Who can he tell that he is frightened? And can we listen without immediately telling him what a man should be? This does not mean excusing harmful behaviour. Vulnerability never removes personal responsibility, nor does emotional pain justify harming another person. But if we genuinely want healthier men, women, relationships and families, then perhaps we must create room for a more complete humanity in both sexes. Our boys must know that tears do not remove their masculinity. Our girls must learn that boys have feelings worthy of care too. Our adult relationships must have room for disagreement without humiliation, strength without domination and vulnerability without contempt. And men themselves must be willing to look inward. Darius leaves us with that responsibility. Know who you are. Examine where you are. Recognise when something is no longer serving you. And do not make another human being, a relationship, a job or a social role the entirety of your identity. Because losing one part of your life does not mean that your life is over. There may be another place for you. Another relationship. Another way of understanding yourself. Another chapter you cannot yet see. Perhaps one of the greatest things we can offer one another is the peace to be fully human—not the man someone says we must be, not the woman society tells us we should become, but human beings capable of strength and tenderness, boundaries and compassion, independence and connection. And when somebody reaches the point where they can no longer see a way forward, that is not the moment for shame. That is the moment for conversation, support and help. — Zenzi SewaahFounder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Darius Ross is a New York-based author and speaker whose work explores relationships, personal identity, masculinity, communication and personal development. In this Spiritual Infinity conversation, he brings both his personal experience and his perspectives on the pressures facing men, particularly around relationships, emotional vulnerability and identity. Darius offers programmes and works directly with people according to their individual needs. His books are available through major book platforms. Websites: dariuswrites.com and dariusross.comBooks: Available through major book retailers, including AmazonProgrammes and individual work: Available through his websites Get full access to Zenzi’s Substack at zenzisewaah.substack.com/subscribe

  6. Oct 13

    Beyond “Man Up”: Jason Fierstein on Men’s Mental Health, Identity & Emotional Strength

    In this episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Jason Fierstein, counsellor, psychotherapist and founder of Phoenix Men’s Counselling in Arizona, about the pressures many men carry beneath the surface. Drawing on both his professional work and his own experiences with identity, relationships and depression, Jason explores why understanding who you are—and developing emotional awareness and vulnerability—can be fundamental to a healthier life. Our conversation looks at the stigma that still surrounds men seeking therapy, as well as the changing expectations placed upon men within relationships and family life. Jason argues that the traditional role of provider is no longer enough: modern relationships also require communication, emotional presence, vulnerability and shared responsibility—skills many men were simply never taught. We also explore male friendship, loneliness and the ways depression can sometimes appear as withdrawal or escapism. Jason highlights the importance of creating space for men to speak without feeling criticised or judged, while also encouraging men themselves to take responsibility for their mental and emotional wellbeing. Ultimately, this conversation asks us to reconsider what strength really means. Perhaps becoming a stronger man begins not with enduring everything alone, but with learning to speak, listen, connect and ask for help. Closing Reflection Perhaps we need to retire the idea that a strong man is the man who needs nothing from anyone. Strength can also be the courage to say, “I’m struggling.” It can mean listening to the people who care about us, allowing ourselves to be known, and recognising that emotional awareness does not diminish masculinity—it enlarges our humanity. Jason leaves us with a simple but important message: take the risk and ask for help. A healthier relationship, family or life requires work, but we must first believe that our wellbeing—and we ourselves—are worth that work. — Zenzi SewaahFounder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Details Jason Fierstein is a counsellor and psychotherapist based in Phoenix, Arizona, and owner of Phoenix Men’s Counselling, where he works with men and the challenges they face in contemporary life. His work includes individual, marriage and couples counselling, addressing areas such as identity, relationships, depression, emotional awareness and men’s mental health. Website: phoenixmenscounseling.com Jason also offers a blog and a free e-book on men and relationships through the Phoenix Men’s Counselling website. Get full access to Zenzi’s Substack at zenzisewaah.substack.com/subscribe

  7. Oct 8

    You Don’t Have to Carry This Alone | Neil Tricarico on Losing His Son, Grief & Post-Traumatic Growth

    There are some losses for which language will never be enough. In this deeply moving episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Neil Tricarico, a father whose 16-year-old son, Anthony, died by suicide after struggling with depression and suicidality alongside his experience of autism. Yet this is not simply a conversation about death. It is about a father’s grief, the emotional conditioning of men, neurodiversity, spirituality, community and what can happen when unimaginable pain gradually becomes a calling to serve others. Neil describes his life before Anthony’s death as one filled largely with joy. He and his wife, Samara, were raising their son Anthony—known as Ant—and their daughter, Belina, when Anthony was diagnosed with high-functioning autism. There were challenges the family had been prepared for. They were told Anthony might struggle socially or experience bullying. Instead, he developed many friendships and worked hard to connect with others. What Neil and his wife had not been prepared for were the mental-health challenges that could emerge. During the COVID period, when Anthony was around 14, he fell into a deep depression and began experiencing suicidal thoughts. Crucially, he told a close friend, who told his mother, who then alerted Anthony’s parents. That disclosure began an intensive two-year journey as the family tried to support him. Anthony himself wanted to live. He was even planning to devote his senior-year project to challenging the stigma surrounding suicide. Tragically, at 16½, Anthony died by suicide. For Neil, the loss is not something that can be neatly described as something he has “gotten over.” He speaks about waking in the morning and, for a few fleeting moments, feeling as though everything has been a terrible dream—before realising that the nightmare is the reality into which he has awakened. But something else began happening within that grief. Neil describes experiencing a profound spiritual or soul awakening and gradually discovering the possibility of transforming—or, as he puts it, transmuting—pain into purpose. His family’s experience led to the creation of The Endurant Movement, a nonprofit dedicated to helping ensure that teenagers, neurodivergent or otherwise, do not feel unseen. The organisation is working towards safe community spaces for young people who may be struggling but have not yet reached the point of crisis—a place where pressure can come down, where they can simply be themselves and where belonging does not depend upon achievement. Neil is particularly passionate about increasing awareness of the relationship between neurodiversity and suicide. He also reflects on Anthony’s ability to mask what he was experiencing so effectively that some of his friends did not even realise he was autistic. That raises an important question for all of us. How much can be happening inside another human being that we simply cannot see? Our conversation also moves into Neil’s experience as a father. He speaks candidly about initially having to grieve some of the expectations he had unconsciously carried about fatherhood—the sports he imagined coaching, throwing a ball together and other experiences he had pictured sharing with his son. When he was able to release those expectations, however, he could begin meeting Anthony as Anthony actually was. His son loved martial arts and rock climbing. Father and son also spent enormous amounts of time camping together, creating memories that Neil now treasures. There is something profound within that. Sometimes love asks us to release the person we imagined someone would become so that we can fully love the person standing before us. Neil’s professional background also gave him an unusual foundation from which to confront what followed. He had spent approximately two decades working within the personal-development world, including work with Deepak Chopra and Tony Robbins, whom he describes as a friend and mentor. Even with all that exposure to transformation and personal development, however, Neil is clear that nothing could prepare him completely for the death of his son. He experienced shame, guilt, devastating pain and questions about what strength and masculinity actually mean. And that is particularly important within this series on men’s trauma. For generations, many boys have heard some variation of: don’t cry, toughen up, be strong. But what happens when life presents something that cannot simply be “toughed out”? Neil challenges the idea that strength means carrying everything alone. During our conversation, I repeated a familiar spiritual saying: God never gives us more than we can bear. Neil offered an important addition. In his lived experience, we are not necessarily meant to bear life’s greatest trials without the help of others. That became one of the most beautiful moments in our conversation. Whether we call that greater presence God, Creator, Spirit or Universe, help does not always arrive dramatically from somewhere beyond us. Sometimes it arrives through another human being. The friend who notices. The person who telephones. The stranger who shares information at precisely the right moment. The community that surrounds a grieving family. The person willing to sit beside us when there is absolutely nothing they can say to make the pain disappear. As Neil beautifully describes it, there may be angels in heaven, but there are also angels here on Earth. We therefore need not only an open heart, but open eyes, because if we become completely focused upon an expected outcome, we may fail to recognise the help already surrounding us. Neil’s second initiative, The Endurant Way, grew from his own experience of post-traumatic growth and now seeks to help adults carrying significant loss find a way forward. Importantly, Neil does not describe growth as replacing grief. He rejects the idea that healing means reaching some final point at which grief is completed and everything is closed. Pain and joy can coexist. Sorrow and gratitude can coexist. You can miss someone desperately and still laugh. You can grieve and still experience love. You can carry terrible pain and nevertheless discover meaning. Neil describes this as the duality of emotions—the capacity to experience both. And he makes an equally important distinction when we speak about turning grief into something positive. We must not use purpose to escape pain. We must first allow ourselves to experience the grief. Sit with it. Cry. Feel the discomfort. Acknowledge the yearning for the physical presence that is no longer there. Only then can something begin to move. Neil challenges the familiar expression that grief is love with nowhere to go. His experience has taught him something different: grief is love that can no longer go to the physical place where it once went. But the love itself still has somewhere to go. He can send that love to Anthony through prayer and through the spiritual relationship he continues to feel with his son. He can pour it into another grieving father. He can give it to a young person who feels unseen. He can place it into the work of The Endurant Movement. He can bring it into a conversation such as this one. And in doing so, the love continues. Perhaps this is one of the deepest messages of our conversation. We do not honour those we have lost by pretending we are no longer devastated by their absence. Nor do we honour them by allowing our own lives to end emotionally when theirs ends physically. There can be another possibility. We can carry them forward. We can speak their names. We can take the love that once had a physical destination and allow it to become compassion, service, connection and purpose. Neil says that if, as he believes, he is reunited with Anthony one day, he does not want to look back upon the years between and see only suffering. He wants to be able to celebrate the people they helped and perhaps the lives that were saved because Anthony lived. That does not make Anthony’s death acceptable. Neil is very clear: if he could exchange everything he has learned to have his son back, he would. But he cannot. And so he chooses to love his son forward. For the men listening who have been taught that grief must be contained, that tears reveal weakness or that they should somehow be able to carry the unbearable alone, Neil leaves a very different message: You don’t have to carry this alone. Open your heart. Open your eyes. Reach out for help. Allow yourself to cry. Allow others to stand beside you. And remain open to the possibility that somewhere within even the smallest pinhole of hope, another way of living may eventually become visible. We are not separate beings expected to survive life’s greatest trials entirely through our own strength. We are community. We are connection. And for those of us who believe in a Creator, perhaps part of faith is recognising that the hand we have been praying for may sometimes arrive through the hand of another human being. Pain does not have to be denied for purpose to emerge. Grief does not have to disappear for love to continue. And asking for help does not diminish a man’s strength. Sometimes it may be one of the greatest expressions of strength he can make. — Zenzi SewaahFounder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Neil Tricarico is the founder of The Endurant Movement, a non-profit created following the death of his 16-year-old son, Anthony, to help ensure that neurodivergent and other young people struggling with their mental health do not feel unseen. Neil also created The Endurant Way, drawing upon his lived experience of profound grief, spiritual awakening and post-traumatic growth to support adults seeking a way forward following significant loss or pain. His professional background spans approximately two decades in personal development and transformation, including work with Deepak Chopra an

  8. Oct 6

    Losing Her Sight, Finding Her Strength | Laura Bratton on Grief, Courage & Gratitude

    What happens when the life you imagined for yourself begins disappearing before you have even reached adulthood? In this episode of Spiritual Infinity, I speak with Laura Bratton, speaker, author and coach, whose personal journey is an extraordinary exploration of grief, adaptation, courage and learning how to move forward when life changes in ways we never expected. As a young person, Laura was diagnosed with a very rare eye disease and gradually began losing her sight. By the time she finished high school at around 18, she had only very limited light perception. But the physical loss of sight tells only part of her story. While her friends were learning to drive, Laura was learning how to use screen-reading technology. While they were getting their first jobs, she was learning to navigate safely with a cane. At precisely the age when young people are normally gaining independence, Laura found herself having to depend upon other people in ways her friends did not. She speaks candidly about the grief, anxiety, panic attacks and debilitating depression that accompanied that transition. She was not only grieving her eyesight. She was grieving parts of her youth—the basketball, dancing and activities she loved, the independence she expected to have and the future she had imagined for herself. And because her sight disappeared gradually, the grieving process happened repeatedly. Her vision would deteriorate, plateau for a period, and then deteriorate again. Each change required another emotional and practical adjustment. One of the most important aspects of Laura’s story is that she does not pretend courage means never feeling afraid. Quite the opposite. She believes we need to acknowledge when something is painful. Her understanding of grit is not simply: push through, be strong and get over it. For Laura, grit means recognising that something is incredibly difficult and choosing to continue moving forward even while it remains difficult. That distinction is important. We live in a culture that can sometimes turn positivity into another pressure. We can feel that we should immediately find the lesson, be grateful, recover and move on. But human beings do not always heal that way. Laura’s journey reminds us that sometimes we first need permission to say: this hurts. This frightens me. This was not what I planned for my life. And then we ask: What do I need now? Laura credits much of her ability to move forward to the support surrounding her, particularly during those difficult teenage years. The people who loved her did not pretend that blindness was easy. Nor did they communicate that her life was somehow over. Through their everyday actions, they helped her understand that this was her new reality—and that together they would work out how to live within it. One piece of advice from her parents was beautifully simple: you only have to figure out today. Not next month. Not next year. Today. That philosophy helped Laura continue into education, adulthood and eventually a professional life built around helping other people navigate their own unexpected changes. Today, through her speaking and coaching, Laura teaches what she calls Experiencing Grit & Gratitude®. And her definition of gratitude is equally important. Laura is not grateful for blindness. Gratitude, in her understanding, does not mean pretending that something painful is wonderful. It means recognising what remains available to us and what has supported us while we walk through the difficulty. There can be grief and gratitude in the same life. Pain and purpose can coexist. Fear can be present while we continue moving. And perhaps that is where genuine resilience begins. Laura’s experience eventually became the foundation for her book, Harnessing Courage: Overcoming Adversity with Grit & Gratitude, as well as the speaking and coaching work she now shares with individuals, corporations and organisations. Towards the end of our conversation, I asked Laura to leave us with something practical for those facing change or adversity. She gave us two messages that belong together. First: acknowledge and validate your emotions. We often want to jump immediately from adversity to the solution. Something happens and almost instantly we ask ourselves, How do I fix this? How do I get over it? How do I get back to normal? But Laura reminds us that healing sometimes requires us first to recognise what we are actually feeling. When she could acknowledge the severity of her anxiety and panic rather than telling herself simply to be strong and positive, she could then begin asking what resources she needed to help herself. Her second message is equally powerful: You are enough. Adversity can change our circumstances without diminishing our value. Losing something does not make us less human. Needing help does not make us less capable. And having moments when we are frightened, overwhelmed, anxious or grieving does not mean we have somehow failed at being strong. Listening to Laura, I was reminded of something we return to again and again on Spiritual Infinity: life does not always follow the path we expected. There are moments when the road changes completely and we cannot see where it is taking us. Sometimes we cannot change what has happened. But we can learn how to meet what has happened. We can allow ourselves to grieve without making grief our permanent home. We can accept support without believing that needing support makes us weak. We can practise gratitude without denying our pain. And we can take the next step without needing to know every step that will follow. Laura lost almost all of her physical sight, yet she continued creating a life of purpose. She became an author, speaker and coach, and she continues learning from the very people she seeks to empower. Perhaps that is courage. Not pretending the darkness does not exist, but discovering that even within it, life can continue to unfold. So wherever you may be in your own journey today, remember Laura’s message. You do not have to solve the rest of your life today. Acknowledge what hurts. Accept the help you need. Find what remains worthy of gratitude. Take the next step. And above all, remember: You are enough. You are capable. And your circumstances do not determine the fullness of who you are. — Zenzi SewaahFounder & Spiritual Visionary, Spiritual Infinity Guest Bio & Contact Laura Bratton is a keynote speaker, author and coach whose professional work grew directly from her experience of progressively losing her sight while growing up. Having experienced profound grief, anxiety and the enormous practical adjustments required to live with blindness, Laura now helps others navigate personal and professional change through the principles of grit and gratitude. Her signature work, Experiencing Grit & Gratitude®, teaches people to acknowledge the reality of difficult circumstances while developing the perseverance, perspective and practical tools needed to continue moving forward. Laura is the author of Harnessing Courage: Overcoming Adversity with Grit & Gratitude, in which she shares her personal journey and explores how grit and gratitude can coexist with adversity. Website: LauraBratton.comLinkedIn and email contact: Available through Laura’s websiteBook: Harnessing Courage: Overcoming Adversity with Grit & GratitudeSpeaking & Coaching: Individual coaching, corporate and organisational speaking engagementsLaura identifies her website as the central place for her book, speaking, coaching, LinkedIn and email contact; her current official site also lists Harnessing Courage: Overcoming Adversity with Grit & Gratitude. Laura Bratton’s official website Get full access to Zenzi’s Substack at zenzisewaah.substack.com/subscribe

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About

Spiritual Infinity is your gateway to deeper self-awareness, transformation, and connection with the limitless power within. Hosted by Zenzi Sewaah, Through inspiring conversations with guest speakers from around the world, we uncover personal journeys of spiritual awakening, the methods that transformed their lives, and how these practices can empower you. Whether you’re seeking healing, enlightenment, or a greater understanding of the universe, Spiritual Infinity provides wisdom and insights to support your journey. Join us as we navigate the infinite possibilities of spirituality, one episode at a time. zenzisewaah.substack.com

Information

  • Creator
    "Spiritual Infinity: Where stories of spiritual awakening inspire your own transformative journey, hosted by Zenzi Sewaah."
  • Years Active
    2025 - 2026
  • Episodes
    146
  • Rating
    Explicit
  • Copyright
    © Zenzi Sewaah
  • Show Website
    Spiritual Infinity