Jake Sasseville

27/07/2024

(Written one year ago today).

I haven’t spoken to my mom in almost a decade. By the Grace of God, I am by her bed side as she’s in hospice and transitioning to the next world.

You see, 48 hours ago I wasn’t supposed to be in Maine.

And although my mom has struggled with alcoholism since my brother died, I didn’t know she was sick. None of her family knew.

I was trying to get to Aunt Lisa-Marie’s wedding last week in Portland. Stranded for 55 hours in Atlanta because of cancelled flights and bad weather, i abondened the travel and I went to my friend Sheri’s house. I had a ticket back to Costa Rica a few days later.

“Maybe I’ll go to Maine to say hi to my aunt” I thought.

Nah.

Then, a whisper as I was hiking. “Just go, f**k it.”

I flew to Maine on Wednesday. Two hours after I landed, by near miracle, I receive a text from my step sister who I haven’t spoken to in many years. We were buddies when I was younger, but life grows you a part sometime.

“Jake, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your mom is in hospice and has days to live.”

Her liver is failing.

I’m not writing this because I’m healed. I’m writing this because I’m in the eye of the Hurricane. I have serenity and I have sadness.

I came to the hospital.

Turns out, not a single family member knew she had been in hospital for three weeks — alone.

My heart breaks. Deep shame and alcoholism will do that to you. We’re only as sick as our secrets. And my mom kept secrets. But no one should die alone. And because my step sister reached out to me — my mom doesn’t have to die alone.

The person I met yesterday was kind, loving, so happy to see me, groggy still but present. It was my mom. The mom I knew before alcohol. My heart broke for the lost years.

“I wish I could rewind” my mom said. “I want to turn back time.”

I had to be the one to tell her she was dying. I let her know we’d be a team. We’d do it together.

“Do you know a spiritual guide, not too catholic” she asked.

“He’s sitting in front of you” I responded with a smile. She chuckled.

“OK so what do we do now?” my mom asked.

“We get to be radically present with each other. You and me.”

“This is going to be so hard” she said.

“We could make it a celebration.”

She asked me if I have regrets. I told her I really didn’t. “How can that be?” my mom asked.

“Well, I think it’s because I’ve learned to forgive myself for what I couldn’t or didn’t know. And I’ve forgiven others for who I wanted or thought they should be.”

My mom looked at me. “I’m going to ponder that tonight.”

She had anxiety and fear. I acknowledged her fear. I asked her if she wanted to meditate. Together, we breathed for 20 minutes.

Inhale in.

Out.

Let thoughts pass if they come. Focus on breath.

She loved it. She was grateful.

I tell you people this — 20 years of pain, hurt, suffering, distancing, chaos between mother and son after the alcohol took over - vanished in an instant. P**f.

“I love you” I said. “I love you too, and I thank you and appreciate this.”

It’s my pleasure mom.

This morning I came back to see her. This was our conversation (below).

Mark my words — in 36 hours I’ve learned this for sure: it’s never, ever too late. Never too late for one last chance. I never thought I’d speak to my mom again and here I am, walking her home.

“I have a feeling all good things are coming” my mom greeted me.

“There’s a cure coming…” she says.

“I’m not sure there’s a cure mom. Your liver is failing. But good things are still coming.”

“Oh there’s a cure. It’s called a healed heart.”

“Is your heart healing?” I ask, tears flowing uncontrollably, my voice breaking in a million pieces.

“Yes … finally” she responded after a moment thinking.

“How’s your heart today?” I asked.

“My heart is safe.”

“Why is your heart safe?” I inquired.

“Because I’m content.”

“My heart is safe and it didn’t feel like that before” my mom said.

==

As I sit in hospice, I’ve chosen to spend the night. I don’t know what’s next and I don’t have to. I get to be here for my mom even though maybe she didn’t know how to be there for me.

It’s never, ever too late.

“Where there is love, nothing is too much trouble and there is always time.” - Abdul-Baha

26/06/2024

21 years ago, I watched you die in mom and dad’s arms.

Hard to believe I had a brother a generation ago.

I’ll never forget June 26, 2003.

The night before, we knew it would be Alex’s last day on earth.

He was 13. I was 17.

My mom gave me the keys to her Jeep Cherokee and asked me to get the dog. We lived an hour away.

On the way to get our family dog, Shadow, a black lab, there was major construction causing delays up and down the Maine turnpike.

I remember feeling like I was running out of time —- because at 17, I was about to learn how out of time I was — and so instead of waiting in the construction, I drove in the breakdown lane between Portland and Lewiston.

Clickity clack for an hour as my mom’s tires smacked the grooves on the side of the road designed to prevent accidents in the breakdown lane. I sped over them at 60mph.

My family slept in the hospital room that night.

My brother was dying of graph vs host disease caused by the complications of his bone marrow transplant. His breathing would slow eventually until he died.

That night, heavily medicated, everything was quiet in the hospital room. Shock and awe took on new meetings that night. I think we were so still because at some level, none of us could believe what we were experiencing.

My mom, her husband, my dad, his girlfriend, me and the dog.

At 11pm, Alex sat straight up in bed. It was as if it was a miracle. I thought he was coming back to life.

No such luck.

I CANTTT BREATHEEEE he whisper-screamed. I CANNNNNOTTTR BREATHEEEE.

Set off into another dimension of reality, my mom flung off the coach and started screaming in the otherwise quiet halls of the Barbara Bush Children’s Hospital.

Her nerves were more than shot and the terror in her shriek caused my nervous system to collapse as I watched my brother gasping for air, dying slowly, and my mother yelling at nurses and quite literally becoming undone at the seams.

Thankfully, more morphine followed by tears by those who laid next my brother. The unspeakable moments of the experience that I’ve never shared before have been buried deep inside for years. I don’t talk about what happened that night enough.

It’s been so long, I think to myself.

Yet these moments — from these two days — have shaped the last 21 years of my life.

From terror, to sadness, to confusion, hysterics and watching my parents lose their son as I lost my brother before being able to understand what either of these things would really mean, to seeing family that never showed up for Alex any other time all of a sudden show up, to my mom deciding 3 hours before my brother died to get married to her financé (she couldn’t imagine getting married without Alex “there”), the entire 24 hours culminated in a beautiful, heart wrenching send off.

We all grieve and deal with death differently, I learned early on. And all of us deserve the grace to grow.

Moments before Alex died at 6:26pm on June 26, 2003 in my parents arms, he started to whisper through the morphine:

“1..2…3 GO … Ready … Jump…”

He said it over and over and over again for a half hour.

“1..2…3 GO … Ready … Jump…”

“1..2…3 GO … Ready … Jump…”

“1..2…3 GO … Ready … Jump…”

At about 6:10pm, his last words to my mother as he lay cheek to cheek with her:

“Love never dies.”

My dad caressed his curly hair and told him to follow the light. “Just follow the light” my dad said to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

Me? I wasn’t crying. Disbelief maybe. Shock. Wonder. Deep deep sadness. But no tears. Tears wouldn’t come for 18 months.

I left for a moment to get Ginger Ale and in those moments Alex took his last breath.

The day for me is neither happy or particularly sad.

It’s more striking, surreal to consider what I’ve lived through, and a bit magical too.

I got to witness something so sacred at such a young age. I was as present as I could be —- because in some odd way, my brother dying in my parents arms was his last present to me.

Yeah, I think about death and dying daily. Sure, it’s usually it’s from a place of wonder and curiosity.

Sometimes there’s fear or sadness.

But I’ve seen that all’s well that ends well and it seems to always end well … because on the other side of it all, there’s freedom.

And helping humans be free in this lifetime has become the cornerstone of my life’s work.

Art imitates life I suppose.

My life is definitely a work of art as a result.

Love you Alex, and bless my mom & dad who tried so damn hard. Love never dies.

20/06/2024

OK. I never do this but here. it. goes.

Scouting the AZORES PORTGUAL in Sept for Imiloa’s possible European location.

If you have recommendations, introductions to your favorite aunt who retired there, a local farmer, must see’s or anyone knows the PERFECT spot for a retreat, I’m ready in the comments 👇🏼

If your introduction needs to be private, DM or email [email protected]

Azores seems untouched, weirdly situated geographically with lovely people. The Hawaii of Europe. Eco tourism means preservation of the land and deep, regenerative collaboration with locals. Boom bang pow for Imiloa.

Let’s see!

12/06/2024

LisaMarie Sass and I hiked 10 kilometers, took ferries, ran around an island, had breakfast, laughed till we keeled over and peed our pants. Got it all done by 10am. The Sasseville Way.

19/04/2024

Wow. Just wow. The dock-story of The Imiloa Institute in all its wonder & awe told through the eyes and experience of the extraordinary educators, retreat leaders and entrepreneurs that make us who we are.

A longing to belong that converges at Imiloa where finally... we belong.

(A 7-min watch)

Imiloa Institute's business model is considered by many to both generous and genius. We saw a world where so many longed to belong. And we saw educators, tra...

08/04/2024

Anyone else struggling (or have struggled, and prevailed) in relationships (business, romantic, co-parenting) with narcissists?

I've realized after having Dr. Peter Levine (founder, Romantic Experiencing) to my house and speaking with him about narcissism, and talking to my friend Kristen Veronica about her own journey, that:

Narcissim is pervasive, and a subject we don't often speak about. People are suffering in silence, with markers of "something's not quite right here" but a lack of courage to follow the bread crumbs. I spent years in a business relationship gaslit and wound tight not realizing that I was under a carefully created spell.

I've had it in my family of origin too.

Just curious if this is something worth talking about more in relationship to spiritual communities, business or entrepreneur communities. Of course, the narcissists among us won't vote for it, but maybe those who silently suffer could use some support.

Types of Narcissists

1. Spiritual Narcissist
• Uses spirituality or spiritual leadership to manipulate or control others.
• May exploit their position within spiritual communities for personal gain or adulation.

2. Covert Narcissist
• Appears shy, insecure, or sensitive, but this masks deep-seated narcissism.
• Craves validation and attention, using their perceived vulnerability to manipulate.

3. Grandiose Narcissist
• Exhibits an overt sense of superiority and entitlement.
• Often outwardly confident, seeking admiration and attention from others.

4. Malignant Narcissist
• Displays characteristics of narcissism, antisocial behavior, aggression, and paranoia.
• Their actions are often malevolent, manipulative, and they lack empathy significantly.

5. Vulnerable Narcissist
• Similar to covert narcissists, they present as insecure or victimized to gain sympathy and manipulate.
• Deeply sensitive to criticism and often feel entitled to special treatment due to their perceived sufferings.

6. Somatic Narcissist
• Focuses on the body, beauty, or physical appearance to gain admiration and attention.
• May use their appearance or sexuality as a tool for manipulation.

7. Cerebral Narcissist
• Uses intellect, achievements, or knowledge to gain control or admiration.
• Often looks down on those they perceive as intellectually inferior.

Additionally....

• Pathological Narcissism vs. Traits: Would like to emphasize that while many may display narcissistic traits, pathological narcissists or those with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) engage in manipulative, coercive, or harmful behaviors deliberately.

• Empathy and Self-Reflection: A key distinction made is the ability (or lack thereof) for narcissists to empathize with others, self-reflect, take accountability, and genuinely apologize (EVER!)

• Manipulation and Control: Across the different types, a common thread is the use of manipulation and the desire to control or exert power over others, whether through emotional, spiritual, or intellectual means.

17/03/2024

JOB OFFER AT The Imiloa Institute

Imiloa has been pioneering the retreats, wellness, education and hospitality space for the last 6 years.

We are going to welcome a Business Development and Sales Executive position to our growing team. Our team are hard-working, driven professionals with a focus on listening, serving and crafting the experience of home in every sales call.

We have a healthy incoming pipeline machine (60+++ Shared Visions (Contracting Calls) being booked monthly, and that's do to double over the next 12 months.

The system schedules with our sales team in a round-robin fashion based on availability. As we train you, it becomes a plug-n-play situation where you can immediately start working with people and learning from the team.

It doesn't take but a quick glance at our reviews online at place likes Trip Advisor to see why we're 80%+ renewals and why we chose this year to open a second campus.

https://rb.gy/5kadg9

We have relationships with some the top teachers in the world in addition to welcoming new ones that are discovering or being referred into us.

Overall, it's an environment focused on continuous improvement, education and serving human beings. It's NOT a pressure cooker sales environment but we DO meet and exceed our numbers goals each and every month.

If you're curious, I'm happy to have my team send the job description. You can email [email protected]

We are a base + commission company and before the team goes out and recruits, I was curious if my network would produce someone interesting who loves Imiloa, wellness, sales and would love to elevate their game.

Email [email protected] with why you're intrigued and your relevant CV or other information that showcases who you are in the sales + marketing world, and we'll be in touch. -- Jake

Ranked #14 of 22 Bed and Breakfasts in Dominical. Been here too? Add it to your map!

11/03/2024

When my mom died last year as I walked her home during the last three days of her life after having been estranged for 16 years before, one thing kept occurring to me:

It was as if I wasn’t there with my mom. Her personality started to flicker as the soul of her started to shine brightly.

The pain of her dying process chipped away at her ego leaving loveliness, kindness, spaciousness and timelessness in every breath and moment we shared.

Pain falls drop by drop from the heart until, in our despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the grace of God. This is what is meant by surrender.

08/03/2024

Martha Beck who was recently at Imiloa, surprised me with this water-color painting.

Martha called me today…

“It’s you Jake -- in one of your 200 year old homes from Bali at Imiloa.”

“I named it Jake’s Dream. It’s yours.”

I wept.

Here’s why.

Marty, who’s co-hosting a retreat at Imiloa in 2025, and I connected 5 years ago.

While it wasn’t the right time for her retreat then, she and her co-host, wife and friend-of-the-show Rowan Mangan decided that 2025 is the perfect time.

What Marty and Ro don’t know is that I remember watching Martha on Oprah’s show when I was a kid.

Growing up in Maine, clinging to hope of a better life for me and my family, I watched Oprah for answers and felt guests like Marty had them. So I studied.

My brother was sick in hospital and my parents cared for him. I was home alone in Maine with Oprah and Marty.

Martha became Oprah’s life coach for the last 24 years.

She named the art piece “Jake’s Dream” and the “Dream” Martha is referring to is the dream of Imiloa.

Ironic, because in many ways the dream of Imiloa started as a teenager in Maine, watching Martha.

While I had a house, I didn’t really have a home. Home life wasn’t safe. My parents were with my brother at the children’s hospital, hours away, for years.

My dad had Parkinson’s and my mom drank a little (too much).

I created Imiloa because I wanted to create a home for humans to awaken their consciousness in service to themselves and the planet. I wanted to create a home for the world that I never had.

A dream born watching Oprah Winfrey, and guests like Marty, realized 25 years later — memorialized in a water-color painting by one of the people that gave me hope that someday, somehow life would be better. That it could be better.

And even though it’s without my brother, mother or father, that hope that I had then — it is alive and brighter than ever. Joy is indeed our birthright.

Thanks Marty. Thanks Ro. Thanks O.

We created a dream at Imiloa so that others may live theirs. Thank you for reminding me of mine.

07/03/2024

Oprah's life coach at The Imiloa Institute

"So many people are anxious, frustrated... they lack a sense of purpose and meaning. It's not that they don't have it - it's that it gets covered up by culture. Getting back into nature and cleansing culture regrounds you into your own destiny." - Martha Beck

Dr. Martha Beck (best-selling author, coach, entrepreneur) and Ro Mangan co-host the Bewildered Retreat at Imiloa Institute in Costa Rica. For more informati...