After Action Report: The Bridge
In an age of imitation, one unforgettable night reminded me that originality isn't performed—it's lived.
A few nights ago, I found myself sitting beside my friend Heidi Beaumont at Red Rocks, waiting for KALEO to take the stage. Heidi has been part of the Modern Day Rifleman community since the beginning, and she’s also one of the reasons I ever picked up a rifle. Looking back, that simple encouragement changed much more than my confidence behind a rifle. It changed my confidence inside Modern Day Sniper. For years I poured myself into building the business behind the scenes. I wasn’t absent—I was building. But Heidi gently encouraged me to step out from behind the computer and into the community we had created. She reminded me that I belonged there too.
Funny how one person believing in you can quietly redirect the course of your life.
Heidi and I also share another passion: live music. We don’t just enjoy concerts—we intentionally make time for them. Over the years we’ve traveled together to see the Rolling Stones, P!nk, Counting Crows, Lady Gaga, and now KALEO with Elle King opening.
I love that our friendship has been built in both worlds. One built around precision. The other built around presence.
As we found our seats, everything was exactly what you’d expect. The drive through Colorado was beautiful. Red Rocks is one of those places that reminds you how incredible nature can be. People were finding their seats, buying drinks, talking, laughing. It was all wonderfully ordinary. The material world doing what the material world does.
Then the sun slipped behind the rocks.
The first notes rolled across those giant red walls, and I could literally feel the energy move through my body.
I’ve been studying the idea of nous through the Gospel of Mary Magdalene—the bridge between the material world and the spiritual world. I don’t pretend to fully understand it yet, but for a few hours I felt it. I wasn’t transported somewhere else. I became more present to where I already was. The rocks seemed more alive. The sky felt bigger. The people around me somehow disappeared and became part of the experience at the same time. It felt as though I was standing on a bridge where the material world and the spiritual world briefly met.
Elle King opened the evening and said we were about to take a journey through her life through the lyrics of her songs. I immediately smiled because I thought, that’s exactly what great art does. It doesn’t just entertain us. It reveals the artist. It invites us into their lived experience. It made me realize that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do with The Dirt Codes. Not just write songs, but create maps through consciousness. Every lyric is an invitation to walk through another part of the human experience.
Then KALEO took the stage, and I was completely caught off guard. I knew some of their music, but hearing them live was something entirely different. Goosebumps rolled through my body over and over again. I found myself asking a question I’ve been carrying ever since.
Why do some artists move us so deeply?
I don’t think it’s technical perfection.
I don’t think it’s production.
I think it’s originality.
Both artists felt completely comfortable inside their own voice. Nothing felt borrowed. Nothing felt manufactured. Nothing felt like they were trying to become someone else. They simply stood on stage and offered something that had clearly been earned through living.
We’re living in a fascinating moment in history. Artificial intelligence can write beautiful words. Social media can manufacture carefully curated identities. It’s becoming easier every day to imitate intelligence, confidence, success, and even wisdom. But originality cannot be manufactured. Authenticity cannot be duplicated. There is something about lived experience—about earning your perspective instead of borrowing someone else’s—that carries an unmistakable frequency.
I think our bodies recognize it before our minds do.
As I sat there beside Heidi, I couldn’t help but think about how this evening even came to exist. If I hadn’t started Modern Day Sniper, I wouldn’t know her. If she hadn’t encouraged me to shoot, I might still be hiding behind the business instead of participating in the community we built together. One decision led to another. One relationship opened another door. One quiet act of encouragement eventually led to standing beneath a Colorado sky, sharing an unforgettable evening with a friend while feeling something in my soul come alive through music.
The greatest realization I brought home wasn’t about the concert itself. It was about the difference between what is manufactured and what is offered.
Nothing about that evening felt manufactured.
Not the friendship.
Not the music.
Not the weather.
Not the laughter.
Not the surprise.
It was honestly offered.
And because it was honestly offered, it could be honestly received.
Maybe that’s the bridge I’ve been searching for.
The material world gives us the place, the people, the circumstances, and the sequence of events.
The spiritual world breathes life into them.
Every once in a while, if we’re paying attention, the two meet in a single moment. We don’t leave the material world behind; we simply experience it as though it has become illuminated from within.
For a few beautiful hours at Red Rocks, I felt like I was standing exactly there.
On the bridge.