Bernard Pickard

Drew Allar working here today at rookie minicamp

Crimson Desert world is so massive and diverse, it took John Linneman from Digital Foundry roughly 4 hours of traversal and exploration to go from the opening village to the desert. He also noted that he hasn't felt this need to explore since RDR2 and Breath of the Wild.

That time I was dying. As I sat there, listening to soft music and piano melodies, trying to ignore the pain, I wondered, "Is this how I die?". Everything hurt all the time and had been hurting for years. At that point, I was 31 years old and 5 years into a long, steady decline in my health. In 5 years, I had gone from a powerful young man with nearly unlimited energy and vitality to a broken shell of my former self. My gut was swollen and distended. Anything I ate rotted inside me rather than getting digested. It felt like I had swallowed a handful of razorblades, and they were now perforating my insides. I was slowly starving because I couldn't digest food. Every joint was swollen and arthritic; I couldn't wear my wedding ring or fully close or open my hands. Standing, sitting, and lying down were painful, no matter the position. Even when I was asleep, I could feel the joint and gut pain intruding on my dreams, gnawing at me like some hungry dog devouring a corpse. My skin was thin, red, and irritated. I had some acne, but mostly I was suffering from dryness, flakiness, and cracking, especially at the joints. My teeth had become so loose that they moved back and forth in my mouth. It's a miracle that they didn't fall out. My eyes were itchy all the time, and my vision was dim. Colors were dull, and I couldn't focus my eyes. I was nearly color blind. My ears were constantly ringing, and I had greatly reduced hearing due to swelling in the ear canals. Most of my hair had fallen out, especially on one side, and my face was puffy and swollen. All my hormones had collapsed: testosterone, estrogen, thyroid, and adrenals. Except cortisol, which was through the roof. My liver and kidneys were failing (and hurting). My heart hurt, and I was often gasping for air as a result of the repeated sinus and respiratory infections that plagued me. I have a deep mastery of meditation that has helped me manage the terrible pain and mental stress, but even that has limits. Because I couldn't eat or sleep, I was tired all the time. Too tired to do much of anything. Even giving instructions to my wife about how to handle what little remained of our business would exhaust me. But the worst part of all was the brain fog. I went from a top 0.003% IQ to a high double-digit IQ. For the first time in my life, thinking was hard. I felt like a prisoner in my own body with an indeterminate sentence. On the day I asked the question in the opening, I had just come out of a 30-day intense fever with delirium (hearing voices, speaking with my ancestors, etc.), during which I had been bedridden. With the fever, on the edge of dying, I had come to fully embrace both my life and my death. All my fear, anxiety, and expectations left me. I had reached what some call a state of enlightenment. I was at peace with whatever would happen. Enlightenment is not like what they tell you. It's more like a little death. Something inside you dies to make room for something better to be born. When the fever broke, I hadn't eaten for about 10 days, which made me feel a bit better. I got up for the first time in weeks. Now back to my question from earlier. "Is this how I die?" I have always had a unique relationship with death. The way I was raised was to be ready, if necessary, to die at a moment's notice for what I believed in. Death doesn't scare me or even bother me, but dying sick in bed didn't strike me as an honorable death. What did bother me was that I have great gifts and a grand mission to accomplish, yet I had not completed my work; in fact, I wasn't even sure what that work was, but I knew that it involved helping my people rekindle their Thumos, or inner fire. It was a debt unpaid. Also, I had no children to carry on my legacy, another debt unpaid. During my illness, many of my family members died, including my youngest brother. My family had shrunk away to nearly nothing. I needed to make new life to conquer death. How could I let myself die in peace when I owed this great debt to my ancestors and my people? It was in this moment that I became a man. I took full responsibility for myself, my life, and my future. I determined that I would pay my debts and die honourably. Then I laughed. I laughed at death and suffering. I shouted into the void, "Is that the best you've got?" For the first time in months, I was alive again. In the kitchen, my loyal wife, who had never given up on me or complained about my condition or its effects on our lives, was about to cook some spring lamb. I went in and felt this massive urge to eat some of the raw lamb. For the next 6 months, all I ate was raw lamb, and I slowly recovered. In the following two years, I got back to a functional level of health. I was still not at 100%, but at least I could work and be "normal.". Slowly, as I healed, I cut ties with all that was holding me back, reprogrammed my brain, removed blockages, took charge of all my relationships, and put limits on everyone who wanted a piece of me. Today, at 45, I am stronger than ever. I have three small sons, and I am fully engaged in my mission with the help of the very best men I know doing the most important work on the planet. My wife and I have now been together for more than half our lives, including the decade or so that I was sick. I suffered the ultimate memento mori experience, looked death in the face, and laughed. I know how to build and rebuild a life, how to live without anxiety or fear, and I can show you how.

I spent $12,000 on therapy over 2 years trying to fix my anger before someone checked my blood Was snapping at my girlfriend over nothing. Road rage every commute. Constant irritability that I'd mask all day at work and then explode the second I got home. Therapist said it was unprocessed childhood trauma. We spent 2 years unpacking my relationship with my father Here's what was actually happening in my body: my gut was leaking endotoxin into my bloodstream which was keeping my immune system in a permanent inflammatory state. Chronic inflammation elevates cortisol. Elevated cortisol burns through magnesium. Low magnesium destroys GABA production. Without GABA your nervous system has no brake pedal I didn't have an anger problem. I had no neurological ability to regulate a stress response because my inhibitory system was running on empty Nobody tested this. Not my therapist. Not my doctor. Not the psychiatrist who suggested I "might benefit from an SSRI to take the edge off" 3 practitioners. 2 years. $12,000+. Zero blood draws Fixed my gut. Restored magnesium and zinc. GABA came back online. The rage disappeared in weeks. Not managed. Not suppressed. Gone. Because the thing causing it was gone I think about those 2 years of therapy sessions analyzing my childhood while my body was on fire and nobody thought to check. Talking about my father while my cortisol was 3x baseline because my intestinal lining had holes in it The mental health industry is billing $280 billion a year in the US. Almost none of it starts with blood work If you're doing everything right psychologically and still can't control your reactions, you might not have a mind problem. You might have an inflammation problem that no one in the room is trained to find