Why I do What I do

The path less traveled

By Robin Ross

 

Chapter 1: The Recipe

There’s a recipe for change. Not the kind you find in a cookbook. The kind that rewires a brain. The kind that pulls you out of the fog when you can’t see two feet in front of you. The kind that saves your life when you run out of rope.

I know because I’ve used it.

Grace and neuroplasticity. That’s the recipe.

 

Bio hemisphere 2

There’s a story about Biosphere 2, a large experimental dome in Arizona, where they attempted to create a self-sustaining ecosystem. They planted trees inside and provided them with ideal growing conditions: water, nutrients, sunlight, and a controlled temperature.

The trees grew quickly, but they kept falling over. They couldn’t figure out why until they realized there was no wind. In nature, wind stresses trees, forcing them to grow deeper roots and stronger trunks. The stress makes them resilient to adversity. The trees in Biosphere 2 were weak; they couldn’t support themselves.

Grace doesn’t remove the wind. It’s like learning to ride a bicycle. Grace holds onto the seat while I grow strong enough to balance the bike by myself. Grace isn’t what they taught me when I was growing up as a Mormon. The church taught that it’s by grace we are saved after all we can do. That doctrine nearly killed me because I could never do enough. I could never earn it. I could never be good enough, clean enough, or worthy enough to deserve rescue.

 

That teaching is deadly.

My mom used to say, "A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still.’ You can’t force someone to change. You can’t shame them into it. You can’t guilt them into it. Change only happens when someone is ready and willing, when they’re humble enough to admit that they need help.

That’s grace.

 

Pride Versus Grace and Humility

Pride is that inner voice that says this is what I think, what I believe is true. Pride might say, I’m not interested in any other point of view. Pride is what says income, property, and physical appearance are what’s most important. Pride keeps you performing, keeps you isolated, keeps you broke. Keeps us on the red path.

Grace is neither a reward nor something you earn. Grace is what shows up when you have nothing left. When you’re broken, drowning. Grace doesn’t wait for you to get everything together. Grace arrives when you can’t find the humility to change on your own. Grace provides that awareness for change. It allows the strength to stand in what's true. Humility opens you to awareness or a realization, maybe even opportunities to change. To being helped, and keep us moving down the green path.

 

Gravity as the teacher

Here’s another way to describe gravity.

Gravity teaches us that it’s not cruel, it’s consistent. If you jump off a roof, you fall; if you let go of a bicycle’s handlebars while coasting down a bumpy hill, you will crash.  Gravity doesn’t care about your intentions. It doesn’t care if you’re a good person. It just is.

Consequences are like gravity. They’re not punishment; they’re teaching. The universe is saying, "This doesn’t work. Try something else." I fought gravity for decades, thinking I could manage the fall. I thought I could control the crash. I believed that if I was careful, smart, and selective enough, I could avoid consequences. But I was wrong. The crash came, and it was catastrophic. But here’s what I’ve learned: Gravity isn’t the enemy. Gravity is the teacher. In Grace, it's what catches you when you fall.

In learning to ride a bike, I started pedaling and let God hold the seat steady, just His way. That’s when everything changed. I couldn't have seen this clearly alone. I needed tools, voice to text, access to information, a thinking partner who wouldn't turn away. And I learned that asking for help isn't surrender; it's how you build different. Through humility, it all began while watching a on-line article about brain chemistry. I now see this was God’s Grace. I could have never imagined—a way to rewire my dopamine system through connection instead of coping with pornography, a way to practice intimacy without shame.

Grace met me where I was. Neuroplasticity gave me a way forward. The leap of faith made it possible.

 

The leap of faith

Soren Kierkegaard wrote about the leap of faith. It’s not a blind belief; it stretches beyond reason. It’s stepping into the Unknown because remaining where you are will kill you.

I took a leap of faith last summer after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s and dementia. The therapist said I could have about a year and a half of cognitive ability left, given my age and health. So, with medication, I dropped 80 pounds in six months. I was alone, watching my brain deteriorate — losing words, losing memory, losing time. I had nothing left to lose, so I leapt.

 

Neuroplasticity

Here’s the scientific explanation: Your brain is wired by repetitiveness. Every time you do something, you strengthen the neural pathway. Weather it’s substance abuse, such as opiates, sedatives, amphetamines, or alcohol. Not only drug use but also behavioral issues such as pornography, anger, anxiety, depression, both physical and sexual abuse, your brain rewires itself. Why does that pathway become deeper? Every time you choose secrecy over honesty, you make that pathway stronger. The dopamine system is the reward system. It’s what makes you want things. It’s what gives you drive, and addiction hijacks it.

Here's what I learned about my brain: every time I chose porn, the lie, the hiding. I make that choice easier and easier each time. And that’s the same whether we’re talking addictive behaviors or addictive substance. Just like a heavily traveled path in the woods that gets easier to walk the more you use it. You know the route you know is safe, you're not even deciding anymore. Your feet just know where to go.

 

Pornography

It's the most accessible drug there is. Free. Instant. On every device. No dealer, no prescription, no visible track marks. Just shame and a closed door.

It destroys intimacy before it starts. It rewires dopamine in kids whose brains are still forming. Families are drowning in confusion about why intimacy died, why trust is broken, why the person they love feels unreachable. It fractures marriages. It isolates people in ways alcohol and opioids don't, because at least with those, sometimes you hide with someone. Porn is the loneliest addiction there is.

Pornography isn’t about sex; it’s about dopamine. It’s a distorted stimulus that your brain is built to handle. It floods your system and creates a craving that real intimacy can’t fulfill. The more you indulge, the more you need it. That’s the cycle. That’s the red path.  But here’s the thing about neuroplasticity: it works both ways.

 

Honor

It is the one gift you give to yourself that nobody else can take from you.

When you hide the pornography, you're not protecting anyone, you're stealing your own honor. You're choosing the fog over the truth. And when you do that, trust dies. Not because people don't forgive you. But because you're still lying. Still protecting the addiction instead of naming it and breaking it.

The AA 12 steps understood this. That's why step one is, admitting it out loud. To another person. Because silence keeps the addiction alive. Silence is the enabler that makes the groove deeper.

People will go to almost extreme lengths to protect their drug of choice. They'll lie to their wife. They'll hide their phone. They'll tell themselves stories about why it's not that bad. They'll blame their brain, their wiring, their loneliness, anything except the truth that they're choosing the hit over the person sleeping next to them.

But when you name it. When you say it out loud in a book, in front of your family, in front of strangers, you take your honor back. You stop being a passenger in your own story.

 

Neurodiversity

Some brains are wired differently from the start. ADHD brains, for example, naturally run low on dopamine. They're built to seek stimulation, not because of weakness, but because of neurology. When you add that wiring to shame, pain, or unmet needs, the path to pornography becomes even steeper. But understanding your neurology isn't an excuse. It's clarity. And clarity is where change begins.

 

PTSD and Trauma

Trauma rewires the brain the same way addiction does. Whether it's the constant threat of living in a hostile environment, the shock of abuse, the loss of someone you love, or years of hiding in shame, your nervous system learns to survive in a state of high alert. Fight, flight, or freeze becomes your default. And when you come back to safety, your brain doesn't know how to reset. Pride whispers: 'You can handle this. You don't need help. Don't let anyone see the fog.' And when those choices are repeated over time, that deepens the loop. But neuroplasticity works here too. You can rewire your response to safety. You can learn to accept Grace. You can choose humility over the illusion of control. You can transform your dopamine system to respond to healthy feelings of compassion, empathy, and creativity. It takes time, it takes repetition, it takes Grace to hold the seat while you pedal, but it works. I'm living proof.

                            

                            

 

Treasure Map

Look at this map. Let’s call it a, treasure map. Only this map isn't showing gold coins or riches. The treasure is the transformation itself. The groove you're deepening. The person you're becoming when you choose humility over pride, love over fear, each time in a single bath.

First, I look at the chart. I ask myself: Do I want to take a bath or not? Why do I want to bathe?

If I say, "I want to bathe because I have a hot date and I want my wife to think I'm the hottest thing, so she'll take me to the bedroom"—that's a prideful thing. That leans toward pride, the red path.

But if I say, "I had a hard day. I'm stinky. I don't want everyone to smell me. I just want to be clean” that's a good choice. I get to go to the green path. First awareness. The need for a bath. 1^st choice made. Neuroplasticity kicks in; the groove starts. Groovy, baby.

Now I'm in the bath for about ten minutes, I’ve soaked, I’m relaxed, I’ve enjoyed the warm water, I’m ready to wash. I go to find the soap.

What the, there's no soap.

2^nd choice green path. Do I call out to my wife and start yelling because she didn't replace it after using the last bar? If I do, I've just lost the green path. Aw, man. I've moved to the red. I have to come back around and make another choice.

But if I stay in the green and say, "No big deal. I've got liquid soap here. I'll use that"— 3rd choice green path. Neuroplasticity goes the right way. My groove gets deeper. Groovy, baby.

I go to find the liquid soap.

Oh, you've got to be kidding. No liquid soap. Oh, hell no! Oops careful stay cool stay groovy.

4^th choice green path. Do I get mad at my wife because she used the last of it? If I lash out, I'm off the green path again. But if I say, "That's no big deal. I can use shampoo. I've done that plenty of times” I stay green. Neuroplasticity keeps working. My groove gets deeper. Groovy.

I go to find the shampoo.

Not again. There's no shampoo either.

5^th choice green path.

Now you're starting to get the picture. Any time you lose your cool—anger, frustration, anything that takes you away from that humble mind, that ability to make the good choice and continue down the green path—you've got a decision to make.

Well, let's just keep going. You made the right choice. You decide, "I don't need soap. I'm clean. I'll just grab a washcloth and dry off."

What? You call out, “honey! Where’s the washcloths?”

Well, there you go. 6th choice green path. Do you take it out on the wife, or do you just decide that you've sat in the water for about half an hour, you're pretty clean, and you're good to go? You hop out of the tub and go grab a towel.

Wait a minute. You've got to be kidding. No towels.

Ha. Again, you've got another choice. Number 7 on the green path. Are you heading to the red column, or are you staying groovy and staying green?

So you decide I'm staying groovy.

You climb out of the bathtub soaking wet. You walk into the room, find your wife, and give her the biggest, wettest, sloppiest hug and kiss you could give her.

Now here's the concept: at this point, you've taken the green column as far as you can take it. You've turned the whole thing into an act of love. It's relationship building. It's kindness. Look at the message you're sending to your partner—that you could go through all of this, stay cool the whole time, and still make something positive out of it. Now there’s the real gold, the real treasure.

This takes you all the way out of the green. It puts you at the very beginning of the gold zone.

And guess what? Just like the red, just like the green, you get to make another choice. Is this the relationship I want with my wife? Do I really like this? Or do I want to be the man of the house and show her who wears the pants?

Guess what, you've just lost the gold and put yourself back into the red.

But maybe that's not the choice you make. Maybe you say, "Wasn't that an incredible experience? I really enjoyed the rest of the evening. It put us in such a good mood. I think I'm going to remember that—not just for the bath, but maybe if something as simple as wanting to watch a television show, go to a movie, sit down to do a budget, or go for a car ride." “Treasure baby.” Groovy.

It all works out the same way. How you choose to react. The choices you make. Whether you lose the humility, choose the love, choose the kindness, and don't let pride or ego take control, don't let fear and anger push you up the red column.

The flowchart allows you to do that. Not just to change addiction or substance abuse, but to change your whole perspective on life. Your personality. Imagine what a positive change that would be with your wife, your children, your family, the people you work with. Every little decision. Every big decision.

Maybe heaven, really isn’t that far away.

Whether you are fourteen or forty, the path is the same. It shows how we get stuck in the fog and how we get out. At the center of it all isn't just a mistake; it’s pride. Pride is the lawmaker that tells us we can handle it alone, that we don’t need the wind, and that we can hide our choices in the dark. It’s the pride that creates the loop, convincing our brains that the dopamine hit is the only way to survive the day.

This flow chart is a guide to your own wiring. When you follow the arrows of pride, you end up in a closed loop where the same old habits get deeper and deeper. But when you choose the path of humility, the path that accepts Grace, you break the cycle. You start to see that neuroplasticity isn't just a big word, it’s a door. It’s the way you move from being a passenger on autopilot to being the one who finally pedals the bike, trusting that God is holding the seat while you find your balance.