What Getting Assaulted in a Hockey Game Taught Me About Peace, Power, and Walking Away

By John Quirk | SoCal Wellness Retreats

Hello friends,
If you're new here, my name is John Quirk. I’ve been a yoga, meditation, and breathwork teacher for the past 10 years, and for the last seven, I’ve run SoCal Wellness Retreats out of San Diego. This path has been an incredible blend of personal growth, entrepreneurship, and helping others live more authentic, grounded lives.

This blog — like my podcast, The Not So Woo-Woo Guru — is a space where I keep it real. I share what’s happening in my life as honestly as I can, because I believe that transparency and vulnerability are some of our greatest teachers. In a world increasingly filled with filters, AI, and curated perfection, I’m doing my best to show up fully, flaws and all.

This week’s story is a raw one. It’s about getting physically assaulted — not once, but twice — in the middle of something I love: playing hockey.

Hockey and the Edge of Peace

I’ve been skating since I was six or seven, and while I’ve played all kinds of sports, hockey’s been my first love. At 39, I still play roller hockey two to three times a week here in SoCal. The camaraderie, the competition, and the post-game laughs in the parking lot — it’s a huge part of my life.

Recently though, things took a turn.

I was playing in a 40-and-over league — supposedly the chill one — against a team known for being overly aggressive. We were dominating them in the championship game when, out of nowhere, one of their players cross-checked me across the face after the whistle. He knocked me down, got on top of me, and punched me three times.

I meditate every day, sometimes for hours. I study my emotions. I try to live with awareness. But in that moment, something primitive took over. I was ready to fight back — pride, anger, adrenaline all roaring. But before I could retaliate, someone pulled me back.

Sitting With the Rage

After the game, I sat in my car and meditated. What just happened? Who had I become in that moment? Could I have responded differently?

I thought: what if I had just looked him in the eye and asked, “Are you okay?” What would it mean to hold my ground and still meet that kind of violence with empathy?

I wasn’t sure I could do it — but I wanted to try.

The Universe Gave Me Another Shot

Two weeks later, we played them again. This time, it was a different guy — and it happened again. We were winning, I was having a great game, and suddenly I was hit in the neck with a stick, bleeding, on the ground.

But this time, instead of reacting, I looked up and said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” There was no rage. Just confusion. Sadness, even. And in his face, I saw something broken. Something hurting.

Empathy arrived where rage once lived.

The Bigger Question

I talked to my dad about both incidents. We’re not that close, but I know he wants me to be safe. He reminded me — my body isn’t just my own, it’s how I make a living. It’s how I serve others.

And he was right. I realized: even though I scored goals in that second game, I didn’t have fun. I was constantly on edge, waiting to get hit again.

So I made a decision: I’m stepping away from playing this team. Not from hockey entirely — I still love the other leagues. But from them. Because peace isn't about being passive — it's about knowing your boundaries.

Where Are You Investing Your Energy?

This experience made me reflect deeply:

Where am I investing my time, energy, and attention?
Is it serving me?
Do I feel better afterward, or worse?

These are questions I explore with my coaching clients all the time. And they’re questions I invite you to ask yourself. Especially when something you love becomes something that drains you.

Walking Away Isn’t Weakness

There’s power in pushing through. But there’s also immense power in knowing when to step back. Not everything deserves your presence. Not every fight is worth fighting. Not every opponent is worthy of your energy.

And sometimes the highest version of ourselves isn’t the one who strikes back — it’s the one who stands in peace, even when provoked.

So if you’re in a situation — a relationship, a job, a habit — that no longer feels aligned, ask yourself:
Is this still good for me?

If the answer is no, maybe walking away is the most courageous thing you can do.

Final Thoughts

I’m still playing hockey. I’m still meditating. I’m still sitting with big questions. But now, I’m a little more aware of my edges — of how far I’m willing to go, and where I draw the line.

Thanks for being here. And if you’re going through something challenging — on or off the ice — I’m sending you strength, stillness, and a reminder that your energy is sacred.

Take care of yourselves out there. Especially if you play hockey.

– John