The Warrior Mystic’s Awakening: From PSYOP to Naked and Afraid to the PSI Games – An Interview with Hakim Isler

What if the abilities you thought only belonged in comic books or science fiction were actually part of your true human potential?

For Hakim Isler, the journey from DJ and martial artist to Special Operations soldier, survivalist, and consciousness explorer has been anything but ordinary. From childhood dreams of becoming a ninja to life-and-death experiences that awakened his intuition, Hakim has walked a path that bridges ancient traditions, military training, wilderness survival, and psychic development. Along the way, he discovered not only his own innate gifts but also a calling to help others—especially youth—recognize and cultivate their hidden capacities.

In this conversation, Hakim shares how early moments of intuition saved his life, why he believes every human being is capable of far more than we imagine, and how playful community events like The Psi Games are opening new doorways for the next generation. He also invites us to reimagine intuition, remote viewing, and mind sight as practical skills that can empower daily life and inspire human evolution. Continue reading or listen in by subscribing for free on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, or YouTube to discover how Hakim Isler is bringing the extraordinary into the everyday.

Did you have an awareness of a world beyond the five senses as you were growing up? Were psychic abilities, intuition, or spirituality part of your upbringing?

Hakim Isler: Looking back, I would say yes—I did have some awareness of psychic abilities, even if at the time I didn’t recognize it that way. As a child, I was very imaginative. My mom encouraged my creativity, whether it was coming up with wild ideas, building things, or crafting costumes together for Halloween. I was always trying to make spaceships out of cardboard boxes.

But beyond that, I had several very significant moments around the ages of eight or nine. The first was when I dreamt of lottery numbers. My mom and aunt used to play the lotto, so I told them the numbers I had dreamed. They played them locally, but not nationally—and the numbers came out nationally. We would’ve won far more money if they’d played that way. For me, though, the deeper meaning was realizing I had tapped into something—dreaming brought me messages.

Around that same time, my mom and aunt asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. Without hesitation, I said, “I want to be a ninja.” They laughed, of course. Years later, after a traumatic experience, I found myself searching for direction. Music and martial arts were the only things that felt alive for me. A chance reconnection with a friend led me to explore Ninjutsu—the art of the Ninja. I found my teacher’s book in the library, was blown away, and soon traveled to Ohio to meet him. When I returned, I told my mom I was moving to Ohio to train as a ninja. She was stunned—she remembered the words I’d spoken as a child and realized I’d carried that truth all along.

Another memory was during recess at Catholic school. We were playing a simple version of baseball on the asphalt. I got this sudden, terrible feeling in my body—like I had to move. I switched spots in line, and the boy who took my place was struck in the head when the bat slipped out of another kid’s hands. I remember the blood, the chaos, and the realization that something had guided me to safety.

A few years later, when I was 16, it happened again. I was in an auditorium when a kid with a history of trouble confronted me, angry over a pair of sunglasses he had taken. He threatened me in front of everyone, and suddenly that same terrible feeling washed over me: you have to act now. I struck him to protect myself. Later, I learned he had dropped an open switchblade on the floor—he had been ready to stab me. Over a pair of glasses, my life could have ended.

These experiences showed me that even though no one was teaching me about intuition or psychic abilities, they were undeniably present in my life. They kept me safe. At the time, I just thought it would be cool if I had powers like the characters in cartoons. Only later did I realize I was already living with abilities I didn’t yet understand. That’s why today I’m so passionate about helping youth recognize and honor these gifts within themselves.

You’ve had such a fascinating career path after those early experiences. Could you briefly share the highlights of your journey?

Hakim Isler: My path really begins with ninja training. Before that, I grew up in New Jersey, where I immersed myself in music. I became a lyricist, creating hip-hop, and then moved into DJing—techno, house music, and beyond. I threw parties, rented halls, and built a solid following. It was exciting, but even with all that success, I felt like something was missing.

That turning point came after a traumatic experience. One of my closest friends, someone I saw as a mirror of myself, ended up murdering someone over something so trivial. It shook me to my core. If he and I were reflections of one another, what did that say about me? What future was I headed toward?

I remembered the earlier confrontation I’d had in high school—the moment with the other David—and realized I had to change my trajectory. I knew music could always be part of my life, but martial arts called to me as something deeper. That’s when I committed to the ninja path.

I traveled to Ohio and became a student of the first American to bring the art of the Ninja to the United States. His own story was extraordinary: he left everything behind, traveled to Japan, sought out a ninja grandmaster, and was accepted as the very first American student. To be able to learn under him was transformative and set me firmly on this path.

As a parent, I can imagine the first question would be, “Can you really make a living as a ninja today?”

Hakim Isler: That was exactly my mom’s fear. Her concern was, “What does this mean for you? You’re going to pack up and move to Ohio, where you don’t know anyone, to train in something I’ve never even heard of? What’s the career path for that?” And all I could tell her was, “I don’t know. I just know I need to do it.”

So I went. I trained, and before long, I became part of my teacher’s inner circle, even going to his house to train with him and the senior students. My teacher had once served as a bodyguard for the Dalai Lama, and through him I learned not only martial skills but also profound lessons about spirituality and compassion.

The ninja were wilderness people, so I suddenly went from the urban jungle of Newark and New Brunswick, New Jersey, to training in the woods. It was completely new for me. My teacher would share stories about protecting the Dalai Lama. Unlike other bodyguard work, it wasn’t about drawing a hard line and shutting people down. With the Dalai Lama, people’s passion and love could make them rush forward—but you couldn’t just choke someone out for wanting to embrace him. You had to protect with compassion while still maintaining a firm boundary, knowing that there were also real threats from those who wished him harm. That balance fascinated me.

From there, I went on to study at an executive protection school, training in the bodyguard profession. During one seminar, I met a man from Colorado named Michael. I told him I was considering joining Special Forces—maybe even becoming a Navy SEAL. He suggested something different: Psychological Operations, or PSYOP, in the Army.

I had never heard of it before, but when he explained it, it made perfect sense. PSYOP focused on understanding propaganda from foreign intelligence, countering it, and creating our own. It was all about human psychology—very much like the ninja, who were guerrilla warfare experts with a deep understanding of the mind. Michael told me it was still part of Special Operations, with the same schools and the same community, but with the added advantage that if you were injured, you could return to PSYOP and still work closely with Special Forces.

To me, that sounded perfect. It was another doorway opening, and I decided I would join the Army and pursue PSYOP.

How old were you when you entered the Army, and how did that chapter unfold?

Hakim Isler: That was in 2002 or 2003, so I would’ve been about 24 or 25. I joined the Army through the delayed entry program, which gave me a year to get my affairs in order before reporting. After 9/11, I felt a deep call to serve—not just my family or community, but my country.

Before leaving, I completed my training with my teacher, earning a second-degree black belt. Then I went on to Special Operations training and became a Psychological Operations specialist. Soon after, I deployed overseas, serving in both Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom.

It was intense—very dangerous and very real. In 15 months, my unit conducted over 300 combat missions. What was supposed to be a six- to nine-month deployment stretched longer when the troop surge was announced. I came back carrying 10 years’ worth of experience in a very short span of time.

When I returned home, I was married, but my wife told me she couldn’t continue with the military life. I came from a single-parent household and didn’t want to repeat that cycle, so I chose to leave the Army—even though continuing had been my dream. I opened a martial arts school instead.

Not long after, a Special Forces buddy of mine casually asked over coffee if I’d ever considered doing wilderness survival shows like Naked and Afraid. At first, I laughed it off. But I applied as a kind of challenge to myself, and two months later, they called to say I’d been selected.

They told me I was going to India, into the Himalayas. That was profound for me because the esoteric traditions of Ninjutsu trace back to India, then migrated through Tibet and China before reaching Japan. The Himalayas are home to mountain mystics, monks, Yamabushi warriors, and priests whose teachings merged with the ninja lineage. To suddenly find myself stripped down—literally naked—in that same environment felt surreal.

The experience changed me. I lost 40 pounds in three weeks, carved a staff from a pine sapling, and walked out of the forest transformed. Villagers who saw me emerging thought I might be a manifestation of Shiva, the deity of destruction and rebirth, whose temple was nearby. And in a way, that’s exactly what had happened: the old me had been broken down so a new self could emerge. I also realized I was living with PTSD, something I had compartmentalized during my time in Special Operations.

That survival journey opened a whole new path. I went on to do more shows—Kicking and Screaming, First Man Out, The Kelly Clarkson Show—and began speaking about survival and psychology. I also taught people how to recognize psychological operations in mainstream media and avoid being divided by propaganda.

Eventually, I purchased 100 acres of land to establish a wilderness immersion school, providing others with the opportunity to disconnect, immerse themselves in the forest, and return renewed. Today, I still run my martial arts school and 24-hour gym, while continuing to expand this work.

So if I had to sum it up—DJ, musician, ninja, Special Operations PSYOP soldier, survivalist, author, teacher—it’s been a journey that’s taken me from urban dance floors to combat zones, to Himalayan mountains and deep jungles, and finally into creating spaces for people to awaken their own resilience and spirit.

Many of our readers are familiar with terms like intuitive, psychic, mediumship, or channeling. But you’ve also used words like “psyop” and “psi,” which sound similar yet come from very different places. Can you help us understand the language? What’s the difference between psyop, psi, and psychic?

Hakim Isler: This is such a great question—and honestly, one I don’t think I’ve been asked on any other show. When I was creating an event called The Psi Games, I wanted to get clear: why PSI versus PSY?

PSI (P-S-I) is typically used to denote psychic abilities—telepathy, intuition, extrasensory perception. PSY (P-S-Y), on the other hand, usually refers to psychology. The distinction traces back to J. B. Rhine at Duke University. He was a psychology professor who began researching ESP, telepathy, and other phenomena. To avoid confusion with the field of psychology, he adopted the Greek letter Psi (Ψ) as a symbol for psychic abilities. That’s how the term took hold in parapsychology.

Sometimes the two terms get mixed. For example, when I was in PSYOP school, I found a video game called Psyop where the character actually had psychic abilities—so the overlap can be confusing. But in reality, there’s no direct connection.

In the Army, PSYOP stands for psychological operations. It’s about understanding human psychology and community dynamics, then applying that knowledge to influence or guide outcomes. Think of it this way: intelligence units around the world are continually trying to influence public opinion. PSYOP is how you engage in that battle—through messaging, persuasion, and countering propaganda.

It’s very practical and grounded, but also deeply tied to human needs. In fact, we often used Maslow’s hierarchy as a framework, which parallels the chakra system in interesting ways. For example, if you enter a community where bombs have destroyed the water system, the people’s priority is survival: food, water, shelter. Until those needs are met, they can’t hear any other message. In another place, the concern may be safety and security from hostile groups. Understanding where people are in that hierarchy allows you to know how to approach them, how to connect.

Now, where PSI (psychic abilities) comes in is more on the consciousness side. The Army, outside of PSYOP, actually did investigate psychic phenomena—programs on remote viewing, experiments in telepathy, and other unconventional areas. Some of this surfaced in the book and film The Men Who Stare at Goats, which mashed together several separate projects: John Alexander’s work, Skip Atwater’s remote viewing program, and even the so-called “Earth Battalion.” They weren’t all the same group, but together they explored the edges of human potential.

So here’s the distinction:

• PSYOP is the military practice of persuasion, influence, and counter-propaganda.
• PSI denotes psychic abilities—intuition, telepathy, remote viewing, and other aspects of consciousness research.

Both involve the mind. One is about psychology applied strategically. The other is about psychic potential and expanded human awareness.

Why not just use the word “psychic”? And how do terms like psi and psionic fit in?

Hakim Isler: The word psychic carries a lot of baggage. If you come from a religious background, “psychic” can immediately be seen as evil or taboo. If you come from a strictly logical or scientific mindset, it often gets dismissed as hocus pocus. So for people working in serious research—like Dale Graff at the Defense Intelligence Agency, who helped sustain the government’s remote viewing program—using the word psychic was almost guaranteed to shut down conversations or block funding.

That’s why alternative terms emerged. Words like ESP, psi, or remote viewing gave researchers a more neutral language that could slip past bias and allow the work to continue. Even “remote viewing,” a term coined by Ingo Swann, was carefully chosen. Technically, Swann argued that it should have been “remote perception,” because the process is not always about seeing clearly—it’s about impressions, sensations, and fragments of information. But “remote viewing” caught on and eventually became a household word, even though people often misuse it today to mean anything psychic.

The same thing happens with psychic. Some use it as a catch-all, but in truth, psychic can mean prophecy, mediumship, clairvoyance, or remote viewing—each with different methods and traditions. Using a broader, less loaded word like ‘psi’ helps create space for nuance without the immediate cultural pushback.

As for psionics, that’s an older term that resurfaced more recently. It was popularized in the 1950s through science fiction and later gained traction when whistleblowers like Jake Barbour began speaking about government programs. He claimed psionic abilities were being used to communicate with unidentified aerial phenomena (UAPs).

For many in the military who had worked for decades in psychic research programs, the word was unfamiliar—they had to look it up when it reemerged. Traditionally, psionics has referred to the fusion of psychic ability with technology: the human mind interacting with advanced systems, entities, or tools in a direct way.

But again, it comes with baggage. Some use it to mean one thing, while others use it to mean something entirely different. That’s why I’ve been developing a new term—psitics—to describe this realm in a way that also incorporates ethics. Because if we’re talking about using psychic abilities to access people’s minds, influence technology, or even interact with other intelligences, we absolutely need an ethical framework. Without it, the language itself becomes muddy, and so does the practice.

So the short answer is: psychic is weighed down by history and misunderstanding. Psi offers a cleaner, more neutral frame. And psionics represents a newer, evolving conversation about the intersection of consciousness and technology.

You’ve mentioned remote viewing and another term—mind sight. How do those differ, and how have you cultivated these gifts in your own life?

Hakim Isler: My first introduction to remote viewing actually came through Ninjutsu. In that tradition, there are nine abilities or powers, and one of them is essentially what we now call remote viewing. Of course, they didn’t use that term—it was described as seeing things in another time or another place. The sages and rishis of India also spoke of similar capacities. Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras describe the siddhis—special abilities that arise through spiritual practice—and one of those mirrors what we would call remote viewing today.

My teacher told stories of participating in early experiments connected to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio. Civilians were being asked to fill out forms, describe impressions, and attempt to “view” distant or hidden targets. At the time, I just thought it sounded fascinating. Years later, I realized the man running those studies was Dale Graff—someone I would eventually meet and befriend.

For me, the question became: how do we bring these kinds of abilities into the mainstream, especially for youth? At my martial arts school, I’d watch kids doing hand signs and chanting mantras from anime characters—things that actually resemble the kuji-in hand seals and mantras within our art. I’d tell them, “We have practices like that in the ninja tradition,” and they’d beg me to show them. But how do you explain to a child that it took me 25 years of wilderness training, long hours of discipline, and deep meditative breakthroughs to access those states? Kids want something they can experience now, not decades down the line.

That challenge pushed me to study more formally. I trained with Paul Smith, one of the original military remote viewers, and fell in love with the process. Through him, I discovered the Monroe Institute, where I continued my training and later served on its advisory council.

Then I came across Mind sight—the practice of seeing without your eyes. It fascinated me because it seemed more accessible, especially for children. Unlike the structured, protocol-heavy method of remote viewing, mind sight is freer, more experiential. Watching videos of kids practicing it, I thought, ‘This is something I could actually bring to the younger generation in a tangible way.’

For those unfamiliar, what exactly is mind sight?

Hakim Isler: Mind sight—also called extraocular vision, blind sight, or intuitive vision—is the ability to perceive without using your physical eyes. Typically, a person is blindfolded and yet can still describe or even “see” objects through other sensory or extrasensory channels.

Different schools explain it in different ways. One teacher I studied with described it as your higher self perceiving on your behalf. Another pointed to the pineal gland, which contains photoreceptor-like cells and regulates melatonin and serotonin in response to cycles of light and dark. In that view, training in mind sight teaches the body to sense subtle vibrations beyond ordinary sight. Other approaches suggest that perception can come through the hands, or even through synesthetic experiences like “smelling” colors.

We don’t yet fully understand the mechanism, but the experiences are undeniable. I’ve had moments where I could see completely through a blindfold—though that’s not my everyday norm. Others can do it consistently, which is extraordinary to witness. More often, I’ve experienced what I call local awareness: perceiving objects or details in my immediate environment without physical sight.

This contrasts with remote viewing, which is a form of non-local awareness. Remote viewing allows you to perceive something at a distance without physically being there. Astral projection, on the other hand, is when your consciousness leaves the body entirely and relocates elsewhere, with no awareness of your physical self. If it happens unintentionally, it’s called an out-of-body experience. Bi-location occurs when your awareness is simultaneously present in two places—you remain grounded in your body while also connected to a distant location.

So mind sight is local perception—using inner senses to perceive what’s around you in real time. At its highest expression, it can mean literally seeing through the blindfold.

You’ve created an event called the Psi Games. What’s your vision behind it, and what did people experience there?

Hakim Isler: The idea for the Psi Games came to me the way many things in my life do—like a download. At first, it was just a whisper. I resisted it because I already had two businesses and plenty on my plate. But the vision kept coming back, persistent as a gnat in my spiritual world, until I finally realized: I’d been chosen to bring this to life.

The final push came while listening to a podcast with George Knapp and Jeremy Corbell. They were interviewing a Defense Intelligence Agency insider about interdimensional beings, telepathic communication, and advanced craft. When asked if that wasn’t terrifying, the man replied: “If we as human beings can operate at our full capacity, we’d have nothing to be afraid of.”

That sentence hit me hard. Psi Games, I thought. This was the way to inspire people—especially kids—to embrace their full human potential, to embody our next stage of evolution in a way that was fun, collaborative, and empowering.

We’ve had centuries of research proving psychic phenomena exist, but the average person either dismisses them or says, “I don’t have time to read the studies.” What makes it real is experience. And experiences are most powerful when they’re exciting, playful, and shared. That’s what the Psi Games are about: creating a space where people can explore these abilities together, cheer each other on, and make the invisible visible.

This year, the event was full of breakthroughs. Even kids who had never practiced before surprised their parents by seeing through blindfolds. Participants competed in ways that weren’t about ego, but about unity—hugging, crying, supporting one another, even when cheering for someone on an opposing team. It felt tribal, like the way ancient communities used competition to strengthen bonds, not divide them.

We also tested abilities like psychokinesis. Contestants placed their hands in a sealed box with a psi wheel, attempting to move it by intention. Some skeptics insisted it was wind—but when asked to make the wheel spin left, it went left, and when asked to spin right, it went right. Next year, we’ll raise the bar by enclosing the wheel in glass. In future years, participants will attempt to move it without touching the box at all. Every year, the challenges will evolve, giving people new benchmarks to strive toward.

Equally important is ethics. Just because you can move something with your mind doesn’t mean you should use that ability recklessly. Just because you can read someone’s thoughts doesn’t mean you have permission to enter their mind. We held an ethics panel this year, and we’ll keep that conversation central. These abilities must be cultivated within a framework of respect and responsibility.

Our motto is: Inform. Inspire. Educate.

• Inform: On day one, experts share what these abilities are and how they’ve been studied.
• Inspire: On day two, people witness and play the games—experiencing awe and possibility.
• Educate: On day three, workshops guide participants to begin developing these skills themselves.

The response has been incredible. People are already posting online, practicing for next year, declaring, “I’ll be at the Psi Games.” By 2030, I believe we’ll see truly advanced practitioners emerging through this collective momentum. But more than that—we’ll see a community of people united in possibility, ethics, and the joy of becoming more fully human.

You’ll also be leading a session at the San Diego Transcendence Retreat called Psychic Play on the Bay. What can participants expect?

Hakim Isler: They can expect fun, collaboration, and excitement around exploring psychic potential. We’ll be playing interactive games that give people the chance to experience telepathy, telekinesis, local perception, remote viewing, and even dowsing. And we’ll do it together in community, on the beautiful Mission Bay. It’s about inspiration and discovery—tapping into abilities we all carry and being amazed by what comes forward.

And just to clarify—this won’t be another Naked and Afraid situation, right?

Hakim Isler: (laughs) Yes, clothes will be worn—or maybe I’ll just trick your brainwaves into thinking I’m clothed!

More seriously, I’m deeply grateful for opportunities like this. What drives me is bringing people together through play, fun, and collaboration toward the advancement of our species and the awakening of our hidden abilities.

Recently, someone asked me, “Why does this even matter? Why should I care about psychic abilities?” My answer came from a deeper place. I told them: What if I took away your eyes? Or your hearing? Of course, no one would want that. But the truth is, even now we only see a narrow spectrum of light and hear a small fraction of sound. Wouldn’t you want to see more, hear more, sense more of what’s really around you?

That’s what this work is about. It’s not about outliers or special cases—it’s about the vast potential within all of us. Imagine a world where everyone trusted their intuition, not because someone told them to, but because they had developed it, embodied it, and knew it to be real. That world would be more connected, compassionate, and wise.

That’s the vision. And that’s the invitation of the Psi Games and Psychic Play on the Bay: to step into more of who we truly are.

Hakim, thank you so much for sharing your story and your wisdom. Really appreciate it. Excited to see you in action in San Diego, so thanks for being with us.

Hakim Isler: Thank you so much. I appreciate it.