Danielle: Hello, hello! This is Danielle Ireland, and you’re catching an episode of Don’t Cut Your Own Bangs. Today I have the great pleasure of introducing you to someone I can now call a new friend, John Kippen.
John is a multi-hyphenate and a phenomenal storyteller—so buckle up. Get those AirPods in, head out for a walk, or settle into your car. This episode is a beautiful one.
Let me tell you a little about John: he’s a resilience and empowerment coach, CEO of a successful IT company, a mainstage performer at the Magic Castle in Los Angeles, a motivational speaker, a life coach, and a TED Talk speaker with over a million views.
The heartbeat of his talk: how he triumphed over tragedy after being diagnosed with a golf-ball-sized tumor displacing his brain stem. The life-saving procedure changed his life forever. Healing is never easy—but as John says, “If I can do it, you can do it.”
He uses raw, vulnerable storytelling to share not just what happened, but how he moved through the “impossible.” He even reframes “impossible” as “I’m possible.” The ultimate magic trick, according to John, is challenging the limiting beliefs we hold about ourselves—and transforming fear into fuel. He brings that healing to his coaching clients and readers of his book, Playing the Hand You’re Dealt—with a foreword by Jamie Lee Curtis.
Also: John is giving listeners a free gift—but it’s only mentioned in the audio. It won’t be linked in the show notes, so listen for it. With that, sit back, relax, and enjoy the wisdom of John Kippen.
Conversation
Danielle: John Kippen—multi-hyphenate, resilience and empowerment coach, magician, keynote speaker, author, and all-around nice guy—thank you for joining me on Don’t Cut Your Own Bangs. A Hollywood legend wrote the foreword to your beautiful book, Playing the Hand You’re Dealt. Take it away, John.
John: Jamie Lee Curtis. Yes.
Danielle: You have to stay and listen to the entire episode because he teases a special giveaway that’s only revealed in the audio. Not in the show notes. Buckle up—there’s a little dose of magic hidden inside.
John, you do so many things—magician, speaker, coach. In my work as a therapist, I’ve noticed that people don’t usually enter helping professions unless they’ve needed help themselves—our healing becomes our medicine. I want to hear your healing journey and how it led you to the work you do.
John: The Reader’s Digest version: I grew up in Los Angeles, middle-class family, two loving parents, no siblings. I studied theater in college and grabbed every opportunity I could. After college, I started a computer company. The thread through everything I do is that I’m a creative problem solver.
In July 2002, I was diagnosed with a 4.5 cm acoustic neuroma, a brain tumor displacing my brain stem. I had hearing issues and dizziness when standing or walking. I needed surgery; otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived.
The neurosurgeon who finally diagnosed it had no bedside manner. I remember the crinkle of exam-table paper and how cold the room felt. He looked at the MRI and said, “You have a 4.5 cm brain tumor. It’s killing you. We’re operating Friday. You’ll go deaf in your left ear, and there’s a possibility of facial weakness. We’ll do everything we can to prevent that.”
He left. Tip for anyone facing a serious diagnosis: bring someone with you. You go into shock. You won’t remember half of what’s said, and it’s hard to get answers later.
I checked in the night before. Blood tests. Maybe an hour of sleep. At 6 a.m., the orderly came in: “Get undressed, gown on.” The nurse asked if I wanted my head half-shaved before or after I was under. I hadn’t even thought of it. “Please do it after.”
They rolled me into the OR—the lights were blinding. “Count back from five.” Next thing I knew, I was 30 meters deep in a pool, struggling to reach the surface. I finally came up enough to see my dad sitting by the bed, holding my hand. I looked for my mom, reached for my glasses, tried to put them on—forgetting my head was bandaged. When I finally saw her face, she looked horrified. I didn’t know yet that my face was paralyzed. I had full feeling—but no movement.
The good news: the constant dizziness was gone. Relief.
When the surgeon came in, I asked, “When will my face move?” He said the tumor was removed successfully. “Right as we were closing, your facial movement stopped. We think it’s swelling; once it goes down, it should return.”
I stayed a week. “When you can do three laps around the floor without a walker, you can go home.” That became my goal. Day five, I went home. Then I felt the back of my neck—spinal fluid leak at the base of the incision. I went back three times for re-bandaging. Finally, they re-opened the incision and used additional belly fat to seal it—staples all the way up, like Frankenstein.
At home, brushing my teeth, I didn’t recognize myself. I got rid of the mirrors. I didn’t want a constant reminder.
Danielle: There’s so much specificity to your story, and that’s what makes it universal—we can all find ourselves in those details. At some point you say the truth—and humor—became part of your healing, and eventually led you to magic. In your TED Talk you say, “It’s amazing how accepting kids are of the truth.” What’s your relationship with truth now—and where do your clients get stuck with it?
John: Truth is an illusion. Everyone has their own truth—formed by perspective and limiting beliefs.
It took me 12 years to come out of hiding. I was 33 at surgery. I could work from home, but I missed birthdays, dinners—anything where I’d have to explain or withstand the looks.
Once, I was at Tony Roma’s. A little boy stood on the booth seat, turned around, and asked, “Mister, what’s wrong with your face?” Before I could answer, his mom yanked him back: “Don’t bother the man—he has enough troubles.” I walked over, knelt beside him, and said, “I love my new face because it’s different—just like yours.” He twisted his lips to mirror mine: “Look, Mom, I can do that too.” Question answered. No judgment. His parents learned something that day.
Danielle: That mother projected a story onto you—trying to ease her discomfort. We do that so often.
John: Exactly. And that’s where we hide from truth—behind stories we tell ourselves. Most people I coach are hiding something so deep it erodes their soul. They can’t move forward until we unearth it.
Magic helped me heal. At the Magic Castle, I’d open with the truth: “I’ve done magic all my life. In 2002 I had a brain tumor. During surgery, my facial nerve was traumatized. But something else happened on that table. I think I acquired a new skill…” (long pause) “…I can visualize people’s thoughts.” Then I’d perform mentalism.
I turned my biggest challenge into a superpower. I address the distraction in the first two minutes, then invite awe and wonder. Magic happens in the spectator’s mind. I learn names and use them. I watch people’s protective walls lower as connection forms.
Danielle: Vulnerability really is magic. It’s the one thing we think will get us rejected—yet it’s the birthplace of connection.
You set a 10-year goal to be a mainstage performer at the Magic Castle—and did it. People want the after-photo, but healing is time and consistency.
John: The joy is in the process, not the destination. My coaching starts with rapport and open-ended questions so people feel safe enough to see what’s really holding them back. The big themes: not enoughness, not enough time, not worthy, and living someone else’s dream.
Ask yourself: Whose dream am I living? If it isn’t yours, you’ll reach the milestone and still feel empty.
And during the pandemic, when masks were mandated, I refused to hide again. I printed a mask with a photo of the lower half of my face. People who knew me did a double-take. I’d worked too hard to be free. I wouldn’t hide—for anyone.
Danielle: That’s trickster energy—and it’s powerful.
How did you connect with Jamie Lee Curtis for the foreword?
John: I’d helped her with tech years ago. A filmmaker friend wanted to shoot a documentary about me (that I ended up funding). I was at Jamie’s house, fixing her computer, working up the courage to ask. She stared at me until I finally blurted, “Would you be in my documentary?” She said yes. She wears her sobriety openly to serve others. She saw in me what I couldn’t yet see.
There was also a time I considered plastic surgery for symmetry at rest. Friends would say, “We love your smile.” But I didn’t—until I accepted it in my heart. Once I accepted my smile, I found joy. Then you want to share that freedom with everyone: you are the love you’re seeking.
Danielle: Amen.
Tell us about your TED Talk moment.
John: I went first. Right before I went on, I turned Monopoly money into real money for the MC. He walked out beaming and told the audience, “Your next speaker just did a miracle.” Instant buy-in.
Three-quarters through my talk, the front lights went out. I said, “Wow…that was dramatic,” and the lighting tech brought them back up. Big laugh. I told the producer, “Don’t edit that out—that was my finest moment.” The message of my talk: Treat people who are different with respect and compassion. You could be in their shoes in an instant.
Danielle: And to treat others kindly, we often have to start by treating ourselves kindly. For everyone listening: check the show notes for John’s site, coaching, and book.
John, how can listeners get the special code?
John: Go to johnkippen.com/freegift.
Danielle: You heard it here—johnkippen.com/freegift—and it’s only for those who listened this far. John, thank you for this incredible conversation.
Closing
Danielle: Thank you for joining me on Don’t Cut Your Own Bangs. I loved making this episode—and I learned so much. Don’t forget to check the show notes for John’s links. Please rate, review, and subscribe—it helps the podcast reach more people who need it, and it helps me make this show even better for you. Your time and attention mean the world. I hope you have an incredible day.
