Gregory at Joshua Tree
He believed everything endures and only transforms.
And so he'd say revoir — until we meet again.
Greg was born in Palo Alto, California on August 13, 1990. He grew up in Redwood City, then Washington, then France — attending the Lycée International in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, graduating with his baccalauréat. He studied at NYU London and NYU New York, where he made friends for life. He spent his last years in Huntington Beach, California.
He loved yoga — practicing and teaching it, receiving his certification at Orange Coast College in 2018. He loved fire-spinning on the beach, glass-blowing and making art to give away, animals (especially his cat Panda), the redwoods, the ocean, and the desert. He loved children and worked with them through Mad Science and SuperCamp. He was smart, kind, funny, and generous. He would give his last dime to anyone in need.
His last message was unconditional love to everyone, everywhere.
Greg was a fire dancer — spinning poi on the beaches of Huntington Beach and San Diego, drawing people in. It was never a performance for an audience. It was a practice, a meditation, a way of being present in a body and a night.
Fire spinning is an art of transformation. You work with something dangerous and make it beautiful. That was Greg.
Gregory at Joshua Tree
Glassblowing runs in the Ball family. The craft traces back to West Virginia — the hills and furnaces where the family has roots. It is an art of fire and breath and patience, of working with something molten and making it permanent.
Gregory took it up as his own. He made marbles and small objects — intricate, colorful, each one given away. He didn't sell them. He made them for people. His friends still have them.
After he died, one of his friends did something quietly extraordinary. Sean Mcerlane gathered his friends and family and made each of us a glass pendant — inside each one, sealed in the glass, a small amount of his ashes. Fire and breath and the remains of a person, made permanent and wearable and warm.
The fire dancer, the glassblower — both arts of transformation. Both ways of making something beautiful out of something dangerous. Both utterly Greg.
Greg was partly named for Gregory Bateson — the brilliant polymath known for his work in anthropology with Margaret Mead, psychology, communication theory, and much more. He was a big man with a big name, known to be gentle and having a big heart.
The name Gregory means "watchful or alert" and is associated with being a shepherd or taking care of other people.
We still had not decided on a name before he was born. When Greg was born, he was not only a big baby — as he came out of the womb he was silent, alert, and watchful. Corinne and I looked at each other and agreed that, although "Gregory" was a big name, it seemed quite fitting for the person that had just emerged into our world and lives.
— Brian Ball
I met Greg back in 2011 or 2012 and he would light up a room with his smile. You could tell he had such a joy for life, positive attitude and it spread to other people who were hurting or depressed inside. He had a way of making you feel special and his laugh was SO contagious.
If love could have saved Greg, he would have lived forever.
My mum and I were in the elevator at Nido and next to us was a tall young man in a neat suit, a Euro-American accent, rocking an electric yellow mohawk and the most radiant smile, in a metal box full of strangers, and just filling it with positivity. I remember my mum telling me that she inexplicably just got a really good feeling from this guy. As my luck had it, he turned out to be my neighbour and I think we were friends before the day was done.
I saw in one of my closest peers how lovely life can be when you have an open heart, and his was flung wide open.
He wasn't like any of the other boys of that age that I knew. He was so kind, respectful and a great listener. When I spent time with him, I never felt like he was going to cross a line or make me feel uncomfortable in any way.
Now that I'm older, when I think back on him at 18, it feels like he realized way before anyone of his age that the only way to be is yourself — and to give space to people and meet them wherever they are, to make them feel important and valued. He was way ahead of us.
Greg received his Yoga Teacher Training certificate with me at Orange Coast College in the Fall of 2018. He was an unforgettable student who emulated kindness, sincerity, and compassion to everyone all of the time.
He taught the Metta (Loving-Kindness) meditation to a Level 1 class, and he made several students cry with his natural ability to be humble, genuine, and caring. Most of these beginning yoga students did not know about meditation, and Greg was their first teacher.
Greg was a friend, mentor and brother. He was the smartest, kindest, funniest guy I have ever met, the type of person who wants to help out of the good of his heart, never an ulterior motive. He could make light of any situation, no matter how dark. He was like a walking encyclopedia.
He had such a bright smile and so much charisma, those things will live on eternally through the people he graced in his lifetime.
I remember him — who wouldn't? — as a generous, fully-spirited contributor to the course work, and to the community. No one dressed like Greg; no one would dare. He was kind, bright, curious, one-of-a-kind.
The Fire Dancer
Spinning wildly through this life
Blazing brightly
His flame warming every soul he encountered
The beauty of his spinning fire a joy to all
We are left forever with the lingering delight of the dance —
but also the desolation marked by the ashes left behind.
May we meet again
When like a phoenix, the fire dancer rises from the ashes, reborn anew.
Greg was one of the purest souls I have met. He just wanted to make people happy. There will always be a place in my heart that will be empty because Greg has moved into another plane.
I first met Greg in San Diego when he was fire dancing. His energy and positivity were unparalleled. He was incredibly intelligent and philosophical.
"Goodbyes are hard, but I've been teaching myself to consider them as farewells since nothing ever truly ends." — Greg's own words, which say everything.
Greg loved the redwoods. It was perfect to have his memorial there.
Just as the redwoods rely on other trees, both living and dead, to provide nutrients for their growth, people rely on each other, living and dead, to nourish their souls.
Just as the redwoods have an incredible root system that spreads far and wide, so too, did Greg touch many lives, in unexpected places and in surprising and meaningful ways.
Redwoods never really die. Their stumps and root systems grow new shoots that become new redwoods. So too, will Gregory live on in all of the lives he touched and in all the memories he created with so many people.
— Therese Mendez
Greg cared deeply about animals, sobriety, and the natural world. If you'd like to honor his memory, these are the causes his family has chosen.