July 29, 2025 • 32 mins
The journey through grief isn't linear—it's a labyrinth where we sometimes find ourselves circling back to the same painful corners before discovering new paths forward. This powerful episode introduces us to a man whose life collapses after his partner dies in an accident just moments before he planned to propose. The engagement ring, still in its unopened box, becomes both burden and talisman as his grief spirals into job loss and homelessness.
When a mysterious stranger places a chess knight with "No Retreat" carved into its base beside him on a park bench, something shifts—not dramatically, but fundamentally. This isn't a story about magical healing or sudden transformation, but about the quiet courage required to simply keep going when everything has been stripped away. As our protagonist navigates his new reality, he begins collecting small tokens and writing single words that become signposts on his journey: Begin. Decide. Still. Grieve.
The raw authenticity of this narrative challenges us to examine our own unspoken grief. What are we carrying that we never got to give away? What boxes remain unopened in our own lives? Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is whisper a name into silence without falling apart. This episode reminds us that being "chosen" doesn't always look like triumph—sometimes it simply means being available to whatever comes next, even when that next thing emerges from complete devastation.
This marks the beginning of our most ambitious series yet—"Grandeur"—which will unfold over twenty episodes. Throughout this journey, we'll follow our protagonist through homelessness, hunger, and the mysterious "gauntlet" that begins when he finally acknowledges that moving forward doesn't require leaving his love behind. Join us as we explore what it means to find purpose after collapse and how the simplest choice—to keep going—can become the most profound act of courage.
"True mastery is found in the details. The way you handle the little things defines the way you handle everything."
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host,and today we are in episode one
of Grandeur.
Now this is gonna be ourlongest series we've done thus
far.
This is gonna take pretty muchfour weeks, 20 episodes.
(00:22):
So get ready, this is not gonnabe like anything we've ever
done before here on GentsJourney, so I hope you enjoy it.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the cold open.
He was going to propose tonight.
Not with flash, not withcameras, not on some rooftop
drenched in fairy lights.
(00:43):
Just her, just him, just thebar where they'd met at three
years ago, a hole in the wallwith uneven stools and a busted
jukebox that still played theirfavorite song.
Their place.
He'd gone back and forth adozen times.
Ring, no ring, ring, no ring.
(01:03):
Should I do dinner first?
No, just ask her.
Be real, be scared, let itshake.
So he brought the ring.
It was small, simple, but itfelt like gravity in his pocket.
Every step toward that bar wasa skipped heartbeat.
Every streetlight passed.
(01:25):
It was a silent rehearsal inhis head.
He had it planned She'd sitdown, he'd fumble the words,
she'd laugh, he'd say it anyways.
He touched the box again justto make sure it was there it was
.
He was three blocks away nowwhen the phone rang A no number.
(01:47):
He almost ignored it, butsomething instinct maybe told
him to answer Is this are youher partner?
Time folded, noise blurred,there was an accident.
They said the location anintersection, two blocks from
(02:09):
the bar.
He ran.
He didn't feel the wind or thecars or the blood in his legs,
he just ran.
Lights, tape flashing, reds andblues.
Someone met him, said his name,her name.
His knees buckled.
He never made it to the bar.
(02:31):
She never got to hear thequestion In the ring.
It's still in his coat pocketSuddenly felt like a lie.
He didn't go home that nightbecause home was filled with her
Her shampoo in the shower, herjacket by the door, the
groceries they bought togetherjust two nights ago.
(02:52):
He got a motel, one of thoseoff-the-highway rooms with
buzzing lights and sheets thatsmelled like bleach.
He sat on the edge of the bed,held the box in his palm.
He didn't open it, didn't sleep, just stared.
The funeral came.
(03:14):
He wore the same suit he woreto his cousin's wedding.
It didn't fit anymore.
Just stood by the gravesidesurrounded by faces he barely
knew.
Everyone said she was the lightthat she made people feel seen.
He didn't speak.
What could he say?
(03:34):
That wouldn't break in the air.
After everyone left, he kneltbeside the grave, touched her
name, touched the box, didn'ttake it out, didn't open it.
He just whispered I'm sorry.
Then he stood and didn't lookback.
(03:57):
That afternoon they fired him,said the company was downsizing,
said it wasn't personal but itwas Because he was the one who
stopped showing up like a manwho mattered.
He was the one who brought hisgrief into the walls.
He was the one whose silencestarted to echo.
He didn't fight it, just nodded, walked out.
(04:20):
And now the job was gone, thelove was gone and all that
remained was a box in his pocket, a proposal that never happened
, a ring that's that stillglinted like maybe it had a
purpose.
He sold his car to cover twomonths of rent.
(04:41):
Then someone stole the last ofhis things from the laundry room
.
Then the landlord changed thelocks.
He slept in stairwells, then onbenches, then eventually, grant
Park, there was a tree halfdead.
He liked that.
It felt honest.
He hadn't spoken to anyone infour days.
(05:02):
He hadn't even looked at thering in seven, but he still
carried it every day in hispocket, not as a reminder of
love, but as proof thatsomething once mattered.
And then a sound, a shift on thebench.
Someone had sat beside him.
He didn't look, didn't care.
(05:24):
The stranger said nothing.
No greeting, no question, nojudgment, just reached in his
coat and placed something on thebench.
When he glanced over a singlechess piece, the knight,
weathered, heavy On the base,etched like a scar.
No retreat.
(05:44):
The man stood, a scar, noretreat.
The man stood, walked away, noexplanation.
For the first time in weeks hemoved.
Now, Episode 1, part 1.
The collapse begins.
The man came back, sat backdown and didn't say anything.
(06:09):
For a while the bench creaked,not like it was old, but like it
was listening.
He didn't look up, he didn'tcare.
People didn't sit next to himanymore, not with the way he
looked, the way he smelled, theway.
He didn't meet their eyes, butthis man did.
And for a while neither of themspoke.
And then the man said You'vebeen here for three nights.
(06:35):
His voice wasn't harsh, itwasn't soft either, just factual
, like he wasn't guessing.
He said nothing back.
The man nodded more to himselfthan anything else You're not
waiting for anyone.
Still silence.
Good, that finally got him.
(06:57):
He turned his head justslightly.
What You're not waiting, theman repeated.
Which means you started.
He almost laughed.
Started.
What Riding?
The man didn't smile, didn'tflinch.
He reached into his coat,pulled something out, a small
(07:20):
shape, heavy, cold, and placedit on the bench between them.
A chess piece, the knight.
The man stood slowly.
You moved, he said, then turnedto walk away.
Wait.
But it came out like a whisper.
The man paused, didn't lookback.
(07:43):
What, what is this?
You kept the ring, the man saidA breath, a truth, no judgment
in it.
He blinked, how do you?
But the man was already walking, just like that.
He was gone.
He didn't touch the piece atfirst, was gone.
(08:07):
He didn't touch the piece atfirst, just stared.
It wasn't plastic, it wasn'tornamental, it was cars from
something old, weathered On itsbase, a phrase etched in foreign
weight no retreat.
What the hell is that supposedto mean?
He turned the night in his handas if it might unlock.
It didn't, but it fit into thesame pocket where the ring lived
(08:31):
.
Two symbols, one of the past,one of something else, something
unknown.
He sat there for another hour,didn't cry, didn't speak, but
for the first time since thefuneral he felt not better, just
(08:51):
different, like maybe thiswasn't the end, maybe it was the
first piece.
That night he didn't sleep.
He found a bus, shelter, cold,leaking.
But it was something.
He didn't dream of her.
(09:13):
He dreamed of the voice, low,clear.
The game has already begun.
He woke up with the night inhis hand, not in his pocket,
like his body knew he'dunderstand it.
But something had shifted andwhatever it was, he wasn't
(09:36):
retreating.
Part 2.
The Voice in the Silence.
The next morning he woke withthe night still clutched in his
hand.
It had grooves, now his ownfingerprints pressed into the
ridges from holding it all night.
His breath fogged.
The air, no blanket, just thecoat, just the night.
(09:58):
The sun was barely up, butsomething felt alert, not loud,
not warm, just present, like theair itself was paying attention
.
He rubbed his eyes, tried toshake it, but something,
something was different.
It wasn't the bench, it wasn'tthe cold, it was him.
(10:24):
He moved without knowing why,crossed three blocks, then four,
passed a coffee shop withfogged windows, passed a
bookstore where they once boughtmatching paperbacks and then
never read them.
He didn't have a destination,just an ache, the kind of ache
that pulls your body inside outbut then says go.
(10:47):
Eventually he found a buildingBrick, faded, forgotten, no sign
, no people, just there, like ithad always been waiting.
He stood in the front of it fora long time, didn't knock,
didn't leave.
Then he turned and kept walking.
(11:10):
Two hours later he sat on thesteps of a church not religious,
not even curious.
But the doors were open and thesound inside?
Silence, not emptiness, silencethat kind you feel in the back
of your throat.
He didn't go in, just sat onthe steps.
(11:33):
He held the night in his palm.
For the first time since shedied, he spoke.
I don't know what the hell ishappening.
His voice cracked.
The wind didn't answer.
First time since she died, hespoke.
I don't know what the hell ishappening.
His voice cracked.
The wind didn't answer.
But something moved in him,something listened.
(11:56):
That night he had the dreamagain, the voice deeper, this
time clear.
The game has begun, but thistime it.
The game has begun, but thistime it wasn't alone.
It was another voice.
It was familiar, female.
Her voice was soft but kindYou're not done yet.
(12:18):
He gasped awake, hands shakingthe night on his chest, looking
right at him at the bottom noretreat.
The next day something pulledhim toward the river.
The cold bit through hisclothes, but he kept walking.
There's a man beneath thebridge burning something in a
metal barrel.
He didn't ask questions, didn'tgreet, just nodded.
(12:40):
The man nodded back for amoment, just a flicker.
They weren't strangers, justmen carrying weight.
He stayed there for hours,didn't speak, didn't need to.
But when he left the man saidone thing Most people wait for a
map.
He looked back.
(13:01):
But the ones who matter, theyjust start walking.
He didn't ask how the man knew,didn't ask what it meant.
He just kept going With theknight in his pocket.
And that was something stirring, something alive.
That night he did somethingstrange.
He took out a pen, found adiscarded napkin and wrote the
(13:25):
word BEGIN.
He stared at it, folded,itucked it into the same pocket,
next to the ring, next to thenight.
That was the first move.
And that silence.
It shifted.
Part 3.
The box he didn't open.
(13:45):
He hadn't opened the ring box,not once, not in the hospital.
Not in the hospital, Not at thegrave, not in the motel or on
the bench or in the churchdoorway.
He held it, he felt it, but henever opened it.
That was the deal.
If he opened it, he'd have toface what was inside, not the
(14:09):
ring, the failure, the fact.
The question was never asked,the question never given, that a
future had been carved into acircle and it never got to live.
So the box stayed closed.
Every day it grew heavier.
He sat in the park again Samebench, same dead tree, different
(14:32):
wind.
He sat in the park again, samebench, same dead tree, different
wind.
He pulled the box from hispocket, turned it over in his
hand.
It had scratches, now wear fromtime.
It still clicked when he shook.
It still whispered what couldhave been, still whispered, what
could have been.
He placed it on the benchbeside the knight.
Two relics, one of lost love,one of a war just beginning.
(14:59):
He watched them both For thefirst time he spoke to her.
I can't carry both.
A bird landed nearby looked athim sideways.
I need to know what matters.
The bird flew away.
He waited.
The wind shifted, then hepicked them both up and stood,
(15:24):
still unopened, still whole, butnow willing.
That night the voice returned,same rhythm, same tone, but this
time it asked a question Areyou ready to suffer?
Not in a cruel way, just honestand without hesitation he
(15:45):
answered aloud.
Yes, then silence, real silence.
But this time it didn't echo.
It Settled Like a hush beforesomething sacred.
He walked the city with nopurpose, just motion, old alleys
, fire escapes, rooftops he usedto sneak onto in college.
(16:08):
At one point he passed a mural,a knight on horseback, sword
raised, cloak torn, but behindhim his shadow wore a crown.
He stopped, looked up andlaughed, not because it was
funny but because it wasfamiliar.
Something inside him stirred.
(16:31):
He placed his hand on theknight in his coat pocket.
It buzzed just for a second,enough to feel it.
He didn't imagine it, he knew.
He knew he didn't imagine it.
And now something was watching,something wanted more.
Not worship, not obedience,just a decision.
(16:52):
He pulled the napkin back out,began.
The ink had blown a little.
He turned it over and wrote onemore word Decide.
He didn't know why, he didn'tcare.
It felt right, it felt real.
For the first time since thefall he felt like a man again,
(17:16):
not healed, not whole, butpresent.
And that was enough.
Part 4.
The Mapless Hour.
The city looks different whenyou stop pretending it belongs
to you.
He walked it like a stranger,felt its cold bricks, read its
(17:39):
closed signs, watched peoplethrough cafe windows, laughing
at nothing, caring abouteverything.
He didn't envy them, he didn'tresent them.
He just didn't envy them, hedidn't resent them, he just
didn't feel them anymore.
Whatever used to connect him tothe ordinary world jobs,
schedules, small talk was gone.
(18:01):
What remained was motion, onefoot, then another, no plan, no
destination, just presence.
He was moving, but not forward.
He was breathing but not hoping.
This wasn't survival, it wassomething else, like waiting for
(18:21):
a summons he hadn't realizedhe'd already received.
He found himself on a street hedidn't recognize, but the name
rang in his bones it was calledMercy, a dead end Fitting.
He followed it until thepavement ended, then climbed the
(18:41):
hill at the edge, at the top,nothing, just wind and sky and
the sound of his heartbeatreminding him he was still there
.
He took out the night H held itup to the light.
It caught the sun, like it hadbeen waiting, like it knew.
He closed his fist around it.
(19:03):
He didn't ask for signs, didn'task for help, he just said I'm
listening and something in thewind shifted, not louder, just
clear.
That night he met the boy, nineyears old, maybe ten, alone
sitting on the curb, threadbarehoodie and a busted skateboard.
(19:26):
No cheers, just stillness.
He stopped, looked at him hey,are you okay?
The boy didn't answer, juststared forward.
Then you see it too, don't you?
He blinked what, what?
(19:46):
The shift, the shift the boystood, walked towards him.
You're not like them anymore.
Who?
The boy pointed behind him, thecity, the waiting ones.
Then he held out his hand andgave him something a stone,
(20:07):
smooth, black Warm.
He closed his fingers around it.
By the time he looked up, theboy was gone.
No one around, no footsteps, notrace, just a warm stone in a
cold night and the sense thatthe world was starting to show
(20:28):
its cracks.
He placed the stone in his coat, next to the ring, next to the
night, next to the napkin, andwalked.
This time he didn't wander, hemoved.
Later that night he wrote again,this time on a matchbook cover.
One word still, because in allthe noise, in all the hunger,
(20:50):
hunger and all the claps, he wasstill here and sometimes that
was the loudest thing a mancould say.
Part five the names he doesn'tsay.
He used to say her name everyday in texts, text and
(21:10):
half-asleep greetings andwhispered apologies.
Now he couldn't say it at all.
He tried the first time afterthe funeral.
He said it once it brokesomething, not like glass, like
a rib.
He didn't try again.
(21:35):
That morning he stood at a busstop, not to go anywhere, just
to listen, to let the sounds ofthe city push against his
silence.
There was a woman hummingbehind him, soft melancholy.
He wanted to ask her the nameof the song, but the question
didn't feel right coming out.
So he stood there, let themelody stitch into his bones.
(21:59):
When she left, he whisperedthank you.
His voice cracked.
The wind answered.
Later he passed a memorial wall,downtown, pictures of lost
children, stuffed animals tiedto poles, handwritten notes and
fading marker.
One photo stopped him cold Alittle girl, same eyes as her,
(22:24):
same nose.
He almost said her name, almost, but instead he knelt.
Name almost, but instead heknelt.
Lit a match, held it under thestone from the boy.
The flame didn't touch it, butit glowed For a second, a pulse.
He closed his eyes and saidnothing.
(22:44):
He wrote again, this time on atorn flyer grieve, the first
letter of something he didn'tyet understand.
He folded it, tucked it besidethe napkin.
He was starting to buildsomething, not consciously but
instinctually Paper relics, oneword at a time Begin, decide,
(23:08):
still, grieve.
Each one a brick and an unseenfoundation.
He wasn't rebuilding a life.
He was becoming a man who could.
That night he stood by the riveragain no voices, just water.
He spoke into the wind I don'tknow how to do this A long pause
(23:33):
.
Then, in a quiet whisper, hesaid her name.
Only once it cracked him wideopen.
But he stayed.
He didn't collapse, he didn'tretreat, just stood there, name
spoken, tears silent, and thenight warm in his pocket, still
(23:57):
watching Part 6.
The Stillness Before theInvitation.
The next morning he returned tothe grave, not on purpose.
His feet led him there likethey remembered something.
He hadn't spoken yet.
It was still early, dew on thegrass, air thick with blue
(24:21):
silence that only shows up justbefore the world wakes.
He stood in front of her name,didn't kneel this time, didn't
cry, just stood.
For the first time he talked.
I don't know what I'm doing, hesaid, but I think I'm supposed
(24:42):
to keep going.
He took the knife from hispocket, rolled it between his
fingers.
They gave me this.
I don't know who they are.
He paused.
I haven't opened the ring boxyet.
I don't know if I ever will.
(25:04):
A breath, a stillness.
I miss you, but you're notcoming back, and I think it has
to be okay.
Another pause.
You told me once I was meantfor more.
I didn't believe you.
I do now.
The wind moved through thetrees like a sign.
He closed his eyes.
He held the night tight andwhispered Guide me.
(25:28):
Then he turned, walked away Forthe first time, not as a man
who was lost, but as a man whohad accepted.
Later that day he found theflyer.
It wasn't handed to him, itwasn't mailed.
It was folded and placed underhis coat while he slept.
A single sheet, white, no logo,just three words printed in red
(25:55):
ink.
The gauntlet begins no address,no name, no instructions.
But he knew.
He didn't know how, but he knew.
He folded it, slipped it behindthe torn flyer with grief.
His pocket now held a ring thatnever got to shine.
A night carved from silence, astone, warm to the touch, four
(26:20):
pieces of paper, four singlewords and now a summons.
He didn't smile, he didn'tcheer, but he stood straight in
his coat and began walkingtowards something, into
something, and the wind behindhim carried one word Chosen.
(26:46):
So let's sit with what justhappened.
This isn't a story about a manwho got handed a magical fix.
There was no miracle.
No second chance, noresurrection, just ruin.
And one decision he lost thewoman he was going to marry, the
ring still in his pocket, theproposal he never got to make,
(27:12):
still sealed in a box thatremains unopened.
That kind of weight doesn'tjust hurt, it haunts you.
And then life kept going.
He got fired, his home wastaken, the kind of collapse that
doesn't make headlines but itends men silently every day.
But here's what matters.
(27:33):
He didn't retreat, he sat inthe pain, he spoke to her, he
accepted the silence instead ofrunning from it.
And that's when something moved.
That's when the game began.
You might have missed it, butthe knight wasn't given for
heroism.
It was given because he moved,not dramatically, not bravely,
(27:59):
but because he simply kept going.
That's all.
Grandeur asks.
Keep going.
And along the way he startedcollecting relics a stone from a
boy who shouldn't know anything, a matchbook with one word, a
napkin, a torn piece silence,sacred pieces of a new code, not
(28:22):
for the world but for himself.
He's not healed, obviously, buthe's initiated.
He's not empowered, but he'savailable.
And maybe so are you.
Maybe that's why you're stilllistening, because something in
your life has collapsed too.
Something in you has stayedsilent for too long and maybe,
(28:49):
just maybe, the story isn't his,maybe it's yours.
What are you carrying that younever got to give away?
What box is still in yourpocket?
How long will you wait beforeyou decide?
This episode wasn't abouttriumph.
(29:10):
It was about tenderness,because sometimes the bravest
thing a man can do is whisper aname into silence and not fall
apart.
You're still here, that'senough.
Now the gauntlet begins, solet's go ahead and get into our
reflection questions.
Number one what moment in yourlife shattered you and have you
(29:36):
fully or I should say, have youever fully grieved it fully?
I should say, have you everfully grieved it?
That's such a big question.
Number two what symbolic ringare you still carrying that no
one else knows about?
Number three when was the lasttime you made a silent decision
(30:02):
that changed everything?
Number four what are you stillwaiting for permission to do
that you already know you mustdo?
Number five what is your nextword?
Not a goal, not a plan, just aword, a word that signals you're
still here.
So you know, when you'redealing with this kind of stuff
(30:29):
death and loved ones and thatkind of stuff it can get pretty
deep.
And this, I'm going to say thisthis is going to be a different
series.
There's going to be a lot ofthings that he's going to go
through homelessness, hunger,all those different things but
it's real life.
These are things that reallyhappen.
But you'll see throughout hisjourney what happens, and I
(30:53):
think you're going to love it,because I do, and I think you're
going to fall in love with thisguy because I have.
So again, guys, I want to thankyou so very much for listening
today.
I can't even tell you that theamount of support that we get
here on this channel or show isjust unbelievable, and I
(31:17):
couldn't do this without youguys and I just I'm so thankful
for for you guys alwayslistening and always being
supportive.
It just means the world to me,and also your questions and the
conversations I get to have withyou guys.
It's just so awesome.
So, since we're talking aboutthat, if you want to reach out
to me, if this is your firsttime listening, there's three
ways you can do it.
First way is going to bethrough the description of this
(31:39):
podcast.
It'll say let's chat.
You click on that and you and Ican have a conversation about
this episode, this series, orthe 260 plus episodes and now 13
plus series.
We have going right.
Second way is going to bethrough my email.
My email is anthony atgentsjourneycom, so please feel
free to reach out to me there.
(32:00):
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram is mygentsjourneycom, so please feel
free to reach out to me there.
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram is my gentsjourney.
So please, please, please, feelfree to reach out to me there
as well too.
Okay, so again, guys, thank you, so, so, so, very much for
listening today, and rememberthis you create your reality,
(32:21):
take care.
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host,and today we are in episode one
of Grandeur.
Now this is gonna be ourlongest series we've done thus
far.
This is gonna take pretty muchfour weeks, 20 episodes.
(00:22):
So get ready, this is not gonnabe like anything we've ever
done before here on GentsJourney, so I hope you enjoy it.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the cold open.
He was going to propose tonight.
Not with flash, not withcameras, not on some rooftop
drenched in fairy lights.
(00:43):
Just her, just him, just thebar where they'd met at three
years ago, a hole in the wallwith uneven stools and a busted
jukebox that still played theirfavorite song.
Their place.
He'd gone back and forth adozen times.
Ring, no ring, ring, no ring.
(01:03):
Should I do dinner first?
No, just ask her.
Be real, be scared, let itshake.
So he brought the ring.
It was small, simple, but itfelt like gravity in his pocket.
Every step toward that bar wasa skipped heartbeat.
Every streetlight passed.
(01:25):
It was a silent rehearsal inhis head.
He had it planned She'd sitdown, he'd fumble the words,
she'd laugh, he'd say it anyways.
He touched the box again justto make sure it was there it was
.
He was three blocks away nowwhen the phone rang A no number.
(01:47):
He almost ignored it, butsomething instinct maybe told
him to answer Is this are youher partner?
Time folded, noise blurred,there was an accident.
They said the location anintersection, two blocks from
(02:09):
the bar.
He ran.
He didn't feel the wind or thecars or the blood in his legs,
he just ran.
Lights, tape flashing, reds andblues.
Someone met him, said his name,her name.
His knees buckled.
He never made it to the bar.
(02:31):
She never got to hear thequestion In the ring.
It's still in his coat pocketSuddenly felt like a lie.
He didn't go home that nightbecause home was filled with her
Her shampoo in the shower, herjacket by the door, the
groceries they bought togetherjust two nights ago.
(02:52):
He got a motel, one of thoseoff-the-highway rooms with
buzzing lights and sheets thatsmelled like bleach.
He sat on the edge of the bed,held the box in his palm.
He didn't open it, didn't sleep, just stared.
The funeral came.
(03:14):
He wore the same suit he woreto his cousin's wedding.
It didn't fit anymore.
Just stood by the gravesidesurrounded by faces he barely
knew.
Everyone said she was the lightthat she made people feel seen.
He didn't speak.
What could he say?
(03:34):
That wouldn't break in the air.
After everyone left, he kneltbeside the grave, touched her
name, touched the box, didn'ttake it out, didn't open it.
He just whispered I'm sorry.
Then he stood and didn't lookback.
(03:57):
That afternoon they fired him,said the company was downsizing,
said it wasn't personal but itwas Because he was the one who
stopped showing up like a manwho mattered.
He was the one who brought hisgrief into the walls.
He was the one whose silencestarted to echo.
He didn't fight it, just nodded, walked out.
(04:20):
And now the job was gone, thelove was gone and all that
remained was a box in his pocket, a proposal that never happened
, a ring that's that stillglinted like maybe it had a
purpose.
He sold his car to cover twomonths of rent.
(04:41):
Then someone stole the last ofhis things from the laundry room
.
Then the landlord changed thelocks.
He slept in stairwells, then onbenches, then eventually, grant
Park, there was a tree halfdead.
He liked that.
It felt honest.
He hadn't spoken to anyone infour days.
(05:02):
He hadn't even looked at thering in seven, but he still
carried it every day in hispocket, not as a reminder of
love, but as proof thatsomething once mattered.
And then a sound, a shift on thebench.
Someone had sat beside him.
He didn't look, didn't care.
(05:24):
The stranger said nothing.
No greeting, no question, nojudgment, just reached in his
coat and placed something on thebench.
When he glanced over a singlechess piece, the knight,
weathered, heavy On the base,etched like a scar.
No retreat.
(05:44):
The man stood, a scar, noretreat.
The man stood, walked away, noexplanation.
For the first time in weeks hemoved.
Now, Episode 1, part 1.
The collapse begins.
The man came back, sat backdown and didn't say anything.
(06:09):
For a while the bench creaked,not like it was old, but like it
was listening.
He didn't look up, he didn'tcare.
People didn't sit next to himanymore, not with the way he
looked, the way he smelled, theway.
He didn't meet their eyes, butthis man did.
And for a while neither of themspoke.
And then the man said You'vebeen here for three nights.
(06:35):
His voice wasn't harsh, itwasn't soft either, just factual
, like he wasn't guessing.
He said nothing back.
The man nodded more to himselfthan anything else You're not
waiting for anyone.
Still silence.
Good, that finally got him.
(06:57):
He turned his head justslightly.
What You're not waiting, theman repeated.
Which means you started.
He almost laughed.
Started.
What Riding?
The man didn't smile, didn'tflinch.
He reached into his coat,pulled something out, a small
(07:20):
shape, heavy, cold, and placedit on the bench between them.
A chess piece, the knight.
The man stood slowly.
You moved, he said, then turnedto walk away.
Wait.
But it came out like a whisper.
The man paused, didn't lookback.
(07:43):
What, what is this?
You kept the ring, the man saidA breath, a truth, no judgment
in it.
He blinked, how do you?
But the man was already walking, just like that.
He was gone.
He didn't touch the piece atfirst, was gone.
(08:07):
He didn't touch the piece atfirst, just stared.
It wasn't plastic, it wasn'tornamental, it was cars from
something old, weathered On itsbase, a phrase etched in foreign
weight no retreat.
What the hell is that supposedto mean?
He turned the night in his handas if it might unlock.
It didn't, but it fit into thesame pocket where the ring lived
(08:31):
.
Two symbols, one of the past,one of something else, something
unknown.
He sat there for another hour,didn't cry, didn't speak, but
for the first time since thefuneral he felt not better, just
(08:51):
different, like maybe thiswasn't the end, maybe it was the
first piece.
That night he didn't sleep.
He found a bus, shelter, cold,leaking.
But it was something.
He didn't dream of her.
(09:13):
He dreamed of the voice, low,clear.
The game has already begun.
He woke up with the night inhis hand, not in his pocket,
like his body knew he'dunderstand it.
But something had shifted andwhatever it was, he wasn't
(09:36):
retreating.
Part 2.
The Voice in the Silence.
The next morning he woke withthe night still clutched in his
hand.
It had grooves, now his ownfingerprints pressed into the
ridges from holding it all night.
His breath fogged.
The air, no blanket, just thecoat, just the night.
(09:58):
The sun was barely up, butsomething felt alert, not loud,
not warm, just present, like theair itself was paying attention
.
He rubbed his eyes, tried toshake it, but something,
something was different.
It wasn't the bench, it wasn'tthe cold, it was him.
(10:24):
He moved without knowing why,crossed three blocks, then four,
passed a coffee shop withfogged windows, passed a
bookstore where they once boughtmatching paperbacks and then
never read them.
He didn't have a destination,just an ache, the kind of ache
that pulls your body inside outbut then says go.
(10:47):
Eventually he found a buildingBrick, faded, forgotten, no sign
, no people, just there, like ithad always been waiting.
He stood in the front of it fora long time, didn't knock,
didn't leave.
Then he turned and kept walking.
(11:10):
Two hours later he sat on thesteps of a church not religious,
not even curious.
But the doors were open and thesound inside?
Silence, not emptiness, silencethat kind you feel in the back
of your throat.
He didn't go in, just sat onthe steps.
(11:33):
He held the night in his palm.
For the first time since shedied, he spoke.
I don't know what the hell ishappening.
His voice cracked.
The wind didn't answer.
First time since she died, hespoke.
I don't know what the hell ishappening.
His voice cracked.
The wind didn't answer.
But something moved in him,something listened.
(11:56):
That night he had the dreamagain, the voice deeper, this
time clear.
The game has begun, but thistime it.
The game has begun, but thistime it wasn't alone.
It was another voice.
It was familiar, female.
Her voice was soft but kindYou're not done yet.
(12:18):
He gasped awake, hands shakingthe night on his chest, looking
right at him at the bottom noretreat.
The next day something pulledhim toward the river.
The cold bit through hisclothes, but he kept walking.
There's a man beneath thebridge burning something in a
metal barrel.
He didn't ask questions, didn'tgreet, just nodded.
(12:40):
The man nodded back for amoment, just a flicker.
They weren't strangers, justmen carrying weight.
He stayed there for hours,didn't speak, didn't need to.
But when he left the man saidone thing Most people wait for a
map.
He looked back.
(13:01):
But the ones who matter, theyjust start walking.
He didn't ask how the man knew,didn't ask what it meant.
He just kept going With theknight in his pocket.
And that was something stirring, something alive.
That night he did somethingstrange.
He took out a pen, found adiscarded napkin and wrote the
(13:25):
word BEGIN.
He stared at it, folded,itucked it into the same pocket,
next to the ring, next to thenight.
That was the first move.
And that silence.
It shifted.
Part 3.
The box he didn't open.
(13:45):
He hadn't opened the ring box,not once, not in the hospital.
Not in the hospital, Not at thegrave, not in the motel or on
the bench or in the churchdoorway.
He held it, he felt it, but henever opened it.
That was the deal.
If he opened it, he'd have toface what was inside, not the
(14:09):
ring, the failure, the fact.
The question was never asked,the question never given, that a
future had been carved into acircle and it never got to live.
So the box stayed closed.
Every day it grew heavier.
He sat in the park again Samebench, same dead tree, different
(14:32):
wind.
He sat in the park again, samebench, same dead tree, different
wind.
He pulled the box from hispocket, turned it over in his
hand.
It had scratches, now wear fromtime.
It still clicked when he shook.
It still whispered what couldhave been, still whispered, what
could have been.
He placed it on the benchbeside the knight.
Two relics, one of lost love,one of a war just beginning.
(14:59):
He watched them both For thefirst time he spoke to her.
I can't carry both.
A bird landed nearby looked athim sideways.
I need to know what matters.
The bird flew away.
He waited.
The wind shifted, then hepicked them both up and stood,
(15:24):
still unopened, still whole, butnow willing.
That night the voice returned,same rhythm, same tone, but this
time it asked a question Areyou ready to suffer?
Not in a cruel way, just honestand without hesitation he
(15:45):
answered aloud.
Yes, then silence, real silence.
But this time it didn't echo.
It Settled Like a hush beforesomething sacred.
He walked the city with nopurpose, just motion, old alleys
, fire escapes, rooftops he usedto sneak onto in college.
(16:08):
At one point he passed a mural,a knight on horseback, sword
raised, cloak torn, but behindhim his shadow wore a crown.
He stopped, looked up andlaughed, not because it was
funny but because it wasfamiliar.
Something inside him stirred.
(16:31):
He placed his hand on theknight in his coat pocket.
It buzzed just for a second,enough to feel it.
He didn't imagine it, he knew.
He knew he didn't imagine it.
And now something was watching,something wanted more.
Not worship, not obedience,just a decision.
(16:52):
He pulled the napkin back out,began.
The ink had blown a little.
He turned it over and wrote onemore word Decide.
He didn't know why, he didn'tcare.
It felt right, it felt real.
For the first time since thefall he felt like a man again,
(17:16):
not healed, not whole, butpresent.
And that was enough.
Part 4.
The Mapless Hour.
The city looks different whenyou stop pretending it belongs
to you.
He walked it like a stranger,felt its cold bricks, read its
(17:39):
closed signs, watched peoplethrough cafe windows, laughing
at nothing, caring abouteverything.
He didn't envy them, he didn'tresent them.
He just didn't envy them, hedidn't resent them, he just
didn't feel them anymore.
Whatever used to connect him tothe ordinary world jobs,
schedules, small talk was gone.
(18:01):
What remained was motion, onefoot, then another, no plan, no
destination, just presence.
He was moving, but not forward.
He was breathing but not hoping.
This wasn't survival, it wassomething else, like waiting for
(18:21):
a summons he hadn't realizedhe'd already received.
He found himself on a street hedidn't recognize, but the name
rang in his bones it was calledMercy, a dead end Fitting.
He followed it until thepavement ended, then climbed the
(18:41):
hill at the edge, at the top,nothing, just wind and sky and
the sound of his heartbeatreminding him he was still there
.
He took out the night H held itup to the light.
It caught the sun, like it hadbeen waiting, like it knew.
He closed his fist around it.
(19:03):
He didn't ask for signs, didn'task for help, he just said I'm
listening and something in thewind shifted, not louder, just
clear.
That night he met the boy, nineyears old, maybe ten, alone
sitting on the curb, threadbarehoodie and a busted skateboard.
(19:26):
No cheers, just stillness.
He stopped, looked at him hey,are you okay?
The boy didn't answer, juststared forward.
Then you see it too, don't you?
He blinked what, what?
(19:46):
The shift, the shift the boystood, walked towards him.
You're not like them anymore.
Who?
The boy pointed behind him, thecity, the waiting ones.
Then he held out his hand andgave him something a stone,
(20:07):
smooth, black Warm.
He closed his fingers around it.
By the time he looked up, theboy was gone.
No one around, no footsteps, notrace, just a warm stone in a
cold night and the sense thatthe world was starting to show
(20:28):
its cracks.
He placed the stone in his coat, next to the ring, next to the
night, next to the napkin, andwalked.
This time he didn't wander, hemoved.
Later that night he wrote again,this time on a matchbook cover.
One word still, because in allthe noise, in all the hunger,
(20:50):
hunger and all the claps, he wasstill here and sometimes that
was the loudest thing a mancould say.
Part five the names he doesn'tsay.
He used to say her name everyday in texts, text and
(21:10):
half-asleep greetings andwhispered apologies.
Now he couldn't say it at all.
He tried the first time afterthe funeral.
He said it once it brokesomething, not like glass, like
a rib.
He didn't try again.
(21:35):
That morning he stood at a busstop, not to go anywhere, just
to listen, to let the sounds ofthe city push against his
silence.
There was a woman hummingbehind him, soft melancholy.
He wanted to ask her the nameof the song, but the question
didn't feel right coming out.
So he stood there, let themelody stitch into his bones.
(21:59):
When she left, he whisperedthank you.
His voice cracked.
The wind answered.
Later he passed a memorial wall,downtown, pictures of lost
children, stuffed animals tiedto poles, handwritten notes and
fading marker.
One photo stopped him cold Alittle girl, same eyes as her,
(22:24):
same nose.
He almost said her name, almost, but instead he knelt.
Name almost, but instead heknelt.
Lit a match, held it under thestone from the boy.
The flame didn't touch it, butit glowed For a second, a pulse.
He closed his eyes and saidnothing.
(22:44):
He wrote again, this time on atorn flyer grieve, the first
letter of something he didn'tyet understand.
He folded it, tucked it besidethe napkin.
He was starting to buildsomething, not consciously but
instinctually Paper relics, oneword at a time Begin, decide,
(23:08):
still, grieve.
Each one a brick and an unseenfoundation.
He wasn't rebuilding a life.
He was becoming a man who could.
That night he stood by the riveragain no voices, just water.
He spoke into the wind I don'tknow how to do this A long pause
(23:33):
.
Then, in a quiet whisper, hesaid her name.
Only once it cracked him wideopen.
But he stayed.
He didn't collapse, he didn'tretreat, just stood there, name
spoken, tears silent, and thenight warm in his pocket, still
(23:57):
watching Part 6.
The Stillness Before theInvitation.
The next morning he returned tothe grave, not on purpose.
His feet led him there likethey remembered something.
He hadn't spoken yet.
It was still early, dew on thegrass, air thick with blue
(24:21):
silence that only shows up justbefore the world wakes.
He stood in front of her name,didn't kneel this time, didn't
cry, just stood.
For the first time he talked.
I don't know what I'm doing, hesaid, but I think I'm supposed
(24:42):
to keep going.
He took the knife from hispocket, rolled it between his
fingers.
They gave me this.
I don't know who they are.
He paused.
I haven't opened the ring boxyet.
I don't know if I ever will.
(25:04):
A breath, a stillness.
I miss you, but you're notcoming back, and I think it has
to be okay.
Another pause.
You told me once I was meantfor more.
I didn't believe you.
I do now.
The wind moved through thetrees like a sign.
He closed his eyes.
He held the night tight andwhispered Guide me.
(25:28):
Then he turned, walked away Forthe first time, not as a man
who was lost, but as a man whohad accepted.
Later that day he found theflyer.
It wasn't handed to him, itwasn't mailed.
It was folded and placed underhis coat while he slept.
A single sheet, white, no logo,just three words printed in red
(25:55):
ink.
The gauntlet begins no address,no name, no instructions.
But he knew.
He didn't know how, but he knew.
He folded it, slipped it behindthe torn flyer with grief.
His pocket now held a ring thatnever got to shine.
A night carved from silence, astone, warm to the touch, four
(26:20):
pieces of paper, four singlewords and now a summons.
He didn't smile, he didn'tcheer, but he stood straight in
his coat and began walkingtowards something, into
something, and the wind behindhim carried one word Chosen.
(26:46):
So let's sit with what justhappened.
This isn't a story about a manwho got handed a magical fix.
There was no miracle.
No second chance, noresurrection, just ruin.
And one decision he lost thewoman he was going to marry, the
ring still in his pocket, theproposal he never got to make,
(27:12):
still sealed in a box thatremains unopened.
That kind of weight doesn'tjust hurt, it haunts you.
And then life kept going.
He got fired, his home wastaken, the kind of collapse that
doesn't make headlines but itends men silently every day.
But here's what matters.
(27:33):
He didn't retreat, he sat inthe pain, he spoke to her, he
accepted the silence instead ofrunning from it.
And that's when something moved.
That's when the game began.
You might have missed it, butthe knight wasn't given for
heroism.
It was given because he moved,not dramatically, not bravely,
(27:59):
but because he simply kept going.
That's all.
Grandeur asks.
Keep going.
And along the way he startedcollecting relics a stone from a
boy who shouldn't know anything, a matchbook with one word, a
napkin, a torn piece silence,sacred pieces of a new code, not
(28:22):
for the world but for himself.
He's not healed, obviously, buthe's initiated.
He's not empowered, but he'savailable.
And maybe so are you.
Maybe that's why you're stilllistening, because something in
your life has collapsed too.
Something in you has stayedsilent for too long and maybe,
(28:49):
just maybe, the story isn't his,maybe it's yours.
What are you carrying that younever got to give away?
What box is still in yourpocket?
How long will you wait beforeyou decide?
This episode wasn't abouttriumph.
(29:10):
It was about tenderness,because sometimes the bravest
thing a man can do is whisper aname into silence and not fall
apart.
You're still here, that'senough.
Now the gauntlet begins, solet's go ahead and get into our
reflection questions.
Number one what moment in yourlife shattered you and have you
(29:36):
fully or I should say, have youever fully grieved it fully?
I should say, have you everfully grieved it?
That's such a big question.
Number two what symbolic ringare you still carrying that no
one else knows about?
Number three when was the lasttime you made a silent decision
(30:02):
that changed everything?
Number four what are you stillwaiting for permission to do
that you already know you mustdo?
Number five what is your nextword?
Not a goal, not a plan, just aword, a word that signals you're
still here.
So you know, when you'redealing with this kind of stuff
(30:29):
death and loved ones and thatkind of stuff it can get pretty
deep.
And this, I'm going to say thisthis is going to be a different
series.
There's going to be a lot ofthings that he's going to go
through homelessness, hunger,all those different things but
it's real life.
These are things that reallyhappen.
But you'll see throughout hisjourney what happens, and I
(30:53):
think you're going to love it,because I do, and I think you're
going to fall in love with thisguy because I have.
So again, guys, I want to thankyou so very much for listening
today.
I can't even tell you that theamount of support that we get
here on this channel or show isjust unbelievable, and I
(31:17):
couldn't do this without youguys and I just I'm so thankful
for for you guys alwayslistening and always being
supportive.
It just means the world to me,and also your questions and the
conversations I get to have withyou guys.
It's just so awesome.
So, since we're talking aboutthat, if you want to reach out
to me, if this is your firsttime listening, there's three
ways you can do it.
First way is going to bethrough the description of this
(31:39):
podcast.
It'll say let's chat.
You click on that and you and Ican have a conversation about
this episode, this series, orthe 260 plus episodes and now 13
plus series.
We have going right.
Second way is going to bethrough my email.
My email is anthony atgentsjourneycom, so please feel
free to reach out to me there.
(32:00):
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram is mygentsjourneycom, so please feel
free to reach out to me there.
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram is my gentsjourney.
So please, please, please, feelfree to reach out to me there
as well too.
Okay, so again, guys, thank you, so, so, so, very much for
listening today, and rememberthis you create your reality,
(32:21):
take care.
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