July 29, 2025 • 27 mins
What if the gates to our greatest transformation don't open for the worthy, but for the willing? What if the spark we've been searching for isn't coming from above, but from the ruins beneath our feet?
In this second episode of Grandeur, we follow a man's journey through a mysterious gauntlet—a metaphorical labyrinth that challenges not his strength or skill, but his willingness to face what he's been avoiding. Through encounters with shadowy figures, shifting corridors, and relics from his past, he discovers that the true test isn't about completing the gauntlet, but about staying present when every instinct screams to run.
The narrative unfolds through six parts, each revealing another layer of this internal pilgrimage. We witness our protagonist confronting an unopened ring box, an unspoken proposal, and the grief of losing someone before saying what needed to be said. As he moves through each challenge, a profound truth emerges: "He who waits for proof forfeits power."
This episode speaks directly to those of us caught in patterns of avoidance, those waiting for permission or certainty before taking action in our lives. Through rich symbolism and evocative storytelling, we're invited to consider what we've been carrying, what we've been running from, and what gates might open if we simply chose to stay present with our pain rather than outrunning it.
The journey culminates in the understanding that transformation begins not when we gain something, but when we lose the need to prove anything. The spark—that elusive catalyst for change we've been searching for—was never going to come from external validation. It comes from the decision to stop running, to build our own fire, with the match that was always in our pocket.
Join me for this soul-stirring exploration of grief, acceptance, and the courage to face ourselves. And if this episode resonates with you, reach out through the "let's chat" function, email me at anthony@gentsjourney.com, or connect on Instagram @mygentsjourney.
"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 two
of Grandeur.
Can't believe we're already inthe second episode?
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the cold open.
(00:23):
He almost turned back Threeblocks from the alley.
His legs stopped moving, notout of fear but out of
exhaustion.
He hadn't eaten in almost twodays, hadn't slept more than an
hour at a time.
He was running on silence andthe hum of something he couldn't
(00:44):
name In his pocket the night,the ring, the stone, four torn
words and the flyer.
The gauntlet begins, no address, no map.
But he knew, he knew, and stillhe almost turned back.
(01:10):
The alley wasn't just dark, itswaddled light.
He stepped closer.
The brick walls felt too tall,like they leaned in Trash bags,
rusted gate steam leaking fromsome hidden vent, a silence so
(01:30):
thick it pressed on his chest.
He reached into his coat,pulled out the flyer, looked at
it again, hoping maybe it hadchanged.
It hadn't, but his breath hadShallow.
It was quick.
Not panic, but readiness.
He folded the paper slowly,slid it back into the pocket and
(01:53):
whispered to no one I see you.
That's when it happened.
The gate unlocked.
No sound, no click, just asubtle release, like it always
was meant to be opened, but onlywhen he spoke.
I looked behind him once, notto check for danger, but to say
(02:16):
goodbye To everything, to her,to who he used to be.
Then he stepped forward, notlike a soldier, not like a
soldier, not like a hero, butlike a man who finally
understood.
The only way out is in Part 1.
The man who Said no, thebuilding didn't look like
(02:40):
anything.
Three floors, half-borderedwindows, rusted fire escape, no
signage, no markings, just adoor that wasn't locked because
it didn't need to be the kind ofplace that asks questions just
by existing.
He stepped inside.
The scent hit him first.
(03:01):
The scent hit him first Mildew,dust, metal.
(03:23):
Then the sound, a faint echo,sitting in a folding chair,
still slumped, staring at theground.
He walked toward him slowly,half expecting him to vanish,
but he didn't.
He just looked up and saidDon't bother.
(03:44):
The man was older, mid-fiftiesJaw like broken granite Eyes
that had seen too much and stillweren't sure if it mattered.
You're here for the gauntlet.
The man said flatly Turn around, go home.
He didn't answer.
Don't make the same mistake.
I did A pause.
(04:05):
He studied't answer.
Don't make the same mistake.
I did A pause.
He studied the man's face, hishands, his coat tattered, dusted
, but with a symbol sewn insidethe lapel A black rook.
What?
What happened to you?
The man laughed once dry.
I said yes, that's whathappened.
(04:26):
And then he stood, revealing alimp, a weight.
But I, I didn't finish.
I made it halfway throughThought.
I understood the cost, I didn't.
He reached into his coat,pulled out a piece a black
bishop.
(04:47):
He had it cracked down thecenter.
I didn't earn this, he said.
It was given to me too early.
He held it out, offered it, buthe didn't take it.
I'm not, I'm not here tocollect, he said I know.
The man replied that's why youmight survive.
(05:09):
He stood in silence.
Then the man dropped the bishopto the ground.
Let it echo once.
I walked away, without anotherword.
The door at the end of thehallway opened on its own.
The door at the end of thehallway opened on its own.
I didn't follow the man.
He walked through the door andstepped into a room.
(05:29):
It didn't make any sense.
It wasn't dark, it wasn't light, it just was.
And inside it a single phrase,burned on the far wall in soft
white light he who waits forproof forfeits power.
No voice, no movement, justthat.
(05:54):
He took a breath, steppedforward Into whatever came next,
part 2.
The Room Without a Door.
There was no door behind him.
He turned instinctively,checking the path, seeking some
anchor.
But the frame he walked throughwas gone, not sealed, just not
(06:21):
there anymore.
Only four walls, now, one lightabove, humming like a memory.
The room was quiet, but notdead.
It felt observant, as if thespace itself was waiting.
He stepped further in nofurniture, no objects, just
(06:45):
marks on the floor, only thephrase on the far wall, now
glowing slightly stronger he whowaits for proof forfeits power.
He spoke to it I'm not waiting.
And as soon as those words lefthis mouth, the wall shifted.
No noise, no creaking.
(07:06):
It folded, not open, not away.
It simply bent.
Not open, not away.
It simply bent reality intoanother corridor appeared Narrow
, clean, white.
It's too quiet.
But he entered.
(07:27):
As he walked, the corridorstretched and narrowed in places
, like a living organismadjusting to his breath.
Sometimes it felt underground,sometimes it felt above the
clouds.
Then suddenly it opened Intowhat looked like a subway
terminal long abandonedFlickering signs, old benches, a
cracked vending machine with asingle item inside Water.
(07:51):
Checked his pockets, nothing butthe relics.
He pressed the water buttonanyways.
It lit up, but it didn'tdispense.
Instead a voice behind him said, thirsty For answers, he turned
sharply.
Another man, younger than theone from the hallway, cleaner a
(08:15):
sharpness in his posture, butthe eyes were the same too.
Knowing too.
Still, I made it to the seventhgate, the man said.
Thought I'd be chosen.
He laughed Once.
But better they don't tell you.
(08:36):
The gates aren't real.
The only thing real is what yougive up to get through them.
He pointed out the night in hispocket.
Keep that safe, it'll try toleave you.
Wait, what are the gates?
The man didn't answer.
(08:56):
Instead he walked past, placeda coin on the vending machine
and said you'll find out.
Then he was gone, not into adoor, into the wall, like mist.
The machine lit up again, waterdropped into the slot.
(09:19):
He didn't drink it, just staredat it and whispered what am I
being prepared for?
A quarter didn't answer, but hecould feel it tightening again.
The bottle he picked it up Notto quench his thirst.
(09:40):
Carry it with him Likeeverything else now, a silent
offering to a path with no mapand a gate that may never open
again.
Part 3.
The Quarter that Remembers.
The corridor tightened again.
This time it bent upward, agradual slope at first, then
(10:02):
sharper.
He didn't notice until histhigh started burning.
The bottle of water swung fromhis fingers, still unopened,
still cold.
There was no signs, no doors,no cameras, just a wall.
A wall that felt like memory.
Each step scraped somethingloose.
(10:23):
Not pain, not fear, just afeeling that this wasn't the
first time he'd walked thishallway, even though it couldn't
be true.
Right Halfway up the incline hestopped, lean against the wall,
caught his breath.
And then something strangehappened the night in.
(10:47):
His coat shifted, it moved, notlike it was falling, like it
was responding.
He pulled it out, held it inhis palm.
The peace was warm again, likeit had just been touched.
But no one was near.
Then, without warning, acorridor filled with a faint hum
(11:10):
.
Not music, not a machine.
It was a voice, female, faint,whispering his name, not the one
he goes by now, the only oneshe used.
He turned sharply no one, butthe corridor shimmered Briefly,
(11:35):
and in that shimmer he sawsomething, a flash A hospital
hallway, an empty bed, a ringbox sitting unopened on the
chair beside it and her facesmiling just for a moment, then
(11:56):
gone.
His legs gave out.
He sat against the wallbreathing hard.
I should have told you hewhispered, I should have given
it to you when I had the chance.
The corridor didn't respond,but the bottle of water fogged
from the inside, like somethinghad breathed into it.
(12:18):
He picked it up again and sawthe words etched into the
condensation there's still time.
He stared at it for a longwhile, then stood and kept
walking, not to escape but tocomplete the sentence.
(12:40):
At the top of the incline hereached the platform, circular,
empty except for one thing amirror.
It was full length, goldenframe, clean, and when he looked
into it he didn't see himself.
He saw her, smiling, notholding the ring, just looking
(13:03):
at him, expectant, like she waswaiting for something.
And just before the imageflickered, she mouthed something
.
He couldn't hear it, butsomehow he knew what she was
saying there's still time.
Part four the collapse hecarried.
(13:25):
He sat down without realizingit, not from exhaustion, from
something deeper, a kind ofheaviness that doesn't belong to
the body.
The mirror had vanished, theimage too.
All that remained was silenceand the box in his pocket, heavy
(13:46):
, unopened.
He touched it briefly, felt theedges of it through the fabric
still there, still sealed, andyet the weight was unbearable.
Not because of what was inside,but because of what it
symbolized.
Not because of what was inside,but because of what it
(14:09):
symbolized what he never said,what he never gave.
His back slid down the coldwall until it hit the floor.
His hands dropped to his knees.
For the first time since herdeath, he let himself fall apart
.
There was no performance, nonarration, no myth to hide
behind, just a man, a box, inthe pain of what could have been
(14:35):
.
The tears didn't fall like astorm, they crept like they'd
been waiting and now, with noone watching, they moved freely.
I thought about the way herfingers used to find his hand in
crowded places, the way shealways tilted her head when she
asked him something serious, theway she once told him you
(15:01):
already have everything you need, you just haven't looked
closely.
And now she was gone and he wasleft holding the unopened
future, not just the ring, theversion of himself he had never
become.
The one who said it, the onewho chose.
(15:23):
He pulled the box out of hispocket, didn't open it, just
held it, pressed it to his chestand whispered I would've.
That was all.
No speech, no vow, just thattruth, spoken quietly enough to
cut through time.
The box stayed closed, but thepart of him that had been locked
(15:48):
away didn't.
When he finally stood, hedidn't feel lighter, but he felt
clearer, and clarity was enough.
He tucked the box back into hiscoat, wrapped his sore knuckles
with the hem of his shirt andwalked forward, not with
(16:11):
strength but with surrender.
The hallway didn't open, itsimply accepted him, like grief
when you stop trying to outpaceit, part 5.
A voice he almost missed.
The next corridor was narrower,low ceiling, dustier air, the
(16:33):
kind of place designed to makeyou feel like you don't belong
there.
He walked slower now, not outof caution, but because
something was pulling at hischest, like he had forgotten
something and didn't know what.
It wasn't fear, it wasn'thesitation, it was memory trying
to surface.
And that's that's when he heardit Child's voice.
(16:58):
Why are you crying?
He turned.
No one there, but the voicecame again, this time in front
of him.
I said why are you crying?
The voice didn't soundthreatening.
It sounded familiar, not intone, In rhythm, like it
(17:22):
belonged to someone who knew himbefore the collapse.
He kept walking, step after step.
The quarter seemed to growyounger now Less worn.
He kept walking, step afterstep.
Quarter seemed to grow youngernow Less worn, brighter somehow.
And then he saw it, chalk,drawing on the floor A knight,
just like the one in his pocket,drawn by a child's hand.
Next to it, another piece, aqueen, but this one was upside
(17:49):
down.
He, net-dell, slowly traced theoutline with his finger and
felt a chill move through hisspine, because as soon as his
finger touched the chalk, thevoice whispered she's not coming
back.
He stayed crouched, felt thelump rise in his throat again.
She's not, he said softly.
(18:10):
I know that, but you still wearthe ring.
He didn't answer.
There's nothing to say.
He stood pocketed.
The memory kept walking.
But the voice had one morething to say, and it stopped him
mid-stride.
She gave it to you.
(18:32):
He froze the ring.
No, that couldn't be.
He turned, but the chalk wasgone, so was the drawing, so was
the corridor.
He was now in a circular room,empty except for a table, and on
it his journal, the one heburned six months ago.
(18:55):
He opened it, blank pages, allexcept for one, the last one In
his own handwriting.
Begin again, part 6.
The first gate opens.
The journal closed on its own,not violently soft, like the
room itself knew the moment wascomplete.
(19:17):
He stood for a long time, notmoving, not thinking, just
breathing.
Then the table sanked the floorlike it had never existed, and
from where it vanished camelight, a circular glow.
Faint Whispering.
He stepped toward it, the ringwarm in his pocket, the night
(19:43):
humming like an old enginerestarting.
He stood at the edge of thelight, then knelt and placed the
night in its center.
The night humming like an oldengine restarting.
He stood at the edge of thelight, then knelt and placed the
night in its center.
The light pulsed, not fast, notintense, just steady like a
(20:04):
heartbeat.
And then he heard it footstepsbehind him.
Slow, measured, he turned,expecting someone he knew.
But it was no one, just a cloak, hooded, empty inside.
And yet it moved, like it sawhim.
The cloak stepped forward,reached for the knight, lifted
(20:27):
it and nodded once and placed itback in his palm, but this time
it glowed faintly blue.
What is this, he asked.
The cloak didn't speak, but inhis mind something answered the
gate is earned by presence, notby skill.
(20:48):
And with that the room changed,walls shifted, they became wood
, then stone, then wind.
When he blinked, he was standingin front of a staircase, worn,
cracked, climbing into the dark,no one around, no cloak, no
(21:08):
journal, just the night stillglowing and the echo of
something older than memory Onepiece, one gate, One decision.
He didn't run.
He didn't run, he didn't pray.
He stepped on the first stairand felt it give under his
weight, on a weakness, anacceptance like it had been
(21:33):
waiting for him.
He climbed each step, carryingnot just his body but his choice
to stay, to carry, to ascend.
Each step, carrying not justhis body but his choice To stay,
to carry, to ascend.
And as he reached the top,another voice greeted him, but
this one wasn't words, it wasmusic, a single tone, played by
(21:57):
no instrument, and it playedjust for him, a sound only heard
when a man finally accepts.
The gate doesn't open for theworthy, it opens for the willing
.
You know, some men wait theirentire lives for a spark, never
(22:19):
realizing it wasn't going tocome from the sky but from the
ruin under their feet.
This wasn't just a turningpoint, it was a burning point, a
place where he could have gone,numb, could have abandoned the
journey the moment it dared towhisper back the grief he tried
(22:40):
so long to silence.
He walked through silence,through memory, through grief.
He saw her face, heard his oldname, faced the shame of not
proposing, faced the weight ofwhat he carries, faced the fact
that healing doesn't arrivedressed as hope.
(23:02):
It arrives as a collapse, asempty corridors, as whispers
from children you don't remember, as a mirror that shows he's
wearing the ring you never gave.
That was the true test.
Not the gate, not the corridor,not the phantom figures trying
(23:23):
to warn him this.
This real trial was would hestay in the room, the one inside
, the one no one else can see?
No one else can see what youmight have missed, what many
miss, is that the first gatedidn't open because he was
strong.
(23:44):
It opened because he stayed,because, when given the chance
to numb it out, to bargain, toescape, he didn't do any of
those.
He stayed, he sat, he wept, hebled and decided to keep walking
(24:05):
.
The man who walked into thisepisode still thought the
journey was about reclamation,about fixing, about becoming
more.
But what this path showed him,quietly, cruelly and lovingly,
is that the journey begins notwhen you gain something, but
(24:27):
when you lose the need to proveanything.
The spark wasn't a fire.
It was a decision Not to runfrom parts of himself.
He taught to avoid, but to facethem, to be with them, to fill
them so deeply they no longercontrolled him.
(24:48):
That's what the spark truly is.
It's the end of running, theend of waiting for someone to
tell you it's time.
It's the moment you realize thefire doesn't come for you.
You have to build it yourself,and the match was always in your
pocket.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the reflection.
(25:09):
Questions Number one when wasthe last time you actually sat
with your pain instead of tryingto outthink it?
That's a big question, rightthere.
Number two what have you beenwaiting for proof of before you
let yourself act?
Another huge question.
(25:32):
Three have you mistakenreadiness for permission?
Another big question, guys.
Number four If a relic washanded to you today, what would
it reveal, I should say, aboutwhat you've truly been carrying?
Number five what if your gatedoesn't require effort but
(25:58):
stillness?
So, doesn't require effort, butstillness.
So, guys, we're getting heavyand deep.
And it's only episode two.
This is, like I said, this canbe a different series.
So I want to thank you, guys,for all the support you've been
(26:19):
giving to the show.
It's just so amazing and I'm sograteful for it.
I just can't tell you how muchI appreciate it.
But since I've been getting alot of questions and I've been
really appreciative and having alot of great conversations with
you guys, if you want to have aconversation with me, there's
three different ways you can doit.
First way is going to be withthe description of this podcast.
(26:42):
There's a let's chat function.
You click on that.
You and I can have aconversation with this series,
this episode, the past 13 seriesand the past 260 episodes.
I have a ton of content, ton ofcontent, guys.
There's a big library.
Second way is going to bethrough my email.
My email is anthony atgentsjourneycom.
(27:02):
Feel free to reach out to methere.
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram is my gentsjourney, so please feel free to
reach out to me there too.
Okay, so, guys, again, thankyou so much for listening today
and remember this you createyour reality.
(27:25):
Take care.
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host,and today we are in episode two
of Grandeur.
Can't believe we're already inthe second episode?
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the cold open.
(00:23):
He almost turned back Threeblocks from the alley.
His legs stopped moving, notout of fear but out of
exhaustion.
He hadn't eaten in almost twodays, hadn't slept more than an
hour at a time.
He was running on silence andthe hum of something he couldn't
(00:44):
name In his pocket the night,the ring, the stone, four torn
words and the flyer.
The gauntlet begins, no address, no map.
But he knew, he knew, and stillhe almost turned back.
(01:10):
The alley wasn't just dark, itswaddled light.
He stepped closer.
The brick walls felt too tall,like they leaned in Trash bags,
rusted gate steam leaking fromsome hidden vent, a silence so
(01:30):
thick it pressed on his chest.
He reached into his coat,pulled out the flyer, looked at
it again, hoping maybe it hadchanged.
It hadn't, but his breath hadShallow.
It was quick.
Not panic, but readiness.
He folded the paper slowly,slid it back into the pocket and
(01:53):
whispered to no one I see you.
That's when it happened.
The gate unlocked.
No sound, no click, just asubtle release, like it always
was meant to be opened, but onlywhen he spoke.
I looked behind him once, notto check for danger, but to say
(02:16):
goodbye To everything, to her,to who he used to be.
Then he stepped forward, notlike a soldier, not like a
soldier, not like a hero, butlike a man who finally
understood.
The only way out is in Part 1.
The man who Said no, thebuilding didn't look like
(02:40):
anything.
Three floors, half-borderedwindows, rusted fire escape, no
signage, no markings, just adoor that wasn't locked because
it didn't need to be the kind ofplace that asks questions just
by existing.
He stepped inside.
The scent hit him first.
(03:01):
The scent hit him first Mildew,dust, metal.
(03:23):
Then the sound, a faint echo,sitting in a folding chair,
still slumped, staring at theground.
He walked toward him slowly,half expecting him to vanish,
but he didn't.
He just looked up and saidDon't bother.
(03:44):
The man was older, mid-fiftiesJaw like broken granite Eyes
that had seen too much and stillweren't sure if it mattered.
You're here for the gauntlet.
The man said flatly Turn around, go home.
He didn't answer.
Don't make the same mistake.
I did A pause.
(04:05):
He studied't answer.
Don't make the same mistake.
I did A pause.
He studied the man's face, hishands, his coat tattered, dusted
, but with a symbol sewn insidethe lapel A black rook.
What?
What happened to you?
The man laughed once dry.
I said yes, that's whathappened.
(04:26):
And then he stood, revealing alimp, a weight.
But I, I didn't finish.
I made it halfway throughThought.
I understood the cost, I didn't.
He reached into his coat,pulled out a piece a black
bishop.
(04:47):
He had it cracked down thecenter.
I didn't earn this, he said.
It was given to me too early.
He held it out, offered it, buthe didn't take it.
I'm not, I'm not here tocollect, he said I know.
The man replied that's why youmight survive.
(05:09):
He stood in silence.
Then the man dropped the bishopto the ground.
Let it echo once.
I walked away, without anotherword.
The door at the end of thehallway opened on its own.
The door at the end of thehallway opened on its own.
I didn't follow the man.
He walked through the door andstepped into a room.
(05:29):
It didn't make any sense.
It wasn't dark, it wasn't light, it just was.
And inside it a single phrase,burned on the far wall in soft
white light he who waits forproof forfeits power.
No voice, no movement, justthat.
(05:54):
He took a breath, steppedforward Into whatever came next,
part 2.
The Room Without a Door.
There was no door behind him.
He turned instinctively,checking the path, seeking some
anchor.
But the frame he walked throughwas gone, not sealed, just not
(06:21):
there anymore.
Only four walls, now, one lightabove, humming like a memory.
The room was quiet, but notdead.
It felt observant, as if thespace itself was waiting.
He stepped further in nofurniture, no objects, just
(06:45):
marks on the floor, only thephrase on the far wall, now
glowing slightly stronger he whowaits for proof forfeits power.
He spoke to it I'm not waiting.
And as soon as those words lefthis mouth, the wall shifted.
No noise, no creaking.
(07:06):
It folded, not open, not away.
It simply bent.
Not open, not away.
It simply bent reality intoanother corridor appeared Narrow
, clean, white.
It's too quiet.
But he entered.
(07:27):
As he walked, the corridorstretched and narrowed in places
, like a living organismadjusting to his breath.
Sometimes it felt underground,sometimes it felt above the
clouds.
Then suddenly it opened Intowhat looked like a subway
terminal long abandonedFlickering signs, old benches, a
cracked vending machine with asingle item inside Water.
(07:51):
Checked his pockets, nothing butthe relics.
He pressed the water buttonanyways.
It lit up, but it didn'tdispense.
Instead a voice behind him said, thirsty For answers, he turned
sharply.
Another man, younger than theone from the hallway, cleaner a
(08:15):
sharpness in his posture, butthe eyes were the same too.
Knowing too.
Still, I made it to the seventhgate, the man said.
Thought I'd be chosen.
He laughed Once.
But better they don't tell you.
(08:36):
The gates aren't real.
The only thing real is what yougive up to get through them.
He pointed out the night in hispocket.
Keep that safe, it'll try toleave you.
Wait, what are the gates?
The man didn't answer.
(08:56):
Instead he walked past, placeda coin on the vending machine
and said you'll find out.
Then he was gone, not into adoor, into the wall, like mist.
The machine lit up again, waterdropped into the slot.
(09:19):
He didn't drink it, just staredat it and whispered what am I
being prepared for?
A quarter didn't answer, but hecould feel it tightening again.
The bottle he picked it up Notto quench his thirst.
(09:40):
Carry it with him Likeeverything else now, a silent
offering to a path with no mapand a gate that may never open
again.
Part 3.
The Quarter that Remembers.
The corridor tightened again.
This time it bent upward, agradual slope at first, then
(10:02):
sharper.
He didn't notice until histhigh started burning.
The bottle of water swung fromhis fingers, still unopened,
still cold.
There was no signs, no doors,no cameras, just a wall.
A wall that felt like memory.
Each step scraped somethingloose.
(10:23):
Not pain, not fear, just afeeling that this wasn't the
first time he'd walked thishallway, even though it couldn't
be true.
Right Halfway up the incline hestopped, lean against the wall,
caught his breath.
And then something strangehappened the night in.
(10:47):
His coat shifted, it moved, notlike it was falling, like it
was responding.
He pulled it out, held it inhis palm.
The peace was warm again, likeit had just been touched.
But no one was near.
Then, without warning, acorridor filled with a faint hum
(11:10):
.
Not music, not a machine.
It was a voice, female, faint,whispering his name, not the one
he goes by now, the only oneshe used.
He turned sharply no one, butthe corridor shimmered Briefly,
(11:35):
and in that shimmer he sawsomething, a flash A hospital
hallway, an empty bed, a ringbox sitting unopened on the
chair beside it and her facesmiling just for a moment, then
(11:56):
gone.
His legs gave out.
He sat against the wallbreathing hard.
I should have told you hewhispered, I should have given
it to you when I had the chance.
The corridor didn't respond,but the bottle of water fogged
from the inside, like somethinghad breathed into it.
(12:18):
He picked it up again and sawthe words etched into the
condensation there's still time.
He stared at it for a longwhile, then stood and kept
walking, not to escape but tocomplete the sentence.
(12:40):
At the top of the incline hereached the platform, circular,
empty except for one thing amirror.
It was full length, goldenframe, clean, and when he looked
into it he didn't see himself.
He saw her, smiling, notholding the ring, just looking
(13:03):
at him, expectant, like she waswaiting for something.
And just before the imageflickered, she mouthed something
.
He couldn't hear it, butsomehow he knew what she was
saying there's still time.
Part four the collapse hecarried.
(13:25):
He sat down without realizingit, not from exhaustion, from
something deeper, a kind ofheaviness that doesn't belong to
the body.
The mirror had vanished, theimage too.
All that remained was silenceand the box in his pocket, heavy
(13:46):
, unopened.
He touched it briefly, felt theedges of it through the fabric
still there, still sealed, andyet the weight was unbearable.
Not because of what was inside,but because of what it
symbolized.
Not because of what was inside,but because of what it
(14:09):
symbolized what he never said,what he never gave.
His back slid down the coldwall until it hit the floor.
His hands dropped to his knees.
For the first time since herdeath, he let himself fall apart
.
There was no performance, nonarration, no myth to hide
behind, just a man, a box, inthe pain of what could have been
(14:35):
.
The tears didn't fall like astorm, they crept like they'd
been waiting and now, with noone watching, they moved freely.
I thought about the way herfingers used to find his hand in
crowded places, the way shealways tilted her head when she
asked him something serious, theway she once told him you
(15:01):
already have everything you need, you just haven't looked
closely.
And now she was gone and he wasleft holding the unopened
future, not just the ring, theversion of himself he had never
become.
The one who said it, the onewho chose.
(15:23):
He pulled the box out of hispocket, didn't open it, just
held it, pressed it to his chestand whispered I would've.
That was all.
No speech, no vow, just thattruth, spoken quietly enough to
cut through time.
The box stayed closed, but thepart of him that had been locked
(15:48):
away didn't.
When he finally stood, hedidn't feel lighter, but he felt
clearer, and clarity was enough.
He tucked the box back into hiscoat, wrapped his sore knuckles
with the hem of his shirt andwalked forward, not with
(16:11):
strength but with surrender.
The hallway didn't open, itsimply accepted him, like grief
when you stop trying to outpaceit, part 5.
A voice he almost missed.
The next corridor was narrower,low ceiling, dustier air, the
(16:33):
kind of place designed to makeyou feel like you don't belong
there.
He walked slower now, not outof caution, but because
something was pulling at hischest, like he had forgotten
something and didn't know what.
It wasn't fear, it wasn'thesitation, it was memory trying
to surface.
And that's that's when he heardit Child's voice.
(16:58):
Why are you crying?
He turned.
No one there, but the voicecame again, this time in front
of him.
I said why are you crying?
The voice didn't soundthreatening.
It sounded familiar, not intone, In rhythm, like it
(17:22):
belonged to someone who knew himbefore the collapse.
He kept walking, step after step.
The quarter seemed to growyounger now Less worn.
He kept walking, step afterstep.
Quarter seemed to grow youngernow Less worn, brighter somehow.
And then he saw it, chalk,drawing on the floor A knight,
just like the one in his pocket,drawn by a child's hand.
Next to it, another piece, aqueen, but this one was upside
(17:49):
down.
He, net-dell, slowly traced theoutline with his finger and
felt a chill move through hisspine, because as soon as his
finger touched the chalk, thevoice whispered she's not coming
back.
He stayed crouched, felt thelump rise in his throat again.
She's not, he said softly.
(18:10):
I know that, but you still wearthe ring.
He didn't answer.
There's nothing to say.
He stood pocketed.
The memory kept walking.
But the voice had one morething to say, and it stopped him
mid-stride.
She gave it to you.
(18:32):
He froze the ring.
No, that couldn't be.
He turned, but the chalk wasgone, so was the drawing, so was
the corridor.
He was now in a circular room,empty except for a table, and on
it his journal, the one heburned six months ago.
(18:55):
He opened it, blank pages, allexcept for one, the last one In
his own handwriting.
Begin again, part 6.
The first gate opens.
The journal closed on its own,not violently soft, like the
room itself knew the moment wascomplete.
(19:17):
He stood for a long time, notmoving, not thinking, just
breathing.
Then the table sanked the floorlike it had never existed, and
from where it vanished camelight, a circular glow.
Faint Whispering.
He stepped toward it, the ringwarm in his pocket, the night
(19:43):
humming like an old enginerestarting.
He stood at the edge of thelight, then knelt and placed the
night in its center.
The night humming like an oldengine restarting.
He stood at the edge of thelight, then knelt and placed the
night in its center.
The light pulsed, not fast, notintense, just steady like a
(20:04):
heartbeat.
And then he heard it footstepsbehind him.
Slow, measured, he turned,expecting someone he knew.
But it was no one, just a cloak, hooded, empty inside.
And yet it moved, like it sawhim.
The cloak stepped forward,reached for the knight, lifted
(20:27):
it and nodded once and placed itback in his palm, but this time
it glowed faintly blue.
What is this, he asked.
The cloak didn't speak, but inhis mind something answered the
gate is earned by presence, notby skill.
(20:48):
And with that the room changed,walls shifted, they became wood
, then stone, then wind.
When he blinked, he was standingin front of a staircase, worn,
cracked, climbing into the dark,no one around, no cloak, no
(21:08):
journal, just the night stillglowing and the echo of
something older than memory Onepiece, one gate, One decision.
He didn't run.
He didn't run, he didn't pray.
He stepped on the first stairand felt it give under his
weight, on a weakness, anacceptance like it had been
(21:33):
waiting for him.
He climbed each step, carryingnot just his body but his choice
to stay, to carry, to ascend.
Each step, carrying not justhis body but his choice To stay,
to carry, to ascend.
And as he reached the top,another voice greeted him, but
this one wasn't words, it wasmusic, a single tone, played by
(21:57):
no instrument, and it playedjust for him, a sound only heard
when a man finally accepts.
The gate doesn't open for theworthy, it opens for the willing
.
You know, some men wait theirentire lives for a spark, never
(22:19):
realizing it wasn't going tocome from the sky but from the
ruin under their feet.
This wasn't just a turningpoint, it was a burning point, a
place where he could have gone,numb, could have abandoned the
journey the moment it dared towhisper back the grief he tried
(22:40):
so long to silence.
He walked through silence,through memory, through grief.
He saw her face, heard his oldname, faced the shame of not
proposing, faced the weight ofwhat he carries, faced the fact
that healing doesn't arrivedressed as hope.
(23:02):
It arrives as a collapse, asempty corridors, as whispers
from children you don't remember, as a mirror that shows he's
wearing the ring you never gave.
That was the true test.
Not the gate, not the corridor,not the phantom figures trying
(23:23):
to warn him this.
This real trial was would hestay in the room, the one inside
, the one no one else can see?
No one else can see what youmight have missed, what many
miss, is that the first gatedidn't open because he was
strong.
(23:44):
It opened because he stayed,because, when given the chance
to numb it out, to bargain, toescape, he didn't do any of
those.
He stayed, he sat, he wept, hebled and decided to keep walking
(24:05):
.
The man who walked into thisepisode still thought the
journey was about reclamation,about fixing, about becoming
more.
But what this path showed him,quietly, cruelly and lovingly,
is that the journey begins notwhen you gain something, but
(24:27):
when you lose the need to proveanything.
The spark wasn't a fire.
It was a decision Not to runfrom parts of himself.
He taught to avoid, but to facethem, to be with them, to fill
them so deeply they no longercontrolled him.
(24:48):
That's what the spark truly is.
It's the end of running, theend of waiting for someone to
tell you it's time.
It's the moment you realize thefire doesn't come for you.
You have to build it yourself,and the match was always in your
pocket.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the reflection.
(25:09):
Questions Number one when wasthe last time you actually sat
with your pain instead of tryingto outthink it?
That's a big question, rightthere.
Number two what have you beenwaiting for proof of before you
let yourself act?
Another huge question.
(25:32):
Three have you mistakenreadiness for permission?
Another big question, guys.
Number four If a relic washanded to you today, what would
it reveal, I should say, aboutwhat you've truly been carrying?
Number five what if your gatedoesn't require effort but
(25:58):
stillness?
So, doesn't require effort, butstillness.
So, guys, we're getting heavyand deep.
And it's only episode two.
This is, like I said, this canbe a different series.
So I want to thank you, guys,for all the support you've been
(26:19):
giving to the show.
It's just so amazing and I'm sograteful for it.
I just can't tell you how muchI appreciate it.
But since I've been getting alot of questions and I've been
really appreciative and having alot of great conversations with
you guys, if you want to have aconversation with me, there's
three different ways you can doit.
First way is going to be withthe description of this podcast.
(26:42):
There's a let's chat function.
You click on that.
You and I can have aconversation with this series,
this episode, the past 13 seriesand the past 260 episodes.
I have a ton of content, ton ofcontent, guys.
There's a big library.
Second way is going to bethrough my email.
My email is anthony atgentsjourneycom.
(27:02):
Feel free to reach out to methere.
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram is my gentsjourney, so please feel free to
reach out to me there too.
Okay, so, guys, again, thankyou so much for listening today
and remember this you createyour reality.
(27:25):
Take care.
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Special Summer Offer: Exclusively on Apple Podcasts, try our Dateline Premium subscription completely free for one month! With Dateline Premium, you get every episode ad-free plus exclusive bonus content.
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!