July 15, 2025 • 27 mins
Something shifts when you start living with intention, not for attention. It begins subtly – a barista spelling your name correctly, a colleague commenting on your calm demeanor, strangers making eye contact where they once looked away. Not because you've changed dramatically, but because something within you has settled.
"The Key to Everything" explores that mysterious space between who we are and who we're becoming. This transformative journey doesn't announce itself with fanfare – it arrives in quiet moments of presence. It's in how you start choosing warm light bulbs over sterile ones, glass containers over plastic, and fresh herbs over takeout. It's in saying yes to lunch invitations you once declined, standing a little taller in meetings, and feeling worthy of the space you occupy.
But transformation carries its shadows too. As our protagonist discovers when unexpectedly passing the coffee shop where someone from his past worked, growth often means leaving parts of yourself behind. The perfectly ordered apartment, while beautiful, suddenly feels heavy with silence – not the sacred kind that nurtures, but the kind that buries uncomfortable truths beneath its surface.
What makes this exploration so powerful is its recognition that becoming isn't about dramatic breakthroughs but about subtle adjustments where "the world begins to make room for who you're pretending not to be." The danger lies not in failure but in forgetting what the key was meant to unlock in the first place – authentic connection, vulnerability, and purpose beyond performance.
Are you choosing silence over soul? Comfort over connection? Image over intimacy? Beneath the quiet perfection of our curated lives, something sacred might still be waiting to be heard. Join me in exploring what parts of your silence feel like sanctuary and which parts might simply be hiding.
"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 the key to everything.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the cold open.
It started the way quiet thingsalways do, not with a bang, but
(00:27):
with something being noticed.
A pause in a conversation wheresomeone waited for him to speak
.
A nod from a man he passedevery day without eye contact,
the barista, spelling his nameright without asking.
He didn't think much of it, hedidn't assign meaning, he didn't
keep score, but something inthe back of his mind.
(00:51):
A light came on, not bright,just aware it had been three
days since he placed the key onthe table.
He hadn't touched it since, buthe noticed how his eyes found
it every morning, just for asecond, like it was checking on
him.
He started walking slower, notout of fatigue but out of
(01:17):
presence.
When someone bumped hisshoulder in the hallway, he
didn't flinch, he just keptmoving, he was grounded.
The world felt quieter, notbecause it had changed, but
because he had.
And then came the firstcompliment.
It was a woman from anotherdepartment.
He didn't know her name, but asthey both waited for the
(01:39):
elevator, she turned and saidyou always seem calm.
I wish I had that.
He smiled and said nothing, butthe word stayed with him.
And because of what she said,but because a part of him
believed it, for the first timein a long time he wasn't
(02:02):
performing calm, he was livinginside of it.
He passed the old coffee shopsometimes, not every day, but
enough for the question toremain what would she say if she
saw him now?
He never went in, not becausehe didn't want to, but because
(02:25):
the version of him she knewwasn't the version he was
becoming.
And when the elevator doorsopened, the woman let him go
first.
He didn't say thank you, hedidn't overthink it, he just
stepped in Like someone who hadfinally earned the right to take
up space.
He didn't notice it at firstbecause it wasn't loud, it
(02:52):
wasn't anything that demandedattention.
It was the way people paused ahalf second longer after he
spoke, the way someone said goodmorning without waiting to be
greeted first, the way his nameappeared in CC lines more often.
They were small things, thingsthat he could explain away, but
(03:17):
they kept happening.
He took a different route towork One street over, less
crowded and past the doormen whonodded at him like they had
history.
The third time it happened.
The man said, looking sharp, hehadn't done anything different
Same jacket, same shoes, samewalk.
But the compliment struck thatevening when he got home.
(03:42):
He didn't turn the lights onright away.
The apartment glowed faintlywith the orange-blue softness of
early dusk.
He stood in the center of theroom letting it wash over him.
There was something honestabout that moment Not joyful,
(04:04):
just honest.
He cooked dinner, did thedishes right after, left the
windows open while he read, andwhen he went to bed he found the
notebook still open on the desk.
He hadn't meant to leave itthat way, but the words from
days ago were still there.
I don't know what I'm becoming,but I think it's someone I've
(04:29):
missed.
He didn't add anything new,just re-read it Like it belonged
to someone he trusted.
The next day, someone at workasked for his opinion in front
of the entire room, notaggressively, not performatively
, just with a kind of certainty.
(04:51):
He always noticed things thatothers don't.
He didn't know what to say, sohe said thank you, and then he
gave an answer that felt morelike breath than strategy.
It wasn't profound, but itlanded, and for the first time
in a long time he didn't shrink.
After being seen, he expanded.
(05:16):
It was subtle at first.
An extra chair pulled outbeside him in a meeting.
An email that ended withlooping you in here, a message
that said you free to join usfor lunch?
He said yes, even though a partof him still hesitated, not
because he didn't feel worthy,but because worthiness had never
(05:40):
been a thing, had never been athing.
Visibility was, and now somehowhe was visible.
The first lunch wasn'timpressive Plastic trays, loud
table, small talk about weatherand podcasts.
But someone asked him what hewas working on, and then they
(06:02):
listened and that's what stayedwith him, not what he said, but
the stillness of being heard.
Later that week, someone offeredhim a ride after work.
He declined, but then hechanged his mind.
They drove in silence mostly,but it was a good silence, the
(06:22):
kind that doesn't need to befilled.
The person dropped him off atthe corner instead of at his
door.
He appreciated that Noteveryone wants to be seen going
home.
That night he stood by thewindow and watched the city for
longer than usual.
He wasn't waiting for anything,but he didn't want to go to bed
(06:49):
either.
Something about this newchapter didn't feel like
elevation.
It felt like widening, like theworld had started making room
for him.
The key was still on the shelf,the napkin still in the drawer.
He didn't touch either.
But he noticed they werebeginning to feel less like
(07:11):
questions and more like anchors.
By the end of the week he hadthree new names saved in his
phone.
He didn't remember enteringthem, but there they were, and
each one had a message threadand started with something very
simple hey, glad you came by.
(07:34):
The changes at home.
They were small.
He didn't renovate, didn'trearrange the furniture, just
adjusted things.
The light bulbs came first Warmwhite instead of sterile blue.
He didn't tell anyone, but henoticed.
Then it was the dish soap,switched from a plastic bottle
(07:56):
to a glass one.
No label, just amber liquid anda metal pump.
It felt like something a calmperson would use.
He started buying groceries.
He didn't rush through Freshherbs, loose lemons, eggs and
cardboard instead of foam.
The old takeout venues wererecycled quietly.
A new plant appeared in thecorner, no name, no backstory.
(08:21):
He watered it when heremembered None of this was
curated.
It wasn't for display, it wasfor him, or maybe it was for a
version of him that had begun toemerge.
He still walked past the oldcoffee shop.
Less often now, but when he did, he felt it.
(08:42):
Less often now, but when he didhe felt it.
The space between who he wasand who he was becoming.
He told himself she wouldn'tremember him, told himself it
didn't matter.
But one night, as he set aglass of water on his new
nightstand, he caught himselfwondering what if she saw this
version of me, not the polishedone, not the getting-it-there
(09:07):
version version, but this one,quiet, soft, alone in a room
made more beautiful by stillness.
He didn't answer that question,just pulled the blanket over
his chest and exhaled.
The city hummed outside.
Inside, the silence stayedclose, not heavy, not empty,
(09:30):
just enough to remind him you'reallowed to become without
asking permission.
He started waking up before hisalarm, not by much Ten, maybe
fifteen minutes, but it feltintentional.
Not by much 10, maybe 15minutes, but it felt intentional
(09:51):
Like his body decided it wastime to join him in whatever
this was becoming.
He made coffee in silence, nomusic, no podcasts, just the low
hiss of water, the weight ofthe mug, the ritual being
unhurried, he sat by the window.
(10:14):
Now, even on weekdays hewatched the city light itself,
one building at a time.
He didn't rush throughbreakfast, he didn't scroll, he
just existed.
There was something sacred inthat.
(10:36):
Not dramatic, not life changing, just sacred.
The closet had changed too.
He hadn't brought new clothes,but he started choosing
differently Fewer logos, softerfabrics, clean lines.
He ironed now, laid things outthe night before, not to impress
(11:01):
, but to greet the next versionof himself without chaos.
But to greet the next versionof himself without chaos.
And people noticed.
A co-worker said hey, you lookrested.
Someone asked if he's beenpromoted.
He just smiled.
He didn't explain.
The notebook by his bed had fewmore lines in it now, nothing
(11:31):
consistent, but enough to provehe was still listening to
himself.
And every now and then heglanced at the shelf where he
laid the key, never touched it,but he liked knowing it was
there like a witness to all thequiet ways he was choosing to
begin again.
He didn't plan to walk that way.
(11:51):
The usual route was blocked,construction cones, a closed
crosswalk, a woman with aclipboard directing traffic.
He turned down a side streetwithout thinking, didn't even
register it until the third stepin and there it was, the
familiar street, quieter than heremembered, but exactly the
(12:12):
same.
He slowed, not fully, justenough Enough to notice the
cracks in the sidewalk that usedto trip him Enough to hear the
wind.
Through the alley where he onceparked his bike there was a
smell, something warm, slightlyburnt cinnamon maybe.
(12:34):
It used to cling to his jacketafter he left the shop.
He hated it then, but now hewanted to breathe it all in.
He kept moving, but his eyes hadalready scanned ahead.
The storefront was there, signhadn't changed.
The bench outside still leanedto one side, and through the
(12:57):
glass, her Hair down, plainsweater, jeans, no apron.
She was laughing, not big, notexaggerated, just a soft, real
kind of laugh, the kind thatdoesn't try to prove anything.
She was facing away from him,but for a second she turned,
(13:20):
looked up and paused.
He couldn't tell if she saw himor if she felt something.
He couldn't tell if she saw himor if she felt something.
He kept walking deliberately.
Every step forward carried theweight of something left behind.
He told himself it didn't meananything, she probably didn't
see him, that it wasn'timportant.
(13:45):
But the ache had alreadyarrived, quietly, gently, like
an old song playing in anotherroom.
He didn't turn around, hedidn't speed up, he didn't do
anything dramatic, but the partof him that used to belong on
that street, that part thatfound stillness in her voice and
(14:06):
that bench and that scent wasnow a stranger here.
He reached the corner, waitedfor the light, didn't cross
right away.
He thought about the version ofhimself that used to linger by
the window, the version thatasked questions, that ordered
(14:27):
coffee slowly, just to make themoment last.
That version was gone, noterased, just somewhere else now.
He crossed the street, keptwalking, and behind him the
sound of the bell above the cafedoor rang once.
He didn't look back, but hefelt it, the door closing.
(14:53):
The apartment looked perfect,not styled, not staged, but
intentional.
Everything had its place.
The counter was clean, thedishes were done, the plants
were watered, the light was justright.
He stood in the center of thatnight, barefoot on the cold wood
(15:14):
, and tried to name what feltwrong.
There was no mess, there was nonoise, no reason to feel the
way he felt.
And yet the stillness hadweight.
It wasn't peace anymore, it waspause.
(15:35):
It was the silence afterapplause.
When everyone had gone home andhe left alone the echo of being
seen.
He sat on the edge of the bed,notebook in hand, but no words
came, not even fragments.
He wasn't sad, he wasn'toverwhelmed, just suspended.
(15:59):
There's a kind of quiet thatdoesn't ask you to reflect.
It asks you to remember, askyou to reflect, it asks you to
remember and that's what thiswas.
He thought about her, not withlonging, just with memory.
(16:21):
The way she always askedquestions that made him
uncomfortable, the way she neverrushed him to answer.
He hadn't spoken to anyone likethat in weeks, not even himself
.
The key was still on the shelf,the napkin still in the drawer.
(16:43):
He hadn't touched either.
But that night he stood infront of the shelf and looked at
it for a long time.
What was I hoping it wouldunlock, he said.
No answer came, only stillness,only the hum of a refrigerator
(17:03):
and the ache of a room thatstopped evolving.
He turned out the lights, laydown and let the silence stretch
out like a road he wasn't surehe wanted to follow, not yet,
not tonight, but soon.
You know we think Becominghappens in moments right, in
(17:32):
breakthroughs and awakenings, inthe exact second someone sees
us.
But that's not how it works.
Becoming is slower, it'squieter, it doesn't knock, it
(18:02):
lingers right.
And how you start to walk withyour shoulders back right, and
how you say yes to invitations.
You know you're used to declineto invitations.
You used to decline.
And how you pass by people youonce needed to feel real.
(18:27):
See this episode.
It wasn't about change, it wasabout adjustment, right?
You know that subtle, almostinvisible space where the world
begins to make room for whoyou're pretending not to be
right.
So, if you think about it, he'snot performing yet, but he is
starting to drift, and that'sthe danger of the rise.
It doesn't hurt, it rewards.
(18:50):
You know the key?
It didn't.
It didn't glow, it didn't hum,it didn't.
You know Whisper, it didn't.
You know Whisper the truth tohim it didn't.
There's no glyphs or anythingon it, just sat there While he
forgot what it was Ever meant.
(19:11):
Well, he forgot what it wasever meant to unlock.
And maybe that's how it gets toyou, not with the rush of
success, right, but with thequiet moment you start choosing
silence over soul, right,comfort over connection, image
(19:35):
over intimacy.
See, next time you findyourself in a clean room with no
, you know no mess.
Ask yourself what did I have tobury to keep it this quiet?
Right?
Because here's the thingSomewhere beneath that silence,
(19:57):
something sacred might still bewaiting to be heard.
And with that, let's go intoour reflection prompts.
Reflection prompt one when didyou last say yes to something
just because you were finallyinvited?
You know, for some of us that'sa big question Because, you
(20:23):
know, sometimes a lot of us arenot invited to things.
So when did you say, when wasthe last time you said yes when
you were invited to something?
Reflection two what smallchanges in your life have you
made, or I should say, have youmade feel more like yourself,
(20:45):
without anyone else noticing?
I'll say for me, it wassomething like that just
recently.
You know like I'll.
I'll say like for me it wassomething like that, like just
recently.
I remember for a while I usedto drink like Starbucks, right,
but it would be like the carmacchiato.
It was one of my favoritedrinks, right, and I'd have
(21:07):
extra caramel, extra, all theextra stuff.
And now, if I do go toStarbucks, let's get a quad shot
with two Splendors and that'sit, because that was a small
change that felt more like me,because I wasn't just getting a
drink to get a drink.
I was getting drink because itwas something that I wanted.
(21:28):
So that would be an example ofthat Number three who in your
life once saw you clearly andhave you drifted from them
without meaning to?
You know this happens a lot inrelationships, especially like
best friends, right, you can bereally close to somebody for a
(21:53):
long period of time and thensometimes life get in the way,
right, and what a lot of people.
I think what a lot of peopledon't understand is that
relationships just in generalromantic or platonic it takes
(22:14):
effort and it takes time, right.
So when you have people thatare in your life that see you
clearly, it's going to be astruggle not to drift from them,
because sometimes it makes youuncomfortable.
But in that, beinguncomfortable is exactly what
you need, because if they cansee you for who you are, a lot
(22:36):
of people are not aware of thatanymore.
So that is a very rarecommodity in a plutonic or
romantic setting.
Now, number four Is yourenvironment reflecting who
you're becoming or who are youtrying to forget?
You know, a lot of times, likeI'll just say, like for me,
(23:00):
right, or something like thatyou know we're always in this
battle of who we are becomingand who we're trying to leave
kind of situation right, tryingto leave kind of situation right
, and what you have tounderstand about that question
specifically, is that yourenvironment changes when you
change.
Right, because one of twothings happen with the
(23:21):
environment you either leave theenvironment or you change it.
Because if you don't leave itand you don't change it,
everything that's inside of youis only short-term.
Then don't change it,everything that's inside of you
is only short term.
Then it takes changing theenvironment around you.
Like, let me ask you a questionand this isn't on a reflection
(23:41):
problem, but I just want you tothink about this where you've
had toxic relationships, right,and the minute that you cut them
off, all the changes you'vebeen trying to do within
yourself, all of a sudden ithappened at an expedited rate.
That's why, because you changedyour environment, you have to
understand that everything is areflection of you, and that's
(24:06):
including your environment.
If you don't change yourenvironment, sooner or later
whatever is outside will becomeinside and vice versa.
Just remember that.
Now, number five, what part ofyour silence feels sacred and
what part feels like hiding?
You know I'll say for me, right.
(24:31):
You know I'll say for me, right, there's a lot of times when I
drive and I don't listen tomusic because I mean I'm doing
this.
You know, there's other thingsthat I do where I literally just
I'm talking all day.
(24:51):
So if I don't have to talk Idon't really want to hear
anything.
I love sitting just in silence.
You know that part feels sacredand I know, like some parts
that feel like hiding issometimes like.
You know, that moment rightbefore you go to bed and the
thoughts of the day or thosethose deep thoughts that maybe
(25:13):
you don't really share withanybody else, that starts to hit
you.
You try to go to sleep fasterso that way you don't have to
deal with them.
That would be parts that feltlike hiding, just to give you a
new example.
But I want to thank you, everysingle one of you who listens to
this podcast.
It means the world to me andI'm going to be honest with you.
(25:38):
I'm actually really excitedabout this series because it's a
different type of series.
There's no death, there's nomagic heat, there's no sigils,
there's no so-and-gratulating tobe a king or a god or anything
like that.
I really wanted to writesomething that I know that I've
(26:01):
struggled with and gone through.
I know a lot of people have,and maybe yourself, and you know
there's no magic in this per seand there's no magic in this
per se, but what you're going toreally start to understand is
that you either feel this way orfelt this way in your life, and
that's just something I want toexplore, and I'm just happy
(26:29):
that you're along for the rideand I just appreciate it more
than you guys would ever know.
So if you want to talk to meright about this episode, this
series or the 260 plus episodeswe have out there now on Jen's
Journey, please do not hesitateto reach out to me.
There's three ways.
First way is going to bethrough the description box of
this podcast.
It'll be a function that sayslet's chat.
(26:49):
You click on that and you and Ican have a conversation about
this series, this episode or theyou know what the eight other
series out there and the 260plus episodes that I have on
Jen's journey.
All right.
Second way is going to bethrough my email.
My email is Anthony at Jen'sjourneycom, so please do not
(27:11):
hesitate to reach out to methere.
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram handle is mygentsjourney.
So again, I want to thank youso very much for listening today
.
And remember this you createyour reality, 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 the key to everything.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the cold open.
It started the way quiet thingsalways do, not with a bang, but
(00:27):
with something being noticed.
A pause in a conversation wheresomeone waited for him to speak
.
A nod from a man he passedevery day without eye contact,
the barista, spelling his nameright without asking.
He didn't think much of it, hedidn't assign meaning, he didn't
keep score, but something inthe back of his mind.
(00:51):
A light came on, not bright,just aware it had been three
days since he placed the key onthe table.
He hadn't touched it since, buthe noticed how his eyes found
it every morning, just for asecond, like it was checking on
him.
He started walking slower, notout of fatigue but out of
(01:17):
presence.
When someone bumped hisshoulder in the hallway, he
didn't flinch, he just keptmoving, he was grounded.
The world felt quieter, notbecause it had changed, but
because he had.
And then came the firstcompliment.
It was a woman from anotherdepartment.
He didn't know her name, but asthey both waited for the
(01:39):
elevator, she turned and saidyou always seem calm.
I wish I had that.
He smiled and said nothing, butthe word stayed with him.
And because of what she said,but because a part of him
believed it, for the first timein a long time he wasn't
(02:02):
performing calm, he was livinginside of it.
He passed the old coffee shopsometimes, not every day, but
enough for the question toremain what would she say if she
saw him now?
He never went in, not becausehe didn't want to, but because
(02:25):
the version of him she knewwasn't the version he was
becoming.
And when the elevator doorsopened, the woman let him go
first.
He didn't say thank you, hedidn't overthink it, he just
stepped in Like someone who hadfinally earned the right to take
up space.
He didn't notice it at firstbecause it wasn't loud, it
(02:52):
wasn't anything that demandedattention.
It was the way people paused ahalf second longer after he
spoke, the way someone said goodmorning without waiting to be
greeted first, the way his nameappeared in CC lines more often.
They were small things, thingsthat he could explain away, but
(03:17):
they kept happening.
He took a different route towork One street over, less
crowded and past the doormen whonodded at him like they had
history.
The third time it happened.
The man said, looking sharp, hehadn't done anything different
Same jacket, same shoes, samewalk.
But the compliment struck thatevening when he got home.
(03:42):
He didn't turn the lights onright away.
The apartment glowed faintlywith the orange-blue softness of
early dusk.
He stood in the center of theroom letting it wash over him.
There was something honestabout that moment Not joyful,
(04:04):
just honest.
He cooked dinner, did thedishes right after, left the
windows open while he read, andwhen he went to bed he found the
notebook still open on the desk.
He hadn't meant to leave itthat way, but the words from
days ago were still there.
I don't know what I'm becoming,but I think it's someone I've
(04:29):
missed.
He didn't add anything new,just re-read it Like it belonged
to someone he trusted.
The next day, someone at workasked for his opinion in front
of the entire room, notaggressively, not performatively
, just with a kind of certainty.
(04:51):
He always noticed things thatothers don't.
He didn't know what to say, sohe said thank you, and then he
gave an answer that felt morelike breath than strategy.
It wasn't profound, but itlanded, and for the first time
in a long time he didn't shrink.
After being seen, he expanded.
(05:16):
It was subtle at first.
An extra chair pulled outbeside him in a meeting.
An email that ended withlooping you in here, a message
that said you free to join usfor lunch?
He said yes, even though a partof him still hesitated, not
because he didn't feel worthy,but because worthiness had never
(05:40):
been a thing, had never been athing.
Visibility was, and now somehowhe was visible.
The first lunch wasn'timpressive Plastic trays, loud
table, small talk about weatherand podcasts.
But someone asked him what hewas working on, and then they
(06:02):
listened and that's what stayedwith him, not what he said, but
the stillness of being heard.
Later that week, someone offeredhim a ride after work.
He declined, but then hechanged his mind.
They drove in silence mostly,but it was a good silence, the
(06:22):
kind that doesn't need to befilled.
The person dropped him off atthe corner instead of at his
door.
He appreciated that Noteveryone wants to be seen going
home.
That night he stood by thewindow and watched the city for
longer than usual.
He wasn't waiting for anything,but he didn't want to go to bed
(06:49):
either.
Something about this newchapter didn't feel like
elevation.
It felt like widening, like theworld had started making room
for him.
The key was still on the shelf,the napkin still in the drawer.
He didn't touch either.
But he noticed they werebeginning to feel less like
(07:11):
questions and more like anchors.
By the end of the week he hadthree new names saved in his
phone.
He didn't remember enteringthem, but there they were, and
each one had a message threadand started with something very
simple hey, glad you came by.
(07:34):
The changes at home.
They were small.
He didn't renovate, didn'trearrange the furniture, just
adjusted things.
The light bulbs came first Warmwhite instead of sterile blue.
He didn't tell anyone, but henoticed.
Then it was the dish soap,switched from a plastic bottle
(07:56):
to a glass one.
No label, just amber liquid anda metal pump.
It felt like something a calmperson would use.
He started buying groceries.
He didn't rush through Freshherbs, loose lemons, eggs and
cardboard instead of foam.
The old takeout venues wererecycled quietly.
A new plant appeared in thecorner, no name, no backstory.
(08:21):
He watered it when heremembered None of this was
curated.
It wasn't for display, it wasfor him, or maybe it was for a
version of him that had begun toemerge.
He still walked past the oldcoffee shop.
Less often now, but when he did, he felt it.
(08:42):
Less often now, but when he didhe felt it.
The space between who he wasand who he was becoming.
He told himself she wouldn'tremember him, told himself it
didn't matter.
But one night, as he set aglass of water on his new
nightstand, he caught himselfwondering what if she saw this
version of me, not the polishedone, not the getting-it-there
(09:07):
version version, but this one,quiet, soft, alone in a room
made more beautiful by stillness.
He didn't answer that question,just pulled the blanket over
his chest and exhaled.
The city hummed outside.
Inside, the silence stayedclose, not heavy, not empty,
(09:30):
just enough to remind him you'reallowed to become without
asking permission.
He started waking up before hisalarm, not by much Ten, maybe
fifteen minutes, but it feltintentional.
Not by much 10, maybe 15minutes, but it felt intentional
(09:51):
Like his body decided it wastime to join him in whatever
this was becoming.
He made coffee in silence, nomusic, no podcasts, just the low
hiss of water, the weight ofthe mug, the ritual being
unhurried, he sat by the window.
(10:14):
Now, even on weekdays hewatched the city light itself,
one building at a time.
He didn't rush throughbreakfast, he didn't scroll, he
just existed.
There was something sacred inthat.
(10:36):
Not dramatic, not life changing, just sacred.
The closet had changed too.
He hadn't brought new clothes,but he started choosing
differently Fewer logos, softerfabrics, clean lines.
He ironed now, laid things outthe night before, not to impress
(11:01):
, but to greet the next versionof himself without chaos.
But to greet the next versionof himself without chaos.
And people noticed.
A co-worker said hey, you lookrested.
Someone asked if he's beenpromoted.
He just smiled.
He didn't explain.
The notebook by his bed had fewmore lines in it now, nothing
(11:31):
consistent, but enough to provehe was still listening to
himself.
And every now and then heglanced at the shelf where he
laid the key, never touched it,but he liked knowing it was
there like a witness to all thequiet ways he was choosing to
begin again.
He didn't plan to walk that way.
(11:51):
The usual route was blocked,construction cones, a closed
crosswalk, a woman with aclipboard directing traffic.
He turned down a side streetwithout thinking, didn't even
register it until the third stepin and there it was, the
familiar street, quieter than heremembered, but exactly the
(12:12):
same.
He slowed, not fully, justenough Enough to notice the
cracks in the sidewalk that usedto trip him Enough to hear the
wind.
Through the alley where he onceparked his bike there was a
smell, something warm, slightlyburnt cinnamon maybe.
(12:34):
It used to cling to his jacketafter he left the shop.
He hated it then, but now hewanted to breathe it all in.
He kept moving, but his eyes hadalready scanned ahead.
The storefront was there, signhadn't changed.
The bench outside still leanedto one side, and through the
(12:57):
glass, her Hair down, plainsweater, jeans, no apron.
She was laughing, not big, notexaggerated, just a soft, real
kind of laugh, the kind thatdoesn't try to prove anything.
She was facing away from him,but for a second she turned,
(13:20):
looked up and paused.
He couldn't tell if she saw himor if she felt something.
He couldn't tell if she saw himor if she felt something.
He kept walking deliberately.
Every step forward carried theweight of something left behind.
He told himself it didn't meananything, she probably didn't
see him, that it wasn'timportant.
(13:45):
But the ache had alreadyarrived, quietly, gently, like
an old song playing in anotherroom.
He didn't turn around, hedidn't speed up, he didn't do
anything dramatic, but the partof him that used to belong on
that street, that part thatfound stillness in her voice and
(14:06):
that bench and that scent wasnow a stranger here.
He reached the corner, waitedfor the light, didn't cross
right away.
He thought about the version ofhimself that used to linger by
the window, the version thatasked questions, that ordered
(14:27):
coffee slowly, just to make themoment last.
That version was gone, noterased, just somewhere else now.
He crossed the street, keptwalking, and behind him the
sound of the bell above the cafedoor rang once.
He didn't look back, but hefelt it, the door closing.
(14:53):
The apartment looked perfect,not styled, not staged, but
intentional.
Everything had its place.
The counter was clean, thedishes were done, the plants
were watered, the light was justright.
He stood in the center of thatnight, barefoot on the cold wood
(15:14):
, and tried to name what feltwrong.
There was no mess, there was nonoise, no reason to feel the
way he felt.
And yet the stillness hadweight.
It wasn't peace anymore, it waspause.
(15:35):
It was the silence afterapplause.
When everyone had gone home andhe left alone the echo of being
seen.
He sat on the edge of the bed,notebook in hand, but no words
came, not even fragments.
He wasn't sad, he wasn'toverwhelmed, just suspended.
(15:59):
There's a kind of quiet thatdoesn't ask you to reflect.
It asks you to remember, askyou to reflect, it asks you to
remember and that's what thiswas.
He thought about her, not withlonging, just with memory.
(16:21):
The way she always askedquestions that made him
uncomfortable, the way she neverrushed him to answer.
He hadn't spoken to anyone likethat in weeks, not even himself
.
The key was still on the shelf,the napkin still in the drawer.
(16:43):
He hadn't touched either.
But that night he stood infront of the shelf and looked at
it for a long time.
What was I hoping it wouldunlock, he said.
No answer came, only stillness,only the hum of a refrigerator
(17:03):
and the ache of a room thatstopped evolving.
He turned out the lights, laydown and let the silence stretch
out like a road he wasn't surehe wanted to follow, not yet,
not tonight, but soon.
You know we think Becominghappens in moments right, in
(17:32):
breakthroughs and awakenings, inthe exact second someone sees
us.
But that's not how it works.
Becoming is slower, it'squieter, it doesn't knock, it
(18:02):
lingers right.
And how you start to walk withyour shoulders back right, and
how you say yes to invitations.
You know you're used to declineto invitations.
You used to decline.
And how you pass by people youonce needed to feel real.
(18:27):
See this episode.
It wasn't about change, it wasabout adjustment, right?
You know that subtle, almostinvisible space where the world
begins to make room for whoyou're pretending not to be
right.
So, if you think about it, he'snot performing yet, but he is
starting to drift, and that'sthe danger of the rise.
It doesn't hurt, it rewards.
(18:50):
You know the key?
It didn't.
It didn't glow, it didn't hum,it didn't.
You know Whisper, it didn't.
You know Whisper the truth tohim it didn't.
There's no glyphs or anythingon it, just sat there While he
forgot what it was Ever meant.
(19:11):
Well, he forgot what it wasever meant to unlock.
And maybe that's how it gets toyou, not with the rush of
success, right, but with thequiet moment you start choosing
silence over soul, right,comfort over connection, image
(19:35):
over intimacy.
See, next time you findyourself in a clean room with no
, you know no mess.
Ask yourself what did I have tobury to keep it this quiet?
Right?
Because here's the thingSomewhere beneath that silence,
(19:57):
something sacred might still bewaiting to be heard.
And with that, let's go intoour reflection prompts.
Reflection prompt one when didyou last say yes to something
just because you were finallyinvited?
You know, for some of us that'sa big question Because, you
(20:23):
know, sometimes a lot of us arenot invited to things.
So when did you say, when wasthe last time you said yes when
you were invited to something?
Reflection two what smallchanges in your life have you
made, or I should say, have youmade feel more like yourself,
(20:45):
without anyone else noticing?
I'll say for me, it wassomething like that just
recently.
You know like I'll.
I'll say like for me it wassomething like that, like just
recently.
I remember for a while I usedto drink like Starbucks, right,
but it would be like the carmacchiato.
It was one of my favoritedrinks, right, and I'd have
(21:07):
extra caramel, extra, all theextra stuff.
And now, if I do go toStarbucks, let's get a quad shot
with two Splendors and that'sit, because that was a small
change that felt more like me,because I wasn't just getting a
drink to get a drink.
I was getting drink because itwas something that I wanted.
(21:28):
So that would be an example ofthat Number three who in your
life once saw you clearly andhave you drifted from them
without meaning to?
You know this happens a lot inrelationships, especially like
best friends, right, you can bereally close to somebody for a
(21:53):
long period of time and thensometimes life get in the way,
right, and what a lot of people.
I think what a lot of peopledon't understand is that
relationships just in generalromantic or platonic it takes
(22:14):
effort and it takes time, right.
So when you have people thatare in your life that see you
clearly, it's going to be astruggle not to drift from them,
because sometimes it makes youuncomfortable.
But in that, beinguncomfortable is exactly what
you need, because if they cansee you for who you are, a lot
(22:36):
of people are not aware of thatanymore.
So that is a very rarecommodity in a plutonic or
romantic setting.
Now, number four Is yourenvironment reflecting who
you're becoming or who are youtrying to forget?
You know, a lot of times, likeI'll just say, like for me,
(23:00):
right, or something like thatyou know we're always in this
battle of who we are becomingand who we're trying to leave
kind of situation right, tryingto leave kind of situation right
, and what you have tounderstand about that question
specifically, is that yourenvironment changes when you
change.
Right, because one of twothings happen with the
(23:21):
environment you either leave theenvironment or you change it.
Because if you don't leave itand you don't change it,
everything that's inside of youis only short-term.
Then don't change it,everything that's inside of you
is only short term.
Then it takes changing theenvironment around you.
Like, let me ask you a questionand this isn't on a reflection
(23:41):
problem, but I just want you tothink about this where you've
had toxic relationships, right,and the minute that you cut them
off, all the changes you'vebeen trying to do within
yourself, all of a sudden ithappened at an expedited rate.
That's why, because you changedyour environment, you have to
understand that everything is areflection of you, and that's
(24:06):
including your environment.
If you don't change yourenvironment, sooner or later
whatever is outside will becomeinside and vice versa.
Just remember that.
Now, number five, what part ofyour silence feels sacred and
what part feels like hiding?
You know I'll say for me, right.
(24:31):
You know I'll say for me, right, there's a lot of times when I
drive and I don't listen tomusic because I mean I'm doing
this.
You know, there's other thingsthat I do where I literally just
I'm talking all day.
(24:51):
So if I don't have to talk Idon't really want to hear
anything.
I love sitting just in silence.
You know that part feels sacredand I know, like some parts
that feel like hiding issometimes like.
You know, that moment rightbefore you go to bed and the
thoughts of the day or thosethose deep thoughts that maybe
(25:13):
you don't really share withanybody else, that starts to hit
you.
You try to go to sleep fasterso that way you don't have to
deal with them.
That would be parts that feltlike hiding, just to give you a
new example.
But I want to thank you, everysingle one of you who listens to
this podcast.
It means the world to me andI'm going to be honest with you.
(25:38):
I'm actually really excitedabout this series because it's a
different type of series.
There's no death, there's nomagic heat, there's no sigils,
there's no so-and-gratulating tobe a king or a god or anything
like that.
I really wanted to writesomething that I know that I've
(26:01):
struggled with and gone through.
I know a lot of people have,and maybe yourself, and you know
there's no magic in this per seand there's no magic in this
per se, but what you're going toreally start to understand is
that you either feel this way orfelt this way in your life, and
that's just something I want toexplore, and I'm just happy
(26:29):
that you're along for the rideand I just appreciate it more
than you guys would ever know.
So if you want to talk to meright about this episode, this
series or the 260 plus episodeswe have out there now on Jen's
Journey, please do not hesitateto reach out to me.
There's three ways.
First way is going to bethrough the description box of
this podcast.
It'll be a function that sayslet's chat.
(26:49):
You click on that and you and Ican have a conversation about
this series, this episode or theyou know what the eight other
series out there and the 260plus episodes that I have on
Jen's journey.
All right.
Second way is going to bethrough my email.
My email is Anthony at Jen'sjourneycom, so please do not
(27:11):
hesitate to reach out to methere.
And then, last but not least,you can always go to my
Instagram.
My Instagram handle is mygentsjourney.
So again, I want to thank youso very much for listening today
.
And remember this you createyour reality, take care.
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