July 19, 2025 • 31 mins
Have you ever noticed yourself changing for an audience that wasn't even in the room when your journey began? This powerful episode explores the quiet, almost imperceptible drift from authentic presence to polished performance.
Through a compelling narrative about a man whose growing success gradually disconnects him from meaningful relationship, we witness the subtle transformation that happens not in dramatic moments of betrayal, but in the small choices to pursue recognition over connection. The story centers on a cafe relationship between the protagonist and Lena, who notices his shift before he does—how his words become headlines, his attention fragments, and the genuine exchange they once shared fades as external validation grows louder.
The heart of this episode lies in its unflinching examination of modern success. We're asked to consider when our relationships began waiting for our availability rather than receiving our attention. When did we start performing clarity instead of living it? And most powerfully, who stopped writing to us because we stopped listening?
This isn't just philosophical pondering—it's a practical exploration of how we inadvertently sacrifice depth for breadth in our connections. As the protagonist discovers, "the higher you go without presence, the quieter it gets, until the applause no longer echoes, it just surrounds you like insulation."
Between the captivating narrative and thought-provoking monologue, you'll find yourself questioning where in your life you might be collecting moments rather than experiencing them. The episode concludes with six reflection prompts that will stay with you long after listening.
Want to continue the conversation? Reach out through the description link, email anthony@gentsjourney.com, or connect on Instagram @MyGentsJourney. With over 260 episodes available, there's a wealth of insight waiting for you in the Gentleman's Journey archive.
"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 four
.
It's crazy, these things justgo by so, so fast.
We're in episode four, to thekey to everything, so let's go
(00:25):
ahead and let's jump into thecold open.
It started with a reply, noteven a long one, just a subject
line that read we'd love to haveyou.
He read it twice, then again,like the words might disappear
if you blink too long.
It was from someone he used toadmire, someone who once
(00:54):
wouldn't have noticed him in aroom full of applause and all
they wanted was his thoughts,his story, his face on their
stage.
He stared at it for a long time.
He didn't smile, didn'tscreenshot it, didn't even
answer.
He just sat there and for somereason he didn't think about
Lena.
He thought about the cafe, butnot her.
(01:16):
That was the first crack, thepart where presence stopped
being the point.
It became something he assumedhe would come back to later.
But presence doesn't wait, itdoesn't pause, it doesn't write
its name in pencil so you canerase it when something shinier
arrives.
(01:37):
And that morning he repliedlet's talk, I'm interested.
He didn't tell anyone, not evenher, when he walked into the
cafe ten minutes later he feltnormal, still early, still
smiling, still him.
But something had alreadyshifted, not in the room, not in
(02:01):
her, in him.
And that's how it begins, notwith betrayal but with momentum.
It started with a compliment.
It was short, it was clean, itwas measured.
Your voice carries weight.
That's what they wrote.
An editor, someone he oncefollowed silently online.
(02:23):
They read his piece, they saidit had clarity, asked if he
considered being on a panel, hedidn't hesitate, he didn't weigh
in, didn't ask if it would costhim something, he just said yes
.
And then he said yes again to apodcast, then a brand inquiry,
(02:44):
then a coffee meeting withsomeone who loved his tone.
It doesn't feel like sellingout, it feels like momentum.
And momentum doesn't ask forpermission, just calendar space.
He still went to the cafe, stillshowed up before the rush.
But now he came inmid-conversation, airpods, still
(03:09):
in voice, slightly elevated,like he forgot where he was.
Lena noticed, of course she did, but she didn't say anything,
just poured the coffee, set itdown.
No second cup.
He ended the call, dropped theearbuds into his pocket sorry
brand thing trying to throw theneedle between real and polished
(03:32):
.
She raised an eyebrow, halfsmiled, while you're getting
better at the polished part.
He laughed.
Wait that.
She tilted her head.
It's either that or you'rerehearsing for someone.
That line stayed with him, buthe played it off.
Ah, nah, maybe I'm justbecoming what I was always meant
(03:56):
to be.
She smiled, not wide, justenough.
Well, let me know when youfigure out what that is.
He sat down at the window, sametable, same seat, but his
notebook stayed closed.
He scrolled instead, answered afew messages, checked stats on
(04:18):
a quote someone had pulled froma last essay.
Then he looked up hey, how'syour research going?
She dried a mug, didn't lookover.
It's not research anymore, it'sa paper.
Then, after a pause, I'mwriting about how people subtly
(04:41):
change how they speak the momentthey know they're being watched
.
He blinked so like createdidentity.
She nodded Exactly, mask,without malice.
He leaned back and smiledSounds like something I should
read before I go on this panel.
She looked at him.
(05:03):
Now I think you're alreadyliving it Still gentle, still
Lena.
But it wasn't a joke, notreally.
He left earlier than usual,said he had a meeting, said it
casually.
She didn't ask with who, didn'task what for, just slid a
(05:27):
napkin towards him as he stood.
It said Remember who waslistening?
Before the room startedclapping Al.
He folded it quietly.
He didn't respond and for thefirst time since they met he
wondered if maybe she wasstarting to see through him and
(05:49):
not all the way.
In the next morning he came inlater, not enough to be rude,
just enough to feel it.
The window seat, his seat, wasalready taken.
Someone younger, talking louder, dressed, like they were trying
(06:11):
.
He waited at the counter.
Lena was already busy, didn'tglance up, Didn't say good
morning first, and when shelooked over her shoulder it was
brief.
She said usual.
He nodded.
She didn't ask how he was,didn't ask about the panel,
(06:34):
didn't mention the last napkin.
That was the flinch, not ashove, just a pullback.
He sat at a side table, openedhis laptop.
He browsed without purpose,replied to three emails he
didn't care about.
She brought over his coffeeanyways, set it down.
(06:55):
No comment, no smile.
He looked up, tried to recoversomething, trying to keep me
caffeinated.
She tilted her head.
You've been speaking inheadlines lately, figured, I'd
help you keep up.
He smirked.
(07:15):
Hey, that's a good one.
You should write that down.
She didn't laugh.
She just blinked slowly.
She didn't laugh.
She just blinked slowly, I do,you just don't read them anymore
.
The air changed.
He tried to hold her gaze, butshe was already walking away.
(07:37):
That's when he realized thesilence wasn't warm anymore.
It was observational, like shewas studying something that used
to be familiar.
He tried to write, opened hisnotebook, stared at the last
page he'd written and it feltforeign, like it belonged to
someone who hadn't beenperforming it.
He forced out a paragraph, thencrossed it out, closed the book
(08:00):
.
When she stopped by again, heasked You're always this blunt
with people.
She looked at him, smiled softbut not sweet, only with the
ones who used to hear me thefirst time.
Then she was gone again back tosteaming milk.
(08:25):
For the rest of that morning hesat alone in the room that used
to be a sanctuary, and now itfelt like he was waiting for him
to wake up.
He didn't, but he promisedhimself he'd try tomorrow.
It wasn't that he stoppedshowing up, it wasn't that he
stopped arriving.
He came most mornings, stillwalked through the door, the
(08:46):
same rhythm and a step, stillordered the same thing.
But something else had takenhis focus, something quieter and
louder.
His calendar was full Brandcalls, panel prep, strategy
briefs.
He was now being called on forinsight, for a voice.
(09:08):
They said he was the kind ofgrounded we needed right now.
Grounded, that word used tomean something different.
Now it meant available, smart,on brand.
He told himself it was a goodseason, that Lena would
(09:29):
understand that when thingssettled he'd be back more
present, more himself.
But the thing about excuses isthe better they sound, the
harder they are to notice sound,the harder they are to notice.
She was quieter now, still kind, still precise, but no longer
(09:53):
offering space, no longerwaiting to be a part of the
conversation.
One morning he asked about herpaper, not to reconnect but to
redirect the mood.
How's the um identity thinggoing?
She didn't look up right away.
I'm writing about ambientapplause.
He blinked.
That sounds abstract.
She finally met his eyes.
(10:15):
It's not.
It's what happens when someonechanges, not because they
believe something different, butbecause they start getting
rewarded for being a version ofthemselves they don't recognize.
(10:35):
He nodded, smiled like apanelist.
That sounds like something I'dquote on stage.
She didn't smile, didn't nod.
I wasn't offering it for thestage.
And that's when he realized shehad stopped showing up.
She had just stoppedtranslating.
That afternoon he posted a clipfrom a green room captioned
(10:56):
Quiet Before the Story Begins.
He didn't tag her, didn't thinkof her, not because she didn't
matter, but because she nolonger fit the shape of the
story he was telling.
That night he opened hisnotebook and found her last
napkin tucked inside Rememberwho was listening?
(11:16):
Before the room startedclapping.
It looks smaller now, as if ithad been written by someone
trying to leave a message on theway out.
But she hadn't left, not yet.
He just wasn't giving her areason to stay.
(11:36):
He came in just before noon, notlate exactly, but not early
enough to be a part of themorning rhythm.
She was wiping down a table.
He didn't glance up, didn'tpour the coffee ahead of time.
He stood at the counter longerthan usual.
There was a couple ahead of him.
(11:57):
They were laughing aboutsomething he didn't hear.
When it was his turn she lookedat him like a customer, the
usual.
He hesitated, unless I'vebecome something else or someone
else.
She just gave a small smile.
(12:18):
I'm sure I'd notice it shouldhave felt warm, but it didn't.
It felt like the kind of thingyou say to someone you're no
longer checking for.
She brought the coffee to histable, set it down, didn't sit,
didn't linger, just set it downand started walking away.
(12:41):
He reached for somethinganything I'm giving a talk next
week.
She turned halfway.
That's great.
He waited for a question.
That didn't come.
They said I'm the only one whodoesn't sound like I'm selling
something.
She nodded that's a great trick, sounding real when you're
(13:02):
performing.
He blinked Is that what youthink I'm doing?
She didn't answer right away.
Then, gently, I think you'restarting to believe your own
echo.
She didn't say like anaccusation.
She said like a nurse readingsomeone their test results no
(13:25):
anger.
She sat like a nurse readingsomeone their test results no
anger, just facts.
He sipped the coffee.
It tasted the same, but itdidn't land.
He looked at her across thecafe.
She was laughing Again, but notat him, she wasn't being cruel,
she was just being somewhereelse.
(13:47):
Now that night he opened thedrawer where he kept the key,
held it in his hand.
It still felt heavy, still cold, still the same object that
started all of this.
He started it for a long timeThen whispered Don't let me
(14:07):
disappear.
But the key didn't answer andneither did she.
The room wasn't big but it feltfull A velvet backdrop, two
chairs and a moderator with aclipboard and an audience full
(14:29):
of people who looked atnotebooks in their dreams.
They introduced him with a biohe hadn't approved.
He didn't correct them.
It sounded better than thetruth.
He took the mic with a halfsmile, a nod and a kind of
polish that made him feel likehe did this all the time now and
the he did.
He was asked about voice, aboutclarity, about why his essays
(14:50):
felt like they were written fromthe inside out.
He answered like a man who'dbeen practicing becoming natural
.
He said things like most peopleconfuse momentum for movement.
Where presence isn't found,it's returned to.
Clarity is what happens whenyou subtract applause.
They nodded, they scribbled,one woman wiped a tear.
(15:15):
He kept talking, but somewherein the middle of his third
answer, something flickered, notin the lights, but in his
memory Lena laughing at a jokehe hadn't meant to make.
But in his memory, lenaLaughing at a joke he hadn't
meant to make, not in a greenroom, not in a post, just in a
moment, a real one.
(15:37):
He blinked, it passed.
He kept going, told a storyabout struggle, made it sound
cinematic, heard his voice getdeeper at the right moments.
He's seen someone mouth hiswords like lyrics.
(15:58):
He hit the end of the segmentwith a standing ovation.
It was clean, it wasprofessional, it was effective
and for the first time in weekshe didn't think about her during
the speech.
As soon as he sat backstage,glass of water in hand, his name
on the bottle label, he feltsomething twist.
Not pain, not regret, just apull, like the pause had landed
(16:26):
in his ears but missed his chest.
He pulled out his notebook,wrote one line I'm starting to
miss who I was before I knewwhat to say.
Then he closed.
It Didn't share the quote,didn't post, didn't tell anyone.
That night he skipped the cafeagain.
Another call, Another call,another strategy.
(16:49):
He told himself it wastemporary, just another climb.
But the next morning when helooked in the mirror, he didn't
see a man getting closer tohimself.
He saw a man getting better atdistance.
(17:13):
He returned to the cafe onWednesday Mid-morning.
No rush, no plan, he toldhimself.
It was just a routine.
But he knew better.
He hadn't seen her in five days.
Not really.
(17:33):
She was there, of course,moving through the cafe like
breath, quiet needed, easy tomiss if you didn't stay present.
Presence had come, something hedipped into, not something he
(17:53):
lived in.
The chime on the door was thesame.
So was the bell above theregister, so was the hum of milk
being steamed, spoons clinking,pages turning, but the space
between them wasn't.
She glanced up when he walked in, didn't pause, didn't pour in
(18:16):
advance, just a small nod.
Nothing withheld, but nothingoffered either.
He took the window seat.
It was open, but it didn't feelsaved.
She brought the cup a fewminutes later, sat it down like
(18:37):
a normal person.
No ceremony, no second cup, nonapkin, no napkin.
He paused.
He looked at her for a longmoment.
He looked at her like he waswaiting for a spark that used to
ignite just from eye contact.
(18:57):
It didn't Thanks, he said.
She nodded, wiped her hands ona towel, didn't sit, didn't ask
how he was.
He waited.
But waiting without invitationis its own kind of silence.
(19:17):
After a minute he cleared histhroat.
I spoke last night.
The panel went well, that'sgreat.
No follow-up, no spark, just astatement.
He tried again.
(19:37):
Hey, someone told me I remindedthem of someone they used to
trust.
She looked at him for the firsttime, really looked.
Do you, do I what Remind you ofsomeone you used to trust?
He blinked.
(19:58):
He didn't answer.
She sat down across from him.
She sat down across from himjust for a moment, just long
enough.
Do you know why I stoppedwriting the notes?
(20:18):
He stayed still, he didn'tblink, he didn't even breathe,
because I realized you weren'treading them, you were just
collecting them.
She wasn't angry, she was gone,still there, but gone.
(20:40):
Words aren't gifts if you onlyopen them when you need a quote,
that one, that one hit reallyhard.
He reached for his notebook.
He didn't open it.
She stood, wiped her handsagain and nodded.
I hope you remember who youwere before you started getting
(21:04):
all this work.
Before he started getting allthis work, he opened his mouth
but nothing came.
She walked away, didn't lookback, didn't pause, just moved.
(21:27):
That night he sat in the dark,key in hand, notebook open.
For the first time in a longtime he didn't write for the
room, he wrote for her.
But more than that, he wrotefor the part of himself she had
been speaking to all along, notthe man on stage, the one in the
(21:59):
chair, the window seat, beforethe world ever clapped.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the monologue.
You know you don't ever loseyourself all at once, right, it
happens in applause, in praise,in the tiny addictive moments
(22:20):
where people tell you you'reeverything they've been waiting
for and a part of you believesit, because you really want to
right as I hit the mic, sorryguys Because the part of you
that once felt invisible, youfinally are feeling seen right.
(22:42):
See, this episode wasn't about afall.
It was about the drift beforethe fall, the slow, almost
imperceptible shift wherepresence becomes performance and
performance becomes protection.
He didn't abandon who he was.
(23:04):
He didn't abandon who he was.
He just started feeding theversion of himself that got
rewarded, got quoted, you know,received admiration.
At first it's harmless, right?
You say yes to a few morethings, you polish a few more
sentences, you give answers, youknow will land right.
(23:31):
And then one day you're at atable with someone who used to
know you and they don't lean inanymore because the conversation
is no longer with them, it'swith your audience.
That's what Lena felt.
That's why the second cupstopped arriving.
That's why the second cupstopped arriving, that's why the
napkin stopped coming, becausepresence doesn't chase you, it
(23:53):
waits quietly until it no longercan.
And I should say the hauntingpart of that is that think about
it.
He was still rising, stillgetting invitations, still being
introduced with words that oncefelt about it.
He was still rising, stillgetting invitations, still being
introduced, with words thatonce felt like dreams.
Right, but the higher you gowithout presence, the quieter it
(24:17):
gets, until the applause nolonger echoes, it just surrounds
you like insulation.
That's where many of us livenow.
We perform clarity instead ofliving it.
We talk about authenticity likeit's a brand position.
We remember moments as content,not connection.
But Lena remembered.
(24:39):
She remembered who he wasbefore the world clapped and
when he stopped being that mannot to grow but to perform she
didn't push him, she steppedback.
She didn't leave to teach him alesson, she just stopped
(25:00):
writing for a version of himthat wasn't listening.
And that's what this episodewas trying to say.
Sometimes you get everythingyou wanted and you still miss
the thing that mattered, becausethe thing that matters can't be
captured in a quote or a stageor a perfectly lit moment.
(25:23):
It's the coffee before the daybegins and the pause between the
replies and the notes someonewrites by hand, hoping you still
know how to read between thelines.
So ask yourself when did youbecome or I should say, when did
your life become something tomanage instead of something to
(25:45):
feel?
When did your relationshipstart waiting for your
availability instead of yourattention?
Have you traded presence forpraise?
Have you forgotten what itfeels like to be in a room
without performing?
And, more than that, whostopped writing to you because
you stopped listening?
There's still time, time to sitdown, time to go back, to open
(26:13):
the notebook again, not tocreate something for the world,
but to remind yourself thatbefore the climb, there was
someone who sat with coffee andjust existed.
And that version of you stillwaits at the table, quiet,
unpolished and honest.
(26:34):
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the reflection prompts.
Reflection one when did youstart performing instead of
being present?
You know, I think a lot ofpeople you know, I think a lot
of people just my personalopinion perform instead of being
present because we're alwaystrying to appease people and we
(26:56):
don't want to be by ourselves.
So a lot of time we'reperforming instead of being
present.
This is my personal opinion.
Number two what's the cost ofbeing admired by people?
You don't know.
That's a big, big question.
Number three have you ever beenapplauded for a version of
(27:20):
yourself that doesn't feel realanymore?
A lot of us have.
Number four who did you stoplistening to when the world
started paying attention?
Number five what moment in yourlife felt like applause but
(27:41):
echoed hollow afterward?
And number six who would youlike to return to without
announcing it?
So you know I'm going to behonest here with you guys, like
(28:04):
writing this.
You know I'm going to be honesthere with you guys, like
writing this.
You know this couple.
You know Lena and our main guy.
This happens a lot inrelationships Romantic
relationships, plutonicrelationships when one person
(28:25):
stops showing up because maybethey get better, they start
making more money, they startachieving success.
Or it's the other way, wheresomething happens in their life
and they take a downturn right,and we stop being present for
the people around us and after awhile they kind of return the
(28:48):
favor.
You know a lot of people don'tunderstand like relationships
have an ebb and flow to them,and this one does too.
But the more present you can bein a relationship being
plutonic or romantic you'regiving the biggest gift of all
(29:09):
to them, which is your time andpresence.
That's why presence and givingpresence sound the same.
Because they are, it's thebiggest present you can give to
anybody.
Your time and your focus is thebest thing you can really give
anybody, because it's somethingyou can never give back or get
(29:29):
back.
I should say so well, there'sgonna be another one coming
right after this and I'm tellingyou this is where man, this is
where things start to reallychange for him.
But I wanna thank every singleone of you for giving me your
time and listening today.
(29:51):
I cannot tell you how much itmeans to me that you take your
time and being present in thisseries and in this podcast.
It means the absolute world tome as we talk about that.
If you have any questions aboutthis episode, this series, the
six or seven other series I haveout there and the 250 plus
(30:14):
episodes I have now, pleasenever hesitate to reach out to
me.
There's three different ways.
First way is going to bethrough the description here,
where it says let's chat.
You click on that.
You and I can have aconversation about this series,
this episode and the 260 otherplus episodes I have out there.
A second one is going to bethrough my email.
(30:37):
My email is anthony atgentsjourneycom.
And then, last but not least,you can always reach out to me
on my Instagram.
My Instagram is MyGentsJourney.
So again, thank you so, so, so,very much for listening today.
And remember this you createyour reality.
(31:00):
Take care Bye.
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host,and today we are in episode four
.
It's crazy, these things justgo by so, so fast.
We're in episode four, to thekey to everything, so let's go
(00:25):
ahead and let's jump into thecold open.
It started with a reply, noteven a long one, just a subject
line that read we'd love to haveyou.
He read it twice, then again,like the words might disappear
if you blink too long.
It was from someone he used toadmire, someone who once
(00:54):
wouldn't have noticed him in aroom full of applause and all
they wanted was his thoughts,his story, his face on their
stage.
He stared at it for a long time.
He didn't smile, didn'tscreenshot it, didn't even
answer.
He just sat there and for somereason he didn't think about
Lena.
He thought about the cafe, butnot her.
(01:16):
That was the first crack, thepart where presence stopped
being the point.
It became something he assumedhe would come back to later.
But presence doesn't wait, itdoesn't pause, it doesn't write
its name in pencil so you canerase it when something shinier
arrives.
(01:37):
And that morning he repliedlet's talk, I'm interested.
He didn't tell anyone, not evenher, when he walked into the
cafe ten minutes later he feltnormal, still early, still
smiling, still him.
But something had alreadyshifted, not in the room, not in
(02:01):
her, in him.
And that's how it begins, notwith betrayal but with momentum.
It started with a compliment.
It was short, it was clean, itwas measured.
Your voice carries weight.
That's what they wrote.
An editor, someone he oncefollowed silently online.
(02:23):
They read his piece, they saidit had clarity, asked if he
considered being on a panel, hedidn't hesitate, he didn't weigh
in, didn't ask if it would costhim something, he just said yes
.
And then he said yes again to apodcast, then a brand inquiry,
(02:44):
then a coffee meeting withsomeone who loved his tone.
It doesn't feel like sellingout, it feels like momentum.
And momentum doesn't ask forpermission, just calendar space.
He still went to the cafe, stillshowed up before the rush.
But now he came inmid-conversation, airpods, still
(03:09):
in voice, slightly elevated,like he forgot where he was.
Lena noticed, of course she did, but she didn't say anything,
just poured the coffee, set itdown.
No second cup.
He ended the call, dropped theearbuds into his pocket sorry
brand thing trying to throw theneedle between real and polished
(03:32):
.
She raised an eyebrow, halfsmiled, while you're getting
better at the polished part.
He laughed.
Wait that.
She tilted her head.
It's either that or you'rerehearsing for someone.
That line stayed with him, buthe played it off.
Ah, nah, maybe I'm justbecoming what I was always meant
(03:56):
to be.
She smiled, not wide, justenough.
Well, let me know when youfigure out what that is.
He sat down at the window, sametable, same seat, but his
notebook stayed closed.
He scrolled instead, answered afew messages, checked stats on
(04:18):
a quote someone had pulled froma last essay.
Then he looked up hey, how'syour research going?
She dried a mug, didn't lookover.
It's not research anymore, it'sa paper.
Then, after a pause, I'mwriting about how people subtly
(04:41):
change how they speak the momentthey know they're being watched
.
He blinked so like createdidentity.
She nodded Exactly, mask,without malice.
He leaned back and smiledSounds like something I should
read before I go on this panel.
She looked at him.
(05:03):
Now I think you're alreadyliving it Still gentle, still
Lena.
But it wasn't a joke, notreally.
He left earlier than usual,said he had a meeting, said it
casually.
She didn't ask with who, didn'task what for, just slid a
(05:27):
napkin towards him as he stood.
It said Remember who waslistening?
Before the room startedclapping Al.
He folded it quietly.
He didn't respond and for thefirst time since they met he
wondered if maybe she wasstarting to see through him and
(05:49):
not all the way.
In the next morning he came inlater, not enough to be rude,
just enough to feel it.
The window seat, his seat, wasalready taken.
Someone younger, talking louder, dressed, like they were trying
(06:11):
.
He waited at the counter.
Lena was already busy, didn'tglance up, Didn't say good
morning first, and when shelooked over her shoulder it was
brief.
She said usual.
He nodded.
She didn't ask how he was,didn't ask about the panel,
(06:34):
didn't mention the last napkin.
That was the flinch, not ashove, just a pullback.
He sat at a side table, openedhis laptop.
He browsed without purpose,replied to three emails he
didn't care about.
She brought over his coffeeanyways, set it down.
(06:55):
No comment, no smile.
He looked up, tried to recoversomething, trying to keep me
caffeinated.
She tilted her head.
You've been speaking inheadlines lately, figured, I'd
help you keep up.
He smirked.
(07:15):
Hey, that's a good one.
You should write that down.
She didn't laugh.
She just blinked slowly.
She didn't laugh.
She just blinked slowly, I do,you just don't read them anymore
.
The air changed.
He tried to hold her gaze, butshe was already walking away.
(07:37):
That's when he realized thesilence wasn't warm anymore.
It was observational, like shewas studying something that used
to be familiar.
He tried to write, opened hisnotebook, stared at the last
page he'd written and it feltforeign, like it belonged to
someone who hadn't beenperforming it.
He forced out a paragraph, thencrossed it out, closed the book
(08:00):
.
When she stopped by again, heasked You're always this blunt
with people.
She looked at him, smiled softbut not sweet, only with the
ones who used to hear me thefirst time.
Then she was gone again back tosteaming milk.
(08:25):
For the rest of that morning hesat alone in the room that used
to be a sanctuary, and now itfelt like he was waiting for him
to wake up.
He didn't, but he promisedhimself he'd try tomorrow.
It wasn't that he stoppedshowing up, it wasn't that he
stopped arriving.
He came most mornings, stillwalked through the door, the
(08:46):
same rhythm and a step, stillordered the same thing.
But something else had takenhis focus, something quieter and
louder.
His calendar was full Brandcalls, panel prep, strategy
briefs.
He was now being called on forinsight, for a voice.
(09:08):
They said he was the kind ofgrounded we needed right now.
Grounded, that word used tomean something different.
Now it meant available, smart,on brand.
He told himself it was a goodseason, that Lena would
(09:29):
understand that when thingssettled he'd be back more
present, more himself.
But the thing about excuses isthe better they sound, the
harder they are to notice sound,the harder they are to notice.
She was quieter now, still kind, still precise, but no longer
(09:53):
offering space, no longerwaiting to be a part of the
conversation.
One morning he asked about herpaper, not to reconnect but to
redirect the mood.
How's the um identity thinggoing?
She didn't look up right away.
I'm writing about ambientapplause.
He blinked.
That sounds abstract.
She finally met his eyes.
(10:15):
It's not.
It's what happens when someonechanges, not because they
believe something different, butbecause they start getting
rewarded for being a version ofthemselves they don't recognize.
(10:35):
He nodded, smiled like apanelist.
That sounds like something I'dquote on stage.
She didn't smile, didn't nod.
I wasn't offering it for thestage.
And that's when he realized shehad stopped showing up.
She had just stoppedtranslating.
That afternoon he posted a clipfrom a green room captioned
(10:56):
Quiet Before the Story Begins.
He didn't tag her, didn't thinkof her, not because she didn't
matter, but because she nolonger fit the shape of the
story he was telling.
That night he opened hisnotebook and found her last
napkin tucked inside Rememberwho was listening?
(11:16):
Before the room startedclapping.
It looks smaller now, as if ithad been written by someone
trying to leave a message on theway out.
But she hadn't left, not yet.
He just wasn't giving her areason to stay.
(11:36):
He came in just before noon, notlate exactly, but not early
enough to be a part of themorning rhythm.
She was wiping down a table.
He didn't glance up, didn'tpour the coffee ahead of time.
He stood at the counter longerthan usual.
There was a couple ahead of him.
(11:57):
They were laughing aboutsomething he didn't hear.
When it was his turn she lookedat him like a customer, the
usual.
He hesitated, unless I'vebecome something else or someone
else.
She just gave a small smile.
(12:18):
I'm sure I'd notice it shouldhave felt warm, but it didn't.
It felt like the kind of thingyou say to someone you're no
longer checking for.
She brought the coffee to histable, set it down, didn't sit,
didn't linger, just set it downand started walking away.
(12:41):
He reached for somethinganything I'm giving a talk next
week.
She turned halfway.
That's great.
He waited for a question.
That didn't come.
They said I'm the only one whodoesn't sound like I'm selling
something.
She nodded that's a great trick, sounding real when you're
(13:02):
performing.
He blinked Is that what youthink I'm doing?
She didn't answer right away.
Then, gently, I think you'restarting to believe your own
echo.
She didn't say like anaccusation.
She said like a nurse readingsomeone their test results no
(13:25):
anger.
She sat like a nurse readingsomeone their test results no
anger, just facts.
He sipped the coffee.
It tasted the same, but itdidn't land.
He looked at her across thecafe.
She was laughing Again, but notat him, she wasn't being cruel,
she was just being somewhereelse.
(13:47):
Now that night he opened thedrawer where he kept the key,
held it in his hand.
It still felt heavy, still cold, still the same object that
started all of this.
He started it for a long timeThen whispered Don't let me
(14:07):
disappear.
But the key didn't answer andneither did she.
The room wasn't big but it feltfull A velvet backdrop, two
chairs and a moderator with aclipboard and an audience full
(14:29):
of people who looked atnotebooks in their dreams.
They introduced him with a biohe hadn't approved.
He didn't correct them.
It sounded better than thetruth.
He took the mic with a halfsmile, a nod and a kind of
polish that made him feel likehe did this all the time now and
the he did.
He was asked about voice, aboutclarity, about why his essays
(14:50):
felt like they were written fromthe inside out.
He answered like a man who'dbeen practicing becoming natural
.
He said things like most peopleconfuse momentum for movement.
Where presence isn't found,it's returned to.
Clarity is what happens whenyou subtract applause.
They nodded, they scribbled,one woman wiped a tear.
(15:15):
He kept talking, but somewherein the middle of his third
answer, something flickered, notin the lights, but in his
memory Lena laughing at a jokehe hadn't meant to make.
But in his memory, lenaLaughing at a joke he hadn't
meant to make, not in a greenroom, not in a post, just in a
moment, a real one.
(15:37):
He blinked, it passed.
He kept going, told a storyabout struggle, made it sound
cinematic, heard his voice getdeeper at the right moments.
He's seen someone mouth hiswords like lyrics.
(15:58):
He hit the end of the segmentwith a standing ovation.
It was clean, it wasprofessional, it was effective
and for the first time in weekshe didn't think about her during
the speech.
As soon as he sat backstage,glass of water in hand, his name
on the bottle label, he feltsomething twist.
Not pain, not regret, just apull, like the pause had landed
(16:26):
in his ears but missed his chest.
He pulled out his notebook,wrote one line I'm starting to
miss who I was before I knewwhat to say.
Then he closed.
It Didn't share the quote,didn't post, didn't tell anyone.
That night he skipped the cafeagain.
Another call, Another call,another strategy.
(16:49):
He told himself it wastemporary, just another climb.
But the next morning when helooked in the mirror, he didn't
see a man getting closer tohimself.
He saw a man getting better atdistance.
(17:13):
He returned to the cafe onWednesday Mid-morning.
No rush, no plan, he toldhimself.
It was just a routine.
But he knew better.
He hadn't seen her in five days.
Not really.
(17:33):
She was there, of course,moving through the cafe like
breath, quiet needed, easy tomiss if you didn't stay present.
Presence had come, something hedipped into, not something he
(17:53):
lived in.
The chime on the door was thesame.
So was the bell above theregister, so was the hum of milk
being steamed, spoons clinking,pages turning, but the space
between them wasn't.
She glanced up when he walked in, didn't pause, didn't pour in
(18:16):
advance, just a small nod.
Nothing withheld, but nothingoffered either.
He took the window seat.
It was open, but it didn't feelsaved.
She brought the cup a fewminutes later, sat it down like
(18:37):
a normal person.
No ceremony, no second cup, nonapkin, no napkin.
He paused.
He looked at her for a longmoment.
He looked at her like he waswaiting for a spark that used to
ignite just from eye contact.
(18:57):
It didn't Thanks, he said.
She nodded, wiped her hands ona towel, didn't sit, didn't ask
how he was.
He waited.
But waiting without invitationis its own kind of silence.
(19:17):
After a minute he cleared histhroat.
I spoke last night.
The panel went well, that'sgreat.
No follow-up, no spark, just astatement.
He tried again.
(19:37):
Hey, someone told me I remindedthem of someone they used to
trust.
She looked at him for the firsttime, really looked.
Do you, do I what Remind you ofsomeone you used to trust?
He blinked.
(19:58):
He didn't answer.
She sat down across from him.
She sat down across from himjust for a moment, just long
enough.
Do you know why I stoppedwriting the notes?
(20:18):
He stayed still, he didn'tblink, he didn't even breathe,
because I realized you weren'treading them, you were just
collecting them.
She wasn't angry, she was gone,still there, but gone.
(20:40):
Words aren't gifts if you onlyopen them when you need a quote,
that one, that one hit reallyhard.
He reached for his notebook.
He didn't open it.
She stood, wiped her handsagain and nodded.
I hope you remember who youwere before you started getting
(21:04):
all this work.
Before he started getting allthis work, he opened his mouth
but nothing came.
She walked away, didn't lookback, didn't pause, just moved.
(21:27):
That night he sat in the dark,key in hand, notebook open.
For the first time in a longtime he didn't write for the
room, he wrote for her.
But more than that, he wrotefor the part of himself she had
been speaking to all along, notthe man on stage, the one in the
(21:59):
chair, the window seat, beforethe world ever clapped.
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the monologue.
You know you don't ever loseyourself all at once, right, it
happens in applause, in praise,in the tiny addictive moments
(22:20):
where people tell you you'reeverything they've been waiting
for and a part of you believesit, because you really want to
right as I hit the mic, sorryguys Because the part of you
that once felt invisible, youfinally are feeling seen right.
(22:42):
See, this episode wasn't about afall.
It was about the drift beforethe fall, the slow, almost
imperceptible shift wherepresence becomes performance and
performance becomes protection.
He didn't abandon who he was.
(23:04):
He didn't abandon who he was.
He just started feeding theversion of himself that got
rewarded, got quoted, you know,received admiration.
At first it's harmless, right?
You say yes to a few morethings, you polish a few more
sentences, you give answers, youknow will land right.
(23:31):
And then one day you're at atable with someone who used to
know you and they don't lean inanymore because the conversation
is no longer with them, it'swith your audience.
That's what Lena felt.
That's why the second cupstopped arriving.
That's why the second cupstopped arriving, that's why the
napkin stopped coming, becausepresence doesn't chase you, it
(23:53):
waits quietly until it no longercan.
And I should say the hauntingpart of that is that think about
it.
He was still rising, stillgetting invitations, still being
introduced with words that oncefelt about it.
He was still rising, stillgetting invitations, still being
introduced, with words thatonce felt like dreams.
Right, but the higher you gowithout presence, the quieter it
(24:17):
gets, until the applause nolonger echoes, it just surrounds
you like insulation.
That's where many of us livenow.
We perform clarity instead ofliving it.
We talk about authenticity likeit's a brand position.
We remember moments as content,not connection.
But Lena remembered.
(24:39):
She remembered who he wasbefore the world clapped and
when he stopped being that mannot to grow but to perform she
didn't push him, she steppedback.
She didn't leave to teach him alesson, she just stopped
(25:00):
writing for a version of himthat wasn't listening.
And that's what this episodewas trying to say.
Sometimes you get everythingyou wanted and you still miss
the thing that mattered, becausethe thing that matters can't be
captured in a quote or a stageor a perfectly lit moment.
(25:23):
It's the coffee before the daybegins and the pause between the
replies and the notes someonewrites by hand, hoping you still
know how to read between thelines.
So ask yourself when did youbecome or I should say, when did
your life become something tomanage instead of something to
(25:45):
feel?
When did your relationshipstart waiting for your
availability instead of yourattention?
Have you traded presence forpraise?
Have you forgotten what itfeels like to be in a room
without performing?
And, more than that, whostopped writing to you because
you stopped listening?
There's still time, time to sitdown, time to go back, to open
(26:13):
the notebook again, not tocreate something for the world,
but to remind yourself thatbefore the climb, there was
someone who sat with coffee andjust existed.
And that version of you stillwaits at the table, quiet,
unpolished and honest.
(26:34):
So let's go ahead and let's getinto the reflection prompts.
Reflection one when did youstart performing instead of
being present?
You know, I think a lot ofpeople you know, I think a lot
of people just my personalopinion perform instead of being
present because we're alwaystrying to appease people and we
(26:56):
don't want to be by ourselves.
So a lot of time we'reperforming instead of being
present.
This is my personal opinion.
Number two what's the cost ofbeing admired by people?
You don't know.
That's a big, big question.
Number three have you ever beenapplauded for a version of
(27:20):
yourself that doesn't feel realanymore?
A lot of us have.
Number four who did you stoplistening to when the world
started paying attention?
Number five what moment in yourlife felt like applause but
(27:41):
echoed hollow afterward?
And number six who would youlike to return to without
announcing it?
So you know I'm going to behonest here with you guys, like
(28:04):
writing this.
You know I'm going to be honesthere with you guys, like
writing this.
You know this couple.
You know Lena and our main guy.
This happens a lot inrelationships Romantic
relationships, plutonicrelationships when one person
(28:25):
stops showing up because maybethey get better, they start
making more money, they startachieving success.
Or it's the other way, wheresomething happens in their life
and they take a downturn right,and we stop being present for
the people around us and after awhile they kind of return the
(28:48):
favor.
You know a lot of people don'tunderstand like relationships
have an ebb and flow to them,and this one does too.
But the more present you can bein a relationship being
plutonic or romantic you'regiving the biggest gift of all
(29:09):
to them, which is your time andpresence.
That's why presence and givingpresence sound the same.
Because they are, it's thebiggest present you can give to
anybody.
Your time and your focus is thebest thing you can really give
anybody, because it's somethingyou can never give back or get
(29:29):
back.
I should say so well, there'sgonna be another one coming
right after this and I'm tellingyou this is where man, this is
where things start to reallychange for him.
But I wanna thank every singleone of you for giving me your
time and listening today.
(29:51):
I cannot tell you how much itmeans to me that you take your
time and being present in thisseries and in this podcast.
It means the absolute world tome as we talk about that.
If you have any questions aboutthis episode, this series, the
six or seven other series I haveout there and the 250 plus
(30:14):
episodes I have now, pleasenever hesitate to reach out to
me.
There's three different ways.
First way is going to bethrough the description here,
where it says let's chat.
You click on that.
You and I can have aconversation about this series,
this episode and the 260 otherplus episodes I have out there.
A second one is going to bethrough my email.
(30:37):
My email is anthony atgentsjourneycom.
And then, last but not least,you can always reach out to me
on my Instagram.
My Instagram is MyGentsJourney.
So again, thank you so, so, so,very much for listening today.
And remember this you createyour reality.
(31:00):
Take care Bye.
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