July 25, 2025 • 40 mins
What happens when success turns you into someone you no longer recognize? The mysterious key grants our protagonist everything he thought he wanted—fame, recognition, standing ovations—only to realize these achievements have hollowed him out from the inside.
When a chance encounter with a stranger on a park bench reveals that the key has passed through countless hands throughout history—from kings and presidents to artists and monks—our protagonist discovers a profound truth: the key isn't magic, but a mirror reflecting our deepest hungers while simultaneously revealing what we lose in pursuit of external validation.
This allegorical journey explores how easily we can become performers in our own lives, gradually silencing our authentic selves to earn the world's applause. Through vivid storytelling that feels both ancient and urgently contemporary, we witness a man's quest to rediscover who he was before success transformed him into someone else.
The most powerful insight emerges when he realizes the key was never about unlocking doors—it was about unlocking understanding. Everything he truly needed was already within him, waiting to be remembered rather than achieved.
As this penultimate episode in the series draws to a close, five profound questions invite you to examine your own relationship with success: What version of yourself are you performing for applause? Who knows the real you beneath the carefully crafted exterior? Have you mistaken momentum for meaning? What would remain if the validation disappeared tomorrow? And what parts of yourself have you silenced just to be seen?
Join us for this transformative exploration of authenticity, purpose, and the courage required to let go of who you've become to remember who you truly are.
"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.
Today we are in episode nineand the key to everything.
We are almost done, guys.
There's one more episode afterthis and this is all done, so
(00:24):
I'm just going to go ahead andget into it.
It's been a full year sinceLena left the cafe, maybe longer
.
He didn't really keep the exacttime, but he kept the key.
At first he used to take it outof the drawer every morning,
hold it in his hand, turn itover like it might whisper
something new morning.
(00:47):
Hold it in his hand, turn itover like it might whisper
something new.
Now it stayed buried beneathother things paperwork, old
notebooks, the wrapped cords ofelectronics he no longer used.
He never meant to hide it, butover time he just stopped being
something he needed to see, toremember.
He still remembered, though,Not just Lena, but the whole
thing, the rise, the attention,the curated identity.
(01:12):
He wore like a new suit, untilhe forgot it wasn't his skin, it
all worked.
That was the thing.
That's what haunted him.
That's what haunted him Becauseit wasn't meant the key, it
wasn't magic, it wasn't a lie.
It simply gave him what hethought he wanted.
And now he wasn't sure if hecould unwant it, he started
(01:39):
walking again.
No headphones, no destination,just long, open loops through
parts of the city.
He used to avoid Places withoutangles, without architecture,
without ambition.
That morning he walked to a parktucked between two forgotten
streets, the kind of place thathad no reason to exist except
(01:59):
for stillness.
There was a bench in the shade,not beautiful, just unbothered,
and for reasons he couldn'tname he sat.
There were no kids nearby, nomusic, no visible reason for
(02:23):
anyone else to be there, exceptsomeone was An older man sat at
the far end of the bench, armscrossed, eyes closed, like he'd
been listening to something theone said long before it got to
him.
They didn't speak.
At first he thought aboutleaving.
He didn't feel likeconversation, but he stayed
(02:46):
because something about the airfelt paused.
He didn't feel likeconversation, but he stayed
Because something about the airfelt paused.
After several minutes the oldman said, without opening his
eyes You're holding on tosomething that's finished.
The words landed like they werewaiting in the trees.
He slowly turned towards him.
(03:06):
The man's eyes were still shut.
Excuse me, the man cracked asmile.
Not talking about a person,talking about an object.
Maybe it looks like metal,Maybe it looks like meaning.
Either way, it's ready to moveon.
He didn't respond.
(03:28):
He didn't need to.
The man finally opened his eyes.
They weren't cloudy, but theyweren't young either, like
they'd seen too many lifetimesin one body.
I know what you're carrying,the man said because I carried
it once, and just like that theworld felt too quiet again.
(03:54):
He pulled the key from his coatpocket.
He brought it today withoutthinking, as if a part of him
knew that this conversation waswaiting.
You're telling me you had this,he asked.
The man didn't look surprised.
Not that exact one, but onelike it.
(04:17):
They all look the same.
That's the point.
He turned the key in his hand,felt the grooves, the weight,
the temperature.
What is it, he asked?
The man shrugged.
It just depends on who'sholding it.
(04:38):
He said nothing.
He waited.
The man continued some peopleget power, some people get
clarity, some get money, someget the illusion of love.
Doesn't matter what it givesyou, the pattern's always the
same.
Okay, which is, it gives youeverything, then it gives you
(05:04):
back yourself.
The wind shifted.
A leaf fell in front of hisshoe.
So it's a trick?
The man smiled.
No, it's a mirror, the kindthat doesn't show your face,
(05:24):
shows your hunger.
Okay, why me then?
Because you still think you'rethe first.
He laughed a little, not at theman, but at the ache in his own
chest.
But at the ache in his ownchest, the one that tightened
(05:46):
when he realized how many stepshe had taken away from himself
just to feel important.
Why does it come at all?
The man stretched his backslowly, because someone always
needs it until they don't.
He nodded, held the key tighter.
(06:09):
Okay, well, what happens if Idon't give it away?
The man looked at him now, eyessoft, almost sad.
Then it stays, and so does theversion of you it built that hit
harder than expected.
Then it stays, and so does theversion of you it built that hit
(06:31):
harder than expected.
He thought about Lena, not justthe loss, but the version of
him.
She knew before all of this,before the emails, the podcasts,
the standing ovations, the onewho wrote quietly at the window,
who remembered her coffeewithout asking, who asked about
her paper and actually listened.
Does it matter who I give it to, he asked.
(06:57):
The man nodded once it chooseswhat's next, but you have to
agree, agree to what the manleaned closer to, let go of who
it made you.
(07:18):
They sat in silence for a while.
Not the kind that closes a door, but the kind that closes a
door, but the kind that opensone inside you.
When he finally spoke, it wassofter.
Okay, what happens after that?
The man closed his eyes again.
(07:39):
You remember who you were andfind out if you still want to be
him.
He stood, held the key in bothhands.
Now it didn't feel heavy, notbecause it wasn't, but because
he was ready.
Will I know who it's for?
(08:04):
The man smiled You'll know whenit's not for you anymore.
He nodded a quiet acceptancesettling in.
The man just leaned against thebench as if he was waiting for
something more, and after a longmoment they sat in silence
(08:27):
until finally he asked them howmany people have had the key.
And that's when the storiesbegan.
The wind stirred, the treesabove them whispered, like
remembering something sacred.
You think the key was made foryou.
(08:48):
The man asked no, not anymore.
The man nodded satisfied.
Then you're ready to hear.
With that the stories began.
There once was a king, the mansaid, not a metaphorical one, a
(09:13):
real monarch, young, charismatic, beloved.
The man's voice took a subtleweight, like a campfire tale
told to no one and everyone atonce.
He was handed the key in thevelvet-lined box by a mystic who
vanished the next morning.
From that day on, every battlehe led was won.
Crops grew in droughts, enemiesdefected, even the weather
(09:39):
seemed to favor him.
He listened as his eyes werelocked.
But over time the man continued.
His men stopped looking him inthe eye, his advisors grew
fearful.
His wife began sleeping inanother chamber.
Why the man's gaze sharpened?
Because the king who forgot howto lose?
(10:04):
And without loss there is nohumility, and without humility
even miracles feel like commands.
He left that one stretch.
One night he walked into thewoods alone, left the keep
beneath the roots of an elm tree, and when he returned, the rain
(10:25):
came.
The man leaned back.
There is a president, he said,next, modern times, promising,
respected, empathetic.
The protagonist raised aneyebrow.
Someone I'd know.
The man smiled faintly, not byname, that's the point.
(10:45):
He continued.
He found the key buried in adrawer of a desk passed down to
him during the campaign, thoughtit was a gift.
Maybe it was.
He shifted Everything aligned.
Scandals vanished, fundingflowed.
His words moved rooms.
History was written flowed.
(11:10):
His words moved rooms, historywas written.
He leaned in, okay, but.
But he stopped listening,stopped debating, stopped
trusting anyone who didn't agree.
Because why would, would he?
The key made him feelinvincible.
And then he gave a speech.
Once the man said One that wasmeant to unify.
(11:32):
Instead it cracked something.
Not because of what he said,but because of how perfect he
sounded saying it.
He tapped the bench.
That's when he knew he wasn'treal anymore.
He was a vessel.
(11:53):
His aides found the key on thesteps of a chapel the next
morning.
He walked away from the jobmidterm.
And then no one remembers hisname.
The man said, but some stillquote that speech.
The man glanced sideways.
There's a child prodigy, hecontinued, born to no one,
(12:16):
raised with nothing.
He closed his eyes as if seeingher now.
She was six when she firstfound it in the dirt behind a
boarded-up playground, didn'teven know what it was, just
thought it looked like somethingimportant.
He smiled by eight she wassolving equations.
No one had taught her speakingin patterns no adult could
(12:37):
follow.
They said she had a gift.
He listened, moved by eleven,she stopped talking.
Why?
Because the key doesn't carehow old you are.
The man said it gives and ittakes, and for her it took her
childhood, her wonder, thefeeling of not knowing.
(12:58):
He shook his head softly.
She gave it away on twelfthbirthday to a woman on a bus who
was crying over a letter shehadn't opened yet.
And what happened to the girl?
She's alive, quiet, works at alibrary in a city no one visits,
but she's the freest personI've ever seen.
(13:28):
Seen the stories kept coming.
A boxer who never lost a fightbut forgot how to feel pain.
A monk who preached presenceuntil the crowds grew louder
than the silence he once revered.
A designer whose creationscaptivated the world until she
realized every line she drew wasfor someone else's praise.
Each tale wound back to thesame truth the key grants you
access to the life you think youwant, so you can see the one
(13:51):
you've forgotten.
It doesn't punish, it reveals,it doesn't lie, it reflects, and
every single person who hasheld it has at some point had to
choose keep it and keepperforming or release it.
(14:11):
Remember who they were.
Before the applause, the manwas silent.
Now the wind had died.
The city around them feltthinner, like a curtain had
lifted on something eternal.
He looked at him how long haveyou been doing this?
(14:32):
The man didn't answer, justsmiled soft and tired, as long
as it takes.
He looked down at the key inthe man's hand.
You were one of them too,weren't you?
The man didn't deny it, but hedidn't confirm it either.
(14:55):
Instead, he looked out acrossthe park.
They always come hereeventually, and you know who's
next?
The man shook his head.
The key knows.
I just deliver the whisper.
He stood slowly.
(15:17):
I'll see you again.
When the man turned, when youforget again, and just like that
he was gone.
He didn't move, even after theman left vanished really.
(15:37):
He stayed on the bench backstraight hands, still the key
resting in his open palm, like aquestion too old to be asked
out loud.
Something had shifted in thelight.
The trees around him no longerlooked rustled.
They watched.
He stared at the key.
Its weight wasn't physical, itpressed on his chest like memory
(16:00):
, not his own.
The first wave hit like abreath sucked backwards A
battlefield, mud and metal, skystained with smoke and a hand
clutching the key beneath a tornuniform.
The soldier wasn't him, but itfelt him.
(16:21):
He felt him too the shame, thelonging, the scream held behind
his teeth because Roman didn'tbreak.
Not then.
Another flash, a differentlifetime, a woman in a high-rise
studio drafting somethingsacred.
Her sketches pulsed with life,the key in her bra strap always
(16:45):
touching her heart.
Until the line started,pleasing strangers more than
herself, she burned the lastblueprint, buried the key in a
clay sculpture.
No one ever found.
He blinked hard.
He was still on the bench,still breathing, but something
was unraveling.
(17:06):
The key was showing him what itremembered, and what it
remembered was everyone.
He tried to set it down, but hisfingers won't let go.
He heard the cry of a baby,then the silence of a man who
had everything but peace.
(17:26):
He saw a monk sittingcross-legged in a cave tracing
the key like a rosary, until herealized his silence was pride
wearing robes.
He saw a street dancer spinningon concrete, the key on a chain
around his neck, each move moreperfect than the last, until
his rhythm lost soul and becamesymmetry.
(17:47):
Each life whispered the samething this isn't the thing you
wanted.
It's the thing that gives youwhat you think you want, until
you forget what you truly needed.
He looked up.
The park was still there.
A jogger passed, a birdflickered from branch to branch,
(18:09):
but now everything had a humbeneath it, a vibration like
grief.
It wasn't sadness for what hadhappened.
It was recognition for how manypeople never got to let it go
in time.
He clutched the key tighter.
Something inside him buckled.
(18:30):
He remembered the day he got it, how it almost felt random,
coincidental.
What if it wasn't almost feltrandom, coincidental.
But what if it wasn't?
What if the key chooses people,not because they're ready, but
because they're not?
Because only those who havebeen hollowed out by the chase
can understand the lie they'vebeen breathing in.
(18:52):
Only those who've worn the maskuntil it's fused to the bone
can feel the pain of becomingwhole again.
He looked at the key.
What do you want from me, hewhispered.
No one answered, not the key,not the air, but then his own
(19:13):
voice from somewhere deepEverything you've become Just to
remember who you were.
He stood, his legs felt weak.
He pocketed the key, walkedslowly to the edge of the park,
crossed the street like theworld had become softer, like
(19:35):
everything now had history.
He hadn't even noticed before.
Every stranger was a story.
Every stranger was a story.
Every window was a shrine.
He passed a boy sitting on astoop flipping a coin.
It hit the ground, rolled,stopped at his feet.
Tails, you're lucky, the boysaid.
Most people drop things andnever see where they land.
(19:57):
He kept walking.
Later, in the hallway of hisbuilding, he passed his own door
, kept going three floors upuntil he reached the rooftop.
No one was there.
The city below blinked andstretched.
He took out the key, held itagainst his heart and for a
moment it pulsed.
(20:17):
A memory surfaced, lena Hereyes for the first time, when
she said I see you Not, I admireyou Not, I want you, just see.
And he realized he hadn't trulyfelt seen since.
(20:38):
And the key never replaced it,it only masked the ache.
He sat down cross-legged, quiet, and for the first time since
the plow started, he wascompletely alone and okay with
it.
He didn't sleep, not really.
(21:04):
He lay on the couch, the keystill resting on his chest,
rising and falling with everyslow breath.
And sometime, just before dawn,he understood something.
The key never belonged to him,it was simply just waited for
him to listen.
(21:26):
He got dressed slowly thatmorning, not for a meeting, not
for a show.
He wore no logo, no hidden mic,just clothes that felt like his
Nothing he could bephotographed in, like his
Nothing he could be photographedin.
The key stayed in his pocket,not like before, tucked inside
(21:50):
like a treasure, now felt morelike a compass.
He walked through the city withquiet steps.
First stop, the old buildingwhere he used to pitch clients.
The glass door still reflectedthat same version of him, the
one with all the answers.
He smiled, bowed slightly tohis own reflection and kept
walking.
He didn't need to argue with aghost.
Next, the cafe it wasn't morningrush anymore, more like
(22:14):
mid-morning.
The seat beside the window wasopen, but he didn't go inside.
He stood outside the glasswatching.
There was a new barista.
She had short hair and wideeyes, like she hadn't yet
decided if she liked this job ornot.
Someone sat in his seatlaughing, probably their first
(22:34):
time there.
Then he saw her, Not Lena, butsomeone wearing an MIT
sweatshirt, curled in aphilosophy book.
The posture was similar.
He smiled.
Somewhere out there lena wasstill reading.
He kept walking down the streetwhere he first told her about
(22:57):
the key, not out loud but in hismind.
He passed a mural, half-paintedover.
It used to say who were youbefore you needed to be seen,
and now it just says you.
But that was enough.
He stopped at the corner flowershop, bought three stems of
(23:21):
white tulips no note, carriedthem like they were sacred,
dropped one near the park benchwhere the keykeeper had been,
another on the steps of thebuilding he used to think meant
success and the third.
He carried that one home.
(23:43):
The apartment felt different,like it had been waiting for him
to return as someone else.
He walked over the drawer andopened it.
The key was warm now, not hot,not glowing, just alive.
He didn't speak to it this time.
He already knew what it wouldsay.
That's when the phone buzzed Amessage, no contact, no name,
(24:08):
just a number and five words.
It's time they're ready now.
He stared at the screen, readit again and again.
He knew what it meant.
He turned slowly.
Lena stood at the doorwayholding her own cup of coffee,
reading him like a page.
You okay?
(24:29):
She asked.
He nodded, then held out thekey.
We need to talk Later.
They sat on the floor, not thecouch, not the kitchen, the
floor like people had run out ofpositions to posture from.
(24:49):
He told her everything aboutthe man on the bench, the other
key holders, the echoes.
He'd seen the truth.
He didn't want to know.
She didn't interrupt, didn'tsmile, she just listened.
When he finished, she set hercup down beside his.
(25:11):
What happens next?
Because the key vibrated gentlyin his palm.
It had already decided.
They sat like that for a longtime, lena's knees pulled in his
hand, open the key restingbetween them on the hardwood
floor.
The morning light turned goldenas it moved across the room,
(25:36):
lighting each object with a hush.
She was the one that finallybroke the silence.
What do you mean?
Others?
He turned the key slowly in hisfingers.
Well, there was a king, a realone, not the kind with a throne,
just a man who was foul becausehe believed he had the answers.
(25:59):
The key gave him everything heneeded to win, until he forgot
what it meant to serve.
She tilted her head Okay, andthe others?
He nodded A president, a younggirl who could paint entire
lifetimes in a single image.
A monk, a street musician, aphysicist all of them carried it
(26:22):
and all of them broke.
She didn't flinch.
How do you know?
He looked at her.
He really looked at her,because I saw it, I saw their
stories, I felt them.
The key, it doesn't belong toanyone, it just passes through.
(26:47):
Lena brushed a strand of hairbehind her ear.
Her eyes were wet now, but notfrom crying, just full.
Why you?
He paused, maybe because Ineeded it to remember what I
wasn't.
That landed.
(27:09):
She reached out, touched thekey, but didn't pick it up.
What else does it do?
He exhaled.
It gives you what you want,spots, sadly, and, and then it
(27:33):
breaks your life apart until youremember who you were before
you thought you needed all of it.
They stood together at thewindow, outside the street
hummed with quiet movement.
A child passed holding aballoon, a dog barked somewhere
down the block.
Life carried on.
(27:53):
He looked at her.
I think it's almost time Forwhat?
For the key to find someoneelse.
She turned towards him.
Are you sure?
He nodded I don't need itanymore.
(28:14):
Later that evening, as the skyfaded into a strange blend of
rose and ash, they stood at thesmall writing desk near the
window.
The key rested in a plain box,no shine, no inscription, just a
velvet lining and a folded noteresting on top, blank on the
(28:37):
outside, but meant to be read atthe right time.
He sealed the package slowly,almost reverently, tied the
string with care.
Lena watched him, said nothing,reached over and slipped the
address into his palm.
It read Maya Ellis, 411Havenwood Lane, cambridge
(29:00):
Massachusetts, 02139.
He stared at it for a while.
The handwriting wasn't hers.
It wasn't his either.
It was familiar in a way thatdidn't make sense, he nodded.
He walked the box to themailbox at the end of their
street, slid it in, paused andclosed the door.
(29:24):
That was it.
Later, as they sat on the porchwith their tea cooling in their
hands, his phone buzzed.
A message no contact name, nopunctuation, just a whisper
through code.
She's already dreaming.
He turned the screen towardsLena.
(29:44):
She read it, exhaled Maya, sheasked.
He nodded.
The next one.
She leaned her head against hisshoulder and they sat like that
, two people who knew what itmeant to chase something until
it almost cost them everythingand then let it go, Not because
(30:08):
they lost it, because they wereready to live without it.
The tracking number said itarrived that morning, signed for
, received no note, no returnaddress, just a small velvet box
with something heavy inside andthe faint scent of cedar.
Lena sat with them in thekitchen.
(30:29):
The envelope from the postalservice still lay torn open on
the table.
She got it, she asked softly.
He nodded she already has.
They didn't say Mia's nameagain.
The moment had passed and thekey passed with it.
What remained wasn't loss, itwas release.
(30:52):
Later that day they walked thecity like tourists of their own
life no phones, no distractions,just hands interlocked like
they used to before the noise,every storefront they used to
pass without noticing now lookedlike a memory.
A couple arguing quietlyoutside a bookstore felt like
(31:13):
theater.
A street musician playing asong they didn't recognize made
them stop and listen anyways.
For the first time in years, hedidn't feel the need to be
someone, not a brand, not amessage, just a man walking home
.
That evening they didn't talkabout what the key had done.
(31:34):
They didn't need to.
It wasn't about magic, it wasabout what it made them face,
what it stripped away.
No wine, no playlists, just teaand the click of a heater that
(31:54):
started acting up again.
They sat on the living roomfloor, backs against the couch,
the lights low, the silence warm.
Do you think?
He asked we were everpretending?
She stared into her cup for along time.
Then she said I think we'retrying not to be forgotten.
(32:18):
He nodded.
That was enough.
Weeks passed, then months.
He stopped checking the inbox,let the offers expire, then
announced a departure, justvanished, and nobody really
asked why.
He started writing again, butnot for applause.
(32:39):
Pages filled, then disappeared.
He left them on benches andsubways, between pages of
secondhand novels.
He wrote with no audience inmind, only with someone who
might need it.
He never signed them.
Every page ended the same way.
(33:00):
You don't need the key, youjust need to remember.
Sometimes he still walked theold path to the cafe.
The window seat was rarelyempty.
A new barista filled Lena'sspace long ago.
He never went inside, but once,when walking past the little
(33:24):
bookshelf they kept near theentrance, he saw a folded napkin
with a single sentence,scribbled in careful handwriting
I found your words.
No name, no return address,just a message that made him
pause for longer than he hadplanned.
He never looked for the keyagain, not because it didn't
(33:45):
matter, because it had done whatit meant to do.
It never unlocked a door, itunlocked him and now just life,
unscripted, undone and morebeautiful than anything he'd
written himself.
Some stories they don't end withapplause.
(34:07):
They end with a bench, asilence, a single sentence that
echoes after the door hasalready been closed.
If you're still here, you'vemade it through the weight of
this episode, then you alreadyknow what I'm about to say isn't
a conclusion, it's honestly aconfession.
(34:28):
What I'm about to say isn't aconclusion, it's honestly a
confession.
See, this episode wasn't aboutthe key.
It never was.
It was about what happens whenyou stop asking the world for
permission to matter and finallyask yourself instead.
See, the key is.
It's just a myth, it's a symbol, it's an invitation to forget
(34:56):
yourself in the name of becomingmore.
But becoming more is the lie,isn't it?
Because the more you chase, themore you lose the thread of who
you were before the climb began.
If you're not careful, youdon't just lose the thread, you
(35:17):
lose the one who saw you beforethe costume.
That's what Lena representedNot love, not romance, but
memory, presence, the version ofyou that hadn't yet started to
perform.
And when she looked at him thatday and said you're starting to
believe your own echo, shewasn't judging him, she was
(35:44):
mourning him.
See, most people listening won'trealize how many moments
they've missed, because they'rewaiting for the big one, waiting
for the offer, the panel, thedeal, the applause.
But this episode it's like it'sa mirror, it's slowly undoing.
I should say it's the slowundoing, really, of someone who
(36:14):
got everything they wanted andstill missed the point.
See, the cafe was never aboutthe coffee.
The quotes weren't about thecup.
The key wasn't about unlockinganything.
It was always about rememberingand that's what most people
miss that you don't get to keepthe key forever, right.
(36:34):
You just carry it long enoughto see who you become with it in
your hand and, if you're lucky,you learn to let it go before
it becomes your God, before itcosts you everything, before it
costs you everything.
So now it's your turn, becausethis isn't about him anymore,
(36:54):
it's about you, about theapplause.
You've been chasing thecostumes you've worn, the person
you used to be before it allstarted working.
And the question you'reprobably too afraid to ask if it
all disappeared tomorrow, wouldyou recognize yourself in the
mirror?
Would they?
(37:15):
Would she Take these with you?
Okay, so let's get into ourreflections.
Question one what version ofyourself are you really
performing for applause?
Reflection 2.
(37:36):
Who are the people in your lifethat saw you before the key
appeared?
Number 3.
Have you mistaken momentum formeaning?
Number 4.
What would you do if theapplause stopped tomorrow?
Have you mistaken momentum formeaning?
Number four what would you doif the applause stopped tomorrow
?
And number five what parts ofyourself have you silenced in
(38:02):
order to be seen?
That's a really big question.
So you know this series, andobviously there's one more
tomorrow.
But this series has had a reallybig effect on me because
(38:23):
writing this, like writing forlike a real life situation of a
guy who didn't have it, had itall, kind of lost himself in the
whole thing, like a lot of uscan identify that we all know
someone who that happened to,where they got what they wanted
and then it kind of turned themto a show, who they were.
(38:46):
And I think that's always likethat, saying that everything you
ever want is always inside ofyou.
It was never outside ofyourself and I think if we
realize that we are enough, yourwhole world changes.
So, guys, I want to thank youjust from the bottom of my heart
(39:12):
for everyone who's listening tothis episode today.
It means so much to me that youlisten day in and day out.
If this is your first time,welcome.
As we're talking about that.
I've been getting a lot of goodfeedback on this series.
If you want to give me feedbackor you want to have a
conversation about this, thisseries, or this episode, or the
(39:34):
14 other series almost 15 nowseries that are out there please
feel free to contact me.
There's three ways.
First way is going to be.
Through the description of thispodcast, there's a let chat
function.
You click on that.
You and I can have aconversation about this episode
or this series or the 14 otherseries that are out there.
(39:56):
Next would be my email.
My email isanthonyatjentsjourneycom.
Please feel free to reach outto me there.
And then, last but not least,you can always go ahead and find
me on my Instagram.
My Instagram is my gentsjourney.
Let's go again, guys.
Thank you so very much forlistening today and remember
(40:19):
this you create your reality.
Take care.
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host.
Today we are in episode nineand the key to everything.
We are almost done, guys.
There's one more episode afterthis and this is all done, so
(00:24):
I'm just going to go ahead andget into it.
It's been a full year sinceLena left the cafe, maybe longer
.
He didn't really keep the exacttime, but he kept the key.
At first he used to take it outof the drawer every morning,
hold it in his hand, turn itover like it might whisper
something new morning.
(00:47):
Hold it in his hand, turn itover like it might whisper
something new.
Now it stayed buried beneathother things paperwork, old
notebooks, the wrapped cords ofelectronics he no longer used.
He never meant to hide it, butover time he just stopped being
something he needed to see, toremember.
He still remembered, though,Not just Lena, but the whole
thing, the rise, the attention,the curated identity.
(01:12):
He wore like a new suit, untilhe forgot it wasn't his skin, it
all worked.
That was the thing.
That's what haunted him.
That's what haunted him Becauseit wasn't meant the key, it
wasn't magic, it wasn't a lie.
It simply gave him what hethought he wanted.
And now he wasn't sure if hecould unwant it, he started
(01:39):
walking again.
No headphones, no destination,just long, open loops through
parts of the city.
He used to avoid Places withoutangles, without architecture,
without ambition.
That morning he walked to a parktucked between two forgotten
streets, the kind of place thathad no reason to exist except
(01:59):
for stillness.
There was a bench in the shade,not beautiful, just unbothered,
and for reasons he couldn'tname he sat.
There were no kids nearby, nomusic, no visible reason for
(02:23):
anyone else to be there, exceptsomeone was An older man sat at
the far end of the bench, armscrossed, eyes closed, like he'd
been listening to something theone said long before it got to
him.
They didn't speak.
At first he thought aboutleaving.
He didn't feel likeconversation, but he stayed
(02:46):
because something about the airfelt paused.
He didn't feel likeconversation, but he stayed
Because something about the airfelt paused.
After several minutes the oldman said, without opening his
eyes You're holding on tosomething that's finished.
The words landed like they werewaiting in the trees.
He slowly turned towards him.
(03:06):
The man's eyes were still shut.
Excuse me, the man cracked asmile.
Not talking about a person,talking about an object.
Maybe it looks like metal,Maybe it looks like meaning.
Either way, it's ready to moveon.
He didn't respond.
(03:28):
He didn't need to.
The man finally opened his eyes.
They weren't cloudy, but theyweren't young either, like
they'd seen too many lifetimesin one body.
I know what you're carrying,the man said because I carried
it once, and just like that theworld felt too quiet again.
(03:54):
He pulled the key from his coatpocket.
He brought it today withoutthinking, as if a part of him
knew that this conversation waswaiting.
You're telling me you had this,he asked.
The man didn't look surprised.
Not that exact one, but onelike it.
(04:17):
They all look the same.
That's the point.
He turned the key in his hand,felt the grooves, the weight,
the temperature.
What is it, he asked?
The man shrugged.
It just depends on who'sholding it.
(04:38):
He said nothing.
He waited.
The man continued some peopleget power, some people get
clarity, some get money, someget the illusion of love.
Doesn't matter what it givesyou, the pattern's always the
same.
Okay, which is, it gives youeverything, then it gives you
(05:04):
back yourself.
The wind shifted.
A leaf fell in front of hisshoe.
So it's a trick?
The man smiled.
No, it's a mirror, the kindthat doesn't show your face,
(05:24):
shows your hunger.
Okay, why me then?
Because you still think you'rethe first.
He laughed a little, not at theman, but at the ache in his own
chest.
But at the ache in his ownchest, the one that tightened
(05:46):
when he realized how many stepshe had taken away from himself
just to feel important.
Why does it come at all?
The man stretched his backslowly, because someone always
needs it until they don't.
He nodded, held the key tighter.
(06:09):
Okay, well, what happens if Idon't give it away?
The man looked at him now, eyessoft, almost sad.
Then it stays, and so does theversion of you it built that hit
harder than expected.
Then it stays, and so does theversion of you it built that hit
(06:31):
harder than expected.
He thought about Lena, not justthe loss, but the version of
him.
She knew before all of this,before the emails, the podcasts,
the standing ovations, the onewho wrote quietly at the window,
who remembered her coffeewithout asking, who asked about
her paper and actually listened.
Does it matter who I give it to, he asked.
(06:57):
The man nodded once it chooseswhat's next, but you have to
agree, agree to what the manleaned closer to, let go of who
it made you.
(07:18):
They sat in silence for a while.
Not the kind that closes a door, but the kind that closes a
door, but the kind that opensone inside you.
When he finally spoke, it wassofter.
Okay, what happens after that?
The man closed his eyes again.
(07:39):
You remember who you were andfind out if you still want to be
him.
He stood, held the key in bothhands.
Now it didn't feel heavy, notbecause it wasn't, but because
he was ready.
Will I know who it's for?
(08:04):
The man smiled You'll know whenit's not for you anymore.
He nodded a quiet acceptancesettling in.
The man just leaned against thebench as if he was waiting for
something more, and after a longmoment they sat in silence
(08:27):
until finally he asked them howmany people have had the key.
And that's when the storiesbegan.
The wind stirred, the treesabove them whispered, like
remembering something sacred.
You think the key was made foryou.
(08:48):
The man asked no, not anymore.
The man nodded satisfied.
Then you're ready to hear.
With that the stories began.
There once was a king, the mansaid, not a metaphorical one, a
(09:13):
real monarch, young, charismatic, beloved.
The man's voice took a subtleweight, like a campfire tale
told to no one and everyone atonce.
He was handed the key in thevelvet-lined box by a mystic who
vanished the next morning.
From that day on, every battlehe led was won.
Crops grew in droughts, enemiesdefected, even the weather
(09:39):
seemed to favor him.
He listened as his eyes werelocked.
But over time the man continued.
His men stopped looking him inthe eye, his advisors grew
fearful.
His wife began sleeping inanother chamber.
Why the man's gaze sharpened?
Because the king who forgot howto lose?
(10:04):
And without loss there is nohumility, and without humility
even miracles feel like commands.
He left that one stretch.
One night he walked into thewoods alone, left the keep
beneath the roots of an elm tree, and when he returned, the rain
(10:25):
came.
The man leaned back.
There is a president, he said,next, modern times, promising,
respected, empathetic.
The protagonist raised aneyebrow.
Someone I'd know.
The man smiled faintly, not byname, that's the point.
(10:45):
He continued.
He found the key buried in adrawer of a desk passed down to
him during the campaign, thoughtit was a gift.
Maybe it was.
He shifted Everything aligned.
Scandals vanished, fundingflowed.
His words moved rooms.
History was written flowed.
(11:10):
His words moved rooms, historywas written.
He leaned in, okay, but.
But he stopped listening,stopped debating, stopped
trusting anyone who didn't agree.
Because why would, would he?
The key made him feelinvincible.
And then he gave a speech.
Once the man said One that wasmeant to unify.
(11:32):
Instead it cracked something.
Not because of what he said,but because of how perfect he
sounded saying it.
He tapped the bench.
That's when he knew he wasn'treal anymore.
He was a vessel.
(11:53):
His aides found the key on thesteps of a chapel the next
morning.
He walked away from the jobmidterm.
And then no one remembers hisname.
The man said, but some stillquote that speech.
The man glanced sideways.
There's a child prodigy, hecontinued, born to no one,
(12:16):
raised with nothing.
He closed his eyes as if seeingher now.
She was six when she firstfound it in the dirt behind a
boarded-up playground, didn'teven know what it was, just
thought it looked like somethingimportant.
He smiled by eight she wassolving equations.
No one had taught her speakingin patterns no adult could
(12:37):
follow.
They said she had a gift.
He listened, moved by eleven,she stopped talking.
Why?
Because the key doesn't carehow old you are.
The man said it gives and ittakes, and for her it took her
childhood, her wonder, thefeeling of not knowing.
(12:58):
He shook his head softly.
She gave it away on twelfthbirthday to a woman on a bus who
was crying over a letter shehadn't opened yet.
And what happened to the girl?
She's alive, quiet, works at alibrary in a city no one visits,
but she's the freest personI've ever seen.
(13:28):
Seen the stories kept coming.
A boxer who never lost a fightbut forgot how to feel pain.
A monk who preached presenceuntil the crowds grew louder
than the silence he once revered.
A designer whose creationscaptivated the world until she
realized every line she drew wasfor someone else's praise.
Each tale wound back to thesame truth the key grants you
access to the life you think youwant, so you can see the one
(13:51):
you've forgotten.
It doesn't punish, it reveals,it doesn't lie, it reflects, and
every single person who hasheld it has at some point had to
choose keep it and keepperforming or release it.
(14:11):
Remember who they were.
Before the applause, the manwas silent.
Now the wind had died.
The city around them feltthinner, like a curtain had
lifted on something eternal.
He looked at him how long haveyou been doing this?
(14:32):
The man didn't answer, justsmiled soft and tired, as long
as it takes.
He looked down at the key inthe man's hand.
You were one of them too,weren't you?
The man didn't deny it, but hedidn't confirm it either.
(14:55):
Instead, he looked out acrossthe park.
They always come hereeventually, and you know who's
next?
The man shook his head.
The key knows.
I just deliver the whisper.
He stood slowly.
(15:17):
I'll see you again.
When the man turned, when youforget again, and just like that
he was gone.
He didn't move, even after theman left vanished really.
(15:37):
He stayed on the bench backstraight hands, still the key
resting in his open palm, like aquestion too old to be asked
out loud.
Something had shifted in thelight.
The trees around him no longerlooked rustled.
They watched.
He stared at the key.
Its weight wasn't physical, itpressed on his chest like memory
(16:00):
, not his own.
The first wave hit like abreath sucked backwards A
battlefield, mud and metal, skystained with smoke and a hand
clutching the key beneath a tornuniform.
The soldier wasn't him, but itfelt him.
(16:21):
He felt him too the shame, thelonging, the scream held behind
his teeth because Roman didn'tbreak.
Not then.
Another flash, a differentlifetime, a woman in a high-rise
studio drafting somethingsacred.
Her sketches pulsed with life,the key in her bra strap always
(16:45):
touching her heart.
Until the line started,pleasing strangers more than
herself, she burned the lastblueprint, buried the key in a
clay sculpture.
No one ever found.
He blinked hard.
He was still on the bench,still breathing, but something
was unraveling.
(17:06):
The key was showing him what itremembered, and what it
remembered was everyone.
He tried to set it down, but hisfingers won't let go.
He heard the cry of a baby,then the silence of a man who
had everything but peace.
(17:26):
He saw a monk sittingcross-legged in a cave tracing
the key like a rosary, until herealized his silence was pride
wearing robes.
He saw a street dancer spinningon concrete, the key on a chain
around his neck, each move moreperfect than the last, until
his rhythm lost soul and becamesymmetry.
(17:47):
Each life whispered the samething this isn't the thing you
wanted.
It's the thing that gives youwhat you think you want, until
you forget what you truly needed.
He looked up.
The park was still there.
A jogger passed, a birdflickered from branch to branch,
(18:09):
but now everything had a humbeneath it, a vibration like
grief.
It wasn't sadness for what hadhappened.
It was recognition for how manypeople never got to let it go
in time.
He clutched the key tighter.
Something inside him buckled.
(18:30):
He remembered the day he got it, how it almost felt random,
coincidental.
What if it wasn't almost feltrandom, coincidental.
But what if it wasn't?
What if the key chooses people,not because they're ready, but
because they're not?
Because only those who havebeen hollowed out by the chase
can understand the lie they'vebeen breathing in.
(18:52):
Only those who've worn the maskuntil it's fused to the bone
can feel the pain of becomingwhole again.
He looked at the key.
What do you want from me, hewhispered.
No one answered, not the key,not the air, but then his own
(19:13):
voice from somewhere deepEverything you've become Just to
remember who you were.
He stood, his legs felt weak.
He pocketed the key, walkedslowly to the edge of the park,
crossed the street like theworld had become softer, like
(19:35):
everything now had history.
He hadn't even noticed before.
Every stranger was a story.
Every stranger was a story.
Every window was a shrine.
He passed a boy sitting on astoop flipping a coin.
It hit the ground, rolled,stopped at his feet.
Tails, you're lucky, the boysaid.
Most people drop things andnever see where they land.
(19:57):
He kept walking.
Later, in the hallway of hisbuilding, he passed his own door
, kept going three floors upuntil he reached the rooftop.
No one was there.
The city below blinked andstretched.
He took out the key, held itagainst his heart and for a
moment it pulsed.
(20:17):
A memory surfaced, lena Hereyes for the first time, when
she said I see you Not, I admireyou Not, I want you, just see.
And he realized he hadn't trulyfelt seen since.
(20:38):
And the key never replaced it,it only masked the ache.
He sat down cross-legged, quiet, and for the first time since
the plow started, he wascompletely alone and okay with
it.
He didn't sleep, not really.
(21:04):
He lay on the couch, the keystill resting on his chest,
rising and falling with everyslow breath.
And sometime, just before dawn,he understood something.
The key never belonged to him,it was simply just waited for
him to listen.
(21:26):
He got dressed slowly thatmorning, not for a meeting, not
for a show.
He wore no logo, no hidden mic,just clothes that felt like his
Nothing he could bephotographed in, like his
Nothing he could be photographedin.
The key stayed in his pocket,not like before, tucked inside
(21:50):
like a treasure, now felt morelike a compass.
He walked through the city withquiet steps.
First stop, the old buildingwhere he used to pitch clients.
The glass door still reflectedthat same version of him, the
one with all the answers.
He smiled, bowed slightly tohis own reflection and kept
walking.
He didn't need to argue with aghost.
Next, the cafe it wasn't morningrush anymore, more like
(22:14):
mid-morning.
The seat beside the window wasopen, but he didn't go inside.
He stood outside the glasswatching.
There was a new barista.
She had short hair and wideeyes, like she hadn't yet
decided if she liked this job ornot.
Someone sat in his seatlaughing, probably their first
(22:34):
time there.
Then he saw her, Not Lena, butsomeone wearing an MIT
sweatshirt, curled in aphilosophy book.
The posture was similar.
He smiled.
Somewhere out there lena wasstill reading.
He kept walking down the streetwhere he first told her about
(22:57):
the key, not out loud but in hismind.
He passed a mural, half-paintedover.
It used to say who were youbefore you needed to be seen,
and now it just says you.
But that was enough.
He stopped at the corner flowershop, bought three stems of
(23:21):
white tulips no note, carriedthem like they were sacred,
dropped one near the park benchwhere the keykeeper had been,
another on the steps of thebuilding he used to think meant
success and the third.
He carried that one home.
(23:43):
The apartment felt different,like it had been waiting for him
to return as someone else.
He walked over the drawer andopened it.
The key was warm now, not hot,not glowing, just alive.
He didn't speak to it this time.
He already knew what it wouldsay.
That's when the phone buzzed Amessage, no contact, no name,
(24:08):
just a number and five words.
It's time they're ready now.
He stared at the screen, readit again and again.
He knew what it meant.
He turned slowly.
Lena stood at the doorwayholding her own cup of coffee,
reading him like a page.
You okay?
(24:29):
She asked.
He nodded, then held out thekey.
We need to talk Later.
They sat on the floor, not thecouch, not the kitchen, the
floor like people had run out ofpositions to posture from.
(24:49):
He told her everything aboutthe man on the bench, the other
key holders, the echoes.
He'd seen the truth.
He didn't want to know.
She didn't interrupt, didn'tsmile, she just listened.
When he finished, she set hercup down beside his.
(25:11):
What happens next?
Because the key vibrated gentlyin his palm.
It had already decided.
They sat like that for a longtime, lena's knees pulled in his
hand, open the key restingbetween them on the hardwood
floor.
The morning light turned goldenas it moved across the room,
(25:36):
lighting each object with a hush.
She was the one that finallybroke the silence.
What do you mean?
Others?
He turned the key slowly in hisfingers.
Well, there was a king, a realone, not the kind with a throne,
just a man who was foul becausehe believed he had the answers.
(25:59):
The key gave him everything heneeded to win, until he forgot
what it meant to serve.
She tilted her head Okay, andthe others?
He nodded A president, a younggirl who could paint entire
lifetimes in a single image.
A monk, a street musician, aphysicist all of them carried it
(26:22):
and all of them broke.
She didn't flinch.
How do you know?
He looked at her.
He really looked at her,because I saw it, I saw their
stories, I felt them.
The key, it doesn't belong toanyone, it just passes through.
(26:47):
Lena brushed a strand of hairbehind her ear.
Her eyes were wet now, but notfrom crying, just full.
Why you?
He paused, maybe because Ineeded it to remember what I
wasn't.
That landed.
(27:09):
She reached out, touched thekey, but didn't pick it up.
What else does it do?
He exhaled.
It gives you what you want,spots, sadly, and, and then it
(27:33):
breaks your life apart until youremember who you were before
you thought you needed all of it.
They stood together at thewindow, outside the street
hummed with quiet movement.
A child passed holding aballoon, a dog barked somewhere
down the block.
Life carried on.
(27:53):
He looked at her.
I think it's almost time Forwhat?
For the key to find someoneelse.
She turned towards him.
Are you sure?
He nodded I don't need itanymore.
(28:14):
Later that evening, as the skyfaded into a strange blend of
rose and ash, they stood at thesmall writing desk near the
window.
The key rested in a plain box,no shine, no inscription, just a
velvet lining and a folded noteresting on top, blank on the
(28:37):
outside, but meant to be read atthe right time.
He sealed the package slowly,almost reverently, tied the
string with care.
Lena watched him, said nothing,reached over and slipped the
address into his palm.
It read Maya Ellis, 411Havenwood Lane, cambridge
(29:00):
Massachusetts, 02139.
He stared at it for a while.
The handwriting wasn't hers.
It wasn't his either.
It was familiar in a way thatdidn't make sense, he nodded.
He walked the box to themailbox at the end of their
street, slid it in, paused andclosed the door.
(29:24):
That was it.
Later, as they sat on the porchwith their tea cooling in their
hands, his phone buzzed.
A message no contact name, nopunctuation, just a whisper
through code.
She's already dreaming.
He turned the screen towardsLena.
(29:44):
She read it, exhaled Maya, sheasked.
He nodded.
The next one.
She leaned her head against hisshoulder and they sat like that
, two people who knew what itmeant to chase something until
it almost cost them everythingand then let it go, Not because
(30:08):
they lost it, because they wereready to live without it.
The tracking number said itarrived that morning, signed for
, received no note, no returnaddress, just a small velvet box
with something heavy inside andthe faint scent of cedar.
Lena sat with them in thekitchen.
(30:29):
The envelope from the postalservice still lay torn open on
the table.
She got it, she asked softly.
He nodded she already has.
They didn't say Mia's nameagain.
The moment had passed and thekey passed with it.
What remained wasn't loss, itwas release.
(30:52):
Later that day they walked thecity like tourists of their own
life no phones, no distractions,just hands interlocked like
they used to before the noise,every storefront they used to
pass without noticing now lookedlike a memory.
A couple arguing quietlyoutside a bookstore felt like
(31:13):
theater.
A street musician playing asong they didn't recognize made
them stop and listen anyways.
For the first time in years, hedidn't feel the need to be
someone, not a brand, not amessage, just a man walking home
.
That evening they didn't talkabout what the key had done.
(31:34):
They didn't need to.
It wasn't about magic, it wasabout what it made them face,
what it stripped away.
No wine, no playlists, just teaand the click of a heater that
(31:54):
started acting up again.
They sat on the living roomfloor, backs against the couch,
the lights low, the silence warm.
Do you think?
He asked we were everpretending?
She stared into her cup for along time.
Then she said I think we'retrying not to be forgotten.
(32:18):
He nodded.
That was enough.
Weeks passed, then months.
He stopped checking the inbox,let the offers expire, then
announced a departure, justvanished, and nobody really
asked why.
He started writing again, butnot for applause.
(32:39):
Pages filled, then disappeared.
He left them on benches andsubways, between pages of
secondhand novels.
He wrote with no audience inmind, only with someone who
might need it.
He never signed them.
Every page ended the same way.
(33:00):
You don't need the key, youjust need to remember.
Sometimes he still walked theold path to the cafe.
The window seat was rarelyempty.
A new barista filled Lena'sspace long ago.
He never went inside, but once,when walking past the little
(33:24):
bookshelf they kept near theentrance, he saw a folded napkin
with a single sentence,scribbled in careful handwriting
I found your words.
No name, no return address,just a message that made him
pause for longer than he hadplanned.
He never looked for the keyagain, not because it didn't
(33:45):
matter, because it had done whatit meant to do.
It never unlocked a door, itunlocked him and now just life,
unscripted, undone and morebeautiful than anything he'd
written himself.
Some stories they don't end withapplause.
(34:07):
They end with a bench, asilence, a single sentence that
echoes after the door hasalready been closed.
If you're still here, you'vemade it through the weight of
this episode, then you alreadyknow what I'm about to say isn't
a conclusion, it's honestly aconfession.
(34:28):
What I'm about to say isn't aconclusion, it's honestly a
confession.
See, this episode wasn't aboutthe key.
It never was.
It was about what happens whenyou stop asking the world for
permission to matter and finallyask yourself instead.
See, the key is.
It's just a myth, it's a symbol, it's an invitation to forget
(34:56):
yourself in the name of becomingmore.
But becoming more is the lie,isn't it?
Because the more you chase, themore you lose the thread of who
you were before the climb began.
If you're not careful, youdon't just lose the thread, you
(35:17):
lose the one who saw you beforethe costume.
That's what Lena representedNot love, not romance, but
memory, presence, the version ofyou that hadn't yet started to
perform.
And when she looked at him thatday and said you're starting to
believe your own echo, shewasn't judging him, she was
(35:44):
mourning him.
See, most people listening won'trealize how many moments
they've missed, because they'rewaiting for the big one, waiting
for the offer, the panel, thedeal, the applause.
But this episode it's like it'sa mirror, it's slowly undoing.
I should say it's the slowundoing, really, of someone who
(36:14):
got everything they wanted andstill missed the point.
See, the cafe was never aboutthe coffee.
The quotes weren't about thecup.
The key wasn't about unlockinganything.
It was always about rememberingand that's what most people
miss that you don't get to keepthe key forever, right.
(36:34):
You just carry it long enoughto see who you become with it in
your hand and, if you're lucky,you learn to let it go before
it becomes your God, before itcosts you everything, before it
costs you everything.
So now it's your turn, becausethis isn't about him anymore,
(36:54):
it's about you, about theapplause.
You've been chasing thecostumes you've worn, the person
you used to be before it allstarted working.
And the question you'reprobably too afraid to ask if it
all disappeared tomorrow, wouldyou recognize yourself in the
mirror?
Would they?
(37:15):
Would she Take these with you?
Okay, so let's get into ourreflections.
Question one what version ofyourself are you really
performing for applause?
Reflection 2.
(37:36):
Who are the people in your lifethat saw you before the key
appeared?
Number 3.
Have you mistaken momentum formeaning?
Number 4.
What would you do if theapplause stopped tomorrow?
Have you mistaken momentum formeaning?
Number four what would you doif the applause stopped tomorrow
?
And number five what parts ofyourself have you silenced in
(38:02):
order to be seen?
That's a really big question.
So you know this series, andobviously there's one more
tomorrow.
But this series has had a reallybig effect on me because
(38:23):
writing this, like writing forlike a real life situation of a
guy who didn't have it, had itall, kind of lost himself in the
whole thing, like a lot of uscan identify that we all know
someone who that happened to,where they got what they wanted
and then it kind of turned themto a show, who they were.
(38:46):
And I think that's always likethat, saying that everything you
ever want is always inside ofyou.
It was never outside ofyourself and I think if we
realize that we are enough, yourwhole world changes.
So, guys, I want to thank youjust from the bottom of my heart
(39:12):
for everyone who's listening tothis episode today.
It means so much to me that youlisten day in and day out.
If this is your first time,welcome.
As we're talking about that.
I've been getting a lot of goodfeedback on this series.
If you want to give me feedbackor you want to have a
conversation about this, thisseries, or this episode, or the
(39:34):
14 other series almost 15 nowseries that are out there please
feel free to contact me.
There's three ways.
First way is going to be.
Through the description of thispodcast, there's a let chat
function.
You click on that.
You and I can have aconversation about this episode
or this series or the 14 otherseries that are out there.
(39:56):
Next would be my email.
My email isanthonyatjentsjourneycom.
Please feel free to reach outto me there.
And then, last but not least,you can always go ahead and find
me on my Instagram.
My Instagram is my gentsjourney.
Let's go again, guys.
Thank you so very much forlistening today and remember
(40:19):
this you create your reality.
Take care.
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