
Gents Journey
Helping Men become the Gentleman they deserve to be. This Podcast is part inspiration part motivation. We discuss what it takes to be a Gentleman in the 21st Century. We also talk about how to deal with the internal and external battles that life throws at us. So come be apart of the Gents Journey!
Gents Journey
The Key to Everything : The Soft Noticing
Something shifts when you start living with intention, not for attention. It begins subtly – a barista spelling your name correctly, a colleague commenting on your calm demeanor, strangers making eye contact where they once looked away. Not because you've changed dramatically, but because something within you has settled.
"The Key to Everything" explores that mysterious space between who we are and who we're becoming. This transformative journey doesn't announce itself with fanfare – it arrives in quiet moments of presence. It's in how you start choosing warm light bulbs over sterile ones, glass containers over plastic, and fresh herbs over takeout. It's in saying yes to lunch invitations you once declined, standing a little taller in meetings, and feeling worthy of the space you occupy.
But transformation carries its shadows too. As our protagonist discovers when unexpectedly passing the coffee shop where someone from his past worked, growth often means leaving parts of yourself behind. The perfectly ordered apartment, while beautiful, suddenly feels heavy with silence – not the sacred kind that nurtures, but the kind that buries uncomfortable truths beneath its surface.
What makes this exploration so powerful is its recognition that becoming isn't about dramatic breakthroughs but about subtle adjustments where "the world begins to make room for who you're pretending not to be." The danger lies not in failure but in forgetting what the key was meant to unlock in the first place – authentic connection, vulnerability, and purpose beyond performance.
Are you choosing silence over soul? Comfort over connection? Image over intimacy? Beneath the quiet perfection of our curated lives, something sacred might still be waiting to be heard. Join me in exploring what parts of your silence feel like sanctuary and which parts might simply be hiding.
"True mastery is found in the details. The way you handle the little things defines the way you handle everything."
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast. My name is Anthony, your host, and today we are in episode two of the key to everything. So let's go ahead and let's get into the cold open. It started the way quiet things always do, not with a bang, but with something being noticed. A pause in a conversation where someone waited for him to speak. A nod from a man he passed every day without eye contact, the barista, spelling his name right without asking. He didn't think much of it, he didn't assign meaning, he didn't keep score, but something in the back of his mind. A light came on, not bright, just aware it had been three days since he placed the key on the table. He hadn't touched it since, but he noticed how his eyes found it every morning, just for a second, like it was checking on him. He started walking slower, not out of fatigue but out of presence. When someone bumped his shoulder in the hallway, he didn't flinch, he just kept moving, he was grounded. The world felt quieter, not because it had changed, but because he had.
Speaker 1:And then came the first compliment. It was a woman from another department. He didn't know her name, but as they both waited for the elevator, she turned and said you always seem calm. I wish I had that. He smiled and said nothing, but the word stayed with him. And because of what she said, but because a part of him believed it, for the first time in a long time he wasn't performing calm, he was living inside of it. He passed the old coffee shop sometimes, not every day, but enough for the question to remain what would she say if she saw him now? He never went in, not because he didn't want to, but because the version of him she knew wasn't the version he was becoming.
Speaker 1:And when the elevator doors opened, the woman let him go first. He didn't say thank you, he didn't overthink it, he just stepped in Like someone who had finally earned the right to take up space. He didn't notice it at first because it wasn't loud, it wasn't anything that demanded attention. It was the way people paused a half second longer after he spoke, the way someone said good morning without waiting to be greeted first, the way his name appeared in CC lines more often. They were small things, things that he could explain away, but they kept happening.
Speaker 1:He took a different route to work One street over, less crowded and past the doormen who nodded at him like they had history. The third time it happened. The man said, looking sharp, he hadn't done anything different Same jacket, same shoes, same walk. But the compliment struck that evening when he got home. He didn't turn the lights on right away. The apartment glowed faintly with the orange-blue softness of early dusk. He stood in the center of the room letting it wash over him. There was something honest about that moment Not joyful, just honest. He cooked dinner, did the dishes right after, left the windows open while he read, and when he went to bed he found the notebook still open on the desk. He hadn't meant to leave it that way, but the words from days ago were still there. I don't know what I'm becoming, but I think it's someone I've missed. He didn't add anything new, just re-read it Like it belonged to someone he trusted.
Speaker 1:The next day, someone at work asked for his opinion in front of the entire room, not aggressively, not performatively, just with a kind of certainty. He always noticed things that others don't. He didn't know what to say, so he said thank you, and then he gave an answer that felt more like breath than strategy. It wasn't profound, but it landed, and for the first time in a long time he didn't shrink. After being seen, he expanded. It was subtle at first. An extra chair pulled out beside him in a meeting. An email that ended with looping you in here, a message that said you free to join us for lunch? He said yes, even though a part of him still hesitated, not because he didn't feel worthy, but because worthiness had never been a thing, had never been a thing. Visibility was, and now somehow he was visible. The first lunch wasn't impressive Plastic trays, loud table, small talk about weather and podcasts. But someone asked him what he was working on, and then they listened and that's what stayed with him, not what he said, but the stillness of being heard.
Speaker 1:Later that week, someone offered him a ride after work. He declined, but then he changed his mind. They drove in silence mostly, but it was a good silence, the kind that doesn't need to be filled. The person dropped him off at the corner instead of at his door. He appreciated that Not everyone wants to be seen going home.
Speaker 1:That night he stood by the window and watched the city for longer than usual. He wasn't waiting for anything, but he didn't want to go to bed either. Something about this new chapter didn't feel like elevation. It felt like widening, like the world had started making room for him. The key was still on the shelf, the napkin still in the drawer. He didn't touch either. But he noticed they were beginning to feel less like questions and more like anchors. By the end of the week he had three new names saved in his phone. He didn't remember entering them, but there they were, and each one had a message thread and started with something very simple hey, glad you came by.
Speaker 1:The changes at home. They were small. He didn't renovate, didn't rearrange the furniture, just adjusted things. The light bulbs came first Warm white instead of sterile blue. He didn't tell anyone, but he noticed. Then it was the dish soap, switched from a plastic bottle to a glass one. No label, just amber liquid and a metal pump. It felt like something a calm person would use.
Speaker 1:He started buying groceries. He didn't rush through Fresh herbs, loose lemons, eggs and cardboard instead of foam. The old takeout venues were recycled quietly. A new plant appeared in the corner, no name, no backstory. He watered it when he remembered None of this was curated.
Speaker 1:It wasn't for display, it was for him, or maybe it was for a version of him that had begun to emerge. He still walked past the old coffee shop. Less often now, but when he did, he felt it. Less often now, but when he did he felt it. The space between who he was and who he was becoming. He told himself she wouldn't remember him, told himself it didn't matter. But one night, as he set a glass of water on his new nightstand, he caught himself wondering what if she saw this version of me, not the polished one, not the getting-it-there version version, but this one, quiet, soft, alone in a room made more beautiful by stillness. He didn't answer that question, just pulled the blanket over his chest and exhaled. The city hummed outside. Inside, the silence stayed close, not heavy, not empty, just enough to remind him you're allowed to become without asking permission.
Speaker 1:He started waking up before his alarm, not by much Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but it felt intentional. Not by much 10, maybe 15 minutes, but it felt intentional Like his body decided it was time to join him in whatever this was becoming. He made coffee in silence, no music, no podcasts, just the low hiss of water, the weight of the mug, the ritual being unhurried, he sat by the window. Now, even on weekdays he watched the city light itself, one building at a time. He didn't rush through breakfast, he didn't scroll, he just existed. There was something sacred in that. Not dramatic, not life changing, just sacred.
Speaker 1:The closet had changed too. He hadn't brought new clothes, but he started choosing differently Fewer logos, softer fabrics, clean lines. He ironed now, laid things out the night before, not to impress, but to greet the next version of himself without chaos. But to greet the next version of himself without chaos. And people noticed. A co-worker said hey, you look rested. Someone asked if he's been promoted. He just smiled. He didn't explain. The notebook by his bed had few more lines in it now, nothing consistent, but enough to prove he was still listening to himself. And every now and then he glanced at the shelf where he laid the key, never touched it, but he liked knowing it was there like a witness to all the quiet ways he was choosing to begin again.
Speaker 1:He didn't plan to walk that way. The usual route was blocked, construction cones, a closed crosswalk, a woman with a clipboard directing traffic. He turned down a side street without thinking, didn't even register it until the third step in and there it was, the familiar street, quieter than he remembered, but exactly the same. He slowed, not fully, just enough Enough to notice the cracks in the sidewalk that used to trip him Enough to hear the wind. Through the alley where he once parked his bike there was a smell, something warm, slightly burnt cinnamon maybe. It used to cling to his jacket after he left the shop. He hated it then, but now he wanted to breathe it all in.
Speaker 1:He kept moving, but his eyes had already scanned ahead. The storefront was there, sign hadn't changed. The bench outside still leaned to one side, and through the glass, her Hair down, plain sweater, jeans, no apron. She was laughing, not big, not exaggerated, just a soft, real kind of laugh, the kind that doesn't try to prove anything. She was facing away from him, but for a second she turned, looked up and paused. He couldn't tell if she saw him or if she felt something. He couldn't tell if she saw him or if she felt something.
Speaker 1:He kept walking deliberately. Every step forward carried the weight of something left behind. He told himself it didn't mean anything, she probably didn't see him, that it wasn't important. But the ache had already arrived, quietly, gently, like an old song playing in another room. He didn't turn around, he didn't speed up, he didn't do anything dramatic, but the part of him that used to belong on that street, that part that found stillness in her voice and that bench and that scent was now a stranger here.
Speaker 1:He reached the corner, waited for the light, didn't cross right away. He thought about the version of himself that used to linger by the window, the version that asked questions, that ordered coffee slowly, just to make the moment last. That version was gone, not erased, just somewhere else now. He crossed the street, kept walking, and behind him the sound of the bell above the cafe door rang once. He didn't look back, but he felt it, the door closing.
Speaker 1:The apartment looked perfect, not styled, not staged, but intentional. Everything had its place. The counter was clean, the dishes were done, the plants were watered, the light was just right. He stood in the center of that night, barefoot on the cold wood, and tried to name what felt wrong. There was no mess, there was no noise, no reason to feel the way he felt. And yet the stillness had weight. It wasn't peace anymore, it was pause. It was the silence after applause. When everyone had gone home and he left alone the echo of being seen.
Speaker 1:He sat on the edge of the bed, notebook in hand, but no words came, not even fragments. He wasn't sad, he wasn't overwhelmed, just suspended. There's a kind of quiet that doesn't ask you to reflect. It asks you to remember, ask you to reflect, it asks you to remember and that's what this was. He thought about her, not with longing, just with memory. The way she always asked questions that made him uncomfortable, the way she never rushed him to answer. He hadn't spoken to anyone like that in weeks, not even himself. The key was still on the shelf, the napkin still in the drawer. He hadn't touched either. But that night he stood in front of the shelf and looked at it for a long time. What was I hoping it would unlock, he said. No answer came, only stillness, only the hum of a refrigerator and the ache of a room that stopped evolving. He turned out the lights, lay down and let the silence stretch out like a road he wasn't sure he wanted to follow, not yet, not tonight, but soon.
Speaker 1:You know we think Becoming happens in moments right, in breakthroughs and awakenings, in the exact second someone sees us. But that's not how it works. Becoming is slower, it's quieter, it doesn't knock, it lingers right. And how you start to walk with your shoulders back right, and how you say yes to invitations. You know you're used to decline to invitations. You used to decline. And how you pass by people you once needed to feel real.
Speaker 1:See this episode. It wasn't about change, it was about adjustment, right? You know that subtle, almost invisible space where the world begins to make room for who you're pretending not to be right. So, if you think about it, he's not performing yet, but he is starting to drift, and that's the danger of the rise. It doesn't hurt, it rewards. You know the key? It didn't. It didn't glow, it didn't hum, it didn't. You know Whisper, it didn't. You know Whisper the truth to him it didn't. There's no glyphs or anything on it, just sat there While he forgot what it was Ever meant. Well, he forgot what it was ever meant to unlock.
Speaker 1:And maybe that's how it gets to you, not with the rush of success, right, but with the quiet moment you start choosing silence over soul, right, comfort over connection, image over intimacy. See, next time you find yourself in a clean room with no, you know no mess. Ask yourself what did I have to bury to keep it this quiet? Right? Because here's the thing Somewhere beneath that silence, something sacred might still be waiting to be heard. And with that, let's go into our reflection prompts. Reflection prompt one when did you last say yes to something just because you were finally invited? You know, for some of us that's a big question Because, you know, sometimes a lot of us are not invited to things. So when did you say, when was the last time you said yes when you were invited to something?
Speaker 1:Reflection two what small changes in your life have you made, or I should say, have you made feel more like yourself, without anyone else noticing? I'll say for me, it was something like that just recently. You know like I'll. I'll say like for me it was something like that, like just recently. I remember for a while I used to drink like Starbucks, right, but it would be like the car macchiato. It was one of my favorite drinks, right, and I'd have extra caramel, extra, all the extra stuff. And now, if I do go to Starbucks, let's get a quad shot with two Splendors and that's it, because that was a small change that felt more like me, because I wasn't just getting a drink to get a drink. I was getting drink because it was something that I wanted. So that would be an example of that Number three who in your life once saw you clearly and have you drifted from them without meaning to?
Speaker 1:You know this happens a lot in relationships, especially like best friends, right, you can be really close to somebody for a long period of time and then sometimes life get in the way, right, and what a lot of people. I think what a lot of people don't understand is that relationships just in general romantic or platonic it takes effort and it takes time, right. So when you have people that are in your life that see you clearly, it's going to be a struggle not to drift from them, because sometimes it makes you uncomfortable. But in that, being uncomfortable is exactly what you need, because if they can see you for who you are, a lot of people are not aware of that anymore. So that is a very rare commodity in a plutonic or romantic setting.
Speaker 1:Now, number four Is your environment reflecting who you're becoming or who are you trying to forget? You know, a lot of times, like I'll just say, like for me, right, or something like that you know we're always in this battle of who we are becoming and who we're trying to leave kind of situation right, trying to leave kind of situation right, and what you have to understand about that question specifically, is that your environment changes when you change. Right, because one of two things happen with the environment you either leave the environment or you change it. Because if you don't leave it and you don't change it, everything that's inside of you is only short-term. Then don't change it, everything that's inside of you is only short term. Then it takes changing the environment around you. Like, let me ask you a question and this isn't on a reflection problem, but I just want you to think about this where you've had toxic relationships, right, and the minute that you cut them off, all the changes you've been trying to do within yourself, all of a sudden it happened at an expedited rate. That's why, because you changed your environment, you have to understand that everything is a reflection of you, and that's including your environment. If you don't change your environment, sooner or later whatever is outside will become inside and vice versa. Just remember that.
Speaker 1:Now, number five, what part of your silence feels sacred and what part feels like hiding? You know I'll say for me, right. You know I'll say for me, right, there's a lot of times when I drive and I don't listen to music because I mean I'm doing this. You know, there's other things that I do where I literally just I'm talking all day. So if I don't have to talk I don't really want to hear anything. I love sitting just in silence. You know that part feels sacred and I know, like some parts that feel like hiding is sometimes like. You know, that moment right before you go to bed and the thoughts of the day or those those deep thoughts that maybe you don't really share with anybody else, that starts to hit you. You try to go to sleep faster so that way you don't have to deal with them. That would be parts that felt like hiding, just to give you a new example.
Speaker 1:But I want to thank you, every single one of you who listens to this podcast. It means the world to me and I'm going to be honest with you. I'm actually really excited about this series because it's a different type of series. There's no death, there's no magic heat, there's no sigils, there's no so-and-gratulating to be a king or a god or anything like that. I really wanted to write something that I know that I've struggled with and gone through. I know a lot of people have, and maybe yourself, and you know there's no magic in this per se and there's no magic in this per se, but what you're going to really start to understand is that you either feel this way or felt this way in your life, and that's just something I want to explore, and I'm just happy that you're along for the ride and I just appreciate it more than you guys would ever know.
Speaker 1:So if you want to talk to me right about this episode, this series or the 260 plus episodes we have out there now on Jen's Journey, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. There's three ways. First way is going to be through the description box of this podcast. It'll be a function that says let's chat. You click on that and you and I can have a conversation about this series, this episode or the you know what the eight other series out there and the 260 plus episodes that I have on Jen's journey. All right. Second way is going to be through my email. My email is Anthony at Jen's journeycom, so please do not hesitate to reach out to me there. And then, last but not least, you can always go to my Instagram. My Instagram handle is my gentsjourney. So again, I want to thank you so very much for listening today. And remember this you create your reality, take care.