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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Dating: Now vs Then

There is an enormous difference between how I date in my 30s vs my 20s. I think the key distinguisher is I was a pure “Chauffeur” back then, and now, I navigate the dating world through Mike Tyson’s eyes.

I talk about being The Chauffeur in many places so I won’t go into detail here.

Just to say that being The Chauffeur was my trauma response to growing up in a toxic environment.

I believed that I was inferior to my partners. Respect was something I wanted but didn’t necessarily believe I deserved. I was exceptionally easily manipulated. I had terrible boundaries. To give you a quick summary.

Mike Tyson represents the opposite of that. Assertive, confident, direct, strong.

For starters… I was WAY less selective. If she was halfway cute, that was enough. I chased and chased and chased. I got invested in people way too quickly. I idealized them. I was more interested in getting their approval than protecting myself.

Over time, most of my partners learned that I didn’t believe I deserved respect, so they didn’t feel obligated to give it to me.

I was seeing this Colombian girl in college. One night, she’s at my apartment. Just as she’s leaving around 10:30 to go home, I start feeling violently sick. It’s already clear that I’m probably going to throw up. I’m very nauseous. She leaves a little basin near my bed and goes home anyway.

Fast forward to 3 am, I’m vomiting, and I have diarrhea. I call her to ask her to get me to take me to the hospital. I didn’t have a car, and she lived with her mom. She used her car to get around when it was available.

She and her mom rented a room in the house to a guy who lived out of town. When he needed to for his job, he’d spend two or three nights per week there. So, he was parked behind her mom’s car in the driveway. She refused because coming to get me at night meant she might have to wake up their guest. She was basically like, “You’ll be fine…”

So, I called 911 and told them to send an ambulance. I sat in the waiting room for 3 hours before being seen. All of that vomiting and diarrhea left me highly dehydrated.

And my guts felt like they were shredded. I took the bus home. Two. Then, I crawled into bed, where I stayed for 3 days while I recovered.

My girlfriend felt very guilty that she didn’t come to get me. But that event permanently changed our relationship. And this was early on, too. I think this was probably the first moment I decided to stay in the relationship past its expiration date. Like… She’s already told me that she doesn’t care whether I live or die. Certainly not enough to save me. That my feelings do not matter, now, you may say that I don’t know what she felt — I can’t speak for her.

But here’s what I know: actions speak louder than words.

If someone tells you through their actions that your well-being is less important than their need for their mother’s approval, you need to believe them.

I’ll give her some grace that I probably never considered, which was that her mother was a true dictator… so she was probably more scared about her mother’s wrath than abandoning me.

But either way, the damage had been done. You aren’t supposed to come back after dropping the ball like that. Yet, I stayed.

I bitched and moaned about that event for years. Yet, I stayed. And I pretended it was just a mistake and that she would not make the same mistake again.

Time went on. The memory faded.

But she violated a vast boundary. She didn’t have my back in my time of need. I found out that night that I couldn’t count on her for my needs. She could expect help from me, but not the other way around.

This is an excellent example of what I mean when I say that self-hatred comes from self-abandonment. I stayed with someone who treated me like that. You bet your bottom dollar, and my self-respect took a hit. It’s so funny. At the beginning of that relationship, I thought I was the boss. But by the end, it was very clear that I wasn’t.

As the years passed and that episode faded into the background, I tried to tell myself that it was in the past and didn’t matter—or that I was overblowing it.

But, looking back, I see that I was wrong.

When you stay in a relationship where caring about you is optional, you pay a price sooner or later. It wasn’t just about me being abandoned but setting a precedent for myself.

Once you allow specific behavior, it becomes infinitely more complex to turn around and say it’s not permitted later.

That’s why I’m so vigilant about setting bad precedents.

All you have to do is devalue me once so I can call it quits immediately. Or soon thereafter.

It’s one of those things I paid such a hefty price to learn these lessons that I don’t hesitate. I know what comes after tolerating bad treatment: MORE BAD TREATMENT.

There’s something about human nature. This is one of those instincts that I believe is primal. Because life has taught me that just about everybody responds similarly. People always look to you to see how you expect them to treat you. If you tell someone they can abandon you in your moment of need, you’ve set a terrible precedent in your relationship that will bite you later.

The day will come when there may be a little incentive to abandon you — that person might choose to betray you because they know you’ll take it. This is human nature. The minute you tolerate being disrespected, devalued, abandoned… Everyone who sees that response instantly changes how they see you and what kind of treatment they believe you deserve.

That’s why it’s such a common trope of the new guy in prison to try to beat up the meanest guy in the yard to let everyone else know not to fuck with them. This is the law of the jungle. We are no better than chimpanzees.

My life has taught me that EVERY single time I have set a bad precedent like that in my romantic relationships, I’ve later regretted it because it’s almost impossible to enforce a boundary after you’ve let someone know that your boundaries don’t matter.

I have one client who once told me something profound. He said, “You have my full support until you start to devalue me. The minute that happens, everything changes.” I took this to heart. I used to hide my assertive side from people. I didn’t want people to think I was hostile or abusive.

But, these days, I am working on revealing my apex predator side as fast as possible — at the very first opportunity. This isn’t about yelling or being threatening… It’s not about talk; it’s about action. It’s about showing people what you will or won’t tolerate and being precise. One of the reasons I particularly love this boundary is because it’s easy for me to sort the masses into two groups:

SAFE people and UNSAFE people.

Easy. Safe people don’t try to hurt you or put you down. Not ever. Safe people respect your boundaries. They don’t try to fuck with you. They’re on your side consistently. They don’t undermine your judgment.

Unsafe people. These are the people who try to hurt you. Who put you down? Who criticizes you? Who thinks you’re small? You treat you like you’re a nobody. Who makes me feel like a Chauffeur.

I’m hypervigilant about this last point. I’m not supposed to feel like a Chauffeur around you. Not only that, but I also have very little patience for people who seem skeptical about my self-worth. If I see you trying to evaluate me? Looking all doubtful about me? No. Pass. Some people have no trouble seeing my value. I’m looking to spend my time around THOSE people.

If someone devalues you, you teach them that you deserve to be devalued. Furthermore, there’s no benefit to devaluing someone else. If you put down your partner in any way, you only hurt the connection. It only pushes them further away from you.

Therefore, there’s no place for devaluation in any of your relationships. Save the devaluing for your enemies ;-)

I have this hilarious beef with this one guy in the dance community. He’s always on the prowl for his next conquest, and he doesn’t like me because I think he views me as his main competitor.

Here’s the deal — I realized this guy was a fake friend one day. I don’t keep people around me who think it’s good enough to treat me well most of the time. He’s highly salty about me — mainly because once I identified him as an unsafe person, I started ONLY giving him my most Apex predator self. That’s the only version of me that he’s ever really known.

Which means I ignore him so profoundly. It’s deeper than you can even imagine. It’s very maddening when you won’t even acknowledge someone’s presence when they’re right in front of you, and friends are watching. I see him at almost every party, yet I haven’t spoken to him in years. It drives him up the wall.

He has so much unfettered rage for me. But, you know what?

I don’t accept people around me who think it’s okay to hurt me occasionally. Not even once in a while. Nope. You can’t make me. You don’t exist to me. If that means until the end of time, so be it. This boundary has served me well because literally every time I’ve ever thought about being friendly with him, I’ve instantly regretted it. I won’t accept people who are happy when I fall. Not once, or ever.

I just broke things off with a girl a couple of days ago. I’m most amused at the whole thing. There are so some people who, the moment you say you like them, they say, “Great, take a number. Fall in line.” And you look at the line, and it’s snaking out the door.

I told her thanks but no thanks after a few days.

I noticed something exciting about this one. I was slipping into Chauffeur mode. And just off the bat, I’m officially calling this a red flag in and of itself. If I start feeling like The Chauffeur around you, that’s not a good sign. It could be because you’re emotionally unavailable. It could be because I’m feeling judged unfairly. It could be because I’m triggered. It could be because I’m struggling with my mental health generally. There are a variety of options. But if I find myself slipping back, at a minimum, I’m on high alert. Something’s not right.

The whole situation didn’t feel right. I was feeling insecure and self-conscious. She’s seeing that. I’m seeing her affection for me shrink after I appeared visibly nervous. I’m trying to control the situation to get her to like me. And to top it all off, I see my nemesis hitting on this girl with impeccable form. Truly. So, now, in my head, I’m telling myself, oh no. Not again. He got the girl again. What’s wrong with me? Why do I always screw these things up?

I was seething and bitter about that for a couple of days. But I’m grateful that I stuck with those feelings and contemplated them. I tried to understand why I was so upset. And then it dawned on me… This whole narrative in my head is The Chauffeur’s narrative.

In his world, he’s always coming up short. He’s always trying to win people’s approval, and most of the time he’s failing. He’s insecure. He’s worried about what she thinks. He’s plotting and scheming. And the whole power dynamic is off. I feel like I have no control, and she has all the power in the situation.

But ah — that couldn’t be. The only time I feel powerless is when I’m being The Chauffeur. Therefore, I slipped back into the Upside Down without realizing it. Mike Tyson always has power. So, what’s missing in this picture?

I immediately broke things off with this girl. Because Tyson doesn’t take a number and fall in line, he doesn’t pursue emotionally unavailable people. He is not interested in people who question his self-worth. Plain and simple.

I’m trying to be the one to break up with you as fast as possible. For one thing, at 37, I don’t feel immortal anymore. I can sense that I don’t have all the time in the world, so I’m not interested in wasting it being unhappy. I’m steadfast and clear about that. That’s why I try to break up as fast as possible.

Another reason I like to break up as quickly as possible is because I feel empowered when I have the clarity to walk away from someone.

As The Chauffeur, getting stuck in a relationship past the expiration date was easy.

And, to be fair… I’m not perfectly healed in this department yet… but in my 20s, it took the tiniest little guilt trip to win me back after a breakup.

I learned that if I want to make a breakup stick, I must cut contact with you entirely, at least for a few months. That part largely depends on how healthy the other person is. I don’t believe in looking back. It takes a lot for a relationship to break down. You can’t come back from being cheated on. You can’t come back from being hit. Or berated. That permanently tarnishes the relationship. You’ll never be able to look at your partner the same after that, nor should you.

Trust is a powerful currency in relationships. It takes a long time to build but can be permanently lost in the blink of an eye. And there’s no such thing as a healthy relationship without trust. That’s why you need to guard it like Fort Knox.

If you’re even thinking about breaking up with someone, I’d pay close attention to that. I’d try to figure out why you’re feeling that way. Something is causing you to feel that way. Don’t ignore the signals life is trying to give you. Most people take way too long to act on vital information.

Until next time,

Anton

Creator of Permission to be Powerful

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How to Become a Fantastic Listener

Why Listening Is the Most Underrated Skill in the World (and How to Master It)

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

I’ve seen this repeatedly—people breaking down because I listened.

That’s the power of good listening.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Fine, thanks.” She said.

But I didn’t accept her superficial answer.

I said, “Are you sure? Because the last time we spoke, I felt you might be going through something.”

She Starts Crying

Her father had stage 4 cancer.

Being attentive like that can allow you to step deeply into someone’s heart.

I was on a date.

It was going alright, but I could tell that something was off.

I could see it in her eyes.

I might crack a joke, and she would laugh, but there was a sadness behind the smile and laughter.

“Are you sad?” I ask.

“No…” She said.

I study her eyes for a few moments.

“No,” I said. “You are sad.”

She starts to cry.

It was a profound and powerful moment.

That simple exchange transformed her from being a stranger to a dear friend.

When nobody else picks up on the signals they’re putting out, but you do…

You get a visceral response.

There’s a deep bonding that happens.

She never told me what was making her sad. She didn’t have to.

One time, I went for a walk with a lady friend. She used to come to a particular park with her brother.

On this day, we were walking the same route.

She told me about the different things she used to do with him at one location or another.

“We used to go fishing right here.” She said. Pointing to a little bay at the mouth of a swampy lake.

“We had birthday parties over there.” She pointed to a little kid’s play area with swings and a sand pit.

I told her, “I can see you miss your brother today.”

That stopped her in her tracks.

“Miss him?” She said quizzically.

She hadn’t realized that I noticed that she went down memory lane about her little brother, who had passed away three years earlier, with her new brother of sorts, but I did.

The very fact that she needed a brother figure that evening spoke to how much she was feeling it in her bones.

She was in some agony about it.

The pain was so acute it was all-consuming.

She was beside herself with grief that day.

Yet, she still could not identify what was bothering her so much.

She was shocked that I could see that deeply into her soul — even more deeply than she could see for herself.

I have another example and a TRIGGER WARNING.

This is about suicide.

One night, a friend of mine texted me a typical paragraph about how she was doing, what she did that day, etc…

She slipped in there that she was having some suicidal thoughts that day like it was any other mundane activity.

Looking at the text… I heard what she was trying to say. See, my friend told several people about her suicidal thoughts that day.

I’m sure most of them replied and tried to say something supportive to cheer her up.

But those words alarmed me.

I tried to put myself in the shoes of someone who was feeling — not just depressed — but suicidal at that very moment.

And it became clear that this was no conversation over text messaging.

I called her.

That phone call will seem like a much bigger deal for the younger reader who understands how much young people hate talking on the phone when texting would suffice.

This friend was so blown away that I could hear her pain so clearly—enough to drop everything, call her immediately, and listen to her talk for an hour.

That’s what being a good friend looks like.

There’s an art to being a good listener.

As a copywriter and psychology student for many years, I stumbled upon a skill set that is both simple and powerful.

But you may not even know why this matters.

Let me attempt to make my case.

Most people don’t truly listen.

As far as I can tell, many conversations involve two people talking past each other.

Each person knows what they want to say next and waits for the person to finish their words.

But when you take up that posture, you lose out on so much depth to a conversation — the underlying meaning that genuinely strikes at the heart of what that person is trying to get at.

It creates a subtle resistance.

Most people know when they’re not being heard…

But to make someone feel heard, seen, and understood. That is one of the most powerful skills you can have. Easily. It’s as close to having superpowers as I think you can get.

First of all…

Most People Feel Unheard and Unseen by Default

Endlessly, we walk through this world hoping to find someone who can reflect our beauty, mystery, and vulnerabilities.

That person helps you see yourself.

You may not even know something about yourself until that person allows you to see that trait for the first time.

One of the main hidden goals of conversation is to understand oneself.

Helping someone understand themselves… now that’s one of the best gifts you can ever give to a person.

If you can help someone do that… I’m willing to bet they’ll never forget you for as long as they live.

We are starved. All of us feel so unseen that we’re already pissed off. Nay, pissed doesn’t begin to capture it when I think about how I feel when I see people misunderstanding me.

Misinterpreting my motivations…

Believing that I’m someone other than who I am…

There’s a lot of existential dread there.

It’s a longstanding and chronic problem.

I have triggers around feeling unseen.

It’s a reliable trigger back to my “Chauffeur” self.

There is no greater joy than being seen and feeling confirmed in our feelings, grounded in ourselves.

Being a good listener can give a person these incredible gifts.

That makes you a very special kind of friend.

If you can stare into someone’s soul and describe what you see in exquisite detail… that is a profound skill set.

Many of us are too busy trying to seek validation from others during our conversations. It’s the most obvious thing I’ve ever noticed.

However, as I improved at validating myself, I naturally felt more comfortable not focusing on myself during conversations.

If you have trouble sitting back and taking in everything someone says, I’d ask myself why.

You might discover some growth opportunities.

This is Extremely Powerful

One of the most incredible things about being a good listener is the harmony you create.

Deepening your listening skills makes you more empathetic, and others will immediately notice a dramatic difference.

Few things can elicit a more powerful emotional response.

When people feel that emotional connection, their everyday defenses come down. They relax because they feel safe being their true selves.

Once you decide to make listening your objective, we can start helping you become a better listener.

The first thing is… when you’re listening to someone… give them your full attention.

Don’t look away or steal glances at your phone.

Gestures like that will telegraph that you’re not that interested.

Instead, turn toward them. Look at them. Show an active listening posture. It makes a big difference.

Then…

You ask questions.

Lots of questions.

Questions like:

👉 “Oh? And what happened next?”

👉 “How did that make you feel?”

👉 “What kind of impact did this thing have on your life?”

👉 “How are you different because of this experience?”

As a listener, your agenda is to illuminate the other person’s thoughts and ideas to clarify what they’re trying to say.

It’s not to rebut or turn the conversation back toward yourself.

I learned this lesson so profoundly. Perhaps more profound than anyone needs to know.

Here it is:

In friendships, relationships, or parenting, you must validate the other person.

This is the most essential ingredient to having a healthy relationship, yet millions of people have no idea what it would feel like to have someone like that.

Some relationships consist of the opposite:

👉 Telling a person that you know what they think…

👉 You know what they feel…

👉 They speak their truth, and you deny it.

In a dynamic like that, you are not relating to the other person.

Gaslighting is all about trying to invalidate someone else’s experience.

To say what you think, feel, believe, or experience is unimportant.

You don’t count. You don’t matter. I control the narrative, not you.

When you listen, you often discover a depth of meaning that isn’t obvious to you or the other person. When conversing with someone, it’s always a good idea to help them identify how they feel.

I’ll look them over and give them my best guess…

👉 “Are you frustrated?”

👉 “Sad?”

👉 “Worried?”

👉 “Disappointed?”

👉 “Feeling defeated?”

👉 “Grateful?”

👉“Optimistic?”

👉 “Relieved?”

Even if you’re wrong, you’ve already secured a massive win.

You are tuning into the other person, which automatically makes them start to feel seen.

They will perk up as they bask in your care and attention.

It’s a rare treat.

If you’re wrong, they will clarify.

👉 “No. I feel elated.”

👉 “No. I feel humbled.”

👉 “No. I’m in awe.”

👉 “No. I’m devastated.”

Listening will put them at ease.

Usually, that’s enough to soften them up.

If you think about it, this listening level is much better than you might see in many typical relationships.

This is why when I say I’m a premium product, I can stand behind what I say. I’m making myself an invaluable asset to the people around me.

It baffles me —

These fundamentals are VITAL.

Yet, almost nobody does them.

This universally applicable skill makes a night and day difference in the quality of your communication and relationships.

By taking the listening posture, you’re already well on your way to influencing the other person to support your agenda.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Here are the rules of engagement.

Don’t be nice to people who devalue you.

You don’t have to be kind or polite.

Someone who is devaluing you doesn’t deserve kindness.

That generally sorts the world into two categories:

Safe and unsafe people.

People who devalue you are unsafe.

You get a completely different experience from me, depending on which category you wind up in.

I’m getting better at defining a safe versus unsafe person. I’m adding criteria to each list all the time.

One of my most recent additions has been I don’t fuck with people who try to make me feel invisible. It’s my new pet peeve. What do I mean? I discovered a pattern that I’d missed for my whole life.

Some people can empathize with you and validate you.

When you’re around them, you get more clarity. You feel more confident about yourself and your choices.

They help you grow. Then, some people undermine your judgment. When you’re around them, they make you feel confused.

They may even make you question every decision you make.

NOT a good friend.

I discovered this boundary because of a girl I went out with about a year ago. My connection with her was ridiculous.

I went on exactly one date. Neither of us was feeling it—no big deal.

But then, after that, for at least six months, I could see that her walls were up every time I saw her. I felt a little confused, and I might have wanted to ask her what was up, but she seemed to want to avoid me.

One day, I went to the Zen Center.

This happened on a street.

I see her outside on the porch… She’s on her phone.

I wave to say hello.

She averts my gaze and pretends she didn’t see me there.

My hand is up and waving.

I felt so invisible, I turned to look at my hand to ensure it was still there.

There’s a pedestrian nearby who saw the whole thing happen. The look on her face said it all.

Now, I knew it wasn’t just me.

Her eyes told me everything.

She could see that this girl was ignoring me.

I wasn’t making it up. After I understood that she was devaluing me, she was dead to me.

You couldn’t make me acknowledge that girl’s existence again. Fire with fire. If you make me feel invisible, I’ll make you feel invisible.

Two can play this game.

I’m not just trying to be vindictive here. I believe that sometimes it’s necessary for people to feel the consequences of their bad behavior.

It’s the only motivation they’ll ever get to grow.

When people treat you like you don’t exist, that’s a pretty big boundary violation.

It’s one pet peeve that irks me. I guess I’m sensitive about this one.

I have so many niche boundaries, and I used to have lots of trouble getting people to listen to me.

Sometimes, I’d repeat myself.

Sometimes, I’d get louder and angrier…

But this approach never worked.

People didn’t respect the words coming out of my mouth more because I was more animated.

But, one day, an aunt gave me some sage advice that changed my life forever.

She said…

“Silence speaks more loudly than words.”

This works in almost any situation.

Sometimes, silence can be deafening.

Boundaries keep you safe.

Sometimes, the best response is no response.

Sometimes, you have to shut your phone off and go for a walk.

Don’t engage.

There’s lots of brilliant advice in Codependent No More. But there’s one piece of advice that can be quickly glossed over.

That’s the idea of detachment.

So often, something’s happening in your life that you don’t like — maybe your relationship is going through a rough patch.

The instinct could be to dive into the problem, argue, try to fix it…

But sometimes, the best fix is to do NOTHING.

When something goes wrong, take a step back and detach.

Instead of trying to change or fix people and problems, step back and oversee the situation.

That’s where your power lies.

You can’t control things and people.

But you can be discerning.

You can look at a situation and watch it closely to understand it.

So you can take an action that could change your circumstances.

But you won’t have your power available if you keep wrestling with things and people. Sometimes, just that act of silent watching can give you insights.

Sometimes, you find a new approach that makes a problem more manageable.

When something is happening that you don’t like, instead of reacting or lashing out, that would be a perfect time to ask yourself…

“What do I feel?”

Getting in touch with your feelings gives you a path to your true power. When you name your feelings, you validate your inner child.

The right course of action often becomes clear, and your entire psyche is in harmony. I think it’s critical to consider that not everybody sees the world the way you do.

Sometimes, I try to imagine the world from billions of different points of view.

That’s billions of different life stories, histories, beliefs, and prejudices.

Yet, it’s still so easy to project your expectations of the world onto other people.

There’s one common logical fallacy.

It goes like this:

I’m nice to you, so you’ll be nice to me.

Millions of people live according to this myth. It’s not true.

Some people think kindness is a weakness.

Some people are dogs by nature.

Some people prey on the weak.

Some people don’t care if you live or die.

Some people feel entitled to treat people however they want.

Some people embody peace, joy, and love.

Others manufacture drama wherever they go.

There are others still who let all of these crazy people take advantage of them.

We get so used to our worldview that we forget how vastly different the people around us might look at things.

It is a jungle out there.

The gazelle that likes to smile and play nice around lions becomes lunch.

I think talking is cheap. I used to believe people’s lies.

When you are easily exploitable, one of the reasons is that you were taught to believe the unlikely and disbelieve the plausible.

This teaches you not to believe your own two eyes.

It teaches you that other people know them better than they know themselves.

That you’re wrong for having feelings at all.

What a toxic environment.

Talk is cheap…

Judging a person based on their actions is far more reliable than words.

Another thing:

I used to think telling people to stop meant asserting my boundaries.

Again, talk is cheap.

What are you going to do if they cross the line again?

That’s where the rubber meets the road.

As soon as people feel the consequences of their behavior, they have no choice but to respond.

I believe in letting people know when they offend you.

You don’t have to sing songs around the campfire afterward.

You don’t have to say a word.

My go-to boundary is silence.

That Zen Center girl?

The next time I saw her, I said hi to everyone else and ignored her.

She knew. All pretense of nice was gone.

I won’t pretend to be your friend when you don’t acknowledge I exist.

She was shocked, but she heard me loud and clear.

And things stayed that way for several months until she eventually moved away.

We made up on her last day in Rochester.

I hugged her and told her to have a nice life.

She loved the finality of knowing that we would never see each other again in this lifetime.

There was something spiritual about that.

I let go of all of my anger.

Now, whenever I’m around someone who tries to make me feel invisible, I will fight back.

Some people make it scarily far without facing the consequences of their bad behavior.

Holding people accountable for their actions is good for humanity.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Woosh, woosh…

The stick cracks against my shoulders—twice. It’s quick, but the jolt lingers.

The monk moves on to the next person.

I visit Chapin Mill, a Buddhist monastery in Batavia, New York, every few months.

For two days, I live like a real monk. Being a member of this secret society is like attending Buddhist Harvard.

There are so many culty moments, yet everyone is blissfully unaware. We walk around the zendo in circles, going nowhere in no rush.

We stroll in a single file — a long snake of brown robes plodding along. We walk in silence for five minutes.

I watch my breath and try to absorb everything that I am experiencing at the moment.

The carpet under my feet.

My breath…

The sounds of nature outside.

My body…

We’re all wearing the same brown robes. It's very culty, but I love it. The zendo features an inner loop in the middle of the room and an outer loop.

Then we sit…

And that’s it. We sit, and I watch my breath until my mind goes quiet. When it finally does, I’m peeling back a layer I didn’t know I could peel back.

The quieter your mind gets, the more grounded you become in the present. And you start noticing all sorts of details you would typically miss.

A symphony of growling stomachs bombards the pristine silence of the zendo.

Halfway into each round, one of the senior members will make his rounds around the zendo. A two-and-a-half-foot wooden stick sits before the Buddha’s feet at the front of the Zendo. He grabs it with great pomp and ceremony.

Then He Strikes Everybody Twice

One for each shoulder.

He putters from person to person, delivering two strikes each.

Woosh, woosh.

Woosh, woosh.

Woosh, woosh.

Woosh, woosh.

On and on, he would strike everyone until everyone got theirs.

Over a full day, we’re talking a few dozen strikes.

But why?

That’s the funny part. I don’t think anybody knows why. It’s just one of those traditions that made its way from Japan that survived through the decades.

But, if you ask each sensei why we do it… Let’s say I’ve yet to hear a convincing answer.

I think the answer is plain to see, but perhaps these overly domesticated white folk are a little too proud to admit where this tradition comes from.

But coming from a country where floggings were commonplace… I knew.

Still, they would always come up with some bogus reason.

“It activates the such and such glands for blah blah blah.”

It’s horseshit.

These Japanese zen masters were flogging their monks; there were no ifs ands or buts about it.

The Zen Center is a little embarrassed about this tiny piece of its history.

And for a good reason — it’s not a good look, and in today’s overly litigious society… It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Thankfully, these strikes are symbolic for us all, so there’s fine art to delivering a good whack without causing pain.

I always skip of the stick during my regular sitting, at Sesshin — at the monastery — it’s mandatory.

Given the amount of violence I’ve experienced in my past, there’s never a day when I’m in the mood to get the stick. It’s too similar to the real thing for me to find joy in it. But I’m not overly triggered or disturbed by it, either.

It’s a necessary inconvenience.

You don’t notice how strange this place is until you are in disharmony with it. I mutter to myself during work, which grates on everyone’s nerves.

The Zen Center is always quiet.

Always. There are bells for everything. Bells for lunch, bells to sit, bells to wake up, bells to start work.

An intricate system of bells runs us.

You go inside the zendo, sit, face a wall for 20 hours, and come healed. I don’t even know from what. But I’m cured. Sitting for long periods is getting easier. My back is perfectly straight.

Work period.

Everyone has a job after the morning sitting. Kitchen, dining hall, bathrooms, Zendo.

We all clean silently. I screwed up my task. Didn’t read the instructions well. I hate instructions.

I preferred my dishwashing job. It was easy, immediate, and messy. Nobody spoke to each other, and everyone passed notes to communicate.

We Meditate All Day

We leave the zendo in small groups for private instruction and get into a separate line.

The person at the front of the line waits for a bell to ring.

In response, they ring an even bigger bell with a small mallet. Then, they proceed to a private room to receive private instruction.

The instruction is usually no more than 3 or 4 minutes. It comes and goes so quickly that I didn’t think it would be that useful. But vent rage, learn to be well, and then rage in a more enormous bell.

The sensei was dope.

I told her sitting was not the problem. My problem was getting motivated to meditate.

Once my day gets started, I have work to do, but all of my real world problems keep me anxious and restless.

In those moments, I need to sit more than ever. I stay on the go all day until I’m too tired.

She told me to follow my breath and that I would get into the flow while walking and out and about.

As soon as I try, I feel just enough detachment from my problems to find more time to sit. It works like a charm.

We wake up to the bell at 4 a.m.

He intermittently chimes it through the sleeping quarters to wake us all up.

I barely have enough time to brush my teeth and get outside.

We walk outside in rain, snow, or sunshine.

This first part of the day is the worst part of the experience.

Sometimes, it’s bitterly cold outside. One of the monitors walks around with a special morning bell.

We have lessons called Darma Talks.

The teacher gives a profound lecture.

We don’t say a word to each other.

We Believe in Enlightenment

It’s not just a neat concept. It’s a process.

We are doing the process.

We don’t know when or how.

But everybody here left no doubt about whether it’s possible.

Reading and journaling are against the rules. You’re not allowed to make phone calls.

I officially became a Zen Buddhist about a year ago.

It’s been a massive transition, and I hope to share some of my experiences on this Substack.

Most people don’t understand Zen.

They have notions about it from movies and TV shows. But what is it? And why do we practice it?

One of the things I love about Zen is that it is crisp, clean, and waste-free.

There’s no 900-page Bible equivalent.

Most of the verses we recite will fit into a little pamphlet.

We do chanting at the end of every sitting. We go through only about 10 chants regularly.

The most popular is called The Four Vows.

The Four Vows

Here are the lyrics:

All beings, without number, I vow to liberate.

Endless blind passions I vow to uproot.

Dharma gates, beyond measure, I vow to penetrate.

The Great Way of BuddhaI vows to attain.

This chant is our bare minimum.

Sometimes, we sit, belt out The Four Vows and that’s it.

But other times, we may do 4 or 5 chants.

So, the first thing I should mention would be, Gosh — y’all, the high drama of being inside the zendo kills me. We use a giant gong to add a certain gravitas to our chanting.

I couldn’t find a similar one to the one we have, but this one gives you the idea of how cool this thing is — when you ring it in an enclosed, dark room. Ah yes. I love it.

Another very popular chant is Master Hakuin's Chant in Praise of Zazen

Master Hakuin's Chant in Praise of Zazen

Honestly, I don’t know a whole lot about Master Hakuin, a very well-known Zen master.

Lucky for us, this poem speaks for itself.

Here are the lyrics:

From the very beginning all beings are Buddha.

Like water and ice, without water no ice, outside us no Buddhas.

How near the truth yet how far we seek,

like one in water crying, ‘I thirst!’Like a child of rich birth wandering poor on this earth, we endlessly circle the six worlds.

The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.

From dark path to dark path, we’ve wandered in darkness.

How can we be free from birth and death?

The gateway to freedom is zazen samadhi beyond exaltation, beyond all our praises, the pure Mahayana.

Upholding the precepts, repentance, and giving, the countless good deeds, and the way of right living all come from zazen.

Thus, one true samadhi extinguishes evils; it purifies karma, dissolving obstructions.

Then where are the dark paths to lead us astray?

The pure lotus land is not far away.

Hearing this truth, heart humble and grateful, to praise and embrace it, to practice its wisdom, brings unending blessings, brings mountains of merit.

And when we turn inward and prove our True-nature

that True-self is no-self, our own Self is no-self

we go beyond ego and past clever words.

Then, the gate to the oneness of cause and effect is thrown open.

Not two and not three straight-ahead runs the Way.

Our form is no-form; in going and returning, we never leave home.

Our thoughts now being no thought, our dancing and songs are the voice of the Dharma.

How vast is the heaven of boundless samadhi!

How bright and transparent the moonlight of wisdom!

What is there outside us, what is there we lack?

Nirvana is openly shown to our eyes.

This earth where we stand is the pure lotus land, and this very body—the body of Buddha.

This poem is right here. It is the closest thing we have to an official holy book.

The Zen Center is big on repetition.

So, as the months have passed, I’ve said this so much that I didn’t even notice that I learned it by heart. What I think is remarkable about this poem is that it more or less encapsulates all the principles of Zen.

I’ll review some of the verses…

From the very beginning all beings are Buddha.

This line sets up the whole premise of Buddhism that Westerners don’t understand.

From the beginning, the idea is that every human being has what we call a Buddha nature—that Buddha’s nature is fundamentally what we are.

Most people struggle to grasp this. We’re not the thoughts we think. We are not real people. This is illusory.

We endlessly circle the six worlds like a child of rich birth wandering poor on this earth.

This means we’re miserable. We keep searching for meaning and significance in the world through things — money, power, fame…

BUT NOTHING WORKS.

There is nothing in this world that will free us from that suffering. But, most ironically, we are the very thing we are searching for. Only we don’t know it. That’s what this following line is getting at:

The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.

Our minds have run amok— we have become convinced that we are a never-ending stream of thoughts in our minds.

That level of involvement and investment in our thoughts makes our Buddha nature invisible. It’s there, but we can’t see it.

We don’t know if it’s there. Although, on some level, we DO know. That’s why we seek spiritual growth.

The gateway to freedom is Zazen Samadhi.

Zazen is what we call meditation. And this is 95% of what we do. There is such a dramatic emphasis on meditation.

In other words… we all gather around in a big dark room. We’re all wearing brown robes.

The room has square plots lining the entire perimeter with brown cushions. And all we do… is sit. Perfectly still.

You can hear a pin drop.

If you move, you will get called out. We normally sit for thirty minutes.

Usually, we do three rounds per night, with a 5-minute break in between. During that break, we walk silently in a loop around the Zendo.

One person told me I lowered my center of gravity, but I’m unsure what that means. Many people have commented that I seem much calmer than I did before. I genuinely seek refuge at the Zen Center.

I need a place of healing, especially after my recent divorce.

I’ll go there to clear my head after a rough day. After 90 minutes, I feel refreshed and relieved.

My rollercoaster life has motivated me to find the best tools possible for meaningful happiness in this life.

After two days of meditation, my entire being has softened. There’s a sweetness about life that you can’t quite place your finger on.

Fewer thoughts clawing at my sanity

As an immigrant with no family or close ties to the country, the Zen Center has become like my new family.

Most people here are advanced in spiritual practice.

Some have been coming for over 50 years.

I used to watch zen documentaries -- Walk With Me comes to mind. It's about Thich Nat Hanh.

I would say, "If everything goes to shit, I'll get rid of all my possessions and become a Zen monk.

There I go again with that excellent grasp of the future.

This is still my backup plan. You can opt to live at the Zen Center full time, but if you do, you live the monk lifestyle. It’s a highly structured and regimented lifestyle.

By the time I found this place, I had already been a Buddhist for years; it just took me some time to recognize that fully. I listened to guided meditations for years in secret behind closed doors.

People who come to the Zen Center are on the healing path. There are many former alcoholics among us.

The people at the Zen Center are kind.

The Zen Center taught me that making peace could be an act of strength. It's a foreign concept to me, but I embrace the message wholeheartedly, and I'm learning a new way to be strong that Mike Tyson knew nothing about.

Zen matters to me because I’ve seen real suffering in my lifetime—the type that makes you want to get right with God.

But I never liked being a Catholic.

It took me many years before I felt like I had permission to call myself a Buddhist. But now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In Zen, the concept of strength radically differs from what I used to believe. Growing up, I thought strength was about control—maintaining power over my emotions, actions, and environment.

But the more I immerse myself in Zen, the more I realize that the strength I once chased was a form of control rooted in fear. Fear of vulnerability, fear of failure, and fear of letting go of everything I thought defined me.

In Zen, strength is non-reactive, gentle, and profoundly present

It’s not about having power over others; it’s about having control over yourself—over your ego and the mind that constantly tries to drag you away from the moment.

I used to think of meditation as passive, a way to escape my thoughts or emotions.

But in Zen, meditation is a tool for engagement. It’s about leaning into discomfort, silence, and stillness without trying to control them.

The strength I’m learning in meditation is not forcing my thoughts to quiet down but allowing them to pass without attachment.

Sitting in stillness for hours doesn’t make me weak; it makes me strong. It teaches me that I don’t need to react to every thought, every impulse, every frustration.

I don’t need to control everything around me to feel in control. That’s a power I never knew existed—strength in letting go.

One of the most profound lessons of Zen has been learning to let go of the need for constant validation. Before, I was addicted to the external markers of success—how much I could achieve and how much I could impress others.

I sought approval through my work, persona, and status.

But sitting in the zendo, surrounded by silence, I realized how much of that was fake

I was seeking it because I was feeling inadequate.

Now, I don’t have to prove myself in the same way. In Zen, there is no need for external approval.

Sitting with yourself for hours makes it impossible to ignore that everything you need is already inside you.

The Buddha nature—the innate peace and wisdom—is always there underneath all the layers of fear, pride, and insecurity.

Zen taught me I don’t need much to be happy.

The Zen Center has become like my new family. For the first time, I feel part of something that isn’t based on competition or comparison but on acceptance and healing.

Some people here have practiced for over 50 years.

They don’t wear their wisdom like a badge; they live it.

Zen has taught me that making peace with myself—accepting myself as I am—isn’t a weakness.

It’s the greatest strength ever.

And through that peace, I’ve learned to face the challenges in my life without needing to react, defend, or prove anything.

I’ve learned that the greatest freedom comes from letting go of the burden of control, the burden of ego, and just being.

This is the new strength I’ve found in Zen:

Stillness, Acceptance, and Self-compassion.

It’s the type of strength Mike Tyson couldn’t teach me. It’s the kind of strength that, for me, is transforming my life from the inside out.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Being The Chauffeur was my default setting.

I felt inadequate, drowning in overwhelming shame, convinced something was fundamentally wrong with me.

I saw myself as the sidekick in everyone else’s story, drawn to subservient roles, a slave to my insatiable need for approval.

I pretended not to care about others’ opinions, but fear consumed me.

I kept myself small, with terrible boundaries, always going along to get along.

“Whatever you want, dear…”

Terrified of saying “No,” I was crippled by guilt, allowing people to walk all over me.

Looking back, I see my flaws with pristine clarity.

Yet, if someone had asked me then…

“Are you the type of person who lets others take advantage of you?”

I would have adamantly denied it.

Your inner consciousness permeates every aspect of your life.

You can’t see how you’ve constructed your nightmare, with dysfunctional beliefs shaping a dysfunctional reality.

There’s a direct relationship between the two.

Change your beliefs, and the outside world must change.

Feel weak, and your reality will be poor.

Feel strong, and everything transforms.

But here’s the kicker…

Changing Beliefs is Hard.

You can’t just chant affirmations or make a vision board.

Life would be a breeze if it were that easy.

Challenging your beliefs feels like going to war—because it is.

You’re battling an identity you’ve fortified for decades.

Every fiber of your being has learned one way, and now you must overthrow that old self with a new one.

You won’t want to do it.

You might think you’re the exception, the special snowflake who can defy the odds.

But no, honey, you’re not the one…

It’s more complicated than you think.

Your current beliefs are almost set in stone, deeply ingrained.

It’s the ultimate swim upstream.

For some, becoming your authentic self may mean rejecting your parents.

Think about that.

How does one reject the people who MADE them?

That’s a battle most people don’t want to fight.

The human mind rewrites memories, casting childhood in a rosier light.

As a child, you needed your parents to survive.

Without them, you would have perished.

Loving your parents is hardwired into your biology, a matter of life and death.

You HAVE to love them, even when they don’t treat you well.

Being a chauffeur in adulthood is deeply rooted in upbringing.

The Traits of a Chauffeur

The traits of a chauffeur are the sum of coping strategies learned to survive in a hostile, often dangerous environment.

Strategies like:

• People-pleasing

• Seeking approval

• Believing liars

• Making myself invisible

• Having no wants or needs

• Being silent

• Ignoring what I could see

• Feeling helpless

• Pathological giving

• and having one-sided relationships.

Recently, I uncovered a new coping mechanism:

My inner child worries about EVERYTHING.

I obsess over potential pitfalls, devising plans for every possible disaster.

As a chauffeur, I had cripplingly low self-esteem and overwhelming self-doubt, which stunted my career for over a decade.

Whenever I pursued a new business idea, I found creative ways to sabotage myself: procrastinating, lacking necessary tools, whining about my lack of success to anyone who would listen, and seeking attention and pity.

In relationships, I gravitated toward women who oppressed me as I felt oppressed in childhood.

If, deep down, I believed I was no good, choosing a career that reinforced my sense of failure made sense.

Naturally, I chose an unstable business model in which almost everything was out of my control, and clients held all the power.

Fundamentally, as the chauffeur, I saw myself as a victim.

And I was, once—when I was a child.

But I’m no longer a child.

Even though I was victimized, that doesn’t mean I’m helpless today.

Yet, as the chauffeur, I behaved as if I were powerless.

I hated myself, at odds with my inner child, draining me of all power.

I had let my inner child down so often he stopped speaking to me, sabotaging my work and relationships.

We Teach People How to Treat Us

At 37, I’m just now realizing that all those years I craved women’s approval, I chased them, always available, ready to abandon myself immediately.

“Whatever you want, dear…”

And when they misbehaved, I mostly whined and complained but never took action.

Humans are more primitive in their thinking than we admit.

If you let anyone devalue you, even once, observers instantly adjust their perceptions.

You’ve signaled you don’t deserve respect.

People mirror the self-hatred you harbor.

They didn’t respect me—friends, family, clients—because I didn’t respect myself.

I taught them to feel that way.

Living with my ex-wife epitomized this dynamic.

She inspired The “Chauffeur” moniker as I drove her around for years.

Though I’d felt like a chauffeur before, my time with her was distinct; I documented my life in detail through journaling, making memories more explicit.

I also began therapy during that period—a game changer.

Reject The Chauffeur Mindset

I used to feel at home being a chauffeur.

Today, I’m learning to reject those familiar feelings.

Stop The Chauffeur mentality

My career, for example.

My freelance copywriting business was conceived from The Chauffeur’s mindset.

I lingered in this flawed business model for too long because the accompanying anxiety, self-doubt, self-pity, despair, and self-hatred were all too familiar.

That’s the real problem with being a chauffeur: Believing in your unworthiness condemns you to a miserable life.

You continually seek situations reminiscent of the old conditions that shaped your weakness.

That means shitty everything…

• Career

• Friendships

• Relationships.

But it doesn’t stop there…

Some people are predatory.

As prey, it’s challenging to grasp that others can detect these weaknesses and, instead of offering compassion, see you as a target for exploitation.

They may be drawn to you precisely because they know they can take advantage.

Life as Mike Tyson is Affirming

Everything improves across the board.

I could have never dated the caliber of women I have without making this shift.

As the chauffeur, I chased and chased.

Before a relationship, I set the precedent that they didn’t have to be an equal partner.

I did all the heavy lifting while they fed me crumbs and called me lazy.

That’s the life of a chauffeur.

But it’s easy to start villainizing others.

One of the most challenging aspects of this journey was understanding how I benefited from being a chauffeur.

That forced me to confront how fractured my self-esteem was.

It made me see that lacking validation in childhood; I sought it externally.

For me, being the chauffeur meant I didn’t count.

My Wants, Needs, and Feelings Were Irrelevant

I accepted being ignored or abused as a fact of life, with no say in the matter.

This identity shaped my sense of what I deserved in every area of life.

The chauffeur believed he deserved crumbs.

So, that’s what I got.

It’s hard to reflect on this period with regret despite the unhappiness.

That struggle made me immensely strong.

The strength I wield today stems from that struggle.

What a noble fight.

It was the fight of my life.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

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I Ditched The Need For Approval

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

When you’re someone who craves external validation, it says something important about you.

And if you’re honest with yourself, it says something about how you see yourself. It points to the fact that you don’t fully believe in your worth.

But here’s the thing: A mature adult should feel valid in and of themselves. They should know, without question, that they count and matter. They should know they’re good and worthy, regardless of what anyone else says or does.

And while it’s important to feel supported, you should be your best advocate, your biggest fan, no matter how the world responds to you. That’s the foundation upon which genuine self-esteem is built.

But let me tell you something—I wasn’t like that. Not for most of my life.

I wanted the validation of others. I craved it. I wanted women to like me. I wanted men to envy me. I wanted a career that shouted success, that proved I was important.

I would have proof of my worth if I could have those things. If I had success, approval, and attention, I would know I mattered.

But it didn’t work that way.

I remember seeing a video or maybe an ad, but it stuck with me. In it, a professor stands before a class and asks, “Who wants $20?” Of course, everyone raises their hands.

Then he crumpled the $20 bill and asked again, “Who still wants it?”

The hands stayed up.

Then he stomped on it with his shoe, crumpling it further. And asked again, “Who wants it now?”

Everyone still raised their hands.

That’s what self-worth is like. It’s intrinsic. It doesn’t lose its value when it’s stepped on or crumpled. It’s still worth $20, no matter what happens to it.

But unfortunately, many of us are taught the opposite message. We grow up learning that we don’t matter, that we’re no good, or that our worth is conditional on the approval of others.

This is the path to seeking external validation, but I’m here to tell you it’s false.

You see, validation is like a quick fix. It’s a temporary high. You get the applause, the likes, the accolades, and for a moment, it feels good. But once that high fades, you’re left with the same emptiness that pushed you to seek that approval in the first place. It doesn’t fill you. It just feeds the hunger for more.

Jim Carrey once said, “Your need for validation will keep you invisible in this world.” And it’s so true. You remain invisible to your value when you depend on others to tell you you’re worthy. You can’t see the truth of your worth because you’re too focused on the shifting opinions of others.

But here’s the truth: Nothing in this world can match your worth. No amount of money, no amount of success, and not even the attention of a million people can make you more valuable than you already are.

Life itself is precious—your life.

Your existence is worth more than anything the world can offer. That’s the truth.

Now, when it comes to building your self-esteem, there’s a lot of talk about the Law of Attraction—and I agree with it, but I think it’s more complicated than simply thinking “positive thoughts.” It’s not just about saying affirmations to get your self-worth up. You can’t just chant, “I am worthy,” without doing the actual work of rewriting your core beliefs.

Because if you’ve spent years seeking validation, you’re up against one of the oldest, deepest beliefs in your psyche: the belief that you have no value—that you are not enough. And undoing that belief takes courage and effort.

It’s about changing how you relate to yourself. And it’s a massive shift that involves going against decades of old patterns—patterns that have been reinforced by others, your doubts, and society’s standards. It’s not easy. It’s like swimming upstream.

But here’s where the real breakthrough happens: It’s when you finally decide that you are good enough—when you are worthy and valuable and that your self-worth doesn’t come from anyone else’s approval.

You are the only person who gets to decide your worth. Nobody else.

Now, the most challenging part is the courage to be disliked. You see when you stop seeking validation from others, you have to be willing to accept that not everyone will like you. And that’s okay. It’s more than OK—it’s necessary. Because you can’t please everyone, and you shouldn’t try.

When you stop seeking approval, you stop watering down your truth. You stop being the version of yourself that others want you to be and start being the person you’re meant to be. This may alienate people and even hurt them, but in the long run, you’ll feel a freedom that no amount of approval could ever provide.

And here’s the kicker:

The people who don’t like you or disapprove of you—they’re not your people. They don’t see you for who you are. But the right people who resonate with your true self will be drawn to you. That’s the power of authenticity.

When you stop living for external validation and start living for yourself, you hit pay dirt in your life. That’s when you start living the life you were meant to live. Not one is based on others’ expectations, but one is built on your own self-respect and internal validation.

And when you finally embrace the idea that your worth is inherent—when you live it every day—that’s when the true power comes. That’s when you stop seeking, and you start living.

That’s when you start living the life you want.

Let’s talk about the need for external validation—how it can shape our actions, identities, and sense of self-worth.

I didn’t know how to feel validated from within for most of my life. I didn’t feel good enough unless others noticed me or acknowledged me. This craving for validation has manifested in many ways.

In my upcoming memoir, I opened up about how I sought validation, particularly in my relationships and career. I spent so much time trying to be the person I thought others wanted me to be. I wanted women to like me, but it wasn’t just about having someone by my side. It was about proving something to myself that I was attractive, worthy, and interesting enough to be loved. So, I’d change myself and shift my personality and approach to keep that external validation coming.

When I was with Erika, a part of me constantly sought approval, always trying to get the affirmation that I was doing the right thing, that I was the right person for her. And it wasn’t just about the relationship; it reflected my deep-seated need to feel validated in any form. When I could hold her attention, when she would validate me with a compliment or show affection, it would fill the hole inside, however briefly.

But here’s the thing:

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I was missing the point entirely.

I didn’t know it then, but seeking external validation wouldn’t bring me peace or true happiness. Instead, it became a vicious cycle—because it’s not real validation if it’s based on someone else’s perception of you. It’s like walking around with a cracked mirror—no matter how much you polish it, it can never truly reflect who you are unless it’s whole. But I was too busy trying to make that mirror shiny, even though it was shattered.

Take my career, for example. In my upcoming memoir, I talked about my desperate need to prove that I was important and mattered in the grand scheme of things. I wanted a career that screamed success. I wanted the title, the recognition, the accolades. But deep down, it wasn’t just about doing work that mattered to me—it was about showing the world that I had made it. I would tell myself, “If I just get that promotion or that recognition, if I just prove myself to these people, then I will be worthy.” And I pushed myself to the limits, sacrificing parts of my soul to chase that approval.

But the truth? No matter how many trophies I collected or how many people told me I was doing great, a part of me still felt empty. It’s like chasing a shadow—it’s always just out of reach and beyond your grasp.

And that’s the core of the problem with seeking external validation—it can’t fill the void that stems from feeling that you’re not enough. I didn’t realize it then, but I was trying to fill a hole inside me by gathering external proof that I mattered. I sought validation through women, my career, and material success, hoping the world would tell me I was good enough. But nothing ever felt solid enough to hold me.

Here’s where the real lesson hit: true worth comes from within. It doesn’t matter how many people validate you, how many likes you get, or how much praise you receive—it will never be enough if you don’t already see your value.

As I got deeper into my journey, I realized how much of my identity had been tied to external approval. I was trying to play a game set up by other people’s standards—standards I had no control over. So, I sought to fit myself into molds that didn’t belong to me simply because I wanted to be seen.

I found myself at a crossroads. I began disconnecting from the outside world in the middle of that chaos. I started to see how my need for validation tied me to an identity that wasn’t mine. I started asking myself the hard questions: “Who am I without the approval of others?” “What do I truly want?” “Can I be enough without constantly seeking others to tell me so?”

The answer was correct before me, but I had been blind to it for so long. The validation I sought from others was never going to fill the hole. It was up to me to fill it by reclaiming my sense of self and trusting my worth.

Now, I dare to be unapologetically me, which means knowing when to walk away from validation. Sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go of the idea that we need other people’s approval to feel worthy. But when you stop seeking validation, something incredible happens: You start to live for yourself. You stop caring about who likes you and start focusing on loving yourself, and that’s when real transformation happens.

There was a moment when I decided to stop chasing external validation—when I realized that my worth was never tied to how others saw me. The weight lifted, and for the first time, I felt free. Free from the need to prove myself. Free from the need to be liked. And that’s the moment when I began to truly live.

In the end, seeking validation is a trap. The truth is that no one else can tell you your worth—you have to decide for yourself. When you stop seeking that validation and start standing on your own, that’s when you start living the life that’s truly yours.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Some People Would Rather Die Than Change

It’s uncomfortable to admit, but most people never change meaningfully. Sure, they might tweak a behavior or two—leave the toilet seat down, remember your birthday, or cut back on late-night snacking. But those surface-level adjustments aren’t real change. They don’t rewrite the underlying story that defines who they are.

Real change—shifting someone’s identity, core beliefs, and emotional wiring—requires facing profound, uncomfortable truths. It demands questioning the very foundation of who you think you are. And let’s be honest—that scares the hell out of most people.

We build entire lives around avoiding this kind of work.

From childhood, we learn survival strategies. We figure out what keeps us safe, what earns us approval, and what helps us feel loved—or at least tolerated. Then, we double down on those strategies until they harden into habits.

By the time we’re adults, these habits have become our identity.

• The nice guy who never says no.

• The overachiever who can’t stop proving herself.

• The tough guy who’s allergic to vulnerability.

• The martyr who sacrifices everything and wonders why no one else does the same.

We wear these roles like armor. Even when they stop working and start actively hurting us, we cling to them because letting go feels like death.

Most People Never Stress-Test Their Identity.

We all like to think we’re open-minded. Flexible. Evolving.

But have you ever tested that?

Have you ever had someone challenge your political beliefs, faith, or morals and genuinely listen instead of defending you?

Have you ever admitted that something you’ve believed your whole life might be wrong?

Most people don’t. Most people can’t because questioning yourself feels like stepping into quicksand.

It’s terrifying.

So we avoid it.

We surround ourselves with people who think like us, seek opinions that reinforce our beliefs, and reject anything that makes us uncomfortable.

We’re not changing. We’re doubling down.

You Can’t Change People. Period.

I wasted so much of my life believing I could change people.

I thought if I loved them enough… if I supported them enough… if I bent over backward and set myself on fire to keep them warm… they’d finally see me. Finally, I love me back the way I needed them to.

I tried it with my ex-wife.

She was controlling, manipulative, and unwilling to meet me halfway. And I stayed. I kept believing that if I just tried harder and sacrificed more, she’d soften.

She didn’t.

Because she didn’t want to.

I had changed so much of myself to accommodate her that I barely recognized who I was anymore. And still, she wouldn’t budge.

The truth?

I didn’t want her to change.

I wanted a different wife.

But instead of facing that truth, I spent years hoping she’d become someone she wasn’t.

The Only Person You Can Change Is You.

When I finally admitted to myself—and her—that I didn’t want to be in the relationship anymore, it was like waking up from a coma.

For the first time, I saw her.

She wasn’t the villain. She wasn’t evil. She was just… her.

And I didn’t want that.

Not because she was broken. But because we weren’t a fit.

I had spent years abandoning myself, hoping she’d change and calling it love.

But real love doesn’t require you to betray yourself.

Are You Making This Mistake Too?

Be honest—are you in a relationship secretly hoping the other person will change?

Are you excusing behavior you know you shouldn’t?

Are you ignoring red flags because you think “it’ll get better”?

Are you waiting for them to wake up one day and suddenly become the person you need?

Here’s the truth:

People don’t change because you want them to.

They change when they want to.

And even then? Most don’t.

So What Can You Do?

You stop waiting.

You stop chasing.

You stop hoping for a miracle that isn’t coming.

And you ask yourself the fundamental question:

Can I live with this?

Not can I fix it? Not can I tolerate it for now?

Can I live with this—exactly as it is—for the rest of my life?

If the answer is no, you know what to do.

Stop Sending the Wrong Message.

When you stay with someone who doesn’t treat you well… when you let disrespect slide… when you keep showing up for someone who takes you for granted…

You’re teaching them that it’s okay.

You’re telling them, This is acceptable.

That’s not love.

That’s self-abandonment.

What Does Real Change Look Like?

Real change doesn’t come from wishing and hoping. It comes from drawing a line, from saying, “This is what I need, and I won’t settle for less.”

Real change happens when you finally see yourself as worthy of respect, love, and reciprocity.

Because the truth is, change isn’t hard.

What’s hard is choosing it.

Walking away from what’s comfortable—even when it’s killing you.

Facing the unknown—even when it’s terrifying.

Believing you deserve more—even when no one else has ever treated you that way.

Let Go of Who They Could Be.

This might be the hardest part.

You have to let go of the version of them you built in your head—the person they could be if they tried harder, loved you more, or just “got it.”

You have to mourn that fantasy.

Because it’s not real.

And if you keep clinging to it, you’ll miss out on the genuine relationships. The ones where you don’t have to shrink, beg, or explain your worth.

Most People Never Change—But You Can.

You can change how you see yourself.

You can change what you tolerate.

You can change the direction of your life.

And when you do?

The right people—the ones who don’t need fixing—will show up.

But only when you stop chasing the ones who won’t.

Until next time,

Anton

Creator of Permission to be Powerful

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

After seven days of near-continuous meditation, I walked away with a stutter, shaking hands, and felt like I aged 30 years. It wasn’t enlightenment. It was war.

I think that I had to stay focused entirely on my breath for somewhere around 80 hours… and the minute I relaxed, a few screws fell loose. That’s the best way I can put it.

I’m not too worried about it — I think of it as a couple of harmless battle scars.

My meditation practice is on a whole new level.

Indeed, I wasn’t the only one who went on a roller coaster of emotions during this experience. Several people broke down into sobs and tears, either publicly or privately.

First things first — I cried myself to sleep on the first night.

My mind was staging a full-on rebellion. I have two pet things that my mind loves to cling to to keep me invested in my thoughts.

One of them involves an ongoing dispute with some of my relatives.

Suddenly, it was the most urgent thing in the world to try to resolve this problem while we were at a monastery, totally isolated from the outside world.

There’s something I’ve never said out loud… But I believe that there are some topics that the mind doesn’t just avoid… it will distort your perception of reality, so you don’t go there.

Anything to preserve the ego. Including being perpetually confused, disinterested, or suddenly too tired whenever the topic arises.

Some people are too asleep even to confront some of these topics.

You’ll find that no matter what they do, there will always be some clever diversion to steer away from that Buddha nature.

I sometimes ask myself how is it that Zazen meditation is this vital thing that so few people know about. Once you start doing it enough and see how clean and empty your mind becomes… something about that seems not quite right.

The place is beautiful. Buddha statues and bells of all shapes and sizes are everywhere.

However, doing nothing for seven days—without my phone, notebook, or reading material… was incredibly hard. My mind was very aggressive. I found myself seething on my mat for half of day one over this issue that suddenly seemed so urgent.

I took those thoughts to sleep, but they were still with me the next day. That was very telling.

You mean I slept a full eight hours and woke up the next day and I STILL couldn’t let it go?

Thankfully, we had regular private instruction several times each day. The sessions only lasted about two or three minutes, but often, that was enough for the sensei to help me let go of those bothersome thoughts.

If I wasn’t feeling outraged over my pet issue, I was undressing some girl I liked in my mind.

I hate sounding all perverted, but I’m pretty sure this is a prevalent thing. The mind wanders where it wanders. It likes to find topics to distract and get lost in thought.

I think it’s safe to say that this seven-day meditation retreat was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve run many grueling races and many half-marathons.

Those aren’t even close to the difficulty that came with this 7-day meditation retreat.

At the end of day one, I was beside myself, trying to wrap my mind around how I would do six more days of this. It was daunting.

The acetic lifestyle is hilarious when you step back and consider it.

It was a lot like prison. We woke up at 3:40 each day, and the first thing we did was walk in the courtyard.

We walked in a square loop for ten minutes. I’m not sure what the rationale was, but the walks were less unpleasant than remembering them being the last time I made a two-day retreat.

Either way, I always felt like a real zen monk when I did that morning walk.

From 4:00 a.m. to 9:25 p.m…… almost all we did was meditate. There was also a breakfast, lunch, and dinner period and a work period, rest period, and calisthenics period. That’s about four hours out of the 17-hour day.

No talking. Not ever. Don’t say a word. Not talking to another living soul for 7 days (outside of private instruction) was challenging.

So many things we depend on to get through our day are gone. No respite or relief. No vices. No meat. No junk food. No nothing.

The most fun thing to do is the chores. I had a clean-up job in the kitchen.

Everyone at the Zen Center gets it…

but I struggle to get regular people to understand. I tell them I stared at a wall for seven days.

They look at me all baffled—what kind of person in their right mind would do such a thing? Why?

The mind is so used to its many comforts and pleasures. When you take them away at once, all of a sudden, it starts to panic.

That’s when you get a little perspective on it. You start seeing that it’s always grasping. It’s always restless. It always wants something.

One of the core premises of Zen is that we are the very thing we seek—no need to search.

If we stop and fully surrender to the present moment, there’s no more lack—nothing to strive for. But we can’t see that clearly until we take away all of the mind’s creature comforts.

After the first couple of days, I started to appreciate the distance from all of my problems. Everything was on hold for 7 days.

I don’t think I have ever gone 7 days without checking my phone or email. I left my phone in the car so I wouldn’t be tempted to check it later.

Still, I heard someone’s phone ringing in the sleeping quarters, so not everyone followed the rules as prescribed.

This little monastery is much more unassuming than one might think. You walk into this place, and 7 days later, you walk out transformed.

That is precisely how I’m not sure, but the transformation is undeniable.

Some people like to go to a resort for vacation. Some beach somewhere. I either want to spend a week in total silence or party nonstop. Either, or.

Sitting all day long was challenging — although not as bad as I anticipated.

Over the year and a half I’ve been attending the Zen Center, I’ve developed a highly personalized sitting strategy. Good form is vital.

Everyone sits however they feel most comfortable.

Some people sit in the traditional meditation posture with their legs folded. Others sit on their knees with their feet tucked under their butt.

Everyone takes as many extra cushions as they need to raise a thigh, or elevate the butt, or to elevate the hands so they don’t move around or get tired.

Each person’s configuration is unique to them. I know what works for me, and that was the crucial part that made the process much easier this time.

I still needed to sit in a regular chair for parts of the day… but far less than I would have thought.

In previous retreats, I tried to tough it out and suffer as my leg went numb… but this time, I decided to play it caution and reach for the regular chair as soon as I was uncomfortable.

There’s a reason we don’t just sit in regular chairs constantly. It’s because the body is this ergonomic machine.

It’s designed a certain way, making our meditation posture the best one for staying still and relaxed for extended periods. Sitting on a regular chair is much harder to get into a deep meditative state.

The mind and body are deeply interconnected. Lousy posture often stimulates more thinking… which we are trying to avoid.

I have this terrible habit of tilting my head up… and this somehow feeds me with more thoughts—every time.

This religion is so fucking dope. From all of the bells, the drums, the moctock — shaped a little bit like a giant wood pear.

The huge Buddha statue sits front and center of the zendo. We treat it with high reverence. We bow before it every time we enter the zendo.

At the end of each night, the sensei delivers the same incredibly spooky and surreal speech,

“Even as day turns into night. The wheel keeps turning the green earth. Let us strive to wake up past birth, past death.”

Then, someone would beat on that wooden moctock with a wooden mallet for an eternity, about a full minute. It sounded like cannon fire in the night’s silence. Each pound gave me goosebumps, and only the crickets outside whispered between each bang.

I joke that the folks at the Zen Center are always doing something culty — yet blissfully unaware. One of those things is the way we make circles around the zendo. We sit in mediation for 30-minute rounds…, and then we walk the perimeter of the zendo in circles. Like… where are we going? Nowhere. No rush. Single file. Eyes down. A long string of brown robes followed. Our hands rest on our solar plexus.

It immediately became clear that the 2-day retreats I had done previously were just a warmup compared to this 7-day retreat. They reserved several special rituals for the 7-day retreat that I hadn’t seen before. There was a tea ceremony on the first and 7^th night. We were all served tea. Most delicious tea I’d ever had. I wish I caught the name. Very flowery. It tasted like someone picked the leaves from a bush earlier that day.

My mind was in constant rebellion.

Always looking for some way to protest all of this silence. I am unsure why I sat at the grand piano in the piano room one evening. I’m not sure why I thought I could get away with trying to play the one song that I know quietly. I got shut down very quickly.

I usually had some of my quietest sittings in the morning after breakfast. By evening, I was usually exhausted, and that was reflected in the quality of my sittings.

I grossly underestimated how advanced some of the people in the room were. I was very impressed with my sensei. He’s the real deal—an absolute master.

I also took a liking to one lady who I befriended after it was over. I gave her a ride to the airport… and I must tell you… personally… I left that car ride thinking she might be enlightened for real.

There was something so peculiar about her. She had the same kind of bizarreness that Eckart Tolle had. There was some profound relaxedness about her. Her voice sounded wealthy yet detached. I once met a woman years ago who claimed to be enlightened. I’m not here to defend that claim… however, this new lady distinctly reminded me of her—same temperament.

She noticed every little detail about me. She had this ability to stare into my very soul and read me like a book. Beyond almost anyone, I could think of ever before.

And the only thing that seemed to dampen her spirit was speaking about herself.

As soon as I returned the conversation to her, you could see the disdain on her face immediately.

If she were enlightened, it would make sense that she would feel annoyed having to indulge her ego by talking about herself. If the ego is the source of all suffering, it seemed fitting that she would feel contempt for having to focus on it.

When I asked her a personal question, she muttered something about her channeling divine energy and returned the conversation to me.

Indeed, the real reason people dedicate this much time to meditation is for a truly worthy cause. Enlightenment is fundamental to us. And, after 80+ hours on the mat, it doesn’t seem like this nebulous and out-of-reach thing.

By day four or five, it starts to sink in that we’ve racked up some serious hours in the Zendo.

This is the most profound look into the mind we ever get to do in our lifetimes. This is a highly unusual environment designed to accelerate the process. The prospect of a big breakthrough started to feel like it was within reach.

I left that experience realizing that I’d been on this spiritual journey for a long time… I didn’t recognize it. I had unlocked a memory of the first time I heard about enlightenment… when I was six. As soon as I heard about it… I said I wanted that.

As I got older, specific events and people steered me toward this path. My friend Mark was one significant influence. I don’t know why I loved that man so much. We hardly saw each other… but he left such a profound impact on me.

Mark was the most advanced meditator I knew.

He was so internally quiet… simply being around him made me aware of my nervous ticks and noisy energy. Mark also has that strange Eckhart Tolle energy. He made me believe. He pointed the way. I followed his lead. I have to tell you that I live in a total paradox when it comes to Mark because even as I say all this about him, he did take his own life. I have never been able to reconcile the Mark I knew… with the one who took his life.

This retreat helped me. Everyone has an opinion about what Mark was thinking and feeling. And mine is out there. But I believe it.

One of the things that I’m starting to see is that even the enlightened masters were all just people. We venerate them, but they still do all of the same shit regular people do. All of it. Including deciding to end one’s life. Mark felt so secure in his perception of the spiritual world that he was okay with letting go. Not the craziest theory.

His note said as much. It always bothered me some of the rationalizations my friends came up with. But this seems to fit my understanding of him best. I can think of several Zen masters who have burned themselves alive while in deep meditation or starved themselves to death while buried in a hole somewhere.

Even the Buddha almost starved himself to death. It’s up for debate whether Mark was enlightened or not. The Mark I knew was always so quiet. Always so empty of thought. Radiating peace and love. If he wasn’t enlightened, he was certainly something. He wasn’t normal. That’s for sure.

The way I understand it…

We are all Buddhas underneath it all.

I believe that when we die, our Buddha nature is restored. That’s why virtually every near-death experience I’ve heard about (and I’ve listened to scores) mentions feeling pure bliss beyond anything they had ever known when they were alive. To me, that’s very telling.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

P.S. If this resonates, forward it to someone who needs to read it.