Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,
Over the past three years…
Ever since my divorce…
I’ve lived the adventure of a lifetime.
I was a man, possessed.
You couldn’t stop me.
I danced like there was no tomorrow—
Because for me, that wasn’t just a clever line.
It was a fact.
I bathed in a river of beautiful women.
So many connections.
So many moments of electric, unforgettable magic.
I thought my wild days were long gone.
Little did I know…
I had left 98% of my party animal self on the table.
At first?
I was a disaster.
Sweating on everyone.
Stepping on feet.
Crashing into people like a human wrecking ball.
But after a year of non-stop dancing…
I became a spectacle.
People started filming.
Crowds would part.
Phones went up.
And somewhere along the way…
I became mythic.
Larger than life.
Iconic.
You see, I have an ancestor named Count Volney.
There’s an actual town in New York named after him.
When I talked to his biographer, she said:
“Imagine being such a party animal…
They name the whole place after you.”
LOL. YASSS.
That’s the energy I’m channeling.
And it’s literally coursing through my veins.
But here’s the twist…
Just four years ago, I would’ve never believed this life was mine.
I was a depressed workaholic.
The kind of guy who always said no to fun—
because I believed joy had to be earned.
Grind now. Suffer now.
Someday it’ll all be worth it.
Someday I will be worth it.
Spoiler: That’s not how joy works.
I write about a lot of things…
But I hate writing about dancing.
Because words can’t touch it.
Trying to describe it is like painting music.
Or explaining color to someone born blind.
The magic slips away in translation.
But here’s the good news:
I don’t have to write it.
I documented everything.
I traveled across the country, hunting down the greatest salsa and bachata dancers alive.
What I found blew me away.
Knocked me off my feet.
Changed me.
Over and over, I had to pinch myself:
Is this real? Am I in a dream?
I became a dance journalist.
A one-man army on a sacred mission…
To capture the magic.
To remember it.
To leave proof for my grandkids—
So they’d know the legend was real.
And now…
Permission to Be Powerful reader…
I’m bringing that magic to you.
Starting next week.
Tuesdays. Thursdays. Saturdays. 7PM.
Every video is drenched in passion.
Some make me cry.
They’re that powerful.
Most people have no clue this secret dance universe exists.
Move over So You Think You Can Dance.
Dancing with the Stars? Please. Snooze fest.
These videos need no narration.
The dancing does all the talking.
But first…
Let’s set the tone.
I’m starting you off light—with a spoof:
My James Bond–themed intro.
Playful. Stylish? HILARIOUS.
A little ridiculous.
A lot seductive.
Enjoy.
Stay powerful,
Anton
Creator of Permission to Be Powerful.
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