The following recounts my own journey on psilocybin. Psychedelics aren’t for everyone, and this isn’t medical advice or an endorsement, just one person’s experience.

For a number of years, there has been a quiet rage growing inside me.

On the outside, I present as fairly calm and collected. When people have reflected this to me, I like to add that I actually feel a bit like a duck: gliding gracefully on the surface of the water, but underneath the surface is a completely different world.

For years, I tried to understand, improve, medicate, manage, and optimize my way out of that rage.

I’ve been in therapy for over 10 years. I’ve done “the work” to understand my behavior patterns, I do parts work to meet my shadows, and I (mostly) stay on top of my thought life. At times during the last 20 years, I’ve taken different antidepressants and various ADHD medications to get me through the day. I meditate and am currently dipping my toes into Buddhism and other spiritual philosophies and practices. Almost two years ago, I quit a job at a place many would call a dream company (I did at one point, until it became untenable) and left a lot of money and security to have more free time and try building the life of my dreams. For all intents and purposes, I’ve taken control of my life in order to live the best version of my Self.

Even with all that work and intention, the rage was still there, simmering, and keeping me depressed.

What finally shifted it wasn’t more work. It was meeting the part of my Self I’d been trying so hard to manage.

Last week, a friend who is a trained psychedelic facilitator, held a safe space for me to take a trip down the rabbit hole and find some answers with the help of a few clear intentions:

1. Release anger, rage, resentment, and sadness.

2. Hold and love all parts of me.

3. Access my Light and my potential to live my best, creative life, the life of my dreams.

4. Use my Light in service of others.

I took a handful of Penis Envy mushrooms, laid down on my couch, slipped on an eye mask, and noise-cancelling headphones. I felt safe and ready to understand my Self on a deeper level. Pretty immediately, there were some visualizations, colors, and patterns. Those were really cool and beautiful. The visualizations were kind of a waiting room. The show before the show. It wasn’t until I gave up any expectations of the experience that I was able to surrender and sink into it.

Almost immediately I felt the presence of what I can only describe as divine femininity. Safety. Love. Wisdom. Power. From there a visual—and I use the term “visual” lightly because it was more of a download than actually witnessing something with my traditional senses—of younger me appeared. I was “seeing” Alex at around 9, 10, 11 years old. He was suspended and splayed out horizontally in the air with a shackle and chain on each of his wrists and ankles, and he was thrashing. He’d been working non-stop for the last 30 years to hold us together, to build our life. Adhering to all the rules. Doing “what you’re supposed to do.” Taking care of everyone but himself. He was exhausted. He felt alone. He was angry, and resentful, and hurting. He was raging. So, instead of managing him, I held and loved him. I thanked him for everything he’d done to get us to this place, and told him how proud I am of everything he’s built. I told him how loved he is. And then I told him he didn’t have to do this anymore and that it was time for him to have fun again and to let me handle things. I’m crying as a type this because I know he’s listening and my gratitude for him is never-ending.

When I held my younger self, I also felt held and loved by some older version of me. Like all the versions of me, lived and yet to live, were hugging and being hugged. While this was happening, I continued sensing this feminine energy that had enveloped me. I also sensed a big cat, not unlike when the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland reveals his eyes and some aspects of his body in silhouette. Because this energy and presence felt so real, I asked its name, and she answered “Shakti.” I’d never heard this name and just went with it.

When I realized I could speak to this entity and it would respond, I settled on one simple question: ‘Why?’ Shakti replied, ‘Why not?’ I started bawling (again) and laughing. Her answer cracked something open: things simply are because they are, and our job isn’t to constantly attach meaning to what we experience. It’s to live it, and have compassion for everyone else living theirs.

Next, I showed her two paths I was considering for my life. A brilliance, like a lens flare, hovered over both, and I felt an instant knowing: no matter what I chose, I’d be loved and supported. There was no wrong path. I could just do what I wanted.

At this point, the journey was nearing the end, and I felt only an immense amount of love and support. I very clearly sensed my grandmother’s, mother’s, and sister’s love and energies accompanied by a feeling of being cradled in safety. It was as if I’d not yet experienced fear and only knew love. It was womb-like. To know and feel love on that level has got to be the most profound of human experiences. I was sobbing. I’m choking up now.

The journey was last week. The trip itself was only about 6 hours, but the real change is happening in my brain’s neural connections for about two weeks after. So, maybe the ceremony was the spark, and this is the part where new habits get the chance to take root. My work, my mental health, is an ongoing task. I know I’m not free from the dark waters. But I do feel a sense of relief from the rage and sadness. I feel—or maybe younger Alex feels—seen and heard. I feel like the backpack I’ve been carrying for years no longer has a stack of 500-page books in it and that I no longer have to walk hunched over. I feel loved and supported on a cosmic level. And I am full of gratitude, compassion, and excitement for a life lived and yet to be lived.

Oh, and Shakti is the Sanskrit word for divine feminine energy, power, and the dynamic life force that creates, maintains, and destroys the universe. She is usually accompanied by a lion or tiger. Shakti represents the active, moving energy of the cosmos, while her counterpart Shiva represents passive, unchanging consciousness.

Consider my flabbers gasted.

And here’s an excellent education on psychedelics by Michael Pollan.

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Alex and I have talked about starting a book club, but sometimes the obligation and deadline of it all can steal the joy of just reading. And that is definitely not the vibe for summertime. So, no book club, yet. Instead, here are five books we’ve been loving and learning from, while wearing sunblock.

The Meaning of Your Life by Arthur C. Brooks
Super chill title, right? Arthur C. Brooks is one of our favorite writers of life’s big questions, like: What is happiness? Why are we here? Are we doing any of this correctly? The Meaning of Your Life is his best yet. He asks what is the point of it all, and then actually delivers the answer. Meaning isn’t something you stumble upon after quitting your job and moving to Bali. It’s something you build, largely through relationships, purpose, and the stories you tell yourself about your own life. He makes it sound so easy. Maybe it is.

The Pivot Year by Brianna Wiest
Iman Jordan told us about The Pivot Year a few months ago. So, we haven’t finished it yet because it’s 365 short meditations on habits, desires, fears, and ideas about who you’re supposed to be. (Although there is technically no Pivot Police if you happen to read twelve in bed on a Sunday.) It’s particularly helpful if you’re in that strange territory between knowing something needs to change and actually changing it. And let’s be real, who isn’t?

The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh
Alex read this one on the beach in Ibiza (which is obviously the ideal setting for spiritual enlightenment). In his words: I’d reached a plateau on my spiritual journey/journey to know myself and was feeling like I wouldn’t be able to find peace because *raises arms and looks around* how could anyone find peace when every day feels like another step to oblivion? Then I was introduced to Buddhism and the concept of accepting things as they are. Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh’s writing is so gentle and lucid that none of it feels like doctrine. I’m now starting to understand how things like suffering, mindfulness, compassion, the idea of “self vs others,” and impermanence can lead to that peace I’ve been searching for. Which, as it turns out, is already in me.

The Power of Caring by Dr. Tony Nader
I discovered Dr. Tony Nader through Transcendental Meditation, which is not a cult, but the one form of meditation I’ve been able to stick with. I’d love to have him as a guest on the pod one day. In the meantime, I’m reading The Power of Caring. Dr. Nader makes the case that caring isn’t just a nice personality trait, but fundamental to who we are as humans. Drawing on science, philosophy, and consciousness, he explores what happens when we expand our sense of concern beyond ourselves and start seeing our well-being as connected to everyone else’s.

Calypso by David Sedaris
And because I believe laughter is the solution to most things, I present you with one of Sedaris’ best. I’ve bought Calypso for at least a dozen people because no book has ever made me lol more. It’s a collection of essays about family, aging, death, and the tiny absurdities of being alive. Read this when you would like to contemplate the human condition through something lighter, like a Fitbit obsession or a vacation home named The Sea Section.

Proof of summer joy, which has no quantifiable metric.

I would like to start by saying that I wear an Apple Watch, and I’ve been closing my rings since 2014. But in the beginning, every time my wrist vibrated, I hoped it would be a lewd doodle from a friend. Digital Touch had no real point except to connect and amuse each other. What a delight.

Now look at us, tracking everything, sharing our sleep scores, and adorably trying to evade death. Of course I appreciate that tech and science can help us better understand our bodies, suffer less (maybe), and live longer (also maybe). But are we happier?

I was recently reading an article in The Guardian titled Why Does Everything Feel So Joyless? Welcome to the Age of Decadence Without Pleasure.

The title obviously answers my question. In short, it was about how many of us have become so good at improving our lives that we’ve forgotten to inhabit them. Which begs an even bigger question: Do we even know what we want anymore?

Not what we’re supposed to want. Not what performs well online. Not what looks impressive. What we want.

We’ve stopped asking our own bodies and started asking the algorithm: What should I eat? What’s the best morning routine? Which supplements should I take? How do I optimize my brain, my productivity, my longevity?

There’s nothing wrong with any of those questions, but they all point outward.

We now have so much information about ourselves, and at the same time, we’re becoming strangely disconnected from the experience of being ourselves. It doesn’t have to be this way. We only have to listen.

The body speaks in sensations, but sensations are hard to quantify. They don’t fit neatly into dashboards or streaks or weekly reports, so we’ve learned to trust what we can measure over what we feel.

Maybe that’s why so many of us feel like we’ve lost the plot.

We know our recovery score, but not what restores us.

We know our step count, but not what moves us.

We know how many books we’ve finished, but not which ideas changed us.

The questions that matter most rarely have numerical answers:

What made me feel most alive today?

Who makes me feel most like myself?

What would I choose if no one else were watching?

Those answers don’t arrive as data. They arrive as a quiet knowing. A breath that deepens without you realizing it. The unmistakable feeling that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The opposite of optimization isn’t chaos. It’s intimacy with your own experience.

So yes, take care of yourself. Move your body. Get enough sleep. Learn from people who know more than you do. Just don’t let someone else’s definition of a good life become louder than your own.

We had a really good time making this first season of You Are The Prize.

We started this podcast because we wanted to talk to people we admire and find out how they’ve built lives that feel true to them.

I sometimes described it as “kinda like How I Built This if the angle were What I Had To Believe About Myself To Build This.” Thank god that’s not what we called it.

Our hope was that these conversations might inspire someone else to live a little closer to their own truth. Not necessarily a bigger or more impressive life. Just one that feels more aligned.

In twenty-five episodes, many of the same themes kept coming up. And not just because we kept asking everyone what was making them feel like the prize!

The first reminder was surprisingly simple: your worth isn’t something you earn.

It’s amazing how many of us are still secretly negotiating with life. We think, “If I can just get the job…find the partner...write the book...lose the weight...then I’ll finally feel like enough.”

Guess what? None of our guests endorsed that strategy.

See Amanda Rantuccio’s episode on how success can pull you out of alignment.
Or Maurice Harris’ episode on owning your own magic.

Instead, they reminded us that achievements can change your opportunities, but they can’t create your value.

See Iman Jordan’s episode on winning without losing yourself.

Another lesson surfaced in conversation after conversation: healing is about becoming more yourself. Less armor. Less performing. Less trying to be anyone else. More remembering who you were before you started collecting all those “shoulds.” And obviously, more dancing.

See Gracie Cartier’s episode on how healing changes your whole vibe.
Or DJ Juliet Mendoza’s episode on feeling yourself.

We also learned that your body is a lot wiser than most of us give it credit for. It has ways of nudging us toward what’s right and waving us away from what isn’t. We just have to be willing to listen.

See Rachael Brooke’s episode on creating a life you don’t have to recover from.

One of my favorite surprises was that nobody seemed particularly interested in arriving. No one talked about finally having life all figured out. Every single one of these wonderful people are still changing their minds, asking questions, and evolving. Becoming is the whole point.

See Kelli Garner’s episode on trusting your 5D self.

And finally, maybe most importantly, we’re always learning that life is going to do what life is going to do. You can spend a lot of energy arguing with reality. Or you can spend that energy deciding what comes next. One tends to work a lot better.

See Pablo Das’ episode on living without resistance.

That’s what Season One was really about. That’s what this whole podcast is about. Life is going to do its thing, and in answer to that, you must do yours.

Create a life where your worth isn't up for debate. One where healing looks like coming home. Where you trust your inner compass. Where you're allowed to keep changing. And where you stop wasting precious energy wishing reality were different.

Because this is it. This is your life. YOU are the prize.

While our mics are off, the conversation will be here — on Substack. Essays on joy, purpose, maybe some things we’re reading. Who knows? That’s the beauty of it. Feel free to make suggestions in the comments.

Thank you for being here!

We often imagine spiritual teachers have somehow escaped the messiness of being human. Or they’ve at least reached a place where life no longer rattles them.

Buddhist teacher Pablo Das laughed at that idea.

“If you think you have your shit together” he told us, “it probably means you’re standing in it.”

Apparently no one has it all figured out. And honestly, what a relief.

He went on to share a powerful Buddhist teaching known as The Second Arrow. The metaphor goes like this: The first arrow is the pain that inevitably finds us. Loss. Rejection. Illness. Grief. Heartbreak. None of us escape those things. The second arrow is the one we fire ourselves. (And sometimes we even fire a third or fourth or fifth. Fun!)

We do this with the stories we tell, our resistance, our shame. It can even happen more subtly, by putting energy into wishing reality were different. Yet here’s the terrible irony: in trying to outrun pain, we create more suffering for ourselves — often more suffering than the original wound.

So how do we stop this almost-instinctual human reflex?

Pablo challenged us to consider that there are parts of ourselves we only meet in grief. Heartbreak, uncertainty, and loss don’t just break us open. They introduce us to capacities that may have otherwise remained hidden. In our darkest moments, we find resilience, tenderness, courage, and (maybe most importantly) compassion for others.

You do not have to enjoy suffering, but it might be good to stop believing that joy is the only worthwhile human emotion.

We’re supposed to experience both beauty and loss. Joy and grief. Love and heartbreak. This is what it means to be human. And when we stop fighting the truth that life contains all of it — and we are made better for it — we usually find a little more ease.

There’s no such thing as a life free from suffering. What Buddhism invites us to do is develop a heart spacious enough to receive it all.

It sounds so easy.

Just because our podcast is called You Are The Prize doesn’t mean we’re against actual prizes. Get those awards!

This week, we asked singer-songwriter Iman Jordan what winning a Grammy changed for him. He smiled and said, “Everything. And nothing.”

It might sound like a contradiction, but of course it makes perfect sense.

The Grammy changed everything about his opportunities. It opened doors, introduced him to new people, and gave him credibility in bigger rooms. Those things are real and they matter. We don’t have to pretend otherwise.

Sometimes a prize actually does unlock access and create momentum. But the danger is confusing the key for the treasure.

We imagine that if we could just win the award, get the promotion, land the client, publish the book, or hear someone say, You’re amazing, then we’d become someone different or better.

Except that’s not what those things are designed to do. Recognition doesn’t create your value. It reveals it to people who couldn’t see it yet.

That’s what we mean when we say, “you are the prize.”

The invitation isn’t to stop chasing big, audacious dreams or the accolades that might follow. It’s to stop asking them to answer a question they never could: Am I enough?

No award will ever answer that. That’s your job.

So what do you do while you’re waiting for your version of the Grammy?

You become someone you enjoy being. You keep your promises to yourself. You make things you’re proud of, even if no one sees them. You surround yourself with people who remind you of your gifts. You practice receiving encouragement without becoming dependent on it.

Then, whether the award comes or not, you already know the answer.

Have you ever run into someone you haven’t seen for a while and thought: Wow, they look incredible.

Not in the excellent-facial way or even the expensive-undetectable-work way. It’s more like they’re standing a little taller. They laugh more easily. They seem lighter and more at home in themselves.

You can’t exactly pinpoint it, but you can feel it.

This week on You Are The Prize, our guest Gracie Cartier joked that the best anti-aging remedy might actually be healing.

We laughed. Then we all kind of paused. Because she might be right.

Healing has a frequency. Our bodies are constantly communicating things beyond our words. Stress shows up in our posture. Grief can drain the color from our faces. Anxiety has a way of tightening our shoulders and stealing our breath. We know this instinctively. You can walk into a room and feel when someone is carrying something heavy.

The opposite is true, too.

When someone has done the work to let go of old stories, old shame, or the impossible job of becoming who everyone else needed them to be, something shifts. Their energy changes. And somehow, their appearance seems to change with it.

Gracie described healing as putting down the things that were never yours to carry.

Some of us are carrying family expectations. Some of us are carrying an old relationship. Some of us are carrying the belief that our worth has to be earned. We carry these stories for so long that they start to feel like part of our identity.

Until one day, we realize we can put it all down.

Maybe that’s the glow we’re all noticing: the unmistakable lightness of someone who’s done the work and has finally stopped carrying what was never theirs to begin with.

Lawren Sample is the co-founder of Partlow and Cuatro Mamas. She’s also a stylist, a mother, and a million other things. A modern woman, if you will.

During our conversation this week, she lit up talking about the moment someone puts on a pair of Partlow boots and stands a little taller. Or sees themselves in an outfit they couldn’t imagine feeling so good in. Or the first bite of that chili crisp that gets an involuntary, “Daaaaaaamn.”

Those are the moments that make it all worth it. It’s not the sale or the win or the revenue. It’s about how something you made made someone else feel.

We don’t talk enough about this part of creating. We talk about growth and success and scale. And sure, we need those metrics to keep the lights on. But underneath it all, I think most of us are chasing these tiny moments of connection.

The chef wants to see the table go quiet after the first bite.

The musician is waiting to hear the crowd sing it back.

The writer lives for the text that says, “Were you inside my brain?!”

The real estate agent finds someone the dream home they never thought was possible.

The world gives us plenty of ways to measure success. But the moments that give our work meaning are much smaller. We all want that involuntary “daaaaaaaaamn.” And what if that were enough?

Purpose doesn’t have to be some grand thing waiting to be discovered. In fact, maybe you already have it. And maybe the best question we can ask ourselves isn’t, “What am I here to do?” Maybe it’s as simple as, “How do I want people to feel?”

I have a feeling most of us already know the answer. We just don’t give it enough weight.

There’s a very different energy between hoping something good happens and expecting it to.

Recently, DJ and producer Juliet Mendoza told us a story about walking into a nightclub with one clear intention: she was going to have an unforgettable night.

Not in a woo-woo manifestation way. In a full-body certainty way.

Before she even arrived, she decided she was going to dance, have fun, and meet some of her favorite people. So when she got there, she wasn’t standing against the wall wondering if she belonged in the room. She was completely in it.

In fact, she was so totally herself on the dance floor that Dave Chappelle spotted her from the stage. He was so drawn to her energy that he invited her up in front of the crowd. Then he looked at her and joked, “How would you dance if Mos Def was here?”

Then Mos Def walked out.

It’s easy to hear a story like this and roll your eyes at the idea of manifestation. But maybe it’s less magical than we make it sound. It could be that intention simply changes your relationship to possibility.

Because when you believe something good is available to you, you move differently. Your body language changes. You take more risks. You notice opportunities you may have otherwise missed. And other people feel it, too.

Psychologists call this the expectancy effect: our beliefs subtly shape our behavior in ways that influence outcomes. It’s why visualization works for athletes and why confidence changes the way people respond to us socially and professionally.

What we expect affects how we participate.

That’s why there’s such a massive difference between “I hope this goes well” and “I’m excited to see what happens.” One feels hesitant. The other feels alive.

Of course, intention alone doesn’t change your life. You still have to show up. But the point is that clear intention changes the version of you that arrives in the room. And rooms respond differently to people who already believe they belong there.

So this week, try it. Walk into the date expecting connection. Go into the meeting believing you have something valuable to say. Enter the party assuming you’re allowed to take up space there. Audition for the role. Send the email. Introduce yourself first.

Not because you can control the outcome, but because the real power of intention is that it allows you to participate more fully in your life. And doesn’t that sound like a lot more fun than standing outside of it hoping something good might finally happen to you?

It sure does to us.

In our latest solo episode, we decided to dive into the concept of self-love. We are of course not experts in this, but that’s the point. We wanted to kick it around because we’ve talked a lot about how self-love isn’t something you magically feel. It’s something you have to work on. But how?

We think, maybe, it’s something you build by living in alignment with who you actually are. Not the version built to be digestible online or impressive at dinner parties. The real version. The one who knows when something feels off, even if everyone else seems to approve of it.

I think this is why self-love feels so difficult for so many of us. Because being in alignment with yourself often means going against the group.

Alex and I are both reading The Meaning of Your Life by Arthur C. Brooks right now. Excellent book. Brooks writes about how human beings evolved to stay close to the tribe because, for most of history, separation was dangerous. Get left behind and you get eaten by a tiger.

It may not be that dire now, but our nervous systems haven’t updated.

So now, when we make choices that move us closer to ourselves and away from the group, they can still feel terrifying. Leaving the wrong relationship. Wanting a slower life. Choosing meaning over status.

Even deeply right choices can trigger fear because some ancient part of your brain still interprets separation from the group as danger. Which, of course, makes modern life especially complicated because so many of the systems surrounding us reward disconnection from ourselves.

We are constantly being pulled toward comparison, optimization, and productivity. We are encouraged to react instead of reflect, consume instead of connect, and perform instead of participate. Meanwhile, the things that actually make life feel meaningful are usually quieter.

Think: friendship, nature, creativity, falling in love, paying attention, doing work that feels honest, or having the courage to build a life that feels like your own.

Alignment isn’t always exhilarating. It can feel uncomfortable or even lonely. But discomfort isn’t always a sign you’re making the wrong choice. Sometimes it’s just your ancient wiring telling you not to get left behind.

But this is exactly where self-love is built. In those moments where you stop abandoning yourself just to stay accepted by the crowd, you might find you like yourself more. Try it and see what happens.

There are (for the most part) no tigers.

Artist, designer, and Jungalow founder Justina Blakeney is endlessly inspiring. And yes, we talked about creativity, intuition, and learning to follow what “tingles.” But the part of the conversation that Alex and I can’t stop thinking about is learning how to live in the middle.

You know, the gray area. The in-between. The part where nothing is fully clear yet and every atom in your body wants to rush toward an answer just so you can stop feeling uncomfortable.

Most of us have been taught to treat uncertainty like an emergency. The second something becomes unclear, we scramble for answers. We race toward a label, a decision, a definition. We want the relationship to become official or end. We want the career pivot to make immediate sense. We want to collapse our identity into a tidy little box we can point to and say, “There. That’s who I am.”

Personally, I hate living in the gray. I’d rather get a definitive no than sit inside a maybe. The in-between makes me twitchy. But what if…what if…instead of rushing to resolve something, we treated it as fertile ground?

I know. I don’t like it either, but hear me out.

Nature doesn’t bloom year-round. There are seasons where things appear dormant while entire root systems are developing underground. Creativity works like that too. So does personal growth. Some of the most transformative periods of our lives begin as stretches where nothing quite fits anymore.

We’ve both felt this in our own lives and work. As creatives and humans, there’s constant pressure to pick a lane. But living things rarely grow in straight lines. Sometimes the most alive version of you exists in contradiction. Sometimes your next chapter needs room to be weird before it becomes coherent.

Justina said something beautiful about needing to exhale in the middle. You can hold your breath through a hard moment, but you cannot hold your breath through a transformation. At some point, you have to stop treating the in-between like a waiting room and start living inside it.

Because maybe that’s where real creativity lives.

We don’t need to have everything figured out. We just need to stay open long enough for something honest to appear.

I’m trying it this week. I have to admit, it’s uncomfortable. And maybe that’s the point.

One of my favorite things about tennis is that while you think you’re learning how to hit a ball, the game shows you how you handle pressure, timing, frustration, control, and trust.

This week on You Are The Prize, we sat down with my (Alexis’s) tennis coach, Ray Chang, and talked about how the way we move on the court mirrors the way we move through life.

Here are five lessons from tennis that we can all probably use.

1. Don’t Chase the Ball

This is an especially hard one for me. I’m impatient. I want to hit every shot. Before Ray broke me of this habit, I was sprinting all over the court, swinging at balls that were never really mine.

But when a ball is yours, you don’t have to force it.

It’s the same off the court. We can sometimes exhaust ourselves chasing relationships, opportunities, timelines, or validation that pull us completely out of position. Those aren’t our balls. Let them go.

As Ray says: if it’s aligned, it’s easy.

2. Focus on Fundamentals

In tennis, it’s easy to obsess over outcomes. Did the ball go in? Did you win the point?

But sometimes you hit a beautiful shot with terrible form. Sometimes the right shot misses by an inch. That’s why fundamentals matter: footwork, timing, balance, structure.

The goal isn’t getting lucky once. The goal is building something repeatable that you can trust under pressure.

Life works the same way. Real success doesn’t come from random wins. It comes from knowing why something worked and having a foundation strong enough to return to when things get hard.

3. Real Power Isn’t Force

Most people think power comes from swinging harder. But the best players (not me!) aren’t muscling the ball. Their bodies are aligned enough for energy to move naturally through them.

A lot of us are trying to force our way through life when what we actually need is a solid structure. Because forcing something is exhausting. Real power comes from being grounded enough to move clearly, efficiently, and without fighting yourself.

4. Every Swing Counts

Most of us only feel successful when we get the point. But here’s a nice little reframe: the point isn’t the point! Ray thinks of every swing as a success because it teaches you something.

Every attempt gives you information. Every miss sharpens your instincts. Every failure prepares you for the next opportunity. You are not starting over each time. You’re better with every hit.

5. Nothing Matters

Ray’s mantra is “nothing matters.”

Ray isn’t a nihilist. He just knows that life is a lot more fun when we loosen up. When every shot feels loaded with meaning, you stop playing naturally because you’re terrified of getting it wrong.

But when nothing matters? You stop attaching your worth to every outcome.

The next point—or the next opportunity, job, relationship, etc—always comes. So you might as well enjoy yourself while you’re here.

Most of us experience our thoughts as fact. Not something we’re shaping, but a running commentary we accept as true and let color our world.

This week on the pod, we were joined by Alex’s therapist, Dr. Mark Tanabe. Dr. Mark is one of the greats because he helps people identify their narratives and question them. One of the things we got into was the importance of tending to your thought life.

Because the way you think isn’t neutral. It shapes how you interpret what’s happening. It determines whether your life feels like something you’re living or something that’s happening to you.

We hold onto narratives about who we are, what things mean, what’s possible. And over time, they start to feel fixed.

But they’re not.

When you begin to notice a thought instead of immediately believing it, something opens up. A little space. And inside that space is choice. You can choose how you respond, how much weight you give it, and whether you let it define the moment.

Mark put it simply: there’s pain in the past, anxiety in the future. But in the present, when you’re actually here (feeling it in your body, as we like to say), things are often… okay. Even good.

At the end of the episode, he asked us to pause. Listen to the birds chirping outside. Notice the light. Feel the breeze. And ask: is anything wrong with this moment?

Try it. It’s a small question. But it shifts everything.

There’s a version of “finding yourself” that looks very still. You’re journaling, meditating, trying to get your life right before you really start living it.

Then there’s the other version. That version is in motion. You’re in a dark room, the music is loud, and for a few minutes, you’re not performing or analyzing. You’re just moving to the beat.

We’ve been sold this idea that self-discovery happens in isolation. But most of the time, what we actually need isn’t more time in our heads. It’s a way out of them.

That’s what the dance floor does. It short-circuits the loop.

There’s actual science behind this. Dancing reduces cortisol and improves brain function. And house music—in that 120–130 BPM range—hits a kind of neurological sweet spot where your body syncs up and everything starts to feel a little lighter.

But the real magic isn’t just chemical. It’s collective.

And unfortunately, we’re doing less of this. We’ve replaced dance floors with Discord and movement with observation. We stand around. We check our phones. We hover at the edge of the experience instead of stepping into it. And then we wonder why we feel disconnected.

I keep coming back to this thought: You can’t download the feeling of being alive. You have to go where it is. And more often than not, it’s somewhere loud, slightly inconvenient, and full of other people who decided to show up too.

Real life requires effort. You have to get dressed, leave your house, and walk into a room where you don’t know exactly how the night will go. The friction is the point.

This week on the pod, we talked to nightlife producer Luke Nero about what it takes to get a room to come alive. What stayed with us wasn’t just that Luke knows how to throw a damn good party. It was the reminder that spaces like that matter. Not just because they’re fun, but because they give us access to something we’re quietly losing: unstructured, collective joy.

We have to get it back!

So here’s your challenge for the weekend: go out. Let the music wash over you. DO NOT LOOK AT YOUR PHONE. And for god sake, do not film other people dancing. Then, at some point, without even realizing it, you’ll stop thinking. You’ll start moving.

And you might just find that’s where you find yourself.

LA friends: you can find us on the dance floor at Mr. Black, this Friday, April 24 at Zouk. We hope to see you there!

There’s a moment during change that no one really prepares you for.

It’s not the decision itself. That part can feel clear, even energizing. You know something isn’t right anymore. You know you want more for yourself. So, you take the leap.

It’s what comes after. The part where you’ve left something behind—a relationship, a job, a way of being—but you haven’t quite arrived anywhere new yet.

We kept coming back to this idea in our conversation this week. Alex described it as leaving an island you’ve known forever, somewhere you know how to exist. But at some point, you realize it’s not big enough for you anymore.

So you start swimming toward something else.

Somewhere in the middle, it gets hard. The water isn’t calm. You’re far enough from the old island that you can’t go back, but not close enough to the new one to feel steady. So you look behind you and wonder if you made the wrong choice.

This is where a lot of people turn back. Not because you made a mistake, but because the middle feels uncertain. It comes with grief. Grief for what was and grief for who you were in it. It feels easier to go back. Or to rewrite the story of why you were leaving in the first place.

But what if you’re just in the middle?

The discomfort of the in-between isn’t a sign you made the wrong choice. It’s part of making the right one. There’s no going back to who you were. The only way is forward. Not with certainty, but with trust. Trust that even if you can’t see where you’re going yet, you know why you left.

And for now, that’s enough. Because if you keep swimming, something shifts. The water steadies. The next version of your life starts to come into view. But you only get there if you don’t turn around.

Keep swimming!

This week on the pod, we sat down with our friend Carl Fudge, founder and CEO of Presentation Mode, a narrative and strategy design studio helping founders tell their most important stories.

You might be thinking, “that sounds like the work of a creative person.” And you would be right. Yet Carl doesn’t tend to think of himself that way. He has an MBA. His path doesn’t fit the archetype. And he’d never want to claim the label if it wasn’t deserved.

Carl built a company. He shapes ideas into vision. He solves problems in ways that require imagination, taste, and perspective. He creates. So shouldn’t that qualify him as a creative person? Of course.

Yet, so many people feel this way about themselves. Like they’re not allowed to own their creativity if they didn’t go to art school. Which, of course, is wildly untrue—not to mention, limiting.

When we said that to him, he laughed. Probably because it’s funny when the truth is so obvious to other people. In that moment, we were his mirrors. Us seeing him as a creative person helped him to see it, too.

Most of us aren’t short on evidence of our strengths. We’re just not great at accessing it. Usually because we’re too busy fixating on the one thing that didn’t land. We are notoriously inaccurate storytellers of ourselves.

Carl shared that he keeps an “encouragement box” (a Notion) of kind words, feedback, and moments where something resonated with his clients. It’s not to inflate anything, but to stay honest. To have something to return to when his internal narrative drifts.

We should all start doing this right now!

It’s an excellent tool for telling a better story about what you’re capable of. And maybe that’s the work: to get more honest. To look at the evidence, not just the doubt. And to let yourself be seen a little more clearly.

Our friend Lauren Macrino is a lot of things: a founder, a mom, a competitive cyclist, and a designer with incredible taste. She loves metal music and old cars, and also finds deep satisfaction in toggling numbers in a spreadsheet. She doesn’t fit cleanly into one box. And thank goodness.

Even though that’s what the world rewards, right? We’re told to pick a lane. Be known for one thing. Make it easy for people to understand you. Especially if you’re building something.

When Lauren was creating Musewash, she made a very intentional choice to build a laundry brand that was elevated and specific. It’s beautifully designed, smells amazing, and its uniquely powerful formula is good for the planet. It has a clear point of view, but it’s not her whole personality.

And what’s interesting is that decision didn’t make her feel smaller. It made her life bigger.

She didn’t have to collapse all of who she is into her work. She could let the brand be one expression of her, not the container for all of it. Which meant she could still ride her bike, still be a mom, still love the wild things that make her her.

There’s a quiet pressure right now to be easily defined. Social media especially has a way of turning people into characters. You’re the wellness person. The career person. The creative. The founder. And once you pick one, it can feel like you have to keep performing it.

But, obviously, most people aren’t one thing. They’re a collection of interests, instincts, and contradictions. You can be deeply disciplined and wildly free. You can love structure and crave spontaneity. You can build something serious and still not take yourself too seriously. None of that needs to be resolved.

What Lauren reminded us is that your life doesn’t have to be perfectly packaged. In fact, it shouldn’t be. The parts of you that don’t neatly match are often the most alive.

There’s also a freedom in letting your work be just one part of who you are. It doesn’t have to hold everything and it doesn’t have to explain you completely. It can simply be the thing you’re good at, that supports the rest of your life.

Then the rest of you just gets to exist, unbranded.

If you’ve been feeling the pressure to define yourself more clearly or smooth all your edges, don’t. Maybe the move is just to allow it. Follow what you’re actually drawn to and stop trying to make it all match.

You don’t have to be one thing. Become more yourself. That’s usually a lot more interesting.

There’s a quiet belief that many of us carry. It’s that somewhere out there is the right place, the right person, the right community. And when we find it, belonging will just…click.

Our conversation with Emily Race-Newmark on re-villaging reminded us that belonging isn’t something you find. It’s something you build.

We’ve gotten really good at building independent lives. It’s what we’re told to do, and what we’re so often rewarded for. We’ve learned how to optimize for efficiency, for mobility, for growth, but not always for rootedness or care. And we end up missing connection.

One of the ideas that stuck with us most is the myth of the “perfect place.” The belief that if something feels off—your city, your friendships, your community—it must mean there’s something better out there.

But villages aren’t built by people who are always searching for somewhere better. They’re built by people who choose a place, and then commit to staying. They’re the ones who decide, “this is where I’m going to invest my time and energy,” and they make it work.

That doesn’t mean settling. It means participating.

And it can start smaller than we think. We don’t need to overhaul our lives to begin building community. It can be as simple as:

• learning your neighbor’s name

• reaching out to someone without a specific reason

• inviting one person over instead of waiting for the “right” group

• becoming a regular somewhere (and noticing who else is)

Small, repeated actions signal we’re in this together.

It’s easy to slip into the mindset that community is something we’re welcomed into, rather than something we help create. But someone always goes first, sends the text, makes the plan, and keeps showing up.

Over time, that’s what builds something real.

Of course, it won’t be perfect. People will disappoint you. You won’t agree on everything. It might even feel easier, at times, to pull back and start over somewhere new. But what we’re starting to understand is that real belonging isn’t built on ease. It’s built on consistency, and sometimes on repair.

For us, this conversation felt like a shift. Less about asking, Where do I belong? And more about asking, What am I willing to build, right where I am?

Because the truth is, there is no perfect place. There are only people who decide to show up for each other—and in doing that, create something that feels like home.

If this resonates, tell us how you’re building community whenever you are. And if you’re in LA, invite us to join!

To go deeper into this conversation with Emily, tune in to this week’s episode of You Are The Prize. And check out Emily’s work on community-building at This Is How We Care.

That was one of the biggest questions at the heart of our conversation with Ginny Clarke. We started by talking about leadership in the most conventional sense, how few leaders are actually considered “good,” and how different the world might feel if more people led with love.

That is the world Ginny is pointing toward with her framework for Fifth Dimensional Leadership.

Ginny shared the moment she realized she could no longer be a deeply spiritual, soulful person at home and then show up at work pretending to be someone else entirely. That split had become too costly. So she stopped splitting. She integrated. She showed up whole. And, as often happens when someone moves with that kind of integrity, other people felt it. And they wanted to follow it.

That, to us, is one of the clearest definitions of leadership there is.

Her framework is built around five principles: Know Yourself, Speak Your Truth, Inspire Love, Expand Consciousness, and Activate Mastery.

1. Know Yourself

It sounds simple to “know yourself.” Like, who else could you know better? But it’s hard to separate ourselves from the roles we play and get honest about what is true underneath all of it. What do you want? What matters to you? What have you outgrown? What part of your life still reflects an old version of you?

We touched on this in the episode through a question that sounds simple but is actually enormous: What do you want? Not the next milestone. Not the logical next move. Not the thing you’ve been taught to chase. What do you want in a fuller, more sensory, more human way? Can you picture it? Can you feel it? Can you move toward it on purpose?

There’s real power in becoming deliberate.

2. Speak Your Truth

If knowing yourself is the inner work, speaking your truth is the external expression of it.

This is where self-awareness becomes visible. It’s where your inner and outer life start to match. And that matters because people can feel when someone is editing themselves into acceptability. They can also feel when someone is rooted enough to speak with clarity and conviction.

Speaking your truth does not mean performing honesty or saying something provocative for effect. It means being willing to stand inside your values, your perspective, and your lived experience without abandoning yourself to keep the peace or preserve an image.

This is what made Ginny’s story so powerful to us. She realized she couldn’t keep living as two different people, one inwardly expansive and deeply spiritual, the other outwardly flattened into whatever professionalism was supposed to look like. Speaking her truth was part of the integration. And once she did that, she became someone others could trust.

Because truth, when it is grounded and embodied, creates integrity. And integrity is magnetic.

3. Inspire Love

This is the principle that gives the whole framework its voltage.

We don’t live in a culture that treats love as a serious leadership tool. Fear, yes. Scarcity, yes. Control, definitely. But love is often dismissed as too soft, too idealistic. Which is exactly why this one feels so important.

Love, in this context, is not being nice. It’s not avoiding hard conversations. It’s not making everyone comfortable. It’s a way of leading that chooses trust over intimidation, compassion over ego, and connection over performance. It is a willingness to see yourself and other people as fully human.

What would change if more people led from that place? What would shift inside teams, organizations, families, communities?

We keep coming back to the fact that love is not the lesser choice. It’s the higher one.

4. Expand Consciousness

To expand consciousness is to become more aware of what’s driving you, what patterns you’re repeating, what systems you are operating inside, and what possibilities you can’t yet see because you’re still reacting from habit. It’s the move from autopilot to awareness.

That can sound lofty, but it’s actually just practical. It is noticing when fear is making your decisions for you. It’s catching yourself when you’re performing some version of yourself that isn’t quite true. It’s asking better questions and widening the lens.

One of the most energizing parts of our conversation was the reminder that leadership doesn’t live only in the C-suite. You don’t actually need formal authority to shape culture, build trust, or change the emotional temperature of a room. And you definitely don’t need a promotion to become more conscious.

5. Activate Mastery

Ginny’s version of mastery is much more alive than its typical definition.

It is not about reaching a fixed destination. It is about ascension. Your path. Your pace. Your growth. The choices you make, over and over, to return to yourself and move through the world with deeper intention.

The best part: No one else gets to define your mastery for you. No one is grading your evolution. No one can tell you what the right timeline is. This is not about external validation. It’s about your relationship to your own becoming.

And one of the clearest signs that you’re growing? Fear starts to loosen. Anxiety stops running the show. You stand more fully in your truth, your power, and your own inner authority. Not because you’ve finally become flawless. But because you are more practiced at being fully yourself.

A Spiral, Not a Summit

These five principles aren’t a ladder you climb once and conquer. They’re a spiral. You revisit them. You return to them. You meet the same lesson from a different level of awareness. You keep becoming.

So much of modern leadership language is obsessed with certainty and speed. But this framework makes room for something more human. It asks us to wake up, bring our whole selves to work, and build a world where leadership starts with love.

And maybe that’s the real invitation here. Not to become someone else’s idea of a great leader, but to become more fully ourselves.

To listen to the full episode, visit https://www.studio-stab.com/youaretheprizepod
For more on Ginny’s work and Fifth Dimensional Leadership, visit her website at https://www.ginnyclarke.com