Author: admin
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What you are looking for exists.
“The goal so far as human beings are concerned… is ultimately the ‘self-actualization’ of a person:
The development of the fullest height that the human species can stand up to or that the particular individual can come to.”
- Abraham Maslow
It’s February 2014, and my young business, Elite Guard Training, is celebrating it’s biggest month ever.
We’re closing in on $200,000 per month, on route to our second 7-figure year in a row, and I should be happy.
But I’m not.
Instead of celebrating, I’m alone in my kitchen, looking around at the life I’ve built:
The house I bought at 20 years old, the shiny new Audi in the driveway, the beautiful girlfriend, the freedom to do whatever I want to do, whenever I want to do it.
And, in a moment, what I’m truly feeling…
…The feeling that has been building, just below the surface, for months now…
…Will finally boil over, and burn down my life as I know it.
It begins as a thought in my mind:
”Is this really all there is?”
Which is immediately followed by another thought:
“How spoiled. How could you not be grateful for all of this? Shame on you for wanting more.”
“I understand,” I hear myself reply.
“I get it. I’m lucky, and I am grateful… I know I should be happy.”
But while the words are true, the voice behind them sounds hollow. Empty.
Empty of certainty, empty of conviction.
Empty of… meaning.
Deep in my gut, the feeling reaches a boiling point.
And I hear myself ask again, louder this time:
”Is this really all there is?”
Make money. Become successful. Get married. Have kids. Make more money. Become more successful.
All fine, all good, allright.
But… then what?
More success? More money? Adopt a Nigerian baby? Donate a kidney? What?
I search my mind for answers, and again I come up…
Empty.
Spoiled or not, the truth is true and I can’t avoid it any longer.
The dam bursts, my legs give out, and I’m on the floor.
Tears stream down.
This doesn’t feel like sadness, it feels like hopelessness:
I’m not wishing for something I don’t have, I’m wishing for something that doesn’t seem to exist.
Is this just childish ignorance?
Immaturity? Inexperience? Arrogance?
Maybe, but as far as I can tell, this is the final level, and I beat it too early, and there are no more games to play because the game is my life and this is the only one I have, so what am I supposed to do with it now?
Emotion pours out of me, bleeding onto the floor of the house that no longer feels like home.
But as the feeling drains out, a new feeling emerges.
A familiar feeling:
The feeling I had before I started my business, as I stood at the base of the entrepreneurial mountain and began to climb.
The feeling crystallizes in my mind, shining through the darkness to reveal a flash of insight:
Not a thought, but a direct inner knowing that says…
”What you’re looking for exists.”
Realization crashes in waves:
Money, status and success are not the end game, they are only level one.
Entrepreneurship is not about accumulation, it is about self-actualization:
Where what you create in the world is a direct reflection of who you are.
Where money is not the goal but the fuel for a deeper mission.
Where status and showmanship mean nothing and skill and mastery mean everything.
Two weeks later, I packed my bags, locked my house, kissed my girlfriend goodbye, and boarded a one-way flight with no return plan.
I spent the next five years traveling the world, seeking and ultimately finding exactly what I was looking for…
A higher vision for human potential, and:
A higher vision for entrepreneurship.
Today, I am finally in the early stages of teaching that vision.
And, before I scale it to the public, my first step will be to privately coach a select group of entrepreneurs, one on one:
Entrepreneurs who are committed to building businesses that free them from financial pressure forever so they can pursue their own higher vision.
Entrepreneurs who are as serious about self-mastery as they are about making money.
And, who will grow into a living example of what entrepreneurship can really be.
I only have one spot left, before I stop accepting applications.
So if you’re interested, reply today to let me know:
Who you are What business you run (include a link to your site) Your current monthly revenue Your primary goal for the business Why you are a good fit for coaching
As I said yesterday, no essays:
Be clear, efficient, and to the point.
But also, be complete.
I look forward to hearing from you.
- T
P.S. In case you missed it, here’s the full story on our one on one coaching program:
An invitation for entrepreneurs
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Use the anti-calendar
The Anti-Calendar isn’t a planner. It’s a brick through the window of what’s expected and if you go back to the 70s when the punk movement came about…
This is punk but for your art.
It’s a middle finger to the algorithm of what’s deemed normal in today’s society.
You know? That greasy hamster wheel of football games, trending hashtags, and microwave relationships served on social media paper plates.
Your art is a vampire. It doesn’t live in daylight. Doesn’t give a soggy fuck about brunch dates, Netflix binges, or whose corpse is currently propped up on the throne of pop culture.
Your job? Feed it your time. Your rage. Your silence. Your goddamn marrow.
Here’s an example of an Anti-Calendar…
It’s football season? Let the normies bark at screens. You? Carve paragraphs from the static.
New video game dropped? Your friends can grind XP. You’ll grind pigment into canvas until your hands look like a crime scene.
Latest TV obsession? Let them simp for plot twists. Twist your own stories.
Romance? Love is a distraction wearing a thong. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck everything that isn’t the work. (I learnt this the hard way recently…)
But… (There’s always a but, like a goat head in your boot.)
The Anti-Calendar isn’t a cult. You don’t have to live in a cave chewing on roots and your own bitterness. Burnout is a bastard with a flamethrower. So here’s the caveat… Sacrifice, don’t suffocate.
In the beginning? You amputate distractions. Carve away the fat of other people’s priorities.
But once your art has teeth. Once it can hunt for itself. You loosen the leash. Take a night off. Watch the game. Fuck the person. Taste the dopamine.
Balance isn’t a sin. It’s a tactic. You’re not a machine (though machines break too.) You’re a thief, stealing time from a world that wants you numb.
It’s about prioritising your art, cause if you the average life span is 80 years old. I don’t have many years left.
Stephen Walker
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom -
A story about Mr. Beast every entrepreneur should hear
“People say you’re crazy until you’re successful, then they call you a genius.” – Mr. Beast
I heard an amazing story about Mr. Beast (Jimmy) the other day:
A story every entrepreneur should read, print onto tear-proof paper, frame and keep on their bedside table, dream about at night, tattoo on the inside of their forearm, record and listen to via. hypnotic induction, and pass down to their firstborn child as soon as they come of age, lest they ever forget its supreme wisdom.
Here’s how it goes:
A few months ago, Jimmy is hosting a mastermind meeting for 8, 9, and 10-figure entrepreneurs when he asks the group:
”Do you guys want to go to Walmart?”
Strange question, I know, but Jimmy is a strange dude.
So fxck it, they go to Walmart.
At first, it’s a standard snack run:
Wander around, grab a few things, play bumper cars with the motorized carts, do whatever it is people do at Walmart.
Until they reach the chocolate aisle, where Jimmy’s candy line, Feastables, is on display.
That’s when Jimmy’s excitement bubbles over.
For the next ten minutes, Jimmy launches into a masterclass on the economics of the chocolate business; margins, revenues, supply chains, the whole deal.
While — get this…
Restocking the aisle himself:
Rearranging boxes that had been pushed out of place.
Straightening every crooked candy bar.
Purchasing every bar that was damaged, crinkly, or broken.
Even letting himself into the back stocking room to grab a flavor they’d run out of up front.
And apparently, this wasn’t a one-time thing:
Jimmy does this so often that Walmart gave him his own employee badge.
(once, he even skipped a domestic flight so he could drive and stop at all 14 Walmarts along the way)
Now, obviously:
That’s not a founder’s job.
That’s not even an executive’s job.
(to be clear, it’s not even Jimmy’s job; he doesn’t spend his days doing this, it’s just something he does when he gets the chance)
It’s a minimum wage job 99% of entrepreneurs would barely even be aware of.
But Jimmy has something 99% of entrepreneurs don’t:
That rare blend of…
Scrappy intensity
Hands-on resourcefulness, and
Fearless creativity
…That we don’t have a word for, but is undeniable when we see it.
One of my longest-time students, and 8-figure entrepreneur Mason Vranes simply calls it:
“Sauce.”
And yes, Jimmy got Sauce.
But — and this is the central point — so does every entrepreneur I’ve ever met who has achieved true lift-off, and scaled their business to high 6, 7, or 8 figures.
More than any other quality, “Sauce” is what I’m looking for as I select candidates for private, one on one business coaching.
(announced yesterday)
I’m looking for hungry, aggressive entrepreneurs who are willing to get their hands dirty, put their ego on the line, and take the shots others are too afraid to take.
One of the three spots is already full, and it looks like the second spot will be filled shortly.
Which means I likely only have one spot left.
If you’re interested, hit reply now to let me know:
Who you are
What business you run (include a link to your site)
Your current monthly revenue
Your primary goal for the business
Why you are a good fit for coaching
As I said yesterday, no essays:
Be clear, efficient, and to the point.
But also, be complete.
I look forward to hearing from you.
- T
P.S. If you missed it yesterday, here’s the full story on our one on one coaching program:
An invitation for entrepreneurs
And, as a bonus:
Here’s a video about Sauce
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Consistency is a cult.
Me, 16ish, dumb as a box of hair.
Armed with a pencil chewed raw by anxiety.
A library book titled Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain (Betty Edwards, bless her witchy soul.)
A crippling fear of failure.
The book’s thesis? “Learn to see.” Not with your eyes. With your guts. Shut off the left brain. The nagging, rule-obsessed nerd that screeches “HANDS DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT” and let the right brain, the feral, ink-stained beast, take over.
How?
Upside. The fuck. Down.
Take a drawing. Flip it. Copy it. Suddenly, you’re not sketching a face anymore. You’re chasing lines. Shapes. Energy. The left brain short-circuits. The right brain screeches. And what comes out isn’t a potato with eyes. It’s art.
It took 2 years of grind.
Wake up.
Flip the paper.
Draw until my hand cramped and my left brain wept in a corner.
Result? My art went from “did a 3rd grader do this?” to “holy shitballs, sell this to a museum”. I’d hacked the matrix. Found the cheat code.
Writing emails? Building a list? Same. Damn. Game.
You think you can dabble? Post when the “muse” whispers? Wrong. The internet’s a hungry beast. Skip a day, and it licks its chops. Skip a week, and your audience? Gone. Vaporised. A post-apocalyptic wasteland of unopened emails.
THE RULES:
Write. Every. Day.
Send. Every. Day.
Even when it feels like squeezing diamonds out of your urethra.
Especially then…
Doing anything consistently is key. Drawing. Painting. Writing emails and telling people to join your list. Do that shit every single day.
Stephen Walker
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom -
Start your list. Here’s why…
You’re not a “creative,” you say? Bullshit.
Everyone’s creative. Somewhere deep in that skull-cave of yours, there’s a spark. A glimmer. A half-formed thought that smells like burnt toast and desperation…
Start an email list.
Why? Because social media is a goddamn carnival of lies. It’s all filters, flexes, and false fronts. Everyone’s curating their highlight reel while their soul rots in the background.
Email? Email is intimate. Raw. Real. It’s a one-on-one conversation in a world that’s screaming at you from every direction.
Still not convinced? Let me break it down for you in a list (because lists are life)
It’s a Diary, but with Benefits.
Think of it as your personal confessional. A place to dump your thoughts, your fears, your weird little obsessions. Did you eat an entire rotisserie chicken for breakfast? Write about it. Did you cry in the shower because you saw a dog wearing a raincoat? Write about that, too. No one’s judging you here.
Intimacy is the New Currency.
Social media is like shouting into a void. Email is like whispering in someone’s ear. It’s personal. It’s direct. It’s the kind of connection that makes people feel seen. And guess what? People love feeling seen.
No Algorithms, No Bullshit.
You know what’s great about email? It doesn’t give a fuck about algorithms. Your words land in someone’s inbox, not buried under 47 ads for protein powder and toe fungus cream.
It’s Yours. All Yours.
Social media platforms can ban you, shadow-ban you, or just straight-up disappear. Your email list? That’s your kingdom. No one can take it away from you.
Build Trust, Not Followers.
Followers are fickle. Trust is forever. When you write honestly, openly, and vulnerably, you build trust. And trust? That’s the foundation of everything.
Still here? Good. Here’s a little side thought:
You don’t have to be a writer. You just have to be you. Authenticity is the secret sauce. Write like you talk. Write like you’re ranting to a friend over a bottle of cheap wine. Write like you’re leaving a note for your future self.
So, what are you waiting for?
Start that email list. Treat it like a diary, a blog, a therapy session. Build those intimate connections in a world that’s drowning in noise.
And hey, if you’re still not convinced, just remember this…
The only thing worse than starting is not starting at all.
Now go. Write. Be messy. Be honest. Be you.
(And if you need help, hit me up. I’ve got wine and a keyboard. We’ll figure this shit out together.)
Stephen Walker
P.S. The squirrels have started to get the hint that they need to build a list now too…
P.P.S. If you’re still reading this, you’re already halfway there. Don’t overthink it. Just do it.
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom -
A parasite
In 2020 Netflix released Korean black comedy called parasite.
“The struggling Kim family sees an opportunity when the son starts working for the wealthy Park family. Soon, all of them find a way to work within the same household and start living a parasitic life.”
It was a wild ride. Twists and turns you wouldn’t believe and it got me thinking.
(Especially after I’ve had a few shots of tequila)
As a writer I need to remember this:
“Your prose is a parasite. (Let it eat your enemies)
We all have stories we’re nursing like a back-alley stab wound.
The one that pulses with your DNA, your trauma, your weird obsession with sentient mold?
Someone will read it and recoil like you’ve force-fed them a McRib smoothie.
Good. Let them choke.
And so I sit here and look at what Art is and realise it’s not a consensus. Your job isn’t to be liked. Your job is to be a feral little goblin hurling your truth into the world.
There’s some dirty and accurate math in the world when it comes to being a person who pens words for a living…
For every person who calls your work “a revelation”, there’s another who’ll hiss, “This reads like a chatbot fucked a CVS receipt.”
Your dialogue? To some, it’s Sorkin-sharp. To others, a drunken Morse code.
Your metaphors? Either “Kafka in a waffle house” or “What the fuck is a ‘soul-tarantula’?”
Your climax? A fireworks show of feels or a wet fart in a library.
There is no cure for taste. Only survivors.
Whether you’re painting, writing or composing anything musical. Haters are gonna hate and you need to weaponise that hate.
Treat your work like it’s some kind of bioweapon
You’re not writing. You’re infecting…
Mutate aggressively. Let your prose ooze. Let it sprout tentacles. Let it be the literary equivalent of that one unkillable office cold.
Resist the antidote. Beta readers say “tone it down”? Ignore them. “Tone” is for church choirs and LinkedIn posts. You’re here to scream.
Outlive the host. Your story will outlast its critics. The Roman Empire fell. Fifty Shades did not.
Collect bad reviews like war trophies…
Frame them. Wear them as armour. Let them fuel your spite-engine.
“This author should be banned from vowels.” Good. You’ve weaponised the alphabet.
“I’d rather French-kiss a woodchipper.” Better. You’ve earned a sensory experience.
“Not even my therapist could unpack this.” Best. You’ve broken someone’s brain.
High fives all around…
Your voice isn’t supposed to be palatable. Palateable is for yogurt and politicians.
Write like a werewolf on espresso. Teeth out. Grammar butchered. Let the words howl.
Marinate in your niche. Love cryptid erotica? Write a love triangle between Bigfoot, a GPS, and a disgraced rodeo clown. Own it.
Fuck the “universal.”
The universal is a McDonalds cheeseburger. You’re a durian fruit. Polarising. Pungent. Perfect.
February is here and I want to inspire you to just go absolutely mental at your craft.
Go all in. Go insane. Create work that’ll make everyone look at you as if you’re losing your mind.
Control the chaos. Not the crowd.
Write like the world’s ending tomorrow and you’ve got one last middle finger to launch into universe.
And when the thinkpieces come? When the Twitter-threads bloom like mold in a frat-house shower? Laugh. Laugh until you cough up a lung.
Because you? You’re not here to be good.
You’re here to be unforgettable.
Stephen Walker
https://stphnwlkr.com/theleagueP.S. I’ve put the tequila down and I’m going for a walk out in the fresh cold. These projects aren’t going to finish themselves…
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom -
3 weekend recommendations | 31.1.25
“Our minds are hurt more often by overeating than by hunger.” – Petrarch
Happy Friday.
I’m back home in snowy Canada after a long month away, running plant medicine retreats in Costa Rica and Peru.
There is a lot to catch up on, but a lot of fresh inspiration as well…
…Including inspiration for a brand new project for entrepreneurs, that I may announce early next week.
In the meantime, a few recs for your weekend:
The State of The Tao: 2025
My first QiGong teacher, Taoist Master Bruce Frantzis, writes an annual report on the underlying energy of the year.
And so far, his readings have always proved accurate for me.
Note, this isn’t based on fu-fu astrology or picking new-age cards out of a deck.
The Taoists have spent thousands of years developing sophisticated systems for tracking currents of energy:
Internally, globally, and beyond.
Enjoy.
How To Build Your Day – Huberman & Waitzkin
Great clip from Huberman Lab on how to design personalized daily routines for maximum performance and productivity.
The MIQ principle Waitzkin talks about early in the clip is especially valuable.
The Intellectual Obesity Crisis by Gurwinder Bhogal
How and why “information addiction is rotting our brains.”
Well worth reading if you’re a human being living on planet earth in the 21st century.
(credit to this article for the quote at the top of today’s email)
BONUS: Vikings
Hot damn this show slaps.
Here’s a note about the main character I shared with our Path members, earlier this week:
“Power is only given to those who are prepared to lower themselves to pick it up.” – Ragnar Lothbrook
The beauty of the Ragnar Lothbrook character, similar to Tommy Shelby in Peaky Blinders, is that his ego does not get in the way of the mission.
He is willing to look bad in the eyes of others, to put himself beneath others, to allow others to temporarily feel like they’re above him and to give them a sense of false superiority.
When others are simply trying to win the next hand, he is willing to sacrifice it in order to win the game 5 moves later.
That’s a wrap.
Have an amazing weekend over there, and I’ll see you back here on Monday.
(and remember, if you’re an entrepreneur — keep a close eye on your inbox…)
- T
P.S. A message for surviving in the age of AI…
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Be cringe. Be kind. Be bored. Be bad at stuff.
Let’s be clear right off of the rip.
The internet used to be a playground for humans.
Now?
It’s a portfolio-packed dystopia of performative flexing.
Everyone’s a CEO, a guru, a brand. (Boring. Exhausting. Lies.)
We’ve turned social media into work media, and now the planet’s drowning in LinkedIn posts that taste like burnt toast and despair.
We need to get back to doing things badly and loving it.
Sing loud in your car. Off-key. To ABBA. Let the guy in the next lane judge you.
Bake bread that looks like a deflated football. Post the photo captioned “Feast your eyes on my cement loaf. DM for recipe.”
Dance alone in socks on a Friday afternoon. No reels. No hashtags. Just bad moves and good vibes.
Fail publicly…
Your sourdough starter died? Perfect.
Your garden’s 90% dandelions? Art.
Did your kid’s “science fair project” involve glitter explosions and a small fire? Frame that shit.
We’ve forgotten how to celebrate attempts instead of achievements.
Screw perfection. Give me stories about burned casseroles and Zoom calls where your cat barfed on the keyboard.
Reclaim the world social…
Social media isn’t your client’s billboard. It’s supposed to be… social. Swap the humblebrags for humble human
“Here’s me eating cereal for dinner because adulting is fake.”
“Folded laundry! (It’s in a heap. I’m calling it abstract art.)”
“Found this rock. It’s my friend now. #Rockstagram”
Yes, your job matters. But you aren’t your job.
You’re a chaotic spark plug of niche hobbies, 3am thoughts, and questionable life choices.
So share the mess. The weird. The nothing.
The world’s on fire. Algorithms are eating our joy.
So let’s all agree to stop commodifying our humanity and start smashing the “aesthetic” with a sledgehammer of authenticity.
Be cringe. Be kind. Be bored. Be bad at stuff.
The revolution is just an unmade bed, a half-finished crossword, and you. Flawed, glorious, alive.
Now go touch grass. Literally.
And don’t go gently into the weekend.
Stephen Walker
P.S. Gonna be doing some drawing and painting again after taking a very long break from it. So at least the squirrels will leave me alone…
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom
