Ascetic ideals reveal so many bridges to independence that a philosopher is bound to rejoice and clap his hands when he hears the story of all those resolute men who one day said No to all servitude and went into some desert.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Life is full of mirages.
Sometimes the “safe” and “easy” routes end up being the most detrimental in the long run.
Sometimes the most “successful” people are the most broken on the inside.
And sometimes, a “healthy” lifestyle isn’t really all that healthy.
Allow me to explain.
In May of 2021, after 12 years working as a personal trainer for an amenity management company, and along with just having received a “promotion” to manage a gym and spa at a multi-million-dollar condominium in Coconut Grove (all on top of just getting married to my beautiful wife), I decided to part ways with the company—and my salary increase—in order to… buss tables.
Yes, you read that correctly, but hear me out.
When I first became a personal trainer in 2009, I have to admit I did so out of desperation: my parents had just divorced, and I, along with my sister and mother, moved down to Homestead, Florida.
Shortly thereafter, I picked up a job waiting tables at the local Chili’s.
At the time, my sister was dating someone who worked as an area director for the aforementioned amenity management company; he was always around our home and, noticing the kind of lifestyle I led in regard to my eating habits and exercise regimen, asked if I had ever thought about personal training.
I hadn’t.
I knew how hard it was just to master my own mind and training technique, and, because of that, the thought of working with the average middle-aged 9-to-5 desk jockey sounded like pulling teeth.
But that was before working at a Chili’s in Homestead, Florida, for six months.
So I asked Dan (that was his name) what it would take to hit the ground running, and he explained to me that, first, I would need to get certified, but that his company would pay for it; and then, while he couldn’t guarantee me a job, he could, and would, get me set up with a few interviews at some of the various locations his company was contracted to manage across South Florida.
The rest would be up to me.
About a month later, having passed the certification exam, I sat at my very first interview, in the lobby of the corporate wellness facility of Royal Caribbean Cruises. After a brief conversation with the gym manager at the time, I was hired and agreed to start the very next week.
The shift I was offered began at 6 a.m. and ended at 3 p.m., Monday through Friday.
Even though I usually rise naturally between 7 a.m. and 8 a.m. most mornings, I’ve never really considered myself a morning person, as I usually need 1 large cup of coffee and at least 90 minutes of “quiet time” before feeling like my mind is sufficiently cognizant, and my temperament properly regulated, to interact with other humans.
That said, because I was living about 30 miles from the Port of Miami where Royal Caribbean’s HQ was located, I needed to get up at 4:30 a.m. and leave my house by 5 a.m. in order to open up the gym on time, at least 5 minutes to 6 a.m.
In order to maintain this routine, I would need to be in bed each night by 9 p.m., the latest. This meant that, after getting home every day around 5:30 p.m. (the commute was a little over 2 hours in the afternoons, with traffic), I would have approximately three and a half hours to shower, eat, and wind down from the day, before hitting the sac and doing it all over again.
I did this for the next two years, until I moved closer to work.
Then, for the next 10 years, I kept the same schedule, though I was able to rise a half hour later, at 5 a.m., and still make it in on time; and most afternoons I was back home by 4 p.m. instead of 5:30 p.m.
This made life easier, but the routine, no matter what I did to try to acclimate, was still out of sync with my internal clock.
Not just that, but the gym I worked in had no windows, so most mornings I wouldn’t see the sun until hours after waking; this on top of the fact that, especially in the spring and summer months, I’d get ready for bed most evenings before the sun had set, which also deregulated my circadian rhythm and made it hard to get the restful sleep I needed for the following day.
This schedule affected my energy levels and immune system negatively: most days, I was lethargic in the mornings, when I should’ve been my most energetic; and at least every few months I’d have to take a week off from my own training because I could feel a cold coming on, probably due to my disrupted sleep schedule and inadequate sun exposure.
To make matters worse, if I wasn’t training clients, I was expected to sit at a desk in order to assist gym members with any of their needs, as well as answer phone calls and schedule spa appointments.
Because of this, by the time I left work most days, Mr. “Personal Trainer” had barely cracked 5,000 steps for the day and spent an average of 3 to 4 hours sitting down (about double my current daily sit-time).
And sure, most of the time I would get the rest of my steps in after work, along with my own strength training, but this only jacked up by cortisol levels and amped up my Central Nervous System at the precise time of day when, because of my work hours, I needed to do the opposite, so I could get to bed on time and sleep deeply through the night.
The reason I’m telling you all of this is not to complain—not by any stretch of the imagination—I was, and still am, extremely grateful for the opportunity I was given. The reason is just so that you understand that sometimes the image doesn’t fully line up with the reality of the situation.
Of course, I did the best I could with the hand I was dealt, but even still, I always felt a bit hypocritical deep down because I knew that one day, if I truly wanted to live up to my own high standards, I would need to adjust my lifestyle to my own natural rhythm, and not the other way around.
Now, let’s fast forward to March of 2020, just prior to the mandated lockdowns.
The wellness center at the Port of Miami had been demolished just a few months earlier, as Royal Caribbean was in the process of revamping their campus, which would feature a brand-new state-of-the-art training facility.
In the meantime, I was relocated to the J.W. Marriot spa and gym in downtown Miami, where my clients were given a discounted membership as employees of Royal Caribbean.
I worked there for approximately six months—and I was miserable.
As a matter of fact, if I’m honest, I was bordering on severe depression (just ask my wife).
Let me explain why.
Over the previous years of working in corporate wellness, I’d come to the realization that most gyms—and especially those that included spas—were not set up with individual health as the top priority.
Because these facilities are for-profit enterprises, and because those found on corporate campuses and inside of hotels and luxury condominiums tend to cater to a certain type of person, the focus shifted overwhelmingly to the “amenity” side of things.
The reason this aggravated me to the extent that it did was because I’ve always cared, first and foremost, about health, in all aspects of that word, physically and mentally.
And the sad truth is that the vast majority of the people in Corporate America, or who stay in five-star hotels or live in million-dollar condominiums, do not need any more pampering.
In fact, the pampering is exactly what’s killing them—physically and spiritually—and I no longer wanted to participate in that kind of system or culture any longer.
Not only did I hate my schedule, which was interfering with my own personal health, but I now felt like this sacrifice wasn’t even contributing to noble ends.
To add fuel to the fire burning deep within my belly, my client base had fallen substantially, as it was inconvenient for many of them to make it to the hotel for a training session. Because of this, I was spending even more time sitting at a desk, in a dark room, scheduling appointments for manicures, pedicures, and massages.
I had had enough: after almost 13 years as a personal trainer, I made up my mind to leave the health and fitness field for good.
Then Covid-19 happened.
I was not only given the much-needed respite from my job that I had longed for, but throughout the next year, I got to witness firsthand the severe ramifications of an unprepared, self-indulgent society meeting a true crisis.
In just a few short months, my love and passion for health and fitness returned.
I realized that the problem wasn’t my line of work per se, but the perversion of my line of work in order to maximize profit by giving people what they wanted instead of what they actually needed: hard truths and physical challenges.
I spent the summer, fall, and winter of 2020 reading and writing, laying the foundation for this site.
I decided that if I was going to do health and fitness at all, it would be on my own terms, even if this met reaching less people and making less money.
Then, in March of 2021, I received a call from my old boss.
For the last year, the company I had worked for had still been paying me an hourly rate.
Even though the bulk of my income prior to the lockdowns had come from training commissions, the fact that I still had something coming in helped me avoid seeking unemployment and allowed me to work on this endeavor from the comfort of my own home.
With that said, my boss called in March to let me know that the time had come for this benefit to end—but, that there was a job opening close to my apartment, managing a gym and spa in a luxury high-rise apartment complex in Coconut Grove, Fl., and that they would like to offer me the position, which came with a substantial pay increase.
In my mind, I already knew that I was over with this type of work.
However, feeling like I needed to at least give it a try, mostly out of gratitude for them having kept me afloat the last year, I reluctantly said yes and took the position against my better judgment.
I started the very next week, dark and early, at 6 a.m. (the very same schedule I had previously worked and loathed).
It turns out the place was everything I had expected it to be, except that now I not only had to put up with pampered and entitled residents—literally serving them coffee and tea and picking up after them, like children—but I had to do so wearing a mask over my face, inside of an artificially-lit spa with very few windows for 40-plus hours each week.
I lasted two months.
I was beginning to sink into a depression again, and the fact that my father was going through his own health challenges at the time did not help the situation (a topic for another essay, perhaps).
After several lengthy conversations with my wife, I decided that I would leave this world for good.
Unfortunately, however, this wouldn’t be so simple, as I didn’t have very many private clients.
This was partly due to the fact that, many of them—despite having trained for years and achieving tremendous results—only stuck with it for so long because it was convenient: just a 5-minute walk away from their desk.
The other factor was that many of them had been made afraid to do so.
And who could blame them?
Just like the majority of our society, the 24-7 fear-campaign waged by the corporate media and leftist politicians convinced them that, simply by doing regular things, like prioritizing their health and fortifying their minds and bodies, they were being irresponsible and morally degenerate.
For these reasons, and despite my 13 years of experience, I was starting from scratch all over again.
Because I couldn’t make enough to support myself through training alone, I would need to look for another line of work to supplement my income.
I refused to sit behind a desk or the wheel of my car for multiple hours each day, so I decided that I’d look for a job that 1) was walking distance from my apartment, and 2) would keep my on my feet and mobile for the majority of my shift.
I decided that my best bet was to look for one in the service industry.
Luckily, I found a position bussing tables at a local restaurant one mile from my apartment within a week of parting ways with my previous line of employment.
As of this moment, I’ve been there for a year and a half, working four nights per week; and along with the income derived from my steadily growing training business, I’m now earning just as much as I would’ve been as a sedentary, miserable “Spa Director” in that Coconut Grove condominium.
Not just that, but my switch to working for a small business, as opposed to a large company, saved me from the Biden Administration’s unconstitutional vaccine mandate.
Now, you may be asking yourself why I’m telling you all of this.
Well, if you remember, I titled this piece Modern Mirages.
And the point was basically that sometimes—and especially in our society—all that glitters isn’t gold.
Today, I’m healthy and physically active, walking an average of 15,000 steps every single day of my life (on top of my three to four weekly training sessions), which has resulted in me being the leanest I’ve ever been in my entire adult life.
Furthermore, I now wake up each morning peacefully, with a hot cup of coffee and a good book, as the sun’s golden rays shine beautifully through my apartment windows.
The only time I sit down for more than an hour is when I’m doing something meaningful, like writing this essay; or reading a great book; or enjoying a meal with loved ones; or watching a film, series, or podcast interview.
And most importantly, I have kept my bodily autonomy, allowing no man or entity—corporate or governmental—tell me what to put into my body.
The fact is that I am happier and healthier today—bussing tables and training people at a public park—than I ever was as a personal trainer for a large company.
Furthermore, and perhaps most importantly in terms of my spiritual health, I no longer have to be politically correct: saying things that compromise my integrity in order to not offend others or “bite the hand that feeds me,” as it were.
Why is that important, you may ask?
Because, to paraphrase Dr. Jordan Peterson, sometimes, in order to get to the truth of the matter, one has to risk being offensive.
When I started this site, I decided that I would do my best to tell the truth as I see it, no matter the costs, in order to help those around me.
Today, our culture is but a mirage, one where people strive more for appearance than substance; where plastic surgery, thousand-dollar-wardrobes, million-dollar homes, and first-class fights obstruct dormant souls and debilitated characters; where energy drinks and pharmaceuticals wire us up to do the things we hate; and drugs, alcohol, and processed foods numb our minds once we’ve punched the clock, helping us forget it all in order to successfully repeat the routine the following day.
Before March of 2020, I cared an awful lot of what people thought of me.
But after intensely scrutinizing the society around me for the last three years, I realized that this was a pointless endeavor—because, to quote George R.R. Martin, ‘A lion shouldn’t concern itself with the opinions of sheep.’
While you won’t ever hear this from the media, the biggest problem facing our society today is not systemic racism, but the subversion of individual autonomy by governmental and corporate overreach.
This is being facilitated by a false promise of extreme safety and convenience, as well as the placation of our most narcissistic tendencies.
I refuse to participate in this culture.
And I no longer care about the opinions of those who don’t share my values.
So yes, I currently buss tables at a local restaurant four times per week.
And if that is all some people see of me, so be it.
But the other side of that coin is that I also live my life on my own terms: I get to express myself freely, without fear, in this newsletter; and I am slowly building an independent training business geared toward helping others break free of the programming that is making so many in our society sick, dependent, and absolutely miserable.
We live in a world of modern mirages.
While it may be extremely lonely to be one of the few who see the desert for what it actually is, it is, in fact, the first step away from dependency and pleasure-seeking toward self-autonomy and true happiness.
Be a Tall Poppy.
Do hard things, especially because they’re usually the right things.
Throw out the junk food: the fake meat, processed sugars, and industrial seed oils.
Walk more often.
Put down the phone.
Think deep thoughts.
Stop worrying about what those who don’t share your values think of you; and don’t base your sense of self-worth on job titles or material possessions.
Always tell the truth; for, indeed, it shall set you free.