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Pursuit of Joy, Fulfillment, and Purpose

Tag: vulnerability

  • “Men, Where Did You Go?” We Left. You Just Didn’t Notice.

    Why Modern Women Keep Asking Questions They Don’t Want Honest Answers To

    Rachel Drucker’s recent Modern Love piece in The New York Times, titled “Men, Where Have You Gone? Please Come Back,” is poetic, wistful, and emotionally sincere. But like so many mainstream essays written by women about the “disappearing man,” it’s riddled with blind spots. It asks a question, then subtly refuses to hear the actual answer.

    Spoiler: Men didn’t vanish. We walked away, eyes open, hearts scorched, and wallets lighter. And we had our reasons.

    The Core of the Disconnect

    Drucker observes a cultural shift: restaurants filled with women, phones filled with ghosted threads, and the emotional vacancy of men she once saw as eager participants in the dance of romance.

    Her conclusion? Men have “retreated,” not maliciously, but softly. Quietly. She sees it as a kind of sadness. A tragedy.

    But here’s the twist: it wasn’t passive disappearance. It was active self-preservation.

    When the Game Is Rigged, Players Quit

    Drucker doesn’t mention:

    • Hypergamy, the real-world, observable tendency for women to seek partners of equal or higher status, leaving average men invisible.
    • Dating app economics, where 80% of women swipe right on the top 10 to 15% of men.
    • “Situationships” she complains about, which often result from women keeping options open while seeking a “better” deal.
    • Or the reality that modern men are told to “open up,” “be vulnerable,” “do the work,” and then find themselves ghosted for a guy with better biceps or more Instagram clout.

    This isn’t bitterness. It’s data. It’s lived experience.

    Drucker Asks for Presence. But at What Cost?

    She writes, “We’re not asking for performances. We are asking for presence.”

    But for many men, presence has meant:

    • Being used for attention, meals, or validation.
    • Being punished for vulnerability.
    • Being rejected for not “sparking” that elusive chemistry after doing everything right.

    She says, “We never needed you to be perfect.”
    But the reality is, for many men, anything less than perfection equals irrelevance.

    Men Went Their Own Way. Literally.

    While Drucker sat at candlelit tables wondering where the men went, she missed the Passport Bros boarding planes. She missed men building businesses, lifting weights, escaping the algorithmic trap of Western dating, or just quietly opting out.

    These men are not “lost.”
    They’re focused.
    They’re healing.
    They’re done playing a rigged game.

    You Don’t Get to Ignore Men for a Decade, Then Mourn Their Absence

    There’s a kind of emotional entitlement in the essay, a soft demand that men reappear, re-engage, recommit.

    But Drucker, and the culture she speaks for, never reckons with how we got here. There’s no self-inquiry. No admission that maybe, just maybe, the modern dating market, the feminism of convenience, the casual cruelty of swipe culture and emotional ghosting drove men away.

    You can’t burn the bridge and ask why no one’s crossing.

    We’ll Come Back, But Not to the Same Rules

    Drucker ends with a plea for men to return. Not perfect. Just present.
    That’s fair, and human. And there are many good women who do want connection, who are sincere, who are showing up.

    But the new generation of men isn’t coming back to be emotionally milked, disposable providers, or walking therapy dolls.

    If we come back, it will be as equals.
    With boundaries.
    With standards.
    And with full awareness of the cost of connection.

    Wrap Up

    The next time someone asks, “Where have all the good men gone?”, try listening to the answers. They’re not hiding. They just stopped showing up for a story that never included them.

  • The Art of Learning and Living: Lessons from Josh Waitzkin and Andrew Huberman’s Insights on Mastery, Growth, and Resilience

    Josh Waitzkin and Andrew Huberman discuss mastering learning and performance through embracing failure, leveraging interconnected principles across disciplines, managing stress and recovery, and fostering self-awareness. Key takeaways include turning weaknesses into strengths, using deliberate practices like the MIQ process, and prioritizing intrinsic growth and joy over results.

    Josh Waitzkin, a former chess prodigy turned martial arts champion and now an elite coach, embodies the art of learning in a way few others do. In a conversation with neuroscientist Andrew Huberman, Waitzkin’s unique insights into mastery, growth, and resilience unfold into a blueprint for achieving excellence across disciplines. This synthesis of mental and physical performance provides a deep well of lessons for anyone seeking to evolve and thrive.

    Waitzkin’s story begins with his early days in Washington Square Park, New York, learning chess from street hustlers. This unconventional foundation taught him not just the technical elements of the game but also the psychological nuances of competition—how to think several moves ahead, anticipate his opponent’s intentions, and thrive in chaos. From these beginnings, he rose to become a national chess champion, achieving the title of International Master. However, this intense period of his life came with its own pressures and challenges. The release of the movie Searching for Bobby Fischer introduced a layer of public scrutiny that eventually led Waitzkin to step away from competitive chess.

    The pivot to martial arts was not merely a change of discipline but an evolution of Waitzkin’s understanding of learning itself. Through Tai Chi and later Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, he uncovered principles that transcended any single practice. Concepts like “harnessing the power of empty space”—an idea born from chess—took on new meaning in martial arts, where physical and psychological balance are equally critical. Waitzkin’s ability to transfer lessons across domains highlights one of his central philosophies: interconnectedness. He argues that the best learning occurs when we recognize and explore the thematic links between seemingly unrelated disciplines.

    Central to Waitzkin’s approach is the idea of turning weaknesses into strengths. He describes growing up in a “pressure cooker of competition,” where any unaddressed flaw would be exploited by opponents. This relentless exposure to his vulnerabilities instilled a mindset where avoiding weaknesses was not an option. Instead, he learned to embrace them, dissect them, and ultimately transform them into areas of strength. This philosophy extends to his coaching today, where he emphasizes that true growth comes from engaging with discomfort and adversity.

    Huberman, a neuroscientist renowned for his work on optimizing human performance, complements Waitzkin’s insights with scientific underpinnings. He explains how the brain’s capacity for plasticity is heightened during moments of failure or frustration. These are the moments when the brain releases neurochemicals like adrenaline and dopamine, signaling that something needs to change. Far from avoiding failure, Huberman and Waitzkin advocate for seeking it out as a necessary component of growth.

    One of Waitzkin’s most profound tools is what he calls the “Most Important Question” (MIQ) process. At the end of each workday, he poses a critical question to his subconscious mind and lets it percolate overnight. Upon waking, before any external input disrupts his thought process, he revisits the question and often finds clarity. This deliberate practice of engaging both the conscious and unconscious mind allows for deeper insights and sharper decision-making. It’s a method that bridges science and intuition, enabling high-level performers to unlock new levels of creativity and focus.

    Another hallmark of Waitzkin’s methodology is his emphasis on stress and recovery cycles. Whether it’s through cold plunges, intense visualization practices, or structured periods of reflection, he teaches the importance of oscillating between effort and recovery. Huberman supports this with evidence from neuroscience, noting how practices like deliberate cold exposure not only build resilience but also recalibrate the nervous system, enhancing focus and emotional regulation. This interplay between pushing limits and mindful recovery is crucial for sustained performance.

    Leadership, as discussed by Waitzkin, is rooted in authenticity and vulnerability. Drawing on his experiences with top-tier athletes and teams, including his collaboration with Boston Celtics coach Joe Mazzulla, he highlights the power of leading by example. True leaders, he argues, are those who confront their own weaknesses openly and work to transform them. This creates a culture of trust and continuous improvement, whether on the court, in the office, or within a family.

    One of the recurring themes in Waitzkin’s journey is the transition from a “preconscious” to a “postconscious” performer. In the early stages of mastery, there is often a sense of flow and intuitive engagement. Over time, as self-awareness grows and external pressures mount, performers can become trapped in overthinking or self-consciousness. The challenge, as Waitzkin describes, is to integrate this new awareness without losing the spontaneity and joy of the early stages. It’s about rediscovering freedom through a more nuanced understanding of oneself and one’s craft.

    Perhaps the most universal lesson from Waitzkin’s philosophy is the importance of loving the process. Whether it’s learning a new skill, recovering from a setback, or striving for excellence in any domain, the journey itself must be intrinsically rewarding. This mindset not only sustains motivation but also fosters a deeper connection to the work. It’s a perspective that encourages lifelong learning and growth, regardless of the field.

    Waitzkin and Huberman’s conversation offers a roadmap for anyone seeking to elevate their performance, embrace challenges, and live with greater intentionality. The lessons they share—from leveraging failure as a catalyst for growth to cultivating balance through stress and recovery—are both practical and profound. In a world that often prioritizes results over process, their insights serve as a powerful reminder that true mastery is about much more than winning. It’s about evolving as a learner, a leader, and a human being.