Morning Resistance

This morning wasn’t one of change.

My routine felt dreadful and the bed was warmer than usual.

3 more mins became 5, then 15... then 20.

My phone brightens up with a priority notification reminding me I’m training a client in 45 min.

Some mornings test your strength but I have to remember that purpose is a calling but action is a choice.

The Cost of Freedom

When you get older, you realize your choices come with a cost.

No one is there to hold you accountable.

But no one is also there to bail you out.

A fake illness that used to mean a day home from school now means a lighter paycheck.

But short term the cost isn’t apparent.

Here’s what I’ve noticed: For my generation (Gen Z) it is easier than ever to take shortcuts, cut corners, and barely show up.

Jobs are unionized.

Mental health is prioritized.

And if we struggle financially, debt is abundant.

But purpose remains untapped.

The Silver Twine

As I look throughout my life I’ve felt the silver twine of calling.

The twine guided my intuition and directed me through my life.

It directed the jobs that I took.

It strengthened the relationships I initiated.

It ate at my soul when I tugged against it.

However, every day that passes reminds me that I can pull against it.

I could sleep in when I needed to get up.

I could consume when I needed to create.

I could rest when I needed to train.

This is the tension we all live in: Purpose is our calling. But action is our choice.

The Paradox of Choice

God gives us an abundance of paths that we can take in our life.

We are given the gift to be the captains of our fates and the masters of our souls.

We can indulge in the pleasures of the world. Or we can abstain and indulge in the pleasure of abstinence.

Yet all things under the sun are vanity.

Joy is found through the enjoyment of our toil—not in the toil itself, but in choosing it when we could choose otherwise.

Food that can be enjoyed in one moment can make us sick in the next.

Pleasure that focuses the mind can empty our bank account.

Where Meaning Lives

It’s hard to live a life with meaning.

Because meaning isn’t injected by us.

Inherently meaning is engraved through our actions.

The actions that we have to choose daily.

The actions that move us towards our purpose.

All else is vanity.

We don’t feel joy in skipping what must be done.

But we feel joy in doing what we don’t want to do.

This is the dichotomy of discipline.

What To Do Tomorrow Morning

As you go through the next few days remember that the stars aren’t made to align.

You choose the actions that make you better.

You choose to train when you’re tired.

You choose to fast when the mind wants to binge.

You choose to love when the brain wants to run.

It’s through this cycle that you realize that the stars were already aligned.

You were simply looking at too few of them at a time.

So tomorrow morning when that alarm goes off and the bed feels warmer than usual, I want you to do this: Count backwards from 5 and stand up before you reach 1. Don’t negotiate. Don’t calculate. Just move. That single action—that one choice against comfort—will remind you that you’re not a passive observer of your purpose. You’re building it, one unglamorous morning at a time.

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My eyelids are heavy. Heavy house music blasts through my headphones. Blue light shines through my retinas—helping me forget that it’s already 9pm and this assignment is due tomorrow. I had weeks to do it. However today was the only day I had the motivation. One night before it was due.

It didn’t matter. I was caffeinated, nicotined, and sympathetically stressed to the max. The combination for productivity. Tomorrow I’ll pay the consequences, but I won’t have to think about it until then.

I’ve lived the last ten years of my life in a constant loop: Boredom → stimulation → procrastination → focus → burnout → repeat.

I’ve also been diagnosed with ADHD and have struggled with acne to this day. It is only after dropping out of school, limiting processed foods, and training consistently that I noticed something: these aren’t disorders—they’re symptoms of an artificial lifestyle.

The Matrix Has Us Trapped

The matrix is a funny term. Used by the enlightened elite (TikTok scrollers, dropouts, wantrepreneurs, and teens) to classify daily living in our modern world. Like most ideas, they’re only funny because they resemble some truth.

We wake up exhausted. Caffeinate. Commute angry. Stare at rectangles. Fast food. More rectangles. Sleep. Repeat.

You don’t have to be a naturopath to understand that this isn’t what we are made for. As we move towards more digital innovation we are also watching birth rates decline, mental health illness increase, obesity rates increase, cardiovascular disease increase. There are trend lines we can no longer ignore.

When Convenience Becomes a Trap

As a human I’m a fairly lazy person. I want things to be as easy as possible. As quick as possible. As simple as possible. I’ll always look for the quickest way out.

As I’m writing this today—it’s pretty easy. Life is full of convenience. Food, entertainment, sex. These which used to bring us the ultimate joy are now available via our pocket rectangle.

But somewhere in all that convenience, it’s easy to stop searching for meaning and start searching for comfort. To not just lose ambition—but to lose the reason to have ambition.

This is where stories get dark.

The Six Months I Don’t Talk About

I want to tell you about a friend I know. Today let’s call him Josh.

Josh was a very ambitious kid. When we met he had all these dreams to build businesses, travel the world, and provide for his family. He wanted a 1% lifestyle and it was all he could ever think of. One day he decided to leave everything behind and pursue it fully. He quit his job, left school, and told me that he was going to make it work.

I didn’t see Josh for six months.

The next time I saw him he looked softer. His eyes didn’t shine as bright as they once did and his body lost the sharpness that it once had.

Here’s what he told me those six months looked like:

He’d wake up around 1pm. The room smelled like stale air and unwashed laundry. His phone was already in his hand before his eyes fully opened—12 notifications he didn’t care about. The blinds stayed closed because opening them meant acknowledging it was another day he’d wasted.

Breakfast was whatever required the least effort. Usually nothing. Sometimes a protein bar from the gas station run he’d made three days ago. His trash can overflowed with instant ramen cups, empty Bubly cans, chip bags. He told himself he’d take it out later. He never did.

The job he got to “make ends meet” was just enough to keep the lights on. He’d show up, do the bare minimum, come home. When he wasn’t working he was in that dark room staring at a screen. YouTube autoplay. Reddit rabbit holes. Twitter arguments with strangers. Anything to avoid the silence where he’d have to face what he’d become.

He told me about one specific night—maybe month four—when he looked down at his hands. He was holding his mouse, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually enjoyed consuming. He was just… existing. Going through motions. Filling time until he was tired enough to sleep.

The dreams he had of building businesses? Fantasies he’d scroll past on Instagram. Other people living the life he said he wanted.

Every day he’d tell himself: “Tomorrow I’ll start. Tomorrow I’ll go to the gym. Tomorrow I’ll work on the business. Tomorrow I’ll reach out to that friend.” Every day he fell into the same pattern. Wake up late. Consume. Numb. Sleep. The gap between who he thought he’d become and who he was sitting in that room grew wider every single day.

He cut contact with friends because he was ashamed. Lost faith in himself because he couldn’t keep a single promise he made. Hid from the world because facing it meant admitting he’d failed.

Six months of his life evaporated into a digital haze. And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell me what he did during most of it. It all blurred together into one long, forgettable nothing.

You see, Josh was me.

I had no plan, no work ethic, and my life fell victim to entropy. I thought convenience would give me freedom to chase my dreams. Instead, it gave me nothing to chase but the next hit of dopamine.

The moment I realized I’d become Josh hit me like a freight train. I was lying in that same dark room, staring at the ceiling at 3am, and the thought crashed in: I’ve become exactly what I was running from. Not just a failure—but someone who’d given up on even trying

.

The Turning Point

It’s dark but since then something clicked.

I got baptized and gave myself to something bigger than myself. Ever since then I have seen God work in ways that supersede chance.

I met my fiancée. Fell in love with training and discipline. Ate real whole food. Met guys who were even more ambitious than I was. One of which turned into my business partner for our dream business.

My days are now spent getting to know God, training clients, sharing meals with friends, spending time with my fiancée, reading new books, writing about life, training consistently, and building the vehicle I want to drive the rest of my life.

To be honest I still spend a lot of my days behind a screen writing and building. I love coffee and a freshly baked pastry. But every day I have to make a conscious choice to choose a natural lifestyle.

A life full of real people, real food, and real experiences.

Every day the anxious, ADHD, and stimulant-addicted Jordan wants to escape, binge, and fall into the artificial world. But I know that there is a bigger purpose for me than that.

Here’s what actually changed: I went from checking my phone 200+ times a day to maybe 30. From zero hours of deep work per week to 25-30. From consuming 300mg of caffeine daily just to function to one cup of coffee I actually enjoy. My acne—which I’d blamed on genetics for years—cleared up within three months of cutting processed foods.

These aren’t just nice changes. They’re proof that what I thought were permanent conditions were actually just symptoms of how I was living.

How to Break the Cycle

Part of maturing was realizing that life moves in seasons—each with its own purpose and rhythm: A time to build and a time to let go. A time to struggle and a time to reap. A time to mourn and a time to dance.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The period of struggle exists to teach us there is a version of life we don’t want.

After that it’s about taking a few steps a day.

Cut your nails. Do your hair. Dress nicely without plans. Clean your room. Smile at work. Compliment the grocery clerk. Invite a friend for a meal. Go for a walk. Pray.

Then go further.

Walk further. Smile more. Compliment genuinely.

The beauty of life is that we can constantly improve. Not because we have to but because we choose to. Life wants to pull us down but that voice in the back of our head is screaming to climb back up.

What You Should Do Next

I’m writing this because I know there are 10,000 guys in dark rooms right now who think they’re uniquely broken. You’re not broken. You’re just living artificially.

Here’s what I want you to do this week:

Pick one artificial habit. The one you know is quietly destroying you. Late-night scrolling. Daily fast food. Skipping real conversations for digital ones.

Replace it with one natural action. Cook one real meal. Call one friend. Walk one mile without your phone.

Don’t try to overhaul your entire life. That’s the trap that keeps you stuck. Just choose one thing. Do it for seven days.

The version of you that wants to climb back up is waiting. But he needs you to take the first step.

Good luck from the other side.

Welcome to Pursuit of Purpose. Insights on holistic training, ancestral nutrition, discipline, and living with purpose. Subscribe to join the journey

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The rumble of my motorbike was masked by the slow music in my headphones. Something melancholic by Bon Iver that made the grey suburban streets feel like a movie scene.

I was riding home from the same gym I visit every Tuesday and Thursday.

Recently every day has felt the same.

I see the same clients in the morning.

I eat the same food for lunch.

I train the same machines at the gym.

Through the daily routine I dream of a life full of novelty.

A life where I can leave on a whim.

Explore the globe, learn languages, experience new cultures.

It’s a vivid dream compared to my black and white day to day.

It, however, remains just a dream.

Every day is the same - until it isn’t.

Here’s the paradox that took me years to understand: A life of spontaneity requires a routine full of structure. The freedom you’re chasing is built inside the boring repetition you’re trying to escape.

This isn’t some motivational poster wisdom. It’s the gap between who we think we are and who we actually are.

We Aren’t Who We Say We Are

We think we reflect our mental realities. Our desires, thoughts, and dreams.

I’ve lived years of my life in a state of cognitive dissonance where my thoughts never matched up with my reality.

It is one thing to say you want to train and perform like an athlete. It is another to run when the rain is pouring and the heater is maxed out inside.

You can’t believe you are healthy when every time you are stressed you turn to fast food.

We are what we do. Not what we think about doing.

This is why our routines require structure.

We are naturally wired for preservation.

We avoid the difficult tasks because they take us out of a state of comfort.

Despite knowing that they are needed to grow.

The mind will invent elaborate reasons why today isn’t the right day to start, why this particular task is uniquely impossible, why we should wait until conditions are perfect.

The Thing About Hard Things

The funny thing about hard things is that they get easier.

Not the content itself. The act of showing up.

As students the first time we have to study is incredibly difficult.

We experience feelings of resistance, a desire to quit, and an urge to return to previous activities that are familiar and rewarding.

The second time isn’t easier. We’re reminded of how much more we need to study, what is left to do, and how hard it was to get here.

The third, fourth, fifth... more of the same.

However it is only from looking back that you realize each time you pulled up the bootstraps and chose to focus became easier and easier.

The material remained brutal. The calculus didn’t simplify itself. But the ability to sit down and do the work required less mental willpower each time.

This is the secret hiding in plain sight: Discipline isn’t a personality trait. It’s a muscle you build by using it.

We Are The Sum Of Our Habits

When I am with my clients as a PT it is practically in the job description to talk about discipline.

Because, of course, as trainers we are oh so disciplined.

This has always misaligned with me because a large majority of my health hasn’t required any discipline whatsoever.

Yes at the start it was difficult. However, now it is simply a part of my life.

I don’t need discipline to go to the gym the same way I don’t need discipline to brush my teeth.

Let me tell you about a client - let’s call her Sue.

Sue came to me six months ago wanting to lose 15 kilos. She had the same dream everyone has - the beach body, the confidence, the life where she doesn’t think about her weight every morning.

Week one she showed up on time. Week two she was ten minutes late with a coffee in hand. By week three she was texting me excuses about work stress and family commitments.

“I know I need to cut the carbs,” she told me during our fourth session, slightly out of breath from a warm-up she used to breeze through. “But when I’m stressed, I just... I need the comfort food, you know?”

I did know. I knew because I’d heard the same story from dozens of clients. I knew because I’d lived it myself with different vices.

Here’s what I told her: “Sue, forget the carbs for now. Just show up. Even if you show up and do half the workout. Even if you show up and we just stretch. Just show up.”

She looked at me like I was crazy.

But she did it. She showed up the next week. And the week after that. Some days she crushed it. Most days she didn’t. But somewhere around week eight, something shifted.

She stopped texting excuses. She started arriving early. The workout that left her breathless in week four became her warm-up by week twelve.

And the carbs? She cut them naturally. Not through discipline. Through habit.

By month six Sue had lost the weight. But more importantly, she’d built a version of herself that didn’t need me anymore. The woman who couldn’t get through a warm-up without excuses had become the woman who showed up even when everything in her life was on fire.

That’s the transformation no one talks about. The weight loss was just proof that a deeper change had occurred.

Now ask your trainer to run a marathon when they have been bodybuilding for the last 5 years and you’ll hear the same excuses Sue gave me in week three.

We all have our blindspots. The tasks we’ve built walls around. The things we’ve labeled as “impossible for people like me.”

Your Resistance Is The Roadmap

The task you’re avoiding right now - the one that makes your stomach turn when you think about it - that’s not a sign you’re not ready.

It’s a sign you’ve found the exact thing you need to do.

Let’s throw away the to do list that hasn’t been completed.

Wipe off the whiteboard that hasn’t been checked in weeks.

Pick the one task that you have the most mental resistance towards.

There is always one. It is usually surrounded by so many excuses that it has already been deemed impossible.

Then do it.

Not tomorrow.

Not next week.

Don’t put it in your calendar.

Complete it. Now preferably.

Here’s your protocol:

Do it today. Then do it again tomorrow.

Keep doing it until you realize that it takes zero effort to complete.

Then complete it again - this time with more effort, difficulty, or thought.

Add weight to the bar once the movement becomes automatic.

If you can consistently break down the limiting walls that the mind puts up to protect yourself you will realize that your purpose is far greater than you imagined.

The life you’re waiting for doesn’t exist somewhere else. The novelty, the freedom, the version of you that travels the globe - that person is built here, today, in the repetition you’re currently avoiding.

Sue didn’t transform because she finally “got disciplined.” She transformed because she showed up enough times that showing up stopped requiring discipline.

That’s what I understood on that cold ride home, Bon Iver in my ears, the same suburban street I’ve ridden down a hundred times before.

The routine doesn’t trap you. It sets you free.

In the same breath you will realize that the life of novelty, the one that’s waiting for you across the globe, can exist here and today.

That is something truly beautiful.

The air was sharper this morning.

Weaving my bike through traffic, the air pressed against my gloves and my fingers went numb.

The city was half asleep but the morning commute filled the highway.

My hand slipped through the clutch and the bike laced between gears.

With a slight crack in the visor to stop the fog, I took a deep clean breath.

An honest breath.

I’d been sitting on a decision all week—overthinking it, weighing outcomes, waiting for certainty. But something about the cold air and the hum of the engine cut through the noise.

During the moment a thought came to my mind:

God tells us to move before He tells us why.

The Disconnect We’re All Taught

There is a disconnect between action and reason.

As a kid, I was taught to reason first, take action second.

There’s a part of me that wants to spend my whole life in contemplation—a cigar, a lawn chair, and endless questions about the meaning of life, mentally dissecting every possible outcome that could arise from each decision I have to make.

Which career path maximizes both meaning and income? Should I have that hard conversation now or wait until I have the perfect words?

But here’s what I’ve learned: That approach keeps you paralyzed.

I’ve reasoned myself out of more opportunities than I’ve failed at. The projects I never started. The conversations I rehearsed but never had. Contemplation feels safe, but it’s just fear dressed in wisdom’s clothing.

What Freedom Actually Feels Like

The light turned green and my engine hummed as I switched from first to second gear.

I flipped my visor down and increased the volume of my music.

In these moments I feel free.

Free to accelerate as I please.

Free to drive anywhere I’d like.

Free to worry about the consequences later.

In these moments I take action first and reason it later.

God calls us the same way.

Moses: The Blueprint for Moving Without Knowing

When He called Moses to lead his people out of Egypt—Moses denied the call.

Who was he to lead God’s people?

“I’m not eloquent,” Moses said. “I stutter. Send someone else.”

Yet God called him regardless: “I will be with your mouth. Now go.”

Here’s what strikes me: God didn’t give Moses a strategic plan. No timeline. No guarantee of success. Just a command to move and a promise of presence.

Moses raised his staff over the Red Sea before he knew it would part. He struck the rock before water gushed out. He climbed the mountain before receiving the commandments.

Every revelation came mid-step, not before it.

It’s a theme through time:

David picked up stones and walked toward Goliath without a battle plan.

Disciples stepped out of the boat onto water without certainty it would hold.

They all moved first. The understanding came during the journey.

Your Assignment This Week

This week when you want to hesitate:

Pause.

Take a deep breath—and hold.

Say a small prayer: “Lead me and I will follow.”

Then take the next step, even if you’re scared and even if you’re uncertain.

Pick ONE thing you’ve been overthinking—that business idea, that difficult conversation, that creative project gathering dust—and take the smallest physical action on it today. Not tomorrow. Today.

Send the email. Make the call. Write the first paragraph. Buy the domain.

Trust isn’t about knowing where you’re going. It’s about knowing who walks with you.

And He’s already moving. The question is: will you?

“I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul” - Conclusion of Invictus by William Ernest Henley in 1875

I love this quote because it’s an easy thing to say when you’re young. In your twenties, ambition is endless and energy is abundant, but your results are non-existent.

When you haven’t done anything, you’re judged on what you want to do.

Until you’re judged on what you’ve done.

A 20-year-old with a big dream is ambitious.

A 30-year-old with a big dream is an escapist.

The difference between them isn’t talent or luck—it’s whether they took daily action before the window closed.

The Breaking Point

A mentor once told me that twenty-seven is described as a man’s breaking point—the point where ambition is tested and dreams are brought to reality. I consider this the modern man’s rite of passage.

Here’s what happens: taxes begin to funnel in, wives and kids sneak into the picture, and friends that “would always be there” begin to dissipate—all at once, all demanding your attention.

A man realizes he’s no longer judged on who he “could be” but “who he is”.

The game hasn’t changed but the objectives did. You no longer have more time. The time is now.

No more “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

A lot more “I’ll do it today.”

When the World Gets Stripped Away

Our early twenties are a wishful period. We have the world under our feet and possibilities in our hands. We have dreams to travel the world, build the business, find the relationship. The world is your oyster and we can do it all.

In our late twenties, the world is stripped away.

Travelling now means using up vacation days. Building a business means risking your rent, food budget, and time. What you once saw as the city of dreams is now the city of debt.

The oyster that was yours to conquer has begun to slowly close and conquer you.

I learned this lesson at twenty-three when I dropped out of school.

The day I left, I lost something I didn’t know I was carrying—the magical “I’m studying _____ to be _____” clause. It’s a social safety net. A promissory note for future value. When someone asks what you do, you get to point to tomorrow instead of explaining today.

Without it, conversations changed.

A twenty-year-old studying to be a mechanical engineer has status. People see potential. They see investment. They see someone on a path.

The thirty-year-old mechanical engineer questions whether he has a purpose. People see what is. They see the ceiling. They see someone who arrived.

But the dropout? The dropout at twenty-three has nothing to point to but what he’s doing right now.

No credentials. No trajectory. No “I’m working toward.”

Just: What did you do today?

That question haunted me for months. I’d wake up and have to justify my existence by 9 AM. There was no syllabus to follow. No degree to pursue. No built-in purpose.

I had to choose one.

And that’s when I understood what my mentor meant about twenty-seven. It’s not about the age—it’s about the moment you realize nobody’s coming to give you permission. Nobody’s going to hand you a path. If you don’t choose who you become, life will choose for you.

We’re living in a modern renaissance. Times are good and our chances of survival are in our favour. But that comfort comes with a cost—we’re stuck with the reality of what we decide to do in this world, and most of us are deciding to do nothing.

Many ask about the meaning of life. I choose to wonder: What is the sole reason we don’t kill ourselves?

Harsh—I know. Straight to the point—yes it is.

The answer for me is other people. The future, reality, and provision I can leave them if I were to leave the world. That’s what drives me forward when the oyster starts closing.

Every Year That Doesn’t Compound

As I began my twenties, life was like walking up to a rigged roulette table. The odds are in your favour. If you win, you win it all. If you lose, you have time to start again.

This is a very young age with limitless opportunity. But here’s what nobody tells you: every year passed is another year that doesn’t compound.

At twenty, you can fail and rebuild twice before twenty-five.

At twenty-five, you’re rebuilding while your friends are getting promoted.

At thirty, you’re starting while others are established.

It’s easy to put off work because we always feel like we have time.

When we’re older, we’re reminded how we used the time we had.

Our body is the sum of our habits.

Our relationships show how much we gave versus how much we took.

Our finances directly represent our discipline.

These aren’t abstract concepts. They’re receipts. Evidence of who we’ve been choosing to become, one day at a time.

20s Aren’t for Finding Yourself

I was told growing up that our 20’s are for finding ourselves. I disagree. Our 20’s are for choosing who we’re going to become.

Our dreams and visions for the future don’t mean anything. What matters are the daily actions we take towards them.

James Clear from Atomic Habits talks about how every action we take is a vote for who we are. I’ve held onto this idea because as I get older, I realize I’m not who I say I am but what I do.

It’s the importance of character. In every stage of my life, I’ve always gravitated towards people who do what they say.

It’s been recently, in the last year, where I decided that is who I want to become.

The captain of my soul isn’t the one who dreams about steering the ship.

It’s the one who shows up to the wheel every single day.

What To Do Tomorrow

Don’t let yourself get lost in dreams and ideas.

Here’s what I want you to do: tomorrow morning, before you check your phone, write down one thing you’ve been putting off. The business idea. The conversation. The project. The habit.

Then do it before noon.

Not next week. Not when you’re ready. Tomorrow.

Because the difference between the ambitious 20-year-old and the escapist 30-year-old isn’t the dream—they both have the same dream.

It’s that one of them started taking votes.