Hey old friend,
I’m 30,000 feet in the air.
Leaving Shanghai for Amsterdam.
I’m going there to spend a few days in our warehouse signing thousands of Talk To Strangers books.
At the time of writing this, 6,628 of you have preordered the book. (If you’re one of those people, wow am I grateful for you.)
That’s so many humans. What the actual heck.
I don’t even know how I’m gonna write my signature that many times. Not complaining though…that’s a good problem to have.
Anyways, wow, here we are...
Yesterday, after a 5-video series across the world with my friends, I filmed my last episode for the Yes Theory main channel.
Although the adventures were incredible, the finale wasn’t a big celebration. Maybe it’s because there’s still a lot of work to do before the launch on December 3rd, or maybe I was just wiped.
Last night, around 10 pm, I went for a solo walk to the Bund.
The Bund is this beautiful waterfront view alongside the Huangpu river. Across it, the Shanghai skyline lights up in all its glory.
And I just wept. Cried for a while as onlookers passed by.
I can’t stop crying lately. I cry in our videos, I cry in my friends’ arms, I cry alone in my room.
It happens so much that I’ve gotten used to it by this point. It doesn’t even feel weird talking about it because it’s such a common part of my day.
Some days the reason is gratitude, other days it’s exhaustion, and on some days it’s the state of the world. It depends. Whatever it is, I let myself feel it.
(I even cried right before writing this newsletter about how thankful I am for a friend of mine.)
But it’s not depression. Depression is suppression. To feel is to heal. That’s why I do it. I can’t handle the grief bottled up for too long.
And that’s what it is…grief.
I remember a therapist once telling me that grief is the loss of a dream you had for your life.
Well, that makes sense. Matt Dajer from Yes Theory was the dream I thought I wanted. Big time entrepreneur. LA content creator. World changer. Loved by millions. Always stoked. Never sad.
As you’ll see if you read the book, that dream started slipping away years ago.
But instead of turning away I’m now watching it happen, allowing myself to witness my own departure from the life I built.
That’s the only way to remember the beautiful moments. That’s the only way the lessons stick.
By paying attention.
By feeling what needs to be felt.
By saying “this hurts,” but also, “that was awesome.”
Love ya,
Matt