Masculine surrender meditations, helicopter pads, and teddy bears

Feminine energy knows exactly where your armor needs to crack

So, my very first post on Substack was about how I was going to get six-pack abs without chasing them.

Well, dear readers, here's an update: that goal is taking a bit longer than I thought.

First of all, I've been utterly consumed by shaping Hidden Frameworks on Substack.

I've spent much more time than usual in the intellectual realm of writing than in the realm of physical movement.

But second, and perhaps more important, my 10-year-old daughter is off from school. Here in Europe, kids take almost two and a half months of vacation in the summer.

And inevitably, my daughter and her best friend, who have been spending more time than usual at home, are colonizing my gym more easily than Alexander the Great conquered half the known world.

My weight-lifting rack has become their "house."

My barbell lies buried under teddy bears and assorted plush toys. The whole structure is secured by exercise mats serving as fortress walls and my daughter's solemn declaration that "The House" (I can hear the capital letters in her tone) “must remain and cannot be touched.” She says it like that, in the passive voice, as if invoking some ancient law. And she means it.

Even my beloved, muscular Marcus Aurelius poster is about to fall from the wall, hanging from only one corner.

It's the ultimate symbol of my masculine energy capitulating to the feminine forces in my life.

The few times I'm able to sneak in, I can barely manage a couple of pull-up sets.

But even then, my daughter and her friend steal my phone. They take pictures.

"Dad's strong, huh?" I dare to ask.

"Helicopter pad!" they answer, giggling.

That's the term my daughter coined for the patch of baldness at the top of my head and a key reason why I started shaving my money-making dome. But I haven't shaved it in a few days, and it's starting to show.

I mutter some incomprehensible complaint at their rudeness and retreat back to work.

But then something struck me. A sudden, overwhelming feeling that everything is exactly as it should be.

How blessed am I to live inside this beautiful chaos? To have my masculine space transformed into a sanctuary of imagination by two giggling girls who see magic where I see metal?

I had to capture this feeling. Had to write about it.

Nik Huno recently wrote something that resonated deeply:

"The masculine crisis isn't about being too soft or too hard—it's about being unconscious. Most men are sleepwalking through their own lives, chasing external validation instead of internal integration. True masculine energy is generative, not destructive. It builds rather than conquers. It protects rather than dominates. The world needs men who can hold space, not just take up space."

As I watched my daughter and her friend literally taking up my space—my sacred gym space in my basement man cave—I realized this is very much in line with what he meant. They weren't conquering; they were creating. They weren't dominating; they were imagining. And instead of protecting my territory, my role was to protect their joy.

This is the awakening we need, both men and women, but perhaps especially men. We need to reconnect with our deep essence and become truly generative from that place. Not from our ego's need to control or achieve but from our soul's desire to create and nurture.

As fathers, we carry the most sacred responsibility: showing our children through our example that doing work aligned with who we truly are isn't just possible—it's essential. Especially now, as AI commoditizes every skill that isn't inherently human. What remains? Our presence. Our ability to hold space. Our capacity to create from the soul.

My daughter doesn't need to see me with perfect abs. She needs to see me living in alignment, building Hidden Frameworks, not from a place of force but from a place of flow. She needs to witness what it looks like when someone stops performing success and starts embodying it.

So, yes, the six-pack abs will take longer. The teddy bear fortress stands firm. Marcus Aurelius hangs by a thread. And somehow, everything is exactly as it should be.

I'm deeply grateful that Hidden Frameworks has reached 300 subscribers in such a short time. Your presence here, your comments, and your own stories of transformation remind me daily why this work matters.

Stay tuned because there's a lot more to come.

Sometimes the best transformations happen not in the gym but in the sacred chaos of a colonized weight rack.

With gratitude (and a helicopter pad),

Alexis

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