The Truth Still Echoes

Why I Left the Stage of LinkedIn for the Silence of Substack

On LinkedIn I could post once or twice a week and reach tens of thousands of people, collecting hundreds of likes, comments, and reposts. On Substack I can post every day and hear almost nothing back. And yet, I am realizing that I enjoy it.

There is something liberating about the void. No applause. No performance metrics disguised as meaning. Here, I write what I actually think, not what will perform well.

On LinkedIn my posts had grown increasingly philosophical. I hinted toward Taoism, Stoicism, and Jungian psychology. I wrote about flow, self-mastery, individuation, and the illusion of control without ever naming them directly. It was too much for a stuffy business crowd to handle.

But even then something felt off. LinkedIn is a place where people go to perform. It is where we write to convince ourselves and others that we love what we do, that our work defines us, that our ambition has meaning. The platform rewards inspiration, not introspection. It becomes a collective gaslighting session where we try to transform the grind into purpose.

Substack feels different. It is not a stage. It is a quiet room, empty and honest. After a few months here I have arrived at the point I have seen many other writers reach, writing into the void. And yet I am more committed to it than ever. Here I can say what I have spent a lifetime avoiding.

It reminds me of when I first began searching for spirituality outside the faith I was raised in. I had given Catholicism my best shot, but something was still missing. Around that time, Deepak Chopra was everywhere, on television, in bookstores, in countless conversations. To me, he seemed like a modern Eastern sage. What I did not realize was that he was sharing the philosophical essence of Hinduism, drawn from the Vedic and Vedanta traditions that had shaped his own understanding.

I attended one of his weekend seminars in Danvers, Massachusetts. I was freshly out of the military, clean-cut, sharply dressed, shoes shined. The room was filled with seekers who looked like they belonged to another world entirely, flowing fabrics, linen shirts, crystal pendants, and the faint smell of patchouli. Words like energy, vibration, and alignment floated through the air.

I liked Deepak’s calm demeanor, his centered wisdom, his sense of ease. I accepted that I would probably always look different than the crowd of his followers. But the spell broke in a small, human moment. During a break, I found myself at a row of urinals. He stepped up beside me, and when I glanced down, I saw his elevator heels.

In that instant, the sage became a performer. The illusion of enlightened self-acceptance collapsed into something self-conscious. Those shoes were not about height; they were about image.

Maybe that is why Substack feels right to me. No stage. No performance. No hidden heels. Just truth, stripped of presentation.

Laotse taught that the empty vessel has the most potential. So I will keep writing into the abyss, not to be seen or praised, but because that is where the truth still echoes.