Transformation is often quieter than we think
Hi friends,
Marvin here.
The first time I sat opposite my mother in a workshop — symbolically speaking — with her on an empty chair, I finally said out loud everything I had held back for years. It was a deeply liberating experience. I screamed, trembled, cried — the perfect textbook catharsis.I thought:
“There. Now I’ve transformed the relationship. That’s it.”Today, eleven years later, I know:
That was a tiny bit premature.
Yes, the moment was powerful.
I felt just how much energy I had been holding inside me.
It was like an emotional spring cleaning — it opened up space and shifted how I saw my mother.
I don’t regret it for a second.
But:
I had confused a loud release with lasting transformation.
And that’s something I see a lot in retreats — including my own.
When release becomes a confusion
For people stuck in stagnant processes — as I was back then — a cathartic moment can be incredibly valuable. Maybe as an opening. A first step. Or simply to realize how much life force is actually there.
But — and this is crucial:
Just because something gets released doesn’t mean something has actually changed.
At best, it’s the beginning of a deeper unfolding.
At worst, the constant search for release becomes its own pattern — and blocks real change. Because we become addicted to the afterglow.
Because we stop being able to hold emotions.
Because we immediately want to get rid of everything instead of staying with it.
And then there’s no energy left for what transformation actually needs:
To act lovingly in the face of emotion.
To walk new paths.
To stay committed.
Maybe the issue isn’t the catharsis itself —
but what keeps drawing us there.
The belief that only intense experiences can lead to change.
Chasing intensity
Like me, many people measure the value of an experience by how intense it was.
We go looking for transformation where things explode, shake us up, break open.
And yes, sometimes that’s exactly what it takes.
But the longer I do this work, the more I believe:
The ones constantly chasing intensity often need something very different.
Space. Patience. Silence. Maybe even boredom.
A soft inquiry:
What part of me is so hungry for intensity?
Is it truly my heart yearning for depth — or an old part of me that only feels alive when something dramatic happens?
For me, the hunger for intensity was often about something else entirely:
The hope to feel special — if only for a moment.
To feel fully present.
Or to feel anything at all when everything else felt numb.
Intensity isn’t wrong.
But if it becomes the only valid currency for growth, we may collect powerful moments — but completely miss the underlying dynamics that keep pulling us back into the same loops.
And often, what’s really needed is not an explosion — but the opposite.
Transformation through refusal
Last summer, I had signed up for an expensive retreat I was really looking forward to.
I wanted another one of those powerful, shaking experiences — like the one I’d had the year before.
But as soon as I arrived, my energy dropped.
Something felt off. I didn’t vibe with the group.
I didn’t want to “process.”
Then my inner trainer kicked in:
“Come on, this is just resistance before the breakthrough. You know how this works. Once you open up, it’ll be amazing.”
And honestly — that was often true in the past.
But this time, I did something different.
I packed my bags — and went home.
No drama. No ceremony.
And it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
I had — without realizing — broken one of my deepest patterns:
The constant need for an intense experience.
And what happened afterwards was exactly what I had actually hoped to get from the retreat:
I was more inspired than I had been in ages.
Wrote things. Got new ideas.
Started playing my own songs on the guitar again.
It felt like that external No became a deep internal Yes — not as part of an exercise, but as a real-life choice.
To end with
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years:
Change looks different for everyone.
Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s quiet.
Sometimes it happens in a retreat — sometimes on your way home.
Sometimes it’s fast — sometimes slow.
Sometimes smooth — sometimes not at all.
And often, it comes in ways you didn’t expect.
A good starting point is almost always:
your truth.
To honestly notice what’s here right now.
And ask yourself what you actually need — not for some ideal self tomorrow, but for you, here and now.
In my Radical Honesty workshops, I try to hold a space where that’s possible:
To have an experience that truly serves you.
Maybe it’s a powerful expression.
Maybe it’s quiet staying.
Maybe both.
And even though the workshop is called an “8-Day Intensive,”
that doesn’t mean we go hunting for intensity.
What we’re looking for is what deeply touches your being.
Yours,
Marvin
PS: If you want to learn more about my evolution with Radical Honesty coaching, check out this video with Trainer Michael Alan Kolb.
Marvin Schulz started his Radical Honesty journey almost a decade ago. He is a Certified Trainer and a co-founder of the Radical Honesty Institute.
