Purpose Searching

Every job I’ve ever had…sales in hospitality, managing a territory, and everything in between…has built the foundation for what I do today. 

I’ve swam in the ocean of unfulfillment, drowning in bullshit tasks and activities, believing the only way to achieve more was to do more. 

I lived it. I proved it wrong.

The truth? 

Growth doesn’t come from doing everything. It comes from doing what matters. That’s why I focus on mindfulness as the key to growth; so you and your business don’t have to make the same mistakes. 

Let’s build your path forward…one that’s aligned, impactful, and purposeful.

No niche.
No funnel.
No 5am routine.

Just stillness.
Some breath.
A dog.
A parrot.
And a post when it feels real.

That’s the whole thing.
Follow us for mindfulness, LinkedIn, food & beverage tech/AI stuff!

Kyle Faulkner

Right when I started doubting myself…

LinkedIn hit me with this.

#7 worldwide in Meditation (Favikon)
On a platform I spent almost 20 years on
before anyone noticed I was even here.

Wild.

Because meditation isn’t my “topic.”
It’s the thing that built my new life.

It’s how I landed my first real traction here.
(It literally came from working with the guy ranked #1…guess who.)

It’s how I met my soulmate.
How I’ve found the work I love.
How I’ve stayed open in moments
Where I used to shut down completely.

Meditation didn’t give me answers.
It gave me capacity.

Capacity to stay.
To breathe.
To not spiral.
To move forward when every part of me wanted to bail.

So yeah…seeing my name on this list?
It feels friggin’ surreal.

But it also feels like a reminder:

The thing you think you’ve “lost”…
is probably the thing that’s been holding you up.

If you’re questioning yourself right now,
this is your sign:

Return to the practice that made you.
Not the one that went viral.
Not the one everyone else celebrates.

The one that carried you here.

Kyle Faulkner, MA 💼

li_at

JSESSIONID

Breathing ​> Burnout | F&B Tech, AI and Virnika.ai | Exhale & Follow Us

The algorithm didn’t love you.

(It loved the mask you wore.)

You thought the traction meant truth.

But it wasn’t mastery.
Or skill.
Or alignment.

It was performance.

Right hook.
Right tone.
Right spacing.

And LinkedIn clapped.

“Good boy. Do it again.”

But mindfulness whispers:

Look deeper.

That wasn’t expression.

That was:
🧩 A voice shaped for approval
🧩 A strategy fueled by vanity
🧩 A post designed to be liked, not felt

It worked.
But at what cost?

You looked successful.

But you felt hollow.

I did too.

Then I stopped chasing the algorithm.

And started honoring myself.

Because the real win isn’t reach.

It’s self-return.

Let go of the mask.

Let presence speak.

What version of you are you done performing for?

PS - Yes, I used the exact same formatting on this post to see what happens 🤣

PPS - Perspective is still very, very important!

I forgot to post today…

But…Angbeen Azeem 🎀 is back.

Breathing ​> Burnout | Exhale & Follow Us

Banned from a LinkedIn group

…because of Farrah.

Yep.
One accidental poodle post
and I’m exiled like I violated international law.

Turns out the group had a “1 post per week” rule.
Did I read it?
Absolutely not.
I was too busy running polls, building connections,
and apparently being the only human posting anything remotely engaging in there.

What really stings?
When you get banned, you also lose the metrics.
Thousands of poll votes.
Tens of thousands of impressions.
All the operators I was quietly building a long-term database around.
Gone.
Like they never existed.

I wasn’t just posting.
I was experimenting.
I was learning.
I was actually changing how I sell.

And then?
Boom.
Farrah hits “publish,”
and suddenly I’m LinkedIn-persona non grata.

So what now?
Do I throw a fit?
Send a grumpy email?
Stage a peaceful protest outside the group admin’s house?
(Satire…mostly.)

Honestly?
I’m just going to breathe.
And maybe laugh a little.

But banning me over a poodle?
That feels…extreme.
Possibly unconstitutional.
Definitely personal.

Anyway...
if anyone sees me wandering around LinkedIn looking dazed,
just know I’m recovering from digital exile.

And Farrah?
She sends her apologies.
Kind of.

LinkedIn. Give me a break. 
I’m the mindfulness guy…but
For real. This post wasn’t this “bad”?

Earlier this year, John Kraski posted about a car full of bananas. Then Mario Lopez showed up.
Naturally, it went kind of viral.

Not because it was clever. 
Not because it was optimized.
But because it made people stop.

I’m thinking about that post right now
because this is happening as I’m writing this.

I didn’t know what to post today.

No idea.
No plan A. 
No back up ideas. 

And then…just now…

I saw it.

A truck bed full of pumpkins.
Covered in snow….
…just sitting there.

No setup.
No meaning attached.
No reason.

It hit my brain the exact same way
John’s banana car post did.

Immediate interruption.

And suddenly I understood
why his post worked.

#LinkedIn gets complicated fast
if you overthink it.

Formats.
Rules.
What “performs.”

But it also gets incredibly simple
when something pulls you into the moment.

John didn’t decide to post bananas.
They grabbed his attention.

I didn’t plan pumpkins.
They just happened
five minutes ago.

That’s the whole thing.

Which makes this part absurdly fitting:

Favikon has me ranked
#2 in the United States for meditation content.

Not because I explain meditation.
Not because I teach technique.

But because I keep doing this;
noticing what stops me
and writing from there.

Mindfulness isn’t always quiet.
Sometimes it’s strange.

Sometimes it’s fruit in the wrong place.
Sometimes it’s snow on pumpkins.
Sometimes it’s realizing you don’t know what to post
until the world hands you something.

This post didn’t come from a strategy.
It came from paying attention.

Literally, just now.

Every seen a car full or bananas?
Or a truck full of snow-covered pumpkins?

Let us know below👇🏼

PS - Follow John. 

PPS - Follow me too.

LinkedIn,
You hate mindfulness.
And you 100% know it, too. 

You love the idea of it.
You love the way it looks.
You love the mindful quotes.
The cleansing smell of Palo Santo. 

But real mindfulness?
Actual presence?
Feeling your actual feelings?

Yeah.
You hate that sh*t.
You hate sitting still.
You hate slowing down.
You hate pausing long enough…
to hear the sound of your own exhaustion.

You would rather post.
Or scroll.
Or optimize.
Or pretend your burnout is “momentum.”

You’ll read a 7-step morning routine
before you’ll take one intentional breath.

You’ll comment “So true!!”
on something you didn’t even finish reading
because pausing felt like a threat.

And you’ll talk about emotional intelligence
like it’s a badge or something…

instead of a skill you’re terrified to practice.

Mindfulness forces you to see yourself
and LinkedIn is a platform built on performance.

Awareness ruins the act.
Presence exposes the truth. 
Stillness interrupts the “hustle”.

Of course you hate it.
It threatens your favorite coping mechanisms.

Rant over after this:

Mindfulness isn’t here to make you comfortable.
It’s here to make you honest.

Not calm.
Not soft.
Not serene.

Honest.

Honest enough to admit
you’ve been sprinting inside a life
you never stopped to notice.

Honest enough to see the gap
between the person you post as
and the person you are.

Honest enough to breathe
before you perform.

And when you finally do?

When you slow down long enough
to feel what’s actually happening in your own chest?

That’s when the hate dissolves.

You don’t hate mindfulness.
You hate what it shows you
before you’re ready to look.

PS - If you made it to the end, there’s a chance you don’t hate mindfulness anymore. You’re just finally meeting it.

I know I post a lot.

But so do the people I learn from.

And the funny part is…
when you post this much, you start noticing the three camps of LinkedIn:

Camp 1: “Please get this man off my feed.”
No hard feelings.
The algorithm tucks them in and hides me.

Camp 2: “Kyle posted? Clear my schedule.”
I don’t know how you keep up,
but thank you for pretending I’m worth it.

Camp 3: “I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
You’re my people.
Because I have creators I love…
and even I can’t keep up with their chaos.

But here’s the part no one talks about:

When you post a ton,
and I post a ton,
we silently forgive each other for not keeping up.

There’s this unspoken agreement:

“I see you.
Even when I don’t see you.”

It’s one of the strangest, softest dynamics here on LinkedIn…and one of the reasons I keep showing up.

If you feel this,
you’re probably one of us.

The #1 piece of advice I give

to save up to $4,000,000 on LinkedIn:

Don’t type the number.

That’s it.

LinkedIn suggested I boost a post.
$50. Normal. Civilized.

Then I got curious
and typed in a bigger number.

LinkedIn calmly informed me
I could spend UP TO $4,000,000
to promote a photo of my dog.

Let’s be clear.

The post is a poodle.
In a bow.
With a bell.
Doing absolutely nothing.

And the platform saw that and thought,
“Yes. This needs millions.”

This is LinkedIn in its purest form.

If something lands quietly,
it assumes the problem is volume.

More reach.
More impressions.
More money.

Mindfulness is realizing
you don’t need to escalate
every moment that works.

Farrah didn’t optimize.
She didn’t explain.
She didn’t pitch.

She just sat there.

And apparently that level of presence
was enough to unlock
a $4,000,000 opportunity.

So yeah...
if you want to save millions on LinkedIn:

Notice what’s already working
before you try to make it louder.

Avoiding the Boost button might be 
the most mindful move on this platform.

There’s a heaviness I’ve been carrying for years…

(And you have too.)

this pressure to “get it right.”

In life.
In love.
In work.
In healing.
In everything.

And I think I’m finally accepting
that “right” doesn’t exist.

Just aligned.
Just honest.
Just present.

This post is me choosing presence over perfection…

one more time.

LinkedIn during the holidays is unhinged.

And so are you.

Year-end reflections.
Forced gratitude.
“I’m so thankful for my network” posts loading by the second.

Meanwhile…

Farrah is sitting here
in a bow
with a bell
doing absolutely nothing.

No recaps.
No performance.
No resolution post.

Just present.
Fully here.
Unbothered.

This might be the most mindful thing
I’ve seen all week.

Because mindfulness isn’t adding calm
TO the drama.

It’s opting out of it entirely.
Farrah figured that out.
Have you?

PS - What are you opting out of this holiday season?

Richard just dropped a post called
“5 ways LinkedIn silently kills your post.”
(Fantastic post btw…post link in the comments.)

Which is comforting, honestly.
Because now we know the silence is intentional.

Let’s sit with it…

Ok, inhale
Now, exhale

1. The 60-Minute Cliff

Your post takes off.
Notifications light up.
You feel chosen.

Minute 61 arrives.

Stillness.

This is LinkedIn ringing the bell and saying:
“Thank you. That’s enough stimulation for today.”

Meditation lesson:
Everything peaks.
Especially excitement.

If you’re emotionally attached to the first hour,
you’re already suffering.

2. The ‘See More’ Disappearing Act

Someone clicks see more.

Not to skim.
To actually read.

And the post exits the feed entirely.

A masterclass in non-attachment.

You expressed a thought.
Then immediately practiced letting it go.

Advanced level.

3. The Ambassador Penalty

Your people show up.
Every time.
Thoughtful comments. Real words.

LinkedIn studies the pattern and concludes:
“Suspicious enthusiasm.”

Meditation lesson:
Community looks unnatural
to systems built for transactions.

The algorithm has never experienced friendship.
It cannot recognize it.

4. The Ghost Follower Reality

You thought followers were present.
They aren’t. 

Inactive accounts from 2022
still haunting your engagement rate.

Meditation lesson:
The past always drags on the present
if you keep counting it.

Big numbers are heavy.
Presence is light.

5. The Hashtag Trap

Hashtags used to mean discovery.
Now they mean intent.

Three hashtags?
Trying.

Five hashtags?
Begging.

Meditation lesson:
Simplicity ages well.
Hashtag tactics don’t.

So…here we go:

The algorithm isn’t cruel.
It’s just indifferent.

Post anyway.

Not to win.
Not to be amplified.
Not to survive minute 61.

Post like placing a stone in water.

If it ripples, fine.
If it sinks, fine.
(It does both.)

Stillness doesn’t need reach.
It just needs to be real.

What’s your take?

Netflix just dropped $72B on Warner Bros…

and you can’t even drop one breath into your own life.

Hollywood is merging universes.
Legacy studios are collapsing into each other.
Executives are pretending everything is “strategic.”

Meanwhile you’re doomscrolling LinkedIn
trying to decode whether your last post flopped
or if the algorithm just hates sincerity again.

Here’s the irony:

You’re watching billion-dollar consolidation
while your inner world is scattered across twelve browser tabs and five versions of yourself.

Netflix absorbs whole identities.
You can’t absorb your own overwhelm.

Warner Bros. Discovery restructures itself.
You can’t restructure your morning long enough
to sit with what’s actually going on inside you.

And that’s not failure.
That’s conditioning.

You’ve been taught to scale everything…
your reach
your brand
your voice
your output
your presence online

except the one thing that matters:

your awareness.

Everyone else is talking about antitrust laws
and what this means for the future of Hollywood.

Cute.
You want the real shockwave?

Most people reading this haven’t been present
for more than 15 consecutive seconds today.

So yeah - use the Netflix news.
It’s low-hanging content.
LinkedIn is obsessed with spectacle.
Might as well ride the wave.

But the mindful move isn’t posting about the merger.
It’s noticing the one happening inside you:

the part of you that’s done chasing the algorithm
and ready to actually show up to your own mind.

Netflix can buy another universe.
Whatever.

You’re trying to buy back your attention.
That’s the real acquisition.

PS — If LinkedIn starts acquiring studios,
I’m praying it gives you a storyline you actually want to live.

No alternative text description for this image

While you're still editing your Monday post,

Bray just dropped his 6th in 1 hour.

And no, he ain't gone mad.

He's just not overthinking it.

Most people treat LinkedIn like some high-stakes exam:
→ One post a day, maybe, perhaps, maybe.
→ 90 minutes polishing the hook
→ Refresh for the next 4 hours
→ Stress about engagement

Bray treats it like a sandbox.

He posted six times in one morning.

1. Tested what works.
2. Learned from it.
3. Moved on.

Then when he needs a week off?

He just takes it.

Here's what he said to me quoted!

“I make as much progress daily as I can…
but if I truly need to take the week off, I do.”

And then starts again when he's ready.

That's the real difference in how he does it.

Anyone can scream "hustle" and burn out.

But most people can't move fast w/out losing sanity.

LinkedIn doesn't need more people scared to post.
- It needs more people willing to use it in a way (that actually works for them).I

Don't follow Bray because he posted 5 times.

Follow him because he did it
without losing himself.
#mindfulness

What the hell are you even using LinkedIn for?

Seriously.
What’s your actual agenda here?

Refreshing your coworker’s new title
like it’s breaking news?

Trying to “network”
but somehow pitching by sentence two?

Sliding into DMs
with a calendar link taped to your forehead?

Launching another course
because the last one “wasn’t aligned”?

Posting about discipline
from the comfort of your 11am nap?

Collecting connections
like you’re assembling a virtual infinity stone?

Or the classic:
“I’m taking a break from LinkedIn.”
(…said while posting on LinkedIn.)

The question nobody wants to touch:

How are you showing up?

Because me and Farrah?
We’ve been half-present lately.
Floating.
Lurking.
Posting when the spirit moves

Some days we’re everywhere.
Some days we’re a myth.
Some days we show up by accident.

But the only pace that actually works?

Your pace.
With intention.
Not pressure.

So whatever you’re here for…
opportunity, community, out of boredom, or a little digital “relief”…

Are you showing up like it matters,
or just scrolling like it doesn’t?

Mindfulness myth: “It makes you calm.”

Mindfulness truth: It makes you honest.

Calm comes later.

Right after you admit you’re stressed,
annoyed, tired, overstimulated,
or one comment away
from becoming a menace.

Honesty is awareness.
Awareness is peace.
Peace is power.

Start with the truth.
Everything else follows.

ChatGPT just said to me: 
“I’d bet my life on it.”
And I believe it.

Let’s stop pretending.

You’re not here to “add value.”

You’re here because you want STRANGERS to like you. 

Tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me you don’t check your notifications like a raccoon digging through the trash for scraps.

Tell me your heart doesn’t skip when a blue-profile-ringed “influencer” likes your post.

Tell me you’ve NEVER thought:

“Wow…only 12 likes?
Is this what failure tastes like?”

We’re all sick.
Every single one of us.

LinkedIn is a socially acceptable slot machine for people who think they’re above TikTok.

We call it “building a personal brand”
but really it’s:

“Please God let me matter today.”

And you know what?

I WROTE THIS POST TO EXPLOIT THAT.

You’re reading because I’m poking the insecurity you bury under “content strategy.”

I’m tapping the bruise you hide behind those Canva templates.

I’m literally dangling the shiny objects you secretly crave:

ATTENTION.
VISIBILITY.
RELEVANCE.

And guess what?

I want it too.

I want you to read this.
I want you to gasp.
I want you to send this to someone and say…
“yo this guy is UNHINGED.”

I hope you are asking:
“What the hell is Kyle doing?”

I’m testing whether calling out the addiction…
feeds the addiction.

If shaming the hunger gets me more reach,
I WILL DO IT AGAIN.

But I’ll leave you with the only mindful truth I believe:

Visibility without intention is just another form of self-harm.
A dopamine casino.
A digital coliseum where we fight to the death for…what?
A follower count?

So the only real question worth asking is:

Are you here to be seen…
or are you here to be consumed?

(One of those will cost you your sanity.
The other will give it back.)

Now be honest…
why do YOU post on this blue hellsite?

If watching your team lose ruins your week,

this post is going to ruin your life.

Harvard found that during high-stakes games:

Fans’ heart rates jump 75%

Blood pressure spikes like you’re the one on the field

Heart attack risk increases…no, seriously

People drink more, eat worse, and make worse decisions

And you call this “fun.”

Let’s be honest:

Your body isn’t entertained.
Your body is in survival mode.

But hey…slap on a jersey
and suddenly chronic stress is “tradition.”

Here’s my story:

I quit local news.
I quit politics.
Then I quit the sports panic cycle entirely.
My nervous system finally stopped acting like a smoke alarm.

Now I sit in the bathtub
writing LinkedIn posts like a man who met his own mind again.

Meanwhile, some of you are out here
having cardiovascular episodes over men in matching pajamas
chasing a ball
while you scream at a TV
they cannot hear.

You’re not a fan,
you’re emotionally outsourcing your stress
and Harvard has the data to prove it.

(Link below)

Close games aren’t “exhilarating.”
They’re biochemical warfare.

Your team wins?
Cortisol.
Your team loses?
More cortisol.
Your body can’t tell the difference
because your body never signed up for this.

Here’s the mindfulness piece. 

Sports aren’t ruining your health.
Your relationship to distraction is.

If two hours of watching strangers compete
wrecks your emotional stability,
your peace wasn’t peace…

…at all. 

Imagine replacing one game a week
with actual silence.

If that thought made your stomach drop,
you just diagnosed yourself.

Mindfulness doesn’t care about the scoreboard.

It cares about the part of you so terrified of stillness you’d rather feel stressed than feel present.

PS — If this made you defensive, check your pulse.

Nobody warned me that 3,000 → 4,000 followers would feel like climbing a greased wall.

2,000 → 3,000?
A breeze.
A fun little jog.
Like LinkedIn handed me a participation trophy for showing up.

But 3,000 → 4,000?
Different beast.
Suddenly the algorithm became my strict relative who “loves me dearly” but never calls. 

And here’s what I realized (the hard way):

I changed.
My posting cadence dipped.
My style shifted.
My comments went from 300–500 a week… to “I’ll get to it later.”

And when your input changes, your output does too.

So here’s what actually moved the needle for me — and what I’m returning to right now:

🧩 Follow the energy, not the trends.

🧩 Post like you mean it. Not when you feel guilty.

🧩 Comment like you’re part of the ecosystem. Not a tourist.

🧩  Find your reason for being here. Not the one people expect you to say.

🧩 When you drift, reassess. Intention is a living thing, not a contract.

Because I’ll be honest:
I got confused about what I wanted.

Am I the mindfulness guy?
The restaurant-tech guy?
Farrah’s dog-dad and occasional parrot spokesman?
A sales operator?
A storyteller?
A weirdo who posts five times a day because it feels like breathing?

The answer is: yes.
But also… I’m building a personal brand, and the intention behind that slipped a bit.

So I’m re-anchoring.
Re-clarifying.
Re-showing up.

And if you’re stuck between follower milestones, confused about your content, or trying to figure out what the hell you’re even doing on this app…

You’re not alone.

Intention slips.
Identity shifts.
Output fluctuates.
Growth stalls.
Then it restarts — louder.

Now I want to hear from the real LinkedIn powerhouses:

What was the HARDEST 1,000-follower milestone for you?

And what actually helped you break through it?

Drop your best wisdom in the comments.
Someone scrolling today needs your version of the truth.

(And selfishly… so do I.)

Gabrielle & Rafael Leadership Consulting

CEO/President

Zeal Education Group

Zeal Education Group Associate

Buffalo Public Schools

School Administrator

I have been successful as an Urban School Administrator for over 20 years.  I was a Special Education teacher at grades K-12 and was also an Adjunct Professor.  

It is my current mission to support prospective and current leaders to develop and enhance leadership skills.  

I am a retired Urban Principal at Hutchinson Central Technical High School with an enrollment of 1200 students in the Buffalo Public Schools.

Engineering programs and rigorous coursework were offered to all students.  It was my goal for every student to have opportunities available to them in the future.

Hutch Tech cultivated a school culture of care emphasizing respect and kindness. The culture and climate played a pivotal role in the success of students.

The graduation rate was approx. 90% or higher.  Many of our urban students graduated with diplomas with distinctions and honors, including Advanced Designation diplomas, Seal of Biliteracy, Seal of Civic Readiness, Mastery and/or Honors in Math and Science.  

I believe that Hutch Tech was successful because of the collaborative environment that was  generated among the Administrative team, Teachers, Teacher Aides and staff.

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The Battle

Kyle Faulkner

Dr. Gabrielle Morquecho

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The Battle

Kyle Faulkner

Dr. Gabrielle Morquecho

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Performance Score.css-goub6s{font-size:var(--chakra-fontSizes-md);font-weight:500;color:var(--chakra-colors-gray-600);display:block;margin-top:var(--chakra-space-1);}Kyle Faulkner's LinkedIn Performance

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