Jesse Itzler & Devon Levesque: On Life Design, The Misogi Ritual and Winning Routines | TUH #245

The misogi is an ancient Japanese ritual adapted by Itzler into a modern tool. He argues that as people age, routine replaces newness and most are controlled by others' requests. By intentionally inserting one huge thing annually, he can look back at any year and instantly recall 2015 (Living with a Seal), 2022 (bike across America), etc. This avoids the problem where 'work life balance is so out of whack' and you have nothing to show. He also notes the social compound effect: the same group of 10 guys who do these adventures together become incredibly close—'one adventure is like 10 years of sitting at a cubicle'.

Jesse Itzler named it after his friend Kevin who introduced the idea. He explains that without a system, people lack time for novel experiences; with the rule, even a busy person accumulates 6 new things per year. Coupled with the misogi, the compound effect is staggering: 30 misogis + 180 mini adventures over 30 years. This counters the societal script that says once you have kids and a career, fun stops; Itzler says his 50s have been the opposite—investing in experiences yields energy, community, and interestingness that can lead to professional opportunities (he gives the example of Devon telling Africa stories at work and getting a promotion).

Gary Brecka adopted this after hearing Itzler and loves that it forces him to schedule family (time in Colorado, birthdays, holidays) before work. Itzler says it enables you to 'see where you have gaps in your time' and treat your year like a picture. The calendar becomes a tool not just for planning but for negotiation with your own guilt—you can see where you are neglecting certain areas. The system is backed by the philosophy of being 'selfish in the morning' and giving the rest of your day away, mirroring the idea that you design the life you want and then fit work around it.

Gary Brecka implemented this six years ago after realizing that waking up and immediately 'giving his day away' to spouse, career, kids, and coworkers left him depleted. By putting sleep and then exercise on the calendar first, he flipped the script: be selfish in the morning, then generously give the rest. The space also taught him to sit in silence—something he found excruciating with ADHD—and that silence became a crucible for his best ideas and problem-solving. This small shift amplified itself enormously: he now sees things more clearly, has more energy, and is a better husband and father. The protocol dovetails with Itzler's idea that if you 'check the Jesse box' (get your personal wins like sauna and cold plunge), you are happy to go along with anything else.

Gary Brecka is a daily user; he and Jesse Itzler both swear by it. Itzler mentions that in the sauna he calls for a 'moment of silence' where everyone sits quietly for three minutes—this mental clarity is as valued as the physical benefits. Devon Levesque notes it as a 'drug of choice' because nothing makes you feel better for longer. The practice couples the physiological hormetic stress of heat and cold with the meditative quiet, aligning with the broader theme of designing intentional 'white space' in your day.

Devon Levesque and Jesse Itzler talk about the Hoffman Institute, where phones are taken for seven days and participants also cannot exercise forced stillness. Devon acknowledges he couldn't do the no-exercise part, but raves about the phone detox: 'It's really insane what happens when you don't have your phone for seven days and you're just writing… your brain just starts to make sense.' The broader point is that constant stimulus blocks the 'aha moments' that come from boredom or silence. The practice is a radical version of their general advice to break routine and seek newness by walking a different route or trying a new gym.

Devon Levesque was feeling stressed in his mid-20s when mentor Johnny Martin asked him what he cared about no matter what. After a week of reflection, he came back with five values. Martin told him to write on a whiteboard: 'If a person, place or thing isn't adding value to your life from a community, family, health, giving back standpoint, then they're taking value from you.' Devon then went through his calendar with a red and green marker, X-ing out everything unrelated—half his day disappeared. Since then, he has been ruthless, even if an opportunity would make a lot of money. The only exception: if Jesse Itzler calls, he drops everything because that adventure aligns with all five values. This system frees him from regret and keeps his life intentional.

Itzler argues that people are taught to chase dollars, but the real multiplier is the intangible side: how you show up with customers, the enthusiasm you bring, whether you're nice. He notes that in the mortality space, isolation cuts lifespan dramatically, so connection and community are survival imperatives. He wants to redefine success as not just financial but a product: money x spirit. If your spirit is zero, a billion dollars is zero; but with $1 and a billion in spirit, you're a billionaire. This is not new-age fluff—it's a direct counter to the loneliness and superficial metrics of modern life. Devon Levesque's constant enthusiasm is the practical example.