ICYMI #010: In Defense of Cultifying Your Life

Decoding the Ashton Hall Discourse

Happy Monday all!! If you’re not on Twitter/X, you probably missed the Ashton Hall discourse ( that’s still going ) over this weekend. Lucky you. But let me catch you up: a Twitter/X user posted a video, now sitting at 670M views, of fitness influencer/entrepreneur/possible AI-generated character (joke) named Ashton Hall from his TikTok detailing his morning routine: a 3:50 AM wake-up, push-ups, ice baths, showers, prayer, reading, another ice bath (because one wasn’t enough?), an absurdly long dive into the pool, and a team check-in, all before most people even hit snooze on their alarms.

Naturally, the internet lost it. People did the math and realized his routine was logistically impossible. They dragged the multiple ice baths, the six-hour morning routine, and the sheer psychosis required to wake up before 4 AM voluntarily. The general consensus? He may be clinically insane.

And sure, the criticisms are valid. But I’m here to offer a different perspective. Because in a world that feels increasingly chaotic and out of control… maybe Ashton Hall is onto something. Maybe the real answer isn’t rejecting these obsessive, ritualistic routines but embracing them. Maybe the only way to survive late-stage capitalism and the general horror of modern life is to cultify your existence.

I have ADHD, which means my brain is constantly veering between erratic bursts of energy and complete paralysis. I will either hyper-fixate on something for six hours without eating, or I will stare at my phone for an hour while knowing full well that I have a deadline. My mind has the structure of an open-world video game—too many side quests, no clear objectives, and an overwhelming sense that I’m forgetting something important at all times.

So when I watch Ashton Hall’s morning routine, I don’t just see grindset insanity, I see discipline. I see control. And honestly? I miss that.

When I was in the Navy, every second of my day followed a protocol. Wake up at an ungodly hour. Make my bunk with precision corners. Work out until my limbs begged for mercy. Get dressed. Eat fast. Move, move, move. There was no thinking, no spiraling, no “what should I do today?” because the decisions had already been made for me. Every action was part of a rigid protocol, and I didn’t question it. There was a peace in knowing that the plan was set, I just had to follow it. And you know what? That kind of structure was weirdly freeing. My body was in peak condition. My mind was sharp. There was something almost… soothing about it. When your day is pre-planned down to the minute, there’s no room for existential dread, just momentum.

Which is probably why people are so obsessed with routines like this. It’s not about productivity, and it’s not even about self-improvement. It’s about control. Life right now feels heinously uncertain—the economy is trash, the planet is on fire, social media moves too fast for anyone to keep up. No one knows what’s happening next.

And it’s not like this feeling of instability is irrational. When billionaires are treating the government like their personal playground and politicians are actively stripping people of their rights, what else are you supposed to do?

So when people feel like they have no control over the big things, they go insane micromanaging the small things.

Cassie from Euphoria didn’t wake up at 4 AM every morning to curl her hair and ice-roll her face for fun—she did it because her life was spiraling and self-optimization was the only thing she could control.

That’s why you see people turning their lives into rituals. The girlies aren’t just doing skincare; they’re performing multi-step ceremonies under their LED masks like it’s a sacred rite. The finance bros aren’t just going to the gym; they’re biohacking their bodies like a tech startup in human form. Every morning coffee, every evening wind-down routine, every bullet journal page is part of the same, desperate act of self-mythology.

Ashton Hall just takes it to the extreme. His morning routine is performance art, but in a way, aren’t all of ours?

People keep calling Ashton’s schedule cult-like, and they’re not wrong. But what if that’s not a bad thing?

Cult leaders understand something about human nature that the rest of us don’t: people need structure. They want rituals. They crave a sense of purpose, even if they have to invent it. Is it really so crazy to create your own belief system in a time when traditional structures like religion, stable careers, and clear life paths are all crumbling?

And I can’t even pretend I’m above it. Lately, I’ve started taking cold showers in the morning, not because I particularly enjoy the feeling of being waterboarded by my own plumbing, but because it makes me feel sharp. Alive. In control.I’ve committed to a six-step skincare routine that feels less like self-care and more like a religious ritual. I’ve started restricting calories, not because I have some grand weight-loss goal, but because it’s one of the only things I can control. My life, like everyone else’s, is a mess, but if I can make sure I drink my coffee the exact same way every morning, if I can count my 20,000 steps and measure my protein, then maybe it feels just a little less like I’m spiraling.

And let’s be real, if Ashton Hall were white, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. White men do this all the time, and it’s aspirational. Tech bros spend thousands of dollars on biohacking their bodies with cold plunges, fasting, and oxygen chambers, and they get invited to TED Talks. Andrew Huberman tells people to stare at the sunfor 10 minutes a day, and he’s treated like a wellness prophet. But the second a Black man does it? Suddenly, it’s weird. Suddenly, it’s “too much.”

A lot of the criticism of Ashton Hall is coming from other Black people, which makes it even messier. We’ll cheer on a rapper’s lean addiction or laugh off a pro athlete blowing through millions at the club, but God forbid a Black man wake up early and optimize his health. Why is discipline seen as corny when it’s coming from one of us? Why do we roll our eyes at structure but celebrate chaos? Given how aggressively this world is set up against us—health disparities, shorter life expectancies, systemic barriers, why wouldn’t we want more Black men taking their well-being seriously?

Maybe your cult isn’t Ashton Hall’s 3:50 AM death march. Maybe it’s TikTok’s “Morning Shed”, The Hot Girl Walk™, the 12-step skincare communion, or journaling your manifestations under a full moon. But whatever it is, don’t pretend you’re immune to it.

We are all cult members now. The only difference is who (or what) we’ve chosen to worship.

So yeah, Ashton Hall’s routine might be deranged. But in a world that makes no sense, maybe fully committing to the bit of your own life isn’t the worst idea.

Because at the end of the day, what’s crazier? Ashton Hall’s 3:50 AM wake-up call… or pretending that any of this is normal?

Pick your cult.