Something rose in your chest once. A knowing. You couldn't prove it, so you swallowed it.
Then you sat in a room where heads were nodding and your body whispered "that's not right" but your mouth stayed shut.
Later, the answer showed up on its own. Clear. Quiet. Yours. And then you walked it over to someone else and asked them to confirm what you already knew.
There's a life running underneath the one you're performing. A current with no name, pulling you somewhere your calendar can't explain.
You don't need more information. You need language for what's already in there.
We carried stories that weren't ours and called it life.
You stop asking for permission to know what you know.
What story did somebody put on you before you were old enough to know the difference?
They taught us to fear the dark.
Light was born inside it.
The dark is where things go to begin.
When was the last time you trusted what you felt before you asked someone to confirm it?
This book is language for something you already feel.
Thirty-six chapters. Twelve numbers. A full circle from zero back to zero.
It was a battle between golf balls.
Is this the mirror talking? Or is this the filter?
What would you see if you looked without flinching?
Who conducts today?
This was a recipe for remembering who was counting.
The recipe was in your chest this entire time.
The recipe is complete. The meal is you. Serve it.
Be the first to know when ZERO arrives. The signal.
You're in. The journey begins soon.