FUCK THAT SHIT

 
This world was never meant for you.

But you built it anyway.

You didn’t come here to be "normal".

You came to earth with fire in your belly.
You didn’t come to be tamed.
You came to fucking create.
Wildly. Boldly. Fully.

But somewhere along the way,
you twisted yourself to fit.
You played by someone else’s rules.
You got strategic.

And you got really fucking good at solving problems.

Big ones.
The kind most people couldn’t survive.
The kind others wouldn’t dare hold.

And still—you built the whole damn thing:

  The businesses.
  The income.
  The houses.
  The reputation.
  The marriage.
You held it all.
But now?

Unfulfilled.
Half-alive in a life that “works.”
And your soul is screaming for something more.

This is the one problem you can’t solve.
You can’t strategize your way out of it.
You can’t outsource it.
You can’t outwork it.
You can’t heal it away.

You’re being called back to something deeper.
Wilder.
Realer.
More you than anything that’s come before.

Here’s what most people don’t realize until it’s too fucking late:

“I wish I had the courage to live a life true to myself.
Not the life others expected of me.”

That’s the #1 regret of the dying.

But you?

You didn’t come here to be fucking normal.
You’re peak performance.
Spiritual as fuck and high-octane. 

You are the secret ingredient.
But you forgot.

You're standing at that choice point.

So let me ask you—
Are you going to be like the norms?
The ones who wait too long, stay too small, and carry their brilliance into the grave?

OR—

Are you going to remember:

You are the fucking antidote.

This is your fucking rallying cry.

Sand on your hands from handstands.
Laughing. Playing. Rebel-rousing.
Provoking the fire.
Calling up the demons.
Ripping out the residue.
Purging the old patterns.
All the crunchy shit that’s still in your field.

We go there.
We howl at the moon.

WHERE YOU ANSWER TO NO ONE BUT YOU.

Done pretending this is enough.

I know.
Because I did it.

I was a top-producing mortgage loan officer.
Moving millions.
Smiling through the grind.
For what felt like a million fucking years.

Until I sat by the fire,
told my partner the truths—
and shattered the glass.

I realized:
Holding onto my truth…
Speaking it.
Living it.
Being it.

It was the only resolution.

This isn’t flighty, fly-by-night, unembodied influencer crap.
This is the real fucking deal.

I’ll ask my guides.
I’ll ask yours too, if you want—
if we are a match,
If we were meant to move you to heaven.

I will not take everyone because I don't have time for it.
I could be playing and enjoying my life.
But I was sent with a message for you.

And if that message frees something inside you...
If it cracks something open...

Then step up.
Let’s go.
Let’s get muddy.

No excuses.
Click the link

Let’s fucking go.