Your fractal can't find you in your journal
I journal every morning. I'll be in there hooting and hollering in cursive, working something out, getting all the way to the bottom of it.
And none of it counts.
Not because it isn't real. Because it never left my body. Your fractal — your people, your soul tribe, your audience — can't find you in your journal. They can only find you when you make yourself visible.
I know how that sounds coming from a man who posts every day. But lowkey, the camera is my biggest wound. Being in front of one at least. I don't have a fixed identity. I struggle to see myself. Every single time I upload, I watch it back and think, "who the hell is this talking?"
I do it anyway. Whatever scares me the most is the thing I'm supposed to do.
And here's how I'm falling in love with the publish button. Once I press it, I never have to carry that thing again. It's out in the world, and whoever it's for will find it today, tomorrow, or ten years from now. Every piece you put out is a lottery ticket you already paid for.
Publishing is the portal. That's the whole technique.
—
I made a video about it. Seventeen minutes on what a fractal actually is, why your voice is the mechanism, and why the part you're in right now is the part you can't do alone.
Day two of 108.
→ Your Fractal Can't Find You in Your Journal
P.S. I'm going to write you most mornings for a while. If that's too much you can turn the daily off and keep the rest, or leave entirely. I won't take it personally.