Origins of Flux.

Nov '25 (edited) • LEAP

Origins of Flux.

I didn’t set out to build a community. I set out to survive myself.

But FLUX became the collection of pieces — the lessons, the bruises, the breakthroughs — that helped me navigate the version of me today toward the version of me I hope to become tomorrow. It wasn’t a plan; it was an evolution.

My life, like most people’s, has been a gradual realisation that we create many of our own problems. We stay busy solving everyone else’s crises while quietly shelving our own. At some point, I realised survival wasn’t enough. Something in me wanted to thrive, not just cope.

That’s when Skool appeared on my path.

Where most people saw a platform, I saw a possibility — a place where a community could grow, learn, and finally solve our own problems instead of endlessly orbiting someone else’s. A place where freedom wasn’t a fantasy, but a practice.

Because real freedom isn’t about money first —

it’s about shifting your energy from serving others to serving your own becoming.

Income follows identity.

And identity evolves through expression.

In our screen-soaked world, writing is one of the last ancient skills that still unlocks modern freedom. A poem becomes a song. A lesson becomes a book. A transformation becomes a newsletter. These aren’t hobbies; they’re stories waiting for the people who need them now.

My songs came from dreams and moments of closeness with the people I love.

My book came from wanting to serve the zeitgeist.

My newsletters came from wanting to help someone — anyone — navigate life a little more clearly.

What I’ve learned is that life isn’t a game of right or wrong. It’s a dance between sense and nonsense.

And a community can help us interpret the madness together — through the written word, through shared courage, through the freedom to evolve.

I’ve tried all three flows — songs, a book, newsletters. Not for fame. To purge my spirit, to make space for more life to enter. Every time I expressed myself, I attracted the right people without effort. I enjoy my own company, but surely part of my journey is to grow relationships that serve the greater good.

At work, I’m the person who cracks a joke, shares a story (cowardly or courageous), and reminds people we’re human, not machines. That same instinct — to connect through honesty — is what pushed me to publish in the first place.

My first attempts were pure passion and a Hitchhiker’s Guide to Freedom.

Yes, I like money — I’m human — but my spirit wants stories, wants an evolving identity, wants to feel alive.

And as I wrote more, I realised something uncomfortable and necessary: I need help.

I use frameworks from writers smarter than me.

Producers guide my music.

AI may sharpen my craft in the future.

But it all hinges on one thing:

I have to keep writing, so my taste and discernment can evolve.

I don’t have all the answers.

What I do have is a desire to write for the next 40 years.

One day, the visions inside me will fade — the memories, the stories, the dreams and the lessons.

Before they do, I want to share them.