within the paradox (coming November)

My upcoming book isn’t just a story — it’s a wake-up call for the soul.
It’s for the ones who’ve survived the storm, outgrown the script, and are ready to rise with clarity, courage, and consciousness.

 A gun to my temple. A noose swinging from a branch. The cold plunge off a bridge into black, frigid water. These weren’t abstract thoughts — they were vivid, obsessive visions that wrapped themselves around my days like a vice.  Every time they surfaced, they drained the life out of me a little more.

For years, I lived with the shadow of death whispering in my ear. A silent, relentless chant: “Die, die, die.” It wasn’t loud, but it was steady. Persistent. And terrifying. The more I heard it, the more fear crept into my bones like winter chill through broken windows.

I’d pace the floors of my house, lost in the imagery of my own death — planning it, avoiding it, fearing it. Home was no longer a refuge. Sleep, when it came, was the only sanctuary from the storm in my head. But even that felt temporary, borrowed. Every day brought a new, grim scenario. And the more I tried to push it away, the more it consumed me.

Living in a state of suicidal ideation isn’t just pain — it’s war. A war that demands you dig your heels into the earth and refuse to be taken. If you’re not mentally armed to navigate the twisted terrain of your own mind, you might not make it out. I nearly didn’t.

But what came next, I call my awakening.

Those six months didn’t just scar me — they shaped me. They stripped me raw, shook me to the core, and then, slowly, showed me something I could never have learned from a thousand psychology books: the terrifying power and the miraculous potential of the human mind.

I lived each thought. I battled every emotion. I stared into the abyss...

To live is to drink the marrow of life through the present moment — for true experience is existence distilled into now. But to grasp this fully, we must first untangle the web of information, knowledge, learning, and understanding. The thinking mind is a master processor, always simplifying, deducing, and interpreting — but rarely are we taught to observe how it does this. Understanding what your mind is doing behind the curtain — anatomically, neurologically, and energetically — is not just important; it’s essential for your mental evolution. How you interpret the world through your senses, how your mind filters, distorts, or clarifies reality, all of it happens mostly on autopilot. Unless… you bring conscious awareness to the process. And that’s where we begin — with awareness sharp as a blade, turning inward.

Information is raw. It’s the unprocessed data flowing in from the outside world — sights, sounds, words, signals. It is what your senses receive before your mind makes meaning. Information is neutral until it is touched by interpretation.

Knowledge is stored information — organized, named, and remembered. It’s what you think you know because it’s been repeated, accepted, or archived in the mind. But knowledge alone can be rigid, even misleading, if not challenged or expanded.

Learning is the bridge — the process of transforming information into knowledge through personal engagement, experience, or study. It’s dynamic. It implies movement, evolution, the willingness to be changed by what you encounter.

Understanding is the soul of it all. It is when knowledge becomes yours — not memorized, but realized. It is embodied wisdom. You don’t just know it; you feel it in your bones. It reshapes how you see the world, how you act, how you live.