Let’s get one thing straight—I’m not here to tell you how to win at life. I’m not handing you a blueprint for success or some neatly packaged formula for transformation. That’s not how this works.
I don’t teach liminality because I’ve mastered it. I teach it because I’ve been broken by it, shaped by it, and forged into something stronger because of it.
You don’t grow by doing things perfectly the first time. If you never fail, it probably means you’re playing too small—avoiding the edge, staying inside the lines, keeping things neat and predictable. But real transformation isn’t neat. It’s violent, chaotic, and unpredictable.
The best things I’ve ever learned came from disorder—stepping into the unknown, making a mess of it, and coming out the other side with scars and stories. That’s how you become antifragile—not by avoiding the fire, but by walking straight through it and realizing you can withstand more than you ever imagined.
So if you’re here for safety, stability, or some 5-step plan to control your future, you might want to leave now. But if you’re ready to burn away what no longer serves you, embrace the creative chaos of reinvention, and make something extraordinary out of the wreckage—then welcome. You’re exactly where you need to be.
Some people build their authority on unbroken success, a clear, linear trajectory from one achievement to the next. I am not one of those people. I don’t have that kind of story. What I have is a collection of crossroads, lost maps, dead ends, and radical reinventions.
What I have is a life shaped not by certainty, but by curiosity.
Liminality as the Space Where Everything Becomes Possible
Most of us spend our lives trying to avoid the in-between moments. We want the answers, the guarantees, the roadmaps. But true transformation does not happen in the places of certainty. It happens in the spaces where we are forced to let go of the old story and trust that something new is forming—even when we can’t see it yet.
I have failed—publicly, privately, spectacularly. I have walked away from careers, businesses, relationships, belief systems, and entire versions of myself because I knew, deep in my bones, that they no longer fit. I have also clung too long to things that needed to end because I was afraid of the void that followed.
I have been in the space between identities, between dreams, between knowing who I was and not yet knowing who I was becoming.
This is why I speak about liminality—not because I have the answers, but because I have learned how to sit inside the not-knowing.
What I’ve learned is this: The willingness to sit inside uncertainty, rather than fight it, is the difference between a life of expansion and a life of quiet suffocation.
Creativity as the Compass for the Unknown
People think creativity is about talent, or skill, or some divine gift of inspiration. Creativity is not something separate from daily life—something reserved for artists, musicians, and poets. In reality, creativity is the essence of how we move through liminality. It’s about your ability to navigate the unknown without running back to what is familiar just because it feels safe.
To be truly creative, you have to be willing to:
- Let go of the old ideas, the old formulas, the old rules.
- Stand in the in-between space where nothing is guaranteed.
- Risk failure. Risk looking foolish. Risk not knowing where this road leads.
And that is exactly what life itself asks of us, again and again.
To be creative is to trust in the process of becoming. It is to sit in the unknown and bring something into existence that did not exist before. It is a way of practicing transformation—of shaping the formless into form, again and again.
Why I Am Not Interested in Success (But Deeply Committed to Growth)
I do not teach from the pedestal of polished success. I teach from the trenches of curiosity, from the rawness of failure, from the relentless pursuit of growth over comfort.
Success, as most people define it, has never been my compass. What drives me is the unfolding—the next layer of who I am becoming, the next idea that stretches me, the next story I am meant to live.
I have built businesses that failed. I have taken leaps that didn’t land where I expected. I have invested years into ideas that didn’t bear fruit – and I have no regrets.
Because in every failure, I learned something about myself.
In every ending, I found a new beginning.
In every moment of loss, I was forced to expand in ways I never would have chosen.
And that is the real work—not chasing the illusion of a perfect life, but learning to meet every threshold with curiosity instead of fear.
The Call to Those Standing at the Edge
If you are in a moment of transition—if something in your life is unraveling, if you feel like the old ways no longer fit but the new way hasn’t yet appeared—I see you.
I have been there. I have built something from nothing, lost it all, started over, and found meaning in places I never expected. I have watched versions of myself dissolve, only to find that something truer was waiting beneath the wreckage.
I do not offer a map, because there isn’t one, but I can offer a compass. A way of seeing the transition not as a failure, but as a process of becoming.
If you feel lost, unanchored, as though the old life has dissolved and the new one has yet to take shape—this is your initiation.
If you are willing to let go of the idea that certainty is the goal, and instead step fully into the creative process of becoming—then I invite you to walk this path with me.
Because the world does not need more people who cling to what is safe. It needs more people willing to create something new.
That begins right here, in the in-between.
I invite you into that space, to not rush through it. To not fill the uncertainty with distractions, or quick fixes, or borrowed answers.
But to stand in it, breathe in it, create in it.
Because this is where everything new begins.