The Protocol
Printed and sent before day one. Everything to do, in order, with the reasons underneath and the tricks that make it work.
Independence · 30 days · $2,000
You stop looking for the next person to explain your life to you. Including me.
Something is not working
Or nothing is wrong at all
This is the only one that is genuinely last. Everything else can be entered wherever you are; this one cannot, because there has to be something built before it can be handed over.
You run your own life well, and you are still looking over your shoulder for confirmation that you are doing it correctly.
You have been doing that for years without calling it that.
You stop looking for the next person to explain your life to you. Including me.
These thirty days are built to make me unnecessary. If they work you will not buy anything from me again, which is the intended result and the reason there is no second year.
Three hours a week. And thirty days at the end of which you write your own protocol — the one you will run for the rest of your life, without me.
The last week has no instruction at all. Seven days, nothing sent. Some find it the hardest week of the lot. It is not an oversight.
Printed and sent before day one. Everything to do, in order, with the reasons underneath and the tricks that make it work.
A bound logbook, one numbered page for each day, written in by hand.
One written instruction each morning. Three lines. They get shorter as you get better.
You write your own protocol. It is printed, bound with your name on it, and posted back. I write nothing in it.
Everything else here can be entered wherever you actually are. This one cannot, because I have no way of knowing what you have already done unless you tell me properly, and almost nobody judges that accurately about themselves.
So there are two applications. Everyone writes the first. If I see the ground for this one in what you have written, I send you the second. You cannot ask for the second one. Receiving it is the answer to the first.
If you have read this and you are certain it is yours, say so and say why. Being certain is the commonest single reason I say no.
No calls. No voice notes. No group. You will not meet me.
And nothing here is written for you personally. This protocol was finished before I knew your name, which is why it costs a fraction of the year with me. It is a fraction of it: the part that fits on paper.
Paid in full. If you later want the whole year, this comes off it. You hold one at a time, so a second is not bought — you move up and this comes off. The year alone →
If this is not the one