Kristjan Kann

The Maze · 60 days · $4,000

You have tried everything. That is the problem.

The stories you carry about yourself stop being facts and become sentences — with an author, a date and a reason.

This is you if.

Something is not working

  • You have done a great deal already. Breathwork, yoga under four different names, three diets that all worked, teachers, retreats, a shelf of books.
  • Your body is fine. You are not a beginner and being treated as one is slightly insulting.
  • And you are still choosing. There is always another good method and another good teacher, and you keep starting. You would rather this were the last time.

Or nothing is wrong at all

  • You have tried none of that, and you are simply carrying a set of sentences about yourself you have never once examined — because they do not feel like opinions. They feel like weather.

This is not you if.

  • You want to keep being right. That is the entire cost here and there is no cheaper version.
  • You are hoping to arrive somewhere. This subtracts, and nothing is installed to replace what comes off.

Everyone has a story about who they are. Very few people have ever read it.

Where you are now.

I am the one who carries it. I do not need much. I am not the sort of person who asks. If I stop, it all stops.

You did not decide these. Most were installed before you were fifteen, and everything since has been built on top of them.

What 60 days changes.

Some sentences survive the examination and you keep them knowingly, which is a different thing from being run by them.

The rest come off, and you find out how much of the weight was theirs and not yours.

Who I refuse for this one.

  • Anyone whose sleep is still broken. This goes deep and it needs a floor under it.
  • Anyone looking for a new method. This is where methods stop.

What is required of you.

Four hours a week. And a willingness to write down a belief about yourself you would defend in an argument tomorrow, then spend two weeks looking for evidence against it.

This is the bounded version. There is a further one and it is not sold at all — it exists inside the year with me, where someone is on the phone while it happens.

What arrives.

Posted

The Protocol

Printed and sent before day one. Everything to do, in order, with the reasons underneath and the tricks that make it work.

Posted

The Ledger

A bound logbook, one numbered page for each day, written in by hand.

05:00 daily

The Daily

One written instruction each morning. Three lines. They get shorter as you get better.

The last day

The Page

You write your closing record. I read it myself and answer with one page in my handwriting, posted to you.

You cannot choose this one.

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.

What you do not get.

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.

The difference, side by side →

$4,000, once you are accepted.

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 →

Apply →

If this is not the one

All six, side by side →