Kristjan Kann

Discernment · The Maze · 60 days

You have tried everything. That is the problem.

The stories you have carried about yourself stop being facts.

This is you if.

  • You have done a great deal of this 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.
  • What you can no longer tell is which of it is actually yours and which you picked up along the way. You want to stop choosing and settle it, properly, and you would rather this were the last time you had to.

This is not you if.

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

You do not have to have done any of the other five. Come straight here if this is where you are.

The state you are in.

What is left when you stop performing is a set of sentences about yourself you have never examined, because they do not feel like opinions. They feel like weather.

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

You did not decide these. Most were installed before you were fifteen and you have been building companies on top of them ever since.

What 60 days changes.

The stories stop being facts. They become sentences — with an author, a date and a reason.

Some survive the examination and you keep them knowingly, which is different 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 one goes deep and it needs a floor under it. I will read your application and say so.
  • Anyone who wants 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 maze. There is a further version and it is not sold on its own — it exists inside The Year, where someone is on the phone with you while it happens.

What arrives.

Posted

The Protocol

Printed and sent before day one. Everything to do, in order, with the reasons underneath.

Posted

The Ledger

A bound logbook, one numbered page for each day.

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 write you one page back, by hand, and post it.

What you do not get.

No calls. No voice notes. No group. You will not meet me.

And nothing here is written for you specifically. This protocol was finished before I knew your name, which is why it costs a fraction of the year — it is a fraction of the year, the part that fits on paper.

The difference, laid out side by side →

$4,000. Paid in full.

If this is not your first, and you finished the last one inside thirty days, it is $1,600. That price cannot be bought, only finished into.

Apply →

If this is not the one

All six, side by side →