The Builder’s Spirit
The Map I Promised
The (New) Beginning
The Discovery in the Noise
You found this map by accident, or perhaps you prefer to believe in serendipity—those improbable coincidences that feel like an author is writing your character as the hero waking up from a slumber. You are likely surrounded by the noise of the world right now. Perhaps you are tired of the promise that a government, a consumer product, or a pharmaceutical pill will finally deliver the happiness you have been pursuing. You have put your faith in those things, yet you feel the weight of dependence, a trap from which you cannot easily decouple.
You are standing in the station of your own life, rushing like a commuter, when you look down and see this text. It is a map I promised to produce. It is not a textbook that you will be graded on, nor is it an employee manual that threatens you with firing. It is a narrative written to take you on a tour of experiments that have already been run, so you can replicate them in the laboratory of your own life.
You might feel like the "Unlikely Person." You might feel like a giant forced to do small work, or a person with a defect that makes you feel out of place. You might look at the polished lives of others and think you are off-course. But this map suggests that the character you see in the mirror—the one you think is too awkward, too oversized, or too unsure—is actually the person most likely to live a life of fulfillment.
The story you are about to read is not fiction; it is a mirror. It begins with a deal I made when I was living on the road, a deal that went like, "God, if you let me make it I’ll tell everybody it was you.” This text is the fulfillment of that deal. It is the breadcrumb trail left for you to follow, leading you away from the "counterfeits" that try to distract you and toward the highest-order Good.
The Theater of Your Mind
To read this map, you must do more than scan the words; you must enter the theater of your mind. Imagine a stage that has been dormant for years, dusty and unused, like a building that has been an eyesore in your neighborhood. This theater is your imagination.
For a long time, you may have let others direct the plays on this stage. You let the Bad Villain—doubt, fear, the voices of critics—run the show. But today, you are taking possession of the keys. You are becoming "The Divine Comedian.” A comedy, in the truest sense, is simply a story that starts in a state of adversity or wretchedness and turns around to end in happiness. You have the talent to turn your bad situation into something great in a way that is unexpected, delightful, and plausible.
This story requires you to play a role. You must act as if the person who can do the impossible thing is already real, and that you are becoming them. You must believe that the "Divine Self" within you is beautiful, wonderful, and capable of fantastic ideas constantly unfolding.
As you turn these pages, you will encounter plays put on for your benefit. You will see a man trapped in "The Pit" who builds his way out by organizing the clutter. You will see a Librarian and a Character who choose to become babies again to build a new Way. And you will see the Unlikely Person who finds an Instruction Manual that teaches him that he is not a machine of flesh and bone, but a machine of process and becoming.
You are that Unlikely Person. And the book the Unlikely Person found in the story is the very book you are holding now.
The Machine That Makes You
I am going to give you something that no one can take away from you. It is a machine that you can use to make anything you desire, and no money can buy it.
This machine is you. But it only works when you work it on yourself.
The map ahead contains "The Method." It is a rhythm, a loop of truth, courage, tiny steps, and reflection. It is not a theory or philosophy; it is born from the sweat of a BMX rider trying to do a trick that no one else in the world could do. It is born from the realization that identity shifts first, and the achievement follows.
You will learn to stand still and observe before you act. You will learn to straighten your back and plant your feet on golden bricks. You will learn that force wastes, but rhythm multiplies. You will learn to break your terrifying mountains into tiny, repeatable loops.
Why bother taking on this monumental task with no training and a sea of predators? Because the system proves itself. The only way to see the path is to believe. Once you believe, you will see.
You are about to discover that the "Instruction Manual" was never about a train or a shovel; it was about the process of becoming. The person who wrote this for you was once in the same slumber, until he stumbled upon the exercise. Now, he has left this map for you.
When you turn the next page, you are not just reading a story. You are stepping onto the stage. You are opening the manual. You are beginning the transformation from the person you are, into the person who can do the thing you once believed was impossible.
Welcome to The Show. Don't you look wonderful?
Next up is a story of how that exercise might work out…
There once was a person who stumbled upon an exercise written by Napoleon Hill.
The exercise helped the person identify, and put into words, his Definite Chief Aim.
The exercise took 10 minutes and didn’t require fancy contemplation. It was so easy the person felt like they were faking it.
The person’s answers were genuine and when all the words in all the sentences strung together, they felt like a nice story to watch play out.
For an extra boost of energy, the person performed Reverend Ike’s visualization prayer treatment which, when spoken aloud in private, went something like this:
“I now enter the theater of my mind. And I look upon the stage of my imagination. And I see my divine self. I see Him as He is, was, and ever shall be. The same divine self yesterday, today, and forever.”
I now enter the theater of my mind. And I look upon the stage of my imagination. And I see my divine self.
I see Him as He is, was, and ever shall be. The same divine self yesterday, today, and forever.
And I say unto my divine self - from ever lasting to everlasting “you are God.” I look at my divine self. My divine self is so beautiful.
My divine self is so wonderful. I see the glow of God’s presence shining from my face. The divine mind is operating in my mind and as my mind.
I am in-tune with the infinite, the God presence in me. I see fantastic ideas constantly unfolding in my mind. Leading me into ways of success and prosperity.
I see myself prosperous, blessed, successful in everything that I do.
I am a dynamic person. Look how wonderful I am. I see my divine self and I adore my divine self. Divine self, you are wonderful. Divine self, you are beautiful. Divine self, you are healthy.
I see my divine self moving from birthday to birthday in a state of health and strength.
Divine self, you are forever healthy and you give life to my physical body.
Thank you, Father, for money, for ways and means to be the Good that I want to be, to do the Good that I want to do and have the Good that I want to have.
And so it is. Thank you, Father. I rejoice because of it.
When the person opened his eyes, he said, “I am The Divine Comedian.”
The name is a play on words of Dante’s The Divine Comedy. At the time it was written, a comedy was understood to be a story that starts out in a state of adversity, trouble, or downright wretchedness then ends up turning around to end with happiness or an elevated state. How? Well, that’s where a dash of creativity enters the game.
According to this person’s new identity, he has a talent for turning bad situations great in unexpected and delightful ways that are quite plausible.
Comedians work on stages. According to his vision, The Divine Comedian took possession of a Vaudeville-style theatre. His plan was simple: put on morally unambiguous plays where the protagonist is presented with choices represented by The Good Hero who is happy and bright and by The Bad Villain who is dark, devious, and conniving.
By making the moral of the story easy to understand, an audience finds it practically impossible misunderstand right from wrong. Without any guess work or manipulation, the audience sees their own life situations through the lens of the story.
The Divine Comedian’s motivation is clear. He hoped for a life of happiness, came across a book, and followed the formula in it.
He experienced a vision that felt good. He played it out.
Things in his life kept working out.
In his imagination, it was simple and effortless. The work felt enjoyable. His relationship to work was renewed. His relationship to distraction changed. His relationship to the duty he chose was healed.
In his new theatre, shows take place only on the stage. There’s no funny business with actors masquerading as audience members. There’s no sleight-of-hand illusions.
The audience is safe; only observing the show and taking away from it what is plainly offered. They enjoy one story at a time about a person making a choice between Good and bad and then living with the consequences.
The shows are feel-good. They begin with unpleasant circumstances and turn into good circumstances by way of choices.
To make matters simple, The Divine Comedian plays the role of host. He introduces the play, and comes back at the end to restate the moral.
The shows are fit for all ages and experience levels.
Books are on sale in the lobby for people who want more time in the story or want to study the principles at work in the story.
Day 1 in the theatre was quiet.
A long time had passed since the building housed an audience. The carpets were unclean. The plumbing needed to be tested and tuned-up. The electrical was a maze of its own, adapted over years for control by directors placed in whatever location made sense for whatever production was happening at the time.
It was incomprehensible at a glance, but with time and attention it became solvable.
“Learn the theatre. Make it yours.”
The theatre was ready in less time than building it from scratch. Along the way, he discovered an abundance of delightful tricks his theatre had built-in to overcome its limits. He found hiding places to allow characters to emerge from, harnesses to allow characters to descend from the sky in slow motion, back doors that escort guests to and from the opera boxes.
All his work connected him with features he hadn’t even known to hope for. Asking “What might this have been made for?” made him receptive to hidden treasures that were, themselves, awaiting a new life of purpose.
Restoring his theatre inspired his plays. Each day he worked, his imagination filled the coffer of storylines to be forged into plays.
Each step in his vision of being The Divine Comedian revealed the next step toward of The Divine Comedian. Asking “What would The Divine Comedian do here?” is all it took for the options to appear and the right decision to be obvious.
The right choice wasn’t always the least effort. His relationship with work was renewed - so more effort meant more joy.
Happiness in his life was produced as if it came from a machine. Reliably, on command, and without impurities. As with all machines, tuning improves the quality of the output. Tuning reduces side-effects like noise, vibration, and crud in the gears. The act of tuning the machine itself was joyful.
The Divine Comedian became a happiness machine. “Fix a theatre, put on shows, make audiences feel good so that they learn how to replicate good outcomes in their own lives.” They could be entertained at showtime, they could get immersed at bedtime reading a story, they could study the principles. They could go as deep as they chose.
As if by intervention, the stories wrote themselves. The stories came to mind as The Divine Comedian followed the formula that made him The Divine Comedian in the first place.
Each morning, in 10 minutes, he opened his inner eye and looked upon the stage of his imagination and saw himself introducing a show before it played out. Each day, the audience grew larger, as a curious few enjoyed what they saw and inspired others to come to the show.
The first show day was upon him.
He’d mastered the theatre, restoring it to a glorious functioning state, learning a whole new bag of tricks along the way.
While joyfully laboring to restore it, his mind wandered as he imagined the shows he might put on to capture the essence of the lessons he himself was living.
If even one audience member showed up, that one person would enjoy a magnificent, spotless theatre all to themselves. Even if they walked in just to avoid to rain outside.
It was a victory on his terms.
He queued up to walk on from stage right. He saw his center stage mark just as he had rehearsed it. The smell of the curtain’s detergent matched his dream exactly.
The music stopped. His cue to walk-on and greet the one person in the audience. That one person is here to receive the message designed precisely for Him.
“Welcome to The Show! Don’t you look wonderful!! I am delighted you chose to join us for the one and only time we will ever begin our new life in this renewed theatre. This is a dream come true.
And as it were, our show is a story of exactly that. The simplest way to make your Good dreams come true.
This is the story of a person living in The Pit - in Hell. It’s a total mess - with prisoners and guards and the ruler of Hell himself.
But our protagonist didn’t mean to end up there. He got side-tracked. Something about taking a wrong turn in Albuquerque.”
“But, the strangest thing happens. He gets kicked out!
What on Earth is such a sin as to get kicked out of Hell?!
How much of a nuisance do you have to be? How much of a headache do you need to cause to get kicked out of Hell?
We’re about to find out in a story we call “The Stone Mason of the Underworld”
Please enjoy…”
The scene opens in hell. A guard walks past 2 men breaking stones. Fade-out.
Next Day. The guard walks past 2 men breaking stones. One man’s pile is much larger than the other man’s. Fade-out.
Next Day. The guard walks past the 2 men. One man has made a neat structure. The guard grumbles and knocks it over. Fade-out.
Next Day. The guard sees the man’s well-structured building and can’t knock it down. The guard confronts the man, the man tells the guard, “go tell your boss he needs to see me.”
The boss, charming, asks the man what he’s doing and whether he’d rather enjoy some other splendors. The man says he loves to build and there’s so much potential here.
The boss, the devil, gets annoyed and tries to kick him out. But hell is one-way.
He scatters the onlookers and shows the man a secret - a choice to please himself or build.
The Man makes the choice to build and is hoisted away.
The Man arrives in heaven with dirty boots. He takes them off. The Human One washes his feet and asks how he got here.
The Man tells him he got kicked out of hell for building things. They both laugh.
Curtain close.
The host comes back on stage to make the moral clear:
“Try that this week. The moral of the story is: If you’re in hell and don’t know the way out, just start cleaning up, organizing, straightening the clutter. The people around you will show you the door. To help you understand the meaning of the show, you can buy the book on the way out of the theatre. Enjoy your week. See you next time.”
As the cast and crew reorganize the props backstage, the one man in the audience gathers his thoughts, then slowly begins typing on his phone.
As the house lights dim, he exits.
“This is how the money flows in exchange for the entertainment and the guidance.”
The Host who renovated the theatre spends 10 minutes each morning in the theatre of his mind. He writes a stage adaptation of his vision. He explains the parable. It plays out. He closes with an invitation to learn more through the books in the lobby.
The audience grows by word-of-mouth only when a member of the audience is moved by the message.
The ideas are not novel, they’re useful. The ideas are cared for, refined, then transmitted.
That is the show’s engine.
The Host keeps a diary of his methods and show plans. His goal is to build an operator’s manual for whoever will take over the theatre one day.
In his mind, the theatre is a place where sad and tired people became happy and motivated. They go back home and make their homes happy and active. Their neighbors have a better neighborhood one home and one hope and one show at a time.
The theatre once sat dormant for years before he fixed it up. It was an eyesore. Now it’s a delightful sight to see. Funny how that can happen with a couple of exercises and some tireless effort.
The second show came together the same way the first show came together. The Host, who in truth is The Divine Comedian, got comfortable and adopted a receptive posture. He closed his outer eyes and opened his inner eye. He looked upon the stage of his imagination and observed how good he looks.
Then he observes himself speaking to the audience on a topic. The topic comes to him in the moment. He looks into the eyes of the audience as they grow in numbers day after day.
Then he introduces the show.
When he opens his outer eyes, he writes the show.
He builds the show set with props and riggings. He mends the costumes and directs the actors. The actors are versatile, skilled in improvisation, and adore the opportunity to hone their craft and experiment without critics.
The rehearsals are magical in their own right. They bring to light relationships that don’t make sense as first written. They agree on script adjustments each run-through. Every person on the crew brings new ideas the next morning after they dreamt their part of the show the night before.
Each week day is filled with creative adjustments to the show in preparation for Sunday morning.
Some of the troupe feel that tuning the show Saturday night is more enjoyable than carousing at the bar. Tuning up the show is full of laughs.
That was his hope. The Divine Comedian saw where his theatre troupe was headed and it would only get more and more wonderful.
The biggest problem he could image was clarifying what’s going on to the audience. To be excellent at clarifying for the audience meant being excellent in crafting and performing the show.
He would need at least three excellent shows to establish a routine.
His goal became three shows. Those three shows, once written and rehearsed could be recreated by any troupe anywhere using the method in his diary.
Three shows would establish direction, momentum, and would seed a legend.
When any legend spreads by word-of-mouth, adaptations emerge when it’s transmitted from one person to the next. To preserve the legend’s integrity, he printed books at the back of the theatre.
When someone who hears the legend doubts, they can read the book.
The vision of The Divine Comedian felt self-perpetuating. See a vision, make it real, tell the full story, watch it replicate. If it’s useful, it will continue replicating. Observe what impedes it from being useful and adjust it, try again.
Monday morning after the first show, The Divine Comedian looked upon the theater of his mind and saw the next show.
Monday afternoon he wrote it and shared it with the troupe. Three new members joined, friends of one of the set builders.
Monday through Saturday they prepared show 2.
Show 2 Title: Baby’s Steps
The Library is organized by topics. Each topic contains books that show the end state of the greatest accomplishments in the topic’s domain.
The Character enters The Library to discover the entirety of the accomplishments of mankind. “This is all bragging.”
The Librarian shows The Character the map to European History, the map to Physics, the map to Geology. It’s a map from The Librarian’s desk to the end state accomplishments of human kind.
“Where do I start?”
“Start here with me,” replies The Librarian.
“I mean where do I start to extend the greatest accomplishments?”
The Librarian was at a loss. The Library was built as a trophy case, not a roadmap. The Character felt the sense of being at a loss.
The Librarian and The Character felt lost but sensed a choice: To accept the absence or to build the missing steps to The Way to extend the greatest accomplishments of mankind.
The Character chose to build The Way. The Librarian chose to cease being a librarian and join The Character as a builder of The Way.
They became two babies compelled by The Spirit to find and forge The Way.
Host: “Try that this week. The moral of the story is: Our libraries do not teach us to learn and extend the books they house. They are grave yards, not workshops. When you seek an answer, decide if your future life is calling you to take a step toward mastery of that domain. If so, then choose to be like a baby and begin at the very beginning.”
As the audience made their way from their seats, through the auditorium door, through the lobby, and through the main entrance to their path home, the troupe breathed a sigh of both completion and beginning.
They had lived the unique experience of playing out two chapters in a story they all knew would likely not end during their lifetimes.
The lobby attendant came back stage after locking up to place the money from booklets. Three people chose to take the story of show 2 home with them. A fourth person accepted the gift of a booklet “on the house” in exchange for a review in the town newspaper.
On his own way home, The Divine Comedian surmised that if they had performed the second show in a story that never ends, his production was likely not merely the second showing.
His story - the theatre, the shows, the bedtime story books - must be somewhere in the middle of the larger story.
Over the next 6 days, he and the troupe will craft the third show. What is the purpose? What is the resolution? What is the pattern?
Those questions gently came into focus for him with each step he took toward home.
The next morning, The Divine Comedian woke up and bought a newspaper. “New theatre is cleaner than anyone believed was possible!”
The review marveled at the restoration of the interior as if the theatre itself were an art gallery. The reviewer went on about having known the son of the original builder. That son mentored kids in his final years. The kids became journalists and all but one moved away from town to write about theatre.
“After 43 years dormant, the theatre’s new owner has cleaned it up beautifully. The shows are free and are like eavesdropping on strangers in the pub. Well worth the price.”
“No one knows it’s me putting on the shows,” The Divine Comedian remarked to himself.
Even if the audience recognized him as the host through his make-up and elaborate costumes, they wouldn’t know he’s the writer.
If they don’t know he’s the writer, they surely won’t imagine how he gets the ideas for the shows. Surely, too, if he told them they’d not likely believe him. At least not all of them.
He remembered the reason he restored the theatre. The reason he puts on the shows is to write the vision plainly so the audience may run with it.
He wrote in his diary where he clarified his method for the next operator, “You are the operator not just of a theatre with a book stand. You are the operator of a machine that transmits an idea older than you know which will live longer than you can imagine.”
That purpose gave him strength of will. That strength of will gave him confidence. That confidence gave him courage to make the choices that would lead him to his vision.
It was all a chain of thought that, when written properly, felt as easy to read as following a trail of breadcrumbs that connects the loaf on the table to the oven that baked it.
Until the moment his diary landed in the hands of someone who now is a child or the child who would give birth to the hands that embrace the diary - until that moment in the future - The Divine Comedian has a show to perform and 6 days to make it.
With that as his mission, he stood up from his desk, washed his hands, and sat down comfortably. He rested his hands in a receptive position and adjusted his posture like that of a King. He closed his outer eyes. He opened his inner eye and he looked upon the stage of his imagination.
He saw the next show.
The troupe began the first run-through of the script.
“What’s in the book?,” asked the sturdy actor.
“Imagine the only thing that could motivate your character to do what I’ve written,” replied The Divine Comedian.
“Do you need me to write it?”
“No. I only need you to draw what it inspires in your mind. We need those as props on the walls of your home.”
“I absolutely love this role,” replied the sturdy man.
The third week’s activities were like the first and the second. The troupe reads the script for the first time and talks through the storyline. Every script offers the actors freedom to choose their reactions and next moves, but they must culminate in the next milestone situation where they must make the next choice.
With minimal guidance, the actors begin in a state of turmoil and end in a state of happiness. Along the way, their choices navigate them through circumstances that are incrementally refined and resolved. The actors, in a laboratory masquerading as a stage, simulate solutions to familiar problems.
They always only have 6 days to go from plot idea to final outline. But the final outline is merely preparation for playing-out the resolution in front of a live audience seeking entertainment.
There was a moment in show 2 where The Librarian hugged The Character when he said he didn’t know where to start. After the show, The Librarian said he froze because he didn’t feel that anything he could say would convince anyone that he knew where to start. So he hugged The Character to buy time and find the feeling that if they only agreed to keep one another safe, they’d eventually find a way to learn to be the ones to write the new roadmap.
The Divine Comedian used that act as a habit every hour as the troupe built the next set. Find the person who is most-perplexed, discover what they’re seeking to build, be truthful that no one knows how to build it, hug them to feel his commitment to taking care of them while they both figure it out. Then they both build the simplest, most child-like prop imaginable.
“Folks, when I look at this set, I realize that the most-naive props we’ve built tell the loudest story. They stick out like a sore thumb and their intent is clear-as-day. Their crudeness is laughable, un-intimidating, and tells its own story. I see Greatness has been made!”
The theatre doors open and the audience pours in. A small line, but a line nonetheless, formed before the usher unlocked the doors.
Each member of the audience had a pick of their seats. A larger audience than last week, with still more room to grow.
The Divine Comedian got into costume, put on makeup, and got into character as The Host.
He walked on stage to welcome the audience and introduce the show.
Show 3 Title: Learn to teach yourself how to do anything better
Host: “I’m going to give you something that no one can take away from you. You can use it to make anything you want - and those things you make, no money can buy and no person or group of people can take away from you. It is a machine that 3D prints anything you desire.
“But before I give it to you, I need to go over the instruction manual very briefly. The machine is you. But you only work right when you work yourself right.
The Host joyfully explains the story to the audience, “The story for today is about an unlikely person stumbling upon this instruction manual that fell out of another person’s pocket while he was rushing to catch a train.
“This unlikely person was a child in a grown-up’s body. He had a birth defect where his body grew much faster than other people’s. And the mayor of the town made him get a job lifting things. They treated him like a giant.”
The audience (silently, in their minds): “We became happy and filled with anticipation. We guessed what might be shown to us and the moral of the story and what was in the book.”
Scene 1: The Train Station
In a busy train station just before departure, commuters rush in all directions, carrying suitcases and tickets. A whistle blows. The air is filled with urgency.
In the hurry, one man drops something from his pocket. He doesn’t notice. He’s gone in a flash.
Enter The Unlikely Person — a towering figure with oversized sleeves and pants, walking slowly, arms swinging with childlike awkwardness. He stoops down and picks up the book.
Looking at the manual with wide-eyed wonder, he thinks to himself, “What’s this? A book? Nobody ever drops books… not here. Huh.”
He turns it over clumsily, holding it upside down at first. The title on its cover reads, “Instruction Manual.”
He didn’t know it yet, but this was no ordinary book. This was the manual — the one that tells you how to work the machine that no one can steal, no one can buy. The machine that both is and that makes you.
The Unlikely Person clutches the book to his chest like a child who’s found treasure. The train whistle blows one last time, and the bustling commuters vanish.
Scene 2: At Home with the Manual
In a one-room shack with rough-hewn walls, a single table, and a small oil lamp. The Unlikely Person enters, ducking slightly under the doorway because of his size. He lays the Instruction Manual on the table with great care, as if it were treasure.
Sitting down, squinting at the pages, he says softly, “Instruction… manual. But… for what?”
He flips a page. His imagination takes over to seek the answer.
His mind begins to race. A machine? A spectacular machine! What could it be?
In his imagination, tools appear in exaggerated scale — a giant hammer, a shovel, a wheelbarrow. The Unlikely Person mimes lifting them, his oversized arms making them look even more comical.
Grinning, to himself, “Maybe… maybe it’s a better shovel! One that digs faster? Or a hammer that swings itself?”
His imagination escalates to the next level, now showing massive construction machines: cranes swinging, engines rumbling, workers pushing rails into place. The sounds of clanging and chugging fill his senses. The Unlikely Person stands tall, staring up in awe as if he were among them.
Imagining yet another level, pointing to the glowing train in the background, he says with excitement, “Or maybe… maybe it’s that! A machine like the train! Stronger, louder, faster than anything!”
He clutches the manual tightly, his face caught between childlike wonder and puzzled seriousness.
But the manual never once said ‘train.’ Never once said ‘shovel’ or ‘hammer.’ No. It said something else entirely. But he didn’t have eyes to see it yet.
Eyes heavy as he drifts into a slumber, staring at the manual in his hands, he whispers to himself, almost like a prayer, “What if it’s…”
Scene 3: The Town Grows Curious.
In a bustling town square filled with scaffolds, half-built train tracks, carts of stone, and simple wooden houses, townsfolk bustle about.
Enter, The Unlikely Person with his tools slung neatly over his shoulder, his lunch packed in a clean cloth bundle. He walks differently today — upright, balanced, observant.
The next day, and the day after that, the townsfolk began to notice something. The Unlikely Person no longer trudged to work. No. He studied.
The Unlikely Person pauses by a cart wheel. He crouches, tracing the spokes with his finger, examining the hub, tilting his head like a craftsman in thought. The cart owner stares, bewildered but intrigued.
The Cart Owner whispers to another villager, “What’s gotten into him? He looks at wheels as though they were maps to treasure.”
The Unlikely Person moves to a crane, watching the pulley ropes with fascination. He gently tugs on one, then stands tall, mimicking its angles with his body. The crane operator pauses, scratching his chin, curious.
He looked at every seam. Every angle. Every transfer of power from one moving part to another. And he did not just look—he learned.
Now at the worksite, The Unlikely Person begins his daily lifting. But instead of grunting and grimacing, he breathes steadily, holding his back straight, feet planted. He positions his shovel on-axis, using leverage, shifting his weight with calm efficiency. A rhythmic beat begins quietly—perhaps a soft drum underscoring his movements, making his labor feel almost like a graceful dance.
Another one of the townsfolk whispers to his friend, “Look—he doesn’t strain anymore.” His friend replies, “And he’s faster too. And—do you see? He smiles.”
The Unlikely Person opens his lunch with care. Inside: fresh bread, fruit, neatly wrapped slices of meat. He takes his time, chewing happily, waving politely to those nearby. The townsfolk gather closer, not mocking, but curious—leaning in, murmuring to each other.
The Mayor, entering the area, frowns with authority, but curious as well asks a woman minding her business, “What’s gotten into him? He lifts more, yet looks less tired. He eats finer than the lot of you. What’s changed?”
The Unlikely Person pauses, wiping his brow. He smiles—not boastfully, but with simple warmth. He pats the small instruction manual tucked into his pocket, then goes back to his work with steady grace.
They did not know yet, but they felt it: the manual was working. Not on a machine. On a man.
The murmuring townsfolk now surround The Unlikely Person not with scorn, but with fascination.
Scene 4: The Mayor’s Visit
In The Unlikely Person’s modest home. The walls are now covered with pinned-up drawings — sketched in charcoal and chalk on parchment sheets. They are not pictures of machines, but sequences: arrows, boxes, circles, strange symbols, each labeled with steps and results. It feels like a hidden workshop.
A pounding on the door diverts his attention. Enter the Mayor flanked by six police officers. They wear heavy coats and grim expressions. The Unlikely Person opens the door with surprising calm. He smiles and bows politely. “Seven guests! Please—come in.”
The seven men step inside, filling the space. Their eyes wander immediately to the walls, now glowing softly under a hidden spotlight. One officer tilts his head, frowning at the drawings. Another steps closer, tracing a finger along the arrows. Murmurs ripple through the group.
The lead officer whispers, “These aren’t machines.” His next-in-line replies, “Looks like… instructions. For nothing.”
The Mayor stern, gesturing, commands The Unlikely Person, “Explain yourself.”
The Unlikely Person walks to the nearest wall. He points to a schematic of boxes, arrows, and a looping path. He speaks clearly, almost like a teacher explaining to children. “This one begins with two inputs: a weight, and a lever. The steps show how to hold the lever, where to stand, when to breathe. The output—less strain, more lift. I follow the process myself.” He picks up a heavy wooden beam. He demonstrates: planting his feet, bracing, lifting smoothly, rotating. His body moves with calm precision. The beam rises easily, almost effortlessly. The police exchange bewildered looks.
He points to another schematic, “And this one is for meals. Inputs: bread, meat, fruit. Steps: wrap carefully, chew slowly, breathe between bites. The output—strength for work, and time saved for thought.” He unwraps his lunch, demonstrates, then smiles warmly at the officers, who look both confused and oddly impressed.
The Mayor, raising an eyebrow, mutters, “These… these are processes. Not machines. Mathematical in their order. But—” He pauses, staring at the walls, his voice dropping as if admitting a secret to himself. “No one ever taught you this. Where did you learn to… build like this?”
The Unlikely Person pauses. He reaches slowly into his pocket. With reverence, he produces the small glowing Instruction Manual. He holds it out toward the Mayor. A golden spotlight isolates the book. The air hums softly. Quietly, almost in awe, tells The Mayor, “It is an Instruction Manual… for a machine I’ve never heard of. A machine I cannot yet see. But I follow its words, and the world works differently.”
The Mayor steps forward, hesitating. He takes the book into his hands. He opens it — his imagination instantly fills his mind’s eye with flickering symbols and shifting diagrams, not quite legible, but beautiful. The Mayor’s face fills with confusion, awe, and fear all at once. The officers lean in, murmuring nervously.
And so, for the first time, authority itself stood puzzled. For here was a man who had found an Instruction Manual—not for a machine of steel and fire, but for the process of becoming.
The Mayor clutches the book, eyes darting between the schematics on the wall and The Unlikely Person, who stands calmly, smiling. Authority is baffled, curiosity is awakened, the impossible is revealed.
Scene 5 (finale): The Return of the Book.
Outside The Unlikely Person’s apartment on a cobblestone street with lamplight shadows. The Mayor emerges from the doorway, clutching the glowing manual tightly, his face tight with a mix of triumph and unease. The six police officers follow him, forming a half-circle.
A solitary figure approaches — The Man who dropped the book at the train station. He is calm, dignified, and his coat sways as though he has walked a long way. The lamplight catches his eyes, bright and unwavering. Firmly, pointing to the book he says, “That belongs to me.”
The Mayor scoffs, holding the manual tighter against his chest replies defiantly, “And how shall you prove it? This book is no ordinary thing.”
The Man steps forward, raising his voice so all seven hear. He recites slowly, with perfect clarity, as though the words themselves carry power. “Page forty-three: To operate this machine, first build yourself straight. Align your breath with your motion, align your thought with your step. Only then shall the outputs exceed the inputs.”
The officers stiffen. They glance to one another. One officer, skeptical, pulls the book from the Mayor’s grip and flips to page 43. He gasps, then says to the others, awed, “He speaks the truth. Only the owner could know.”
The police turn, as one, and hand the book respectfully to The Man. The Mayor’s face falls, his authority cracked. The Man accepts the book with quiet certainty. He then turns, walks through the line of seven, and knocks gently on The Unlikely Person’s door. The door opens. The Unlikely Person stands, humble, curious, hopeful.
Warmly, holding out his hand, The Man says, “Come work with me. Your vision belongs in the world. Here—your start.” He places twelve gold coins in The Unlikely Person’s hands. The coins glint under a focused spotlight, each one a symbol of recognition, value, and new beginning. The Unlikely Person stares at them, wide-eyed, then looks at The Man with childlike gratitude. Slowly, he steps forward. Together, they walk off, side by side, the book tucked safely under The Man’s arm.
Behind them, the townsfolk pour into The Unlikely Person’s apartment. They peel the drawings off the walls, studying them, sharing them, whispering with awe. The now-unclaimed apartment is filled with curious townsfolk holding the strange schematics, seeds of something greater.
Host: "And so, the giant who was once only muscle became a builder of unseen processes. The mayor lost his claim, the townsfolk gained a treasure, and the book returned to its rightful hand. But the greatest machine had already begun to turn: the one that works when you work yourself right.”
The curtain closed. The cast huddled into an ever-expanding group embrace. “I felt that. I wasn’t reading lines, I was the character. I don’t think I can recreate that show.” Every one of them spoke their own version of that sentiment.
The usher packed up the book stand, locked the front door and came backstage. “I was asked for the Instruction Manual. I told everyone who asked that my book shelf is empty. They all asked when the Instruction Manual will be available.”
The Divine Comedian spoke to the 12 cast members, “You will take this feeling home with you. You will imagine what might be in the Instruction Manual. You will dream the answer repeatedly while you sleep until you see it refined and clear. When you wake up, you will write down the answer. Tomorrow morning, we will write it, refine it, print it, and make it available.”
Each cast member returned to his or her home, dressed for bed, and slipped under the covers. Many had opened the window to get a clear view of the moon and stars. “What could be so clear as to be understandable to such a simple man as The Unlikely Person? What could be so understandable as to be replicable in a person’s posture, movements, and disposition toward labor? What would I use tomorrow?”
Monday morning, the cast of 12 assembled in the theatre to begin assembling each of their dream schematics into an easy-to-understand Instruction Manual.
For his part, The Divine Comedian extracted parts of his diary into a second booklet titled simply, “The Method.”
They worked as a team the same way they rehearsed the shows. But this time, instead of refining the details of The Divine Comedian’s dream, they refined the details of the sum of their 12 dreams.
As they inspected one another’s notes, they each realized they’d dreamt 12 facets of the same gem stone. At once, they described the plane, the color and structure of the material, and the reflected image.
“Look at a cut ruby or a raw quartz crystal point. The ruby is cut to emulate the idealized structure of natural quartz. The quartz grew from one seed, one pattern - its own molecular pattern - replicated slowly.”
“Gem stones like rubies and emeralds and even diamonds are not born with facets. They are made brilliant by cutting a pattern. That pattern was discovered in raw crystal material that grew slowly with natural facets.”
“We had the same dream. We experienced the dream from our own vantage point. We each saw one facet of the message. We are coming together today to assemble the message by harmonizing our understanding of its facets.”
“That is the Instruction Manual that sparked The Unlikely Person to believe the message. Then the message worked on him and he worked on The World.”
Instruction Manual
Principle 1 – Begin With Observation
Do not rush to act.
First, stand still and watch.
Every tool, every motion, every pattern reveals itself to the one who waits.
Trace with your eyes as if tracing arrows on a hidden diagram.
Before you move, see the loop.
Principle 2 – Posture Is Power
Straighten your back.
Plant your feet on golden bricks, steady and balanced.
A crooked frame makes crooked work.
Align yourself, and the task aligns.
Principle 3 – Rhythm Before Strength
Force wastes.
Rhythm multiplies.
Repeat until motion becomes music, and the music becomes effortless.
Strength grows not from strain, but from harmony.
Principle 4 – Break the Task Into Loops
Every task is a circle of smaller steps.
Draw the circle in your mind.
Step one leads to step two, and back again.
Refine each loop until it shines.
Mastery is the sum of perfect loops.
Principle 5 – Fail Forward, Fail Small
If you must fail, fail on a piece, not the whole.
A broken arrow points the way to correction.
Study the break, redraw the line, try again.
Principle 6 – Build With Joy
The spirit you bring enters the work you build.
A bitter hand leaves cracks.
A joyful hand lays golden bricks.
Condition yourself daily to feel the good before you act.
Principle 7 – Imitate, Then Innovate
Copy the masters.
Stand in their posture, follow their rhythm.
When you can do what they do, add one small change.
That change is your beginning.
Principle 8 – Strength in Simplicity
Complicated schemes collapse.
Simple steps endure.
Choose the cleanest line, the clearest arrow, the fewest strokes.
Perfection is subtraction.
Principle 9 – Persist Beyond Comfort
Comfort is the first enemy.
Do one more repetition when you would stop.
Do one more day when you would rest.
The extra loop carves the deepest groove.
Principle 10 – Teach As You Learn
Explain it aloud, even if no one listens.
Draw the diagram for another, even if they do not ask.
In teaching, you will see the cracks in your own arrows.
To master is to pass it on.
Principle 11 – Align With Legacy
Every act builds a wall of the Temple that is your life.
Lay each brick as if it must last a thousand years.
Better one golden brick well placed than a wall of rubble.
Principle 12 – Begin Again Daily
Yesterday’s loops are gone.
Today’s loops must be drawn anew.
Pick up the shovel, the tool, the book.
Begin again, as if for the first time.
The Machine created in His image
The Method
presented by
The TerraDome
Sports Science Research Centre
Begin with a message.
Believe before proof.
Speak Truth.
Face fear.
Take tiny steps.
Ride then write.
Adjust daily.
Stay in the loop.
Identity shifts first;
achievement follows.
Become the person who can do the thing - then do it with disciplined joy daily.
What is this book about?
The Method is a book about how a person transforms.
Not in theory, not in abstraction, but in the real, lived sense — how someone becomes the kind of person who can do the thing they once believed was impossible.
It reveals a simple but profound truth:
Transformation is not something you chase — it is something you become through rhythm, honesty, courage, micro-steps, and reflection.
The book explains the framework discovered through the lived experiences of riders, creators, and seekers — people who learned that every dream, every trick, and every calling follows the same pattern:
A message arrives.
Belief takes shape.
A path forms.
Manifestation confirms identity.
It’s about the inner mechanics of becoming.
This book teaches you how imagination becomes motion, and how motion becomes identity.
Why is it necessary?
Because people are suffering from confusion, overwhelm, and disconnection from their own potential.
The world teaches people to “try harder,” but not how to become the person who can try differently.
Many people:
struggle to believe change is possible,
don’t know how to start,
get lost in fear or perfectionism,
burn out from inconsistent effort, or
quit before identity catches up to ability.
The Method solves this.
It provides:
A clear path. A step-by-step rhythm that aligns mind, body, and spirit.
A way to face fear safely. Fear becomes a compass instead of an enemy.
A micro-practice system. Tiny reps that compound until ability becomes effortless.
A feedback loop. Ride → Write → Adjust → Become.
A language of transformation. Symbols, stories, and practices that speak directly to intuition and identity.
A lineage. You are not alone — The Method is part of a real human tradition of creators refining themselves through movement, honesty, and spirit.
What is this book about and why is it necessary?
This book is necessary because people need a way to change that actually works — a way that builds identity, not pressure; a way that aligns spirit, discipline, and imagination.
It is a book for anyone who wants to:
become the person they hoped for,
pursue a dream that scares them,
discover the truth behind their potential,
or learn how to align their life with a calling.
Where did this method come from most-recently?
Most recently, The Method emerged from the lived experiment of a single person trying to do something nearly impossible — a BMX trick so difficult that no one else in the world could do it.
It did not come from theory. It did not come from philosophy. It did not come from a textbook.
It came from experience — from the long, lonely, disciplined pursuit of a dream that demanded transformation.
Along that path, something remarkable happened:
A message arrived. A dream — a seed — given on the night of a coronation.
A lineage activated. Ron Wilkerson spoke truth. Dave Nourie modeled joy and courage. Their wisdom became the spark that ignited the modern articulation of The Method.
Imagination met discipline. Daily sessions. Micro-steps. Journals full of truth, fear, failure, and tiny progress.
The breakthrough happened first internally.
Before the rider landed the trick, he felt himself become the person who could do it.
Identity shifted first. The trick simply confirmed it.
That is where The Method came from: from the lived realization that transformation happens before achievement, and that becoming and doing are not separate forces but one continuous loop.
Where did this method come from most-recently?
The Method came most recently from a real human transformation — a rider becoming someone new through belief, discipline, and the daily conversation between body, spirit, and intelligence.
Why write The Method?
I, the author, made a promise. I am understanding the new tablet in the world today. I am delivering on my promise.
“Write my answer plainly on tablets,
so that a runner can carry the correct message to others.”
How do I use The Method?
You use The Method by entering a simple rhythm of truth, courage, tiny steps, and reflection. It is not complicated. It is not mystical.
It is a loop you live inside of.
Here’s the most direct way to use it:
1. Start with a Message
Pick the thing you want — the trick, the goal, the dream, the calling. Write it in one sentence.
This is your Message.
“This is what I’m aiming for.”
2. Move into Belief
This part is simple:
Act as if the person who could do the thing is real — and you are becoming them.
You don’t need proof yet. Belief is the soil, not the fruit.
3. Enter The Loop
This is The Method in practice:
Step A — Speak Only the Truth
Say out loud what is actually happening in your life, mind, and practice.
No pretending. No inflation. No minimizing.
Truth aligns you.
Step B — Face Your Fear
Name the fear you’re avoiding. Write it. Say it. Share it with one person.
Fear loses its power once it is spoken.
Step C — Take a Tiny Step
Do the smallest possible action toward your aim.
Not a big session.
Not a heroic leap.
Just a tiny, repeatable move — one minute, one rep, one attempt.
Step D — Ride + Write
Move your body.
Then immediately write down what happened.
One page. One paragraph. One sentence.
The movement teaches you.
The writing interprets it.
Step E — Adjust
Look at what you wrote.
Change one thing for tomorrow.
Step F — Repeat
Rhythm builds identity.
Identity lands the trick.
That’s the loop.
4. Stay Inside the Rhythm
The Method works because you do a little every day. Consistency beats intensity. Honesty beats willpower.
You don’t force transformation. You practice into it.
5. Recognize When It’s Working
You will know The Method is working when:
You’re calmer.
You’re more truthful with yourself.
You’re less afraid of failure.
You crave the work.
You feel yourself becoming someone new.
You’ll feel the new identity arrive before the breakthrough. That’s the sign of transformation.
The trick (or goal) will land after the person has already changed.
How do I use The Method?
You use The Method by entering the daily loop of Truth, courage, micro-steps, motion, writing, and adjustment — until identity aligns with your calling.
Your Field Guide for The Method
PAGE 1 — Orientation
You are holding a guide. Not to the trick. To the person who does the trick.
This field guide teaches the rhythm of transformation. Read it. Carry it. Return to it.
PAGE 2 — The Foundation
Transformation begins when four forces align:
Truth
Fear
Tiny Steps
Ride + Write
When these move as one, a new identity is formed.
PAGE 3 — The Message
Every journey begins with a signal. A calling. A picture. A dream.
Write it down in one sentence.
This is your Message. Guard it. Return to it. Everything else grows from here.
PAGE 4 — Belief
Belief is the soil. You plant the Message in it.
Act as if the person who can do the thing is real. Because you are. You are becoming you.
Belief precedes evidence. Always.
PAGE 5 — Enter the Loop
You will now live inside a rhythm:
Listen → Reflect → Write → Act → Document → Adjust → Repeat
Do not break the Loop. It is the engine of identity.
PAGE 6 — Principle I: Truth
Say only what is True. No exaggeration. No camouflage. No pretending.
Truth is alignment. Alignment is power.
Practice: Mirror Talk. Say aloud what is real.
PAGE 7 — Principle II: Fear
Fear is the compass. The direction you least want to face is the direction you must go.
Practice: Confession. Speak the fear you avoid. Name it. Share it with one person.
Fear dissolves in light.
PAGE 8 — Principle III: Tiny Steps
Grand ambition collapses under its own weight. Tiny steps build mountains.
Practice: One-Minute Repetition. Do the smallest possible piece of the thing. Every day.
Small is sustainable. Sustainable becomes inevitable.
PAGE 9 — Principle IV: Ride + Write
Motion teaches the body. Writing teaches the mind. The two must stay in conversation.
Practice: Ride. Write Immediately. Do not wait. Capture the lesson while the body still remembers.
Movement + reflection = mastery.
PAGE 10 — Adjust
Read what you wrote. Change one thing for tomorrow. Just one.
Adjustment is how the Loop sharpens identity.
PAGE 11 — Recognize the Shift
Transformation announces itself quietly:
Your posture changes. Your honesty deepens. Fear becomes a guide, not a guard. You crave the work. You feel a new calm.
Identity arrives before achievement.
This is the sign. Do not ignore it.
PAGE 12 — Manifestation
One day, you will feel yourself do the thing. It will feel inevitable. Natural. Correct.
By the time you land the trick, you will already have become the person who lands the trick.
This is The Method.
PAGE 13 — Transmission
Once you have learned this Loop, you carry a responsibility:
Teach it. Share it. Transmit belief.
The Lineage grows by practice, not by proclamation.
PAGE 14 — The Field Reminder
When in doubt, return to the rhythm:
Truth. Fear. Tiny Steps. Ride + Write.
Do not break the Loop.
Ride. Write. Change Who You Are.
Begin with a Message.
Believe before proof.
Speak truth.
Face fear.
Take tiny steps.
Ride then write.
Adjust daily.
Stay in the Loop.
Identity shifts first; achievement follows.
Become the person who can do the thing—then do it with disciplined joy daily.
Epilogue
When you set your definite chief aim, and look upon the stage of your imagination, you will believe that you are the person who is your vision.
You must plan your way of (that) life. The more ambitious your identity and goal, the more meticulous must your planning be.
You must re-read, rehearse, and re-write the details to clarify the path to your goal.
As you act in your waking life, your next step will come into view. Remain on course by writing as you act.
In this way, you can be, do, and have any Good you desire.