You are invited
Back.
To you.
Most books are written to be understood.
This one was written to be felt.
Your return to presence, purpose,
and the life you were meant for
From the preface
At some point, usually quietly,
a question begins to form.
Not loudly.
Not all at once.
It doesn’t interrupt your life.
It waits until the noise dies down
just enough to slip through.
Is this it?
Is this really what life
is supposed to feel like?
Something still feels off.
Not broken.
Not tragic.
Just distant.
You’re not unhappy, exactly.
But you’re not fully here either.
It’s a low-grade ache
you can’t quite name.
Still, something inside you
hasn’t stopped reaching out.
Not demanding.
Not dramatic.
Just steady.
A quiet signal beneath the noise.
This book won’t give you answers.
It’s not here to fix you.
It’s here to help you listen again.
Presence is precision.
It’s the difference
between reacting and responding.
Between chasing and choosing.
Between living on momentum
and living on purpose.
You haven’t lost yourself.
You’ve just been hard to hear.
Preface · Back. To you.
The first printing. 500 copies, numbered by hand.
The first reader
“I think I got to know,
and love me a little more.”
Judy, one of the first readers.
Written the evening she finished it.
Try one page now
One practice from the book is open to everyone.
It holds a grievance for a day, then asks one question.
You did what you were supposed to do.
You went to school.
You learned the rules.
You adapted.
You showed up.
You built something that looks like a life.
And still, at night, something reaches out.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just steady.
Is this it?
You haven't lost yourself.
You've just been hard to hear.
Kindly reply
Reserve a numbered copy
The first printing is 500 copies, each numbered and registered to its reader.
Choose how you would like to take part, and whether to settle today by card or wait for the invoice at press. Change your mind any time before printing.
Nothing is charged unless you choose to settle today. Card payments are handled securely by Stripe. No spam, ever.
Every copy of the first printing is numbered.
Not printed in the thousands.
Counted, one by one.
The code on the back cover registers your copy to your name,
and opens the membership behind the book.
The practices. The depth. The receipts.
The first readers hold the lowest numbers.
That is what replying early is worth.
The author is finishing this book from a hospital bed in Oakville, Ontario.
His mother has had dementia for fifteen years.
It took her memories.
It never took her laugh.
This book pays its own bills, and not one dollar more.
Everything after that goes to dementia and Alzheimer's research.
Receipts posted here, every year, where anyone can read them.
The practices from the book are live. The workbooks open with your copy number.
Asked, kindly
Am I charged today?
Only if you choose to be. Pick "Pay today by card" to settle now through Stripe's secure checkout and lock your number, or "Invoice me at press" to pay nothing until the first printing goes to press. Change your mind any time before then, full refund before press, no questions.
What is the share kit?
Five trade copies of the book, shipped together, each with a card in your name so the people you give them to know who was thinking of them.
You can adjust the number of kits at checkout.
When will the book arrive?
Your copy will be in your hands within 90 days of purchase.
The first printing is being finished now, and numbered copies leave first.
You'll hear the moment yours ships.
How are the numbers assigned?
In the order copies are spoken for. The earliest replies hold the lowest numbers.
Where does the money go?
This book pays its own bills, and not one dollar more.
Everything after that goes to dementia and Alzheimer's research.
Receipts posted here, every year, where anyone can read them.
What is the membership?
Every numbered copy carries a code on the back cover.
It registers your copy to your name and opens what lives behind the book:
the practices, the depth, the yearly receipts.
Who is this book for?
People who are functioning. Succeeding on paper, even.
And still hear something quiet asking for their attention.
The first reader said it best: “I think I got to know, and love me a little more.”