I've Got a Confession
⏳ 3 min read
I haven’t told many people this.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready to say it out loud.
But I’ve been working on something. Quietly. For a while now.
In my last post, I posed a question that seemed rhetorical—
What’s worth doing, even if it fails?
This is what I was talking about.
You might’ve seen pieces of it—just little lines drifting through Instagram or LinkedIn.
Everything I’ve been writing here has also been subtly pointing in the same direction.
They weren’t announcements. They weren’t ads.
They were whispers.
Soft ones. Meant to be felt more than understood.
Because some things need room to breathe before they are named.
It started one day as I was driving home from the gym.
I had just hit this massive milestone—my first unassisted pull-up.
Two years of showing up, failing, adjusting, trying again.
Two years of work for a moment that lasted maybe two seconds.
And then… silence.
Just me, driving home through traffic like nothing had changed.
The people at the gym—they understood. They got it.
But as soon as I left that space, it was like the world didn’t notice.
Didn’t see what it took to get there.
That’s when it clicked for me:
We need space—real space—where people are walking their own hard road,
but still moving in the same direction.
Not perfectly. Not identically.
Just forward.
Space where you don’t have to explain the battle you're in…
because everyone there is fighting their own version of it.
So I started creating something.
Not a program. Not a brand.
Not even a clear idea. Not at first.
Just a space. A vibe. A frequency.
A kind of shared atmosphere for people doing the inner work—
the kind that feels lonely, doesn’t get applause, but changes everything.
I haven’t been ready to talk about it.
Honestly, I still don’t know if I am. Or if I should.
But I can’t wait until it’s all polished and perfect.
Because that’s not the point.
This isn’t about being ready.
It’s about being real.
And maybe that’s why I’ve been so quiet about it.
Because when something actually matters—
when it comes from a sacred, unfinished place—
you don’t shout it from the rooftops.
You whisper it.
You protect it.
You let it unfold.
If you’ve seen them—the whispers—
short posts, thoughts, or ideas showing up every morning…
they’re not random.
They’re signals.
Intentional signals meant to disrupt the scroll—
to catch the eyes of those who are looking for more.
Those of us with something stirring beneath the surface—
something we can’t name yet, but can’t ignore either.
It’s like that scene from LA Story.
Steve Martin, standing on the side of the freeway,
and a glowing digital road sign suddenly starts… talking to him.
Not about traffic.
About his life.
It’s absurd. And also—completely believable.
Because sometimes that’s how truth shows up:
quiet, out of place, and meant only for you.
That’s what these whispers are intended to be.
Street signs for the soul.
Not shouting. Not explaining.
Just lighting up long enough for someone to look up and go—
“Wait… was that for me?”
It probably was.
So if you see one—and it resonates—give me a sign.
Leave a comment. Share it. Even just a quiet like.
Not because I need the numbers.
But because I need to know the signal is reaching its targets.
Because we are going somewhere.
And I’d love to know you’re coming too.
-Scott
P.S.
In the coming days, the tone of the whispers will begin to shift—from quiet statements to gentle questions.
Each one is meant to invite something back.
A thought. A moment. A risk.
If one speaks to you, I’d love to see your answer.
Take the risk. Step out. Share.
It will be worth it.
Scott is a divine misfit—husband, father, and mess turned miracle-in-progress—crafting signals for the soul, not the algorithm