I had been exploring the ideas, doing the work, discussing the philosophy and the nature of my existence…
all of the things that the Personal Development industry sits on. I just didn’t know what to call it. This thing called personal growth had always seemed inevitable to me. If you were walking you were growing. Avoiding that felt ridiculous; almost childish.
So in my frustration with an obsession that never died, and with a little pressure from friends that knew me to be fairly clear-minded, I apprenticed to be a life coach.
That words feels dirty to me now, in an amusing way. It’s some sort of pretentiousness to consider yourself qualified to coach other people on the subject of LIFE. Life is inevitable until it isn’t, and we are all in process.
But at the same time, what do you call a person that helps others through the process of being human, whatever that may mean at the time?
Both fitting and absurd, that’s what they called it.
So I apprenticed. And I practiced. And I helped quite a few people for barely enough money to cover my costs and pay myself minimum wage.
And then my frustration with the industry, populated mostly by “experts” that were under-qualified train wrecks with no basis for understanding the gravity of what they were doing or the investments they were asking for drove me to rebel.
I’ll be a Soultracker.
I’ll be a Guide.
I’ll be a consulting coach.
I’ll be a something-other-than-life-coach.
But I’ll essentially do the same thing. Only with the title lifted, I was free to resurrect an deep lesson from an old friend.
Living on my own terms.
And combined with a notion of metaphysics and spell-craft: words are spelled because they are spells that form our reality… I created something.
I decided to be a guide in a much more practical sense. Something between life coach, philosopher, and consultant. And it worked for a time. My obsession with the personal development world created some things that people still use today; though I think it’s a bit outdated and will soon need to be updated.
And soon it became clear that to do this thing I call Guide I must learn the way of business.
In one sense this was an awakening. The art of taking your obsessions and passions, developing some measurable skill, and calling it an expertise. Taking that expertise and organizing it into a package of service by which you find out what other people consider problems and you solve them.
But in another sense, it was the dark ages.
I delved so deeply into the world of economics that for a time I put aside my obsessions, or at the very least made them second-priority as I spent every day, seven days a week, for four years trying to fully understand, utilize, and become successful in this game of coin and investment (we don’t call it price anymore).
I lost track of my mystical nature in an attempt to look credible to a people that didn’t understand me.
Then I placed mystical titles on what I was doing to feel less fake.
My area of problem solving has always been conceptual, philosophical, and practical. Ideally all in the same place. I love the process of taking abstract ideas, pushing them through the play-doh-press of philosophy, and extruding something that can be done in the real (or metaphysical) world to make it better.
Or at least more palatable.
To call it an expertise would be willfully playing the game that modern marketing and advertising created to justify doing what ultimately is a bunch of nonsense: convincing people to buy what you’re selling by whatever means possible.
Am I an expert?
What defines an expert? What are the qualifications? In any given subject there may or may not be an agreed upon check list, and even if there is, we can probably find a competing checklist somewhere else.
It took me along time and a few good conversations with Daniel to realize that expert or not, I am simply obsessed with the exploration of the universe. I have a passionate addiction with seeing, studying, experiencing, and applying whatever I can get my hands on. And I tend to follow thematic trends in where I choose to place those hands.
And that’s really it.
To turn it into certifications, titles, and prestige is a level of complication that the world doesn’t need more of; it needs less.
I still call myself a Metaphyst, a Guide, a Ranger, a Totemic Jeweler, and any other title as an act of communication. I no longer do it to mark an achievement. It’s simply a statement of reality that may help others understand.
I am a Totemic Metaphyst by way of obsession with and passion for creating things that express hybridized notions of how the universe works.
These are sign posts. Just like “cedric” is a sign post to represent the individuated entity that is this humanoid creature.
In a sense, this realization is the moment I actually became a Metaphyst.
Sometime in 2016, still neck deep in the process of creating success in business (hah!), I experienced the first of a series of earthquakes in the bedrock of this monster I was trying to tame.
The mystic in me was waking up…