For half a decade, I lived in a holding pattern—watching, hoping, unraveling. I wasn’t expecting a grand proclamation or an earth-shattering revelation, but maybe... an invitation to talk? A chance to share my story with a larger audience? Something. A podcast appearance seemed like the natural step—a way to reach the world with the message I was convinced I carried, without being too overt.But that call never came.Looking back, it’s painfully obvious why. Too much of a spark in a world built of dry kindling. My story wasn’t just controversial; it was incendiary. It wasn’t just a narrative; it was a living, breathing challenge to everything people comfortably believed. Russell, for all his spiritual musings and willingness to poke the establishment, clearly knew this was a risk too far.At the time, I couldn’t see it that way. I told myself he was still deliberating, still working out how to present my message to his audience. I held on to hope that every new project, every new piece of...
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