on fossils, miracles, and creative intelligence
my office this week #5
I woke up on Tuesday prepared for a focused, productive workday.
I didn’t realize I was about to experience a “divine intervention” in my business.
My goal for the day: outline and record all 3 days of The Client Inflow Fix, a 3-day audio training I was delivering that week.
Ambitious, because it would be a long day of work.
But still in the realm of possibility. I had a loose outline of what I was going to cover, and I trust my ability to lock in.
When I have a clear deliverable, a good night’s sleep, and a full day with nothing on my calendar, I can usually get more done in a day than most people do in a week.
But there was something important to me beyond just finishing it.
I didn’t want to record something that was merely helpful. I wanted to transmit a real understanding about why their marketing feels so hard right now. I wanted them to finally grasp how to speak the language of their clients.
There was a real sincerity in that intention. A desire to get to the truth of it.
I should have known that I wasn’t just sitting down to complete a task.
I was creating the conditions for something quite magical to happen.
Because this has happened before.
Last May, I was in Belize, staying in a small eco lodge in the middle of the jungle.
I had set aside a full day to record another 3-day audio training—The Purpose Prequel. Similar purity of intention. I wanted people to understand purpose in a way that actually landed, so they could stop chasing it.
And while I was teaching it, something unexpected started to unfold.
I essentially received an entire framework of “purpose archetypes”.
”Received” might sound like a weird way to describe it, but it didn’t feel like I was making it up from my own mind.
Yes, I had spent years coaching people about purpose, and had started recognizing different patterns of purpose.
But it felt like something was happening beyond just pattern recognition. It felt like I was discovering something. Like it was being revealed to me.
Like it already existed, and I was uncovering it piece by piece.
Stephen King talks about this in On Writing. He describes stories as fossils buried in the ground—fully formed, already there. The writer’s job isn’t to create them from nothing, but to carefully excavate them. To brush away the dirt, slowly, until the shape reveals itself.
I believe that stories are found things, like fossils in the ground. Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world. The writer’s job is to use the tools in his or her toolbox to get as much of each one out of the ground intact as possible. Sometimes the fossil you uncover is small; a seashell. Sometimes it’s enormous, a Tyrannosaurus Rex with all those gigantic ribs and grinning teeth. Either way, short story or thousand-page whopper of a novel, the techniques of excavation remain basically the same.
That’s exactly what it felt like with the archetypes. I wasn’t constructing them. I was uncovering them.
So maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised when it happened again.
Because I had inadvertently set myself up with the same exact conditions for this kind of breakthrough:
A clear intention
Uninterrupted time
People signed up for a 3 day training- ready to learn.
I sat down to outline the training. Looked at my notes.
And immediately knew something was missing.
I got out a scrap piece of paper and wrote out:
What do they actually need to understand?
I started free flow writing. Allowing messy, disjoined thoughts to come through without filtering.
“It’s deeper than content.”
“The first rule is there are no rules.”
“If you just have a content formula, it’s like doing Duolingo and thinking you’re fluent.”
Then analogies started to appear.
A 3-layer cake.
A gift in a box with wrapping paper.
Judging a book by its cover.
I could feel that something was there. I was circling it, but it hadn’t fully come into focus yet.
And then, suddenly, it did.
I saw the outline of the fossil.
What I’m actually teaching is product-market fit.
But there are three levels of it.
Level 1: the offer
Level 2: the positioning
Level 3: the framing
It wasn’t something I logically pieced together step by step.
It arrived in its full form, though partially hidden.
And my job was to carefully excavate it. To take my time, brushing away the dust, and digging around the edges until the whole fossil could finally be removed from the ground and shared with the world.
I spent the next two days refining it, structuring it, turning it into a 3-part series.
And I had the absolute time of my life doing it.
Which, may sound weird.
Because what I was doing looked like work. Drawing diagrams. Writing outlines. Recording trainings.
But it didn’t feel like “work.”
It felt like entering a sacred space of creation.
Like being in contact with a force outside of me
Like being a vessel for an idea that wants to come through.
It felt magical.
That’s the part of my work that fulfills me in a way I’ve struggled to explain.
Because when I say “work doesn’t feel like work”.
I’m not just saying “I enjoy what I do”
I’m saying:
My business is an access points to creative intelligence.
It’s a meeting place between me and something bigger.
A place where I sit down to work—and end up in conversation with the creative field itself.
And every time it happens, it feels a little bit like a miracle.
Every Sunday, I invite you into “my office this week” and share a weekly reflection from wherever i’m working in the world. Subscribe to come along for the adventure.