Well.
Here we are.
Today is Day 364 of My Living Xperiment—364 out of 365 consecutive days of hitting “Go Live” on X and saying something out loud to the internet, my future self, the archive, the aether, God, the algos, the NSA, and occasionally… you.
Tomorrow I finish.
Which feels less like completion and more like… punctuation.
This didn’t start as content.
It started as training.
In 2023, I ran My Life: In Balance—100 yellow Post-Its, drawn by hand, posted publicly, first take only. That project taught me how to loosen my grip. How to override perfectionism. How to keep moving even when my brain screamed, “This could be better if you just—”
MLX is what happened when I asked a more dangerous question:
What if I practiced being fully myself every single day—
in public—
without editing—
with witnesses?
What if the experiment wasn’t what I said…
but whether I showed up at all?
The Rules (Because There Were Rules)
As with all things that actually work, this had structure.
Go live every day.
No batching. No “I’ll record later.” No hiding behind polish.
Say something true.
Not clever. Not viral. True.
Do it anyway.
Tired. Sick. Busy. Traveling. Annoyed. Uninspired.
Especially then.
No perfection threshold.
Completion > performance. Always.
Some days were sharp.
Some days were rambly.
Some days—Fridays—were rambly on purpose.
Some days I was on fire.
Some days… meh.
But here’s the truth:
All days counted.
The Method (How This Actually Worked)
People keep asking how I managed to go live almost every day for a year.
Here’s the unromantic truth.
The method was deliberately low-tech.
Each day, I used one index card, labeled with the day number.
On it:
wild notes—pulled from my journal or life.
Sometimes a full idea.
Sometimes just a thought to kick things off.
That was it.
No scripts.
No outlines.
No bulletproof talking points.
The index card wasn’t a plan.
It was a launchpad.
Once I was live, I followed a few internal permissions:
If I lost my train of thought, I carried on anyway.
If I couldn’t pronounce a word, I laughed and kept going.
If I forgot the English word (thinking faster than language is a thing), I described the thing instead.
Stopping wasn’t an option.
Continuing was the skill.
I didn’t prepare to speak well.
I prepared to continue.
What I Was Really Building
Yes, this sharpened my speaking.
Yes, it strengthened my voice.
Yes, it helped me articulate ideas faster, cleaner, with less fear.
But that’s not the point.
The real work was identity alignment:
words, thoughts, deeds;
body, mind, soul.
For years, I understood this intellectually:
You become who you practice being.
MLX made it embodied.
I practiced thinking out loud without collapsing.
I practiced holding a through-line under pressure.
I practiced trusting that my voice would arrive if I gave it space.
I practiced letting discomfort burn off instead of stopping me.
I practiced being seen without flinching.
That changes a person.
Weird Things I Learned About Me
Doing something every day for a year does strange things to a person.
Here are a few I didn’t expect:
1. My resistance wasn’t intellectual—it was somatic.
On days I “didn’t feel like it,” my body was usually just tired, overstimulated, or avoiding a feeling. Once I went live, the resistance evaporated within minutes. Most dread, it turns out, is anticipatory fiction.
2. The voice shows up after you start.
Inspiration is wildly overrated. Motion comes first. Words follow. Waiting to feel ready is an excellent way to stay silent forever.
3. Consistency quiets the inner critic faster than insight ever did.
No argument. No reframing. No therapy-speak. Just reps. The critic gets bored when it realizes you’re going live anyway.
4. My nervous system likes promises kept.
Somewhere along the way, my body started trusting me more. Daily follow-through reduced background anxiety in a way thinking never could. That surprised me.
5. Attention is a muscle—and mine got stronger.
Showing up daily trained my mind to find coherence faster. Less flailing. Shorter runways. Clearer landings.
6. Being seen regularly is less scary than being seen occasionally.
Irregular exposure breeds fear. Routine exposure breeds neutrality. Eventually: ease.
None of this felt dramatic in the moment.
But added up over 364 days?
Different person.
Shinier soul.
This Was Never About X
Let’s be clear.
X is just the gym.
Yes, I’d hoped I could trick the algo into loving me again after being unjustifiably suspended for six months. (It didn’t.)
But no matter.
In the end, the reps were the point.
This year honed what I’ve been training for:
long-form writing
live events
workshops
books
broadcasts
leadership
telling the truth without preamble
It trained me to trust my own mind.
To employ rational self-assessment.
To see myself clearly.
And—to be okay with me as I am.
That, it turns out, is the most revolutionary act.
What Comes Next
I’m not “done.”
I’m inhabiting myself.
The experiment ends.
The capacity remains.
Tomorrow is Day 365.
After that?
We build.*
Final Note (Because There’s Always One)
If you’re watching this from the outside thinking,
“I could never do that…”
Good.
That means it’s exactly the thing you should try—
in your own way—
at your own scale—
with your own rules.
You don’t heal the world by fixing it.
You heal the world by becoming coherent inside yourself
and letting that ripple outward.
That’s the experiment.
That’s life.
Always running.
- In 2026, thanks to a podcast studio at The Quill in Manchester, expect more formal programming. I invite you to come be my guest.
