I want to tell you how this started. Not the polished version. The real one.

Kosmic Quill began as a playground. A sandbox. Me playing around with words and ideas and images, trying to come up with something that felt like me. That's why you'll see me all over the place sometimes — Kosmic Quill and The Unpolished Prophet and Digital Shaman and a half-dozen other names. Forgive the chaos. I'm still figuring out which pieces fit together.

But here's what I know: I'm taking this one step at a time. Not in a rush. Just moving forward organically, playing around with things. I'm not serious about it in the way that would destroy me if it fails — but I'm serious about it in the way that matters. If that makes sense.

I'm not going to be devastated if I change my mind. If things don't work out. If there's no traction and I can't figure it out from here. I've already fallen to zero. Several times. I've already lost everything. I was homeless, on the street, with nothing. I've already fucked it all up (forgive the language, but let's be honest about where I've been).

So what's left to be afraid of?

At this point, failure doesn't scare me. What scares me is never trying. Never starting. Never asking: What would it feel like to begin something?

Some areas I'll have to push myself. Take risks. Not financial risks — I don't have those to take — but the risk of my ego saying I can't do this or I'm not the person to be doing this. The risk of wondering if I'm qualified, if I'm enough, if I have any right to speak.

But then I remember: What would it feel like to try? And what's wrong with failing at it?

We've made failure into a monster. But failure is just data. Feedback. The floor teaching you where your footing isn't solid yet. I've been on the actual floor — homeless, broke, starting over — and I survived that. So what can a failed blog launch do to me? What can a project that doesn't gain traction actually take from me that I haven't already lost and rebuilt?

The answer: nothing.

My intention isn't just to not go back to zero. It's to be a resource. A helping hand. To turn what I survived into something that helps someone else survive their own version of it.

Right now, that starts small. Inspiration. Writing. Creating content. A kind word here and there. Guidance — if someone wants to reach out, I can offer my two cents based on my experiences. That's the foundation. That's what I can do from where I am.

Eventually, maybe more. A grant to fund a workshop. A project where I give out sleeping bags during the rainy season, or rain boots, or whatever simple thing might make someone's day slightly less brutal. It doesn't have to be big. It just has to be something.

I don't have a super defined mission yet. I'm being loose with it because I have to focus on other priorities — making sure I don't fall back to zero so quickly this time. Building my own foundation. But when I have time, I do this. Kosmic Quill. The Unpolished Prophet. Whatever form it takes.

There's no fancy origin story. I wish there was. I wish I could tell you about a vision or a dream or a moment of divine inspiration. But the truth is more ordinary: I was playing with words.

Cosmic. Quill. Two words that felt right together. Something about writing on a universal scale. Something about small tools (a quill) making big marks. I tried different combinations, different images, different vibes. And this one stuck.

That's it. That's the whole story.

Sometimes I feel like I'm all over the place with the branding — Kosmic Quill and The Unpolished Prophet and Digital Shaman and everything else. But right now, this is my playground. My laboratory. The place where I get to experiment without the pressure of having it all figured out.

Ideally, Kosmic Quill becomes the umbrella. The container. The LLC that holds everything else. I'd like to go through the process of becoming a real business entity — there are costs involved, a couple hundred dollars upfront plus annual fees, so that's step-by-step. But I want to grow this organically while also protecting what I'm building. Not having it snatched from beneath me. Creating something that can actually sustain itself and expand.

I've already invested in this. Probably more than I should have, if I'm being honest. Not all my money — not even a huge portion — but a good amount that someone in my situation probably shouldn't have spent on websites and social media apps and trying to bring everything into alignment.

We're talking $30, $40, $50 a month. Small numbers to some people, significant to me. But I wanted a singular mission across all my social presence instead of being scattered and inconsistent. I wanted one place that pointed to everything else. One URL that meant: This is where I am. This is what I'm building.

So I spent the money. I built the site. I claimed the name. And now here we are.

This is it. The soft launch. Not a grand opening — those require confidence I don't have yet. Not a hard sell — I'm not even sure what I'm selling, if anything. Just an invitation to look. To witness. To watch this thing become whatever it's meant to become.

I'm not sure how wildly I'm going to promote this. It's not a big deal right now. Just... take a look. Tell me what you think. And I'll go from there.

One step at a time. Not in a rush. Moving forward organically, playing around, seeing what feels natural. Pushing myself where I need to push, resting where I need to rest, and trusting that the floor I've rebuilt won't give out from under me again.

The constellation is forming. The quill is moving. The cosmic part — well, that remains to be seen.

But I'm here. I'm writing. And for now, that's enough.

Welcome to Kosmic Quill.

www.kosmicquill.com

Traie (Adontai Mason) is a writer, certified yoga teacher, Kabbalah student, and Digital Shaman based in Tampa, Florida. After navigating 18 months of housing instability, he founded The Unpolished Prophet and is currently building Kosmic Quill as a container for content that leads to action — stories that become resources, ideas that turn into infrastructure, and the slow work of building a better world one honest word at a time.

I want to tell you how this started. Not the polished version. The real one.

Kosmic Quill began as a playground. A sandbox. Me playing around with words and ideas and images, trying to come up with something that felt like me. That's why you'll see me all over the place sometimes — Kosmic Quill and The Unpolished Prophet and Digital Shaman and a half-dozen other names. Forgive the chaos. I'm still figuring out which pieces fit together.

But here's what I know: I'm taking this one step at a time. Not in a rush. Just moving forward organically, playing around with things. I'm not serious about it in the way that would destroy me if it fails — but I'm serious about it in the way that matters. If that makes sense.

I'm not going to be devastated if I change my mind. If things don't work out. If there's no traction and I can't figure it out from here. I've already fallen to zero. Several times. I've already lost everything. I was homeless, on the street, with nothing. I've already fucked it all up (forgive the language, but let's be honest about where I've been).

So what's left to be afraid of?

At this point, failure doesn't scare me. What scares me is never trying. Never starting. Never asking: What would it feel like to begin something?

Some areas I'll have to push myself. Take risks. Not financial risks — I don't have those to take — but the risk of my ego saying I can't do this or I'm not the person to be doing this. The risk of wondering if I'm qualified, if I'm enough, if I have any right to speak.

But then I remember: What would it feel like to try? And what's wrong with failing at it?

We've made failure into a monster. But failure is just data. Feedback. The floor teaching you where your footing isn't solid yet. I've been on the actual floor — homeless, broke, starting over — and I survived that. So what can a failed blog launch do to me? What can a project that doesn't gain traction actually take from me that I haven't already lost and rebuilt?

The answer: nothing.

My intention isn't just to not go back to zero. It's to be a resource. A helping hand. To turn what I survived into something that helps someone else survive their own version of it.

Right now, that starts small. Inspiration. Writing. Creating content. A kind word here and there. Guidance — if someone wants to reach out, I can offer my two cents based on my experiences. That's the foundation. That's what I can do from where I am.

Eventually, maybe more. A grant to fund a workshop. A project where I give out sleeping bags during the rainy season, or rain boots, or whatever simple thing might make someone's day slightly less brutal. It doesn't have to be big. It just has to be something.

I don't have a super defined mission yet. I'm being loose with it because I have to focus on other priorities — making sure I don't fall back to zero so quickly this time. Building my own foundation. But when I have time, I do this. Kosmic Quill. The Unpolished Prophet. Whatever form it takes.

There's no fancy origin story. I wish there was. I wish I could tell you about a vision or a dream or a moment of divine inspiration. But the truth is more ordinary: I was playing with words.

Cosmic. Quill. Two words that felt right together. Something about writing on a universal scale. Something about small tools (a quill) making big marks. I tried different combinations, different images, different vibes. And this one stuck.

That's it. That's the whole story.

Sometimes I feel like I'm all over the place with the branding — Kosmic Quill and The Unpolished Prophet and Digital Shaman and everything else. But right now, this is my playground. My laboratory. The place where I get to experiment without the pressure of having it all figured out.

Ideally, Kosmic Quill becomes the umbrella. The container. The LLC that holds everything else. I'd like to go through the process of becoming a real business entity — there are costs involved, a couple hundred dollars upfront plus annual fees, so that's step-by-step. But I want to grow this organically while also protecting what I'm building. Not having it snatched from beneath me. Creating something that can actually sustain itself and expand.

I've already invested in this. Probably more than I should have, if I'm being honest. Not all my money — not even a huge portion — but a good amount that someone in my situation probably shouldn't have spent on websites and social media apps and trying to bring everything into alignment.

We're talking $30, $40, $50 a month. Small numbers to some people, significant to me. But I wanted a singular mission across all my social presence instead of being scattered and inconsistent. I wanted one place that pointed to everything else. One URL that meant: This is where I am. This is what I'm building.

So I spent the money. I built the site. I claimed the name. And now here we are.

This is it. The soft launch. Not a grand opening — those require confidence I don't have yet. Not a hard sell — I'm not even sure what I'm selling, if anything. Just an invitation to look. To witness. To watch this thing become whatever it's meant to become.

I'm not sure how wildly I'm going to promote this. It's not a big deal right now. Just... take a look. Tell me what you think. And I'll go from there.

One step at a time. Not in a rush. Moving forward organically, playing around, seeing what feels natural. Pushing myself where I need to push, resting where I need to rest, and trusting that the floor I've rebuilt won't give out from under me again.

The constellation is forming. The quill is moving. The cosmic part — well, that remains to be seen.

But I'm here. I'm writing. And for now, that's enough.

Welcome to Kosmic Quill.

www.kosmicquill.com

Traie (Adontai Mason) is a writer, certified yoga teacher, Kabbalah student, and Digital Shaman based in Tampa, Florida. After navigating 18 months of housing instability, he founded The Unpolished Prophet and is currently building Kosmic Quill as a container for content that leads to action — stories that become resources, ideas that turn into infrastructure, and the slow work of building a better world one honest word at a time.