J. Cole once said in “A Tale of 2 Citiez”:

Wanna know a funny thing about this shit?

Even if you let 'em kill your dream,

It'll haunt you.

Got me thinking:

They don't tell you that about dreams. That even if you bury them deep, say a little prayer, and pretend they never existed, they don’t stay dead.

They linger.

They hover.

They haunt.

You can ignore them, sure. Drown them in “responsibility” and “realism.” But dreams are stubborn and ever so complicated.

They age like ghosts: quieter, but heavier.

Every time you settle, every time you say “maybe next year,” every time you choose fear over motion, it’s like giving your dream a new chain to rattle in the middle of the night.

It’ll sit with you in traffic.

It’ll whisper at you in boardrooms.

It’ll tap on your shoulder when you’re tired, safe, comfortable, but not alive.

And maybe that’s it:

Dreams don’t die.

They wait.

For you to stop being scared long enough to remember why you wanted them in the first place.

So what THE HELL is this all about?

Let’s get one thing straight: Merlin isn’t just a man, he’s an institution.

This year, I had the audacity, the sheer nerve, to write a book about him.

The Man, The Myth, The Merl, an ode, a tribute, a humble attempt at capturing the magic of the most quietly dangerous mentor the world never saw coming.

But as life would have it, ideals started waltzing through my mind lately: what should be, what ought to be, and why the first edition of my book was, frankly, a little wrong.

Now, was it a catastrophic, career-ending wrong? No.

Was it a “hmm, maybe don’t brag about this on LinkedIn” wrong? Absolutely.

A Tale of 2 Quotiez (or How I Gaslit Myself)

You see, like the bright star that I am, I managed to slap the wrong quote into Chapter 5.

And where was it? Rotting in the graveyard of forgotten photos on my phone.

Picture me, typing away, convinced I had channeled Merlin’s plaque perfectly and found the quote from The Way Of Transformation, only to remember a few weeks later I had taken a picture of it back in 2022.

Right around the time I realized my little "oopsie," Merlin requested more copies.

Imagine handing the subject of your book a mistake-riddled first edition and still having him come back like, "Yeah, I’ll take ten more."

Naturally, I couldn’t hand him a second-rate, misquoted book again. So I made the edits, polished it up, and then decided it was time to level up.

You know, what ought to be.

The Original Quote

Bless its heart:

Insert philosophical mumbo-jumbo about static egos and death and rebirth — you get the idea.

Beautiful. Thoughtful. Completely not what was written on Merlin’s window.

Enter: The Actual Quote

“The man who, being really on the Way, falls upon hard times in the world will not...

Basically: If you're looking for someone to coddle you, keep moving, cupcake.

Real friends hand you the matches and say, "Go ahead, burn it down, you'll thank me later."

It’s not about finding peace and comfort, it’s about getting obliterated, on purpose, repeatedly, until you find the part of yourself that can’t be destroyed.

The plaque wasn’t about comfort, it was about courageous, headfirst dives into annihilation.

You know, just regular Tuesday advice from someone who probably chews existential crises for breakfast.

So yes, the second edition is now blessed with the correct quote, and my overwhelming relief.

But Wait, There’s More!

This time? I applied for an ISBN number.

You know, what ought to be.

That’s right.

The Man, The Merl, The Mentor is going pro. We’re not just playing around anymore. We’re crossing the line into published author territory.

(Assuming the ISBN powers that be smile upon me. Will he get the rose? Will his application be approved? Tune in next week…)

But Wait, There’s More!

Like any good saga, the plot thickened.

One lesson was still missing. One I realized deserved a front-row seat.

You Pull People From the Fire

Merlin once told a story (because of course the man collects parables like Pokémon cards).

He was at the airport, an already cursed land, watching a poor flight agent get verbally eviscerated by a passenger. Full meltdown. Yelling. Flailing.

Most people would have politely looked away. Not Merlin.

No, no.

He steps up mid-drama and offers the enraged traveler two simple options:

Go to customer service, where someone can actually help you.

Talk to me, but trust me, you don’t want that smoke fam.

Traveler chose option A, faster than you can say “free flight upgrade.” (Which Merlin, naturally, got. But that wasn’t the point.)

The point?

Sometimes you have to step in. Even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy.

Merlin pulled that agent from the fire. And somewhere along the line, I realized: that’s what you do.

You pull people from the fire.

Fast-forward to me: standing in a moment where someone needed saving.

This time, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t flinch.

I did what needed to be done.

And for the first time, I didn’t just know the lesson. I lived it.

You know... what ought to be.

Becoming, Not Just Publishing

The Man, The Myth, The Merl isn’t just a biography.

It’s not a self-help manual disguised as a memoir.

It’s a reminder:

Being on the Way isn’t pretty. It’s rarely comfortable.

Stay in motion.

We are vessels built for movement.

Both motion and stillness carry risks, but because we’re built for motion, standing still becomes a form of self-indulgence: doing exactly what we want, especially when it’s easy, comfortable, or pleasurable.

Stillness has its place. It can serve.

But only one path moves you closer to a dream, a vision, a far-off destination:

Motion.

Transformation.

It’s messy.

It’s painful.

And sometimes, it asks you to march straight into the fire for someone else.

But if you’re lucky, if you’re bold, and if you listen to the guy with the plaque in his window...

you just might become the kind of person YOU ought to be.

If you’re interested in reading or listening, a copy of the book and audio version is available here.

If you’re interested in creating your own book, audio, cover, voice clone, and all the other wild extras, here’s how I Piecemealed This Bad Boy Together (in 2–3 weeks of glorious chaos):

• Front/Back Cover: Canva (Bless up for drag-and-drop design.)
• Voice Cloning: ElevenLabs
• Audio Editing: Soundtrap
• Audio Hosting: SoundCloud
• Voice Inspiration: Leif Babin, co-author of Extreme Ownership

(Because if you’re going to tell people to run into the fire, you might as well sound like you’ve done it, before breakfast.)