Internal Locus of Authorship

Not every message requires a response. Not every invitation is truly an invitation. And not every opinion needs to be absorbed, considered, or defended against.

I write, I teach, I record, and I publish with care. I do this publicly, for anyone who finds it useful. That is my offering. That is the dialogue I’m already engaged in.

What I don’t do—by design—is enter into uninvited correspondence about speculative frameworks, metaphysical assertions, or circuitous debates cloaked as questions. Silence isn’t rejection. It’s selectivity. And it’s how I protect the work.

Why This Boundary Exists

There’s a term in psychology: internal locus of authorship. It refers to the idea that your creative energy and voice come from within—anchored to your own vision, clarity, and sense of purpose. Once that locus is outsourced to random responses, stray commentary, or vague academic bait, the work dilutes. And so does the writer.

This isn’t about being inaccessible. It’s about being deliberate. I am accessible—through every word I’ve already made public. My essays, courses, podcast episodes, and frameworks are all acts of engagement. I’m not holding back. I’m just choosing where my energy goes.

What This Means in Practice

I don’t respond to:

• Unsolicited pitches for “collaborations” that are self-promotional in nature

• Abstract metaphysical invitations that reference my work only in passing

• Messages that feel like performance, not inquiry

• Demands for defense, interpretation, or rebuttal of my public content

If your message is grounded in thoughtful engagement with something I’ve actually written or recorded—there’s a chance I’ve already answered it in one of those works. I invite you to explore them. That’s where my energy lives. That’s where you’ll find me.

A Note for Fellow Thinkers

I know what it’s like to crave intellectual contact. I’ve written long letters that were never sent. I’ve drafted emails to authors whose words hit something raw. There’s nothing wrong with that instinct. But we live in a time of boundary blur. Just because work is made public doesn’t mean the creator is available for dialogue on demand.

And the truth is: much of the best engagement happens in silence. In rereading. In pausing. In privately connecting the dots. That’s the kind of exchange that builds something deeper than comment threads or email chains ever could.

Publish and Protect

My operating principle is simple: publish, and protect.

I share work because I believe in it. I let it land wherever it lands. And I trust that the people who need it will know how to sit with it without needing something back.

For Listeners and Readers Who Want to Contribute

This page isn’t meant to shut down real connection. It’s here to make room for it—by setting clear boundaries around what isn’t welcome, so there’s space for what is.

If you’ve been moved by a podcast episode, or a written piece, or you’re sitting with a question that feels like it belongs inside The Messy Middle, you’re welcome to share it.

Thoughtful suggestions and reflections grounded in honesty, curiosity, or lived experience are always considered. You can use the contact page to reach out. And if your voice aligns with the spirit of the work, I’ll find a way to bring it in.