Involution Labs

Author: tinabrescanu

  • CURRICULUM VITAE — FAILURES EDITION

    Because the highlight reel doesn’t tell the whole story.

    Name: Tina Brescanu
    Objective: To keep showing up, learning and creating.

    Experience

    Job Seeker (since redundancy)
    • Applied for hundreds of jobs; secured a handful of interviews.
    • No offers yet — but learned the art of resilience and rewriting cover letters in my sleep.

    A Stint in the Corporate World
    • Failed to fit in, didn’t understand the jargon, and couldn’t appreciate the infantilisation of adults in the workplace.
    • Allergic to KPIs, buzzwords, performance reviews, “circle back,” “touch base,” and other corporate rituals.
    • Learned that pretend urgency and scheduled enthusiasm are not my natural habitat.
    • In hindsight, redundancy wasn’t failure — it was freedom.

    Author — 20+ Books (ongoing)
    • Wrote over twenty books, none of which became bestsellers.
    • Consistently failed at marketing because writing felt more meaningful than algorithms.
    • Created Involution Labs as a way to store all my far-out ideas — not a failure, but something that grew out of failure. It became a way of holding myself accountable, and now I’m designing courses from that ever-expanding creative ecosystem.

    Various Online Work (survival era)
    • Took on various online work during difficult periods, including emotional labour and boundary-testing roles that taught me more about human psychology than any textbook ever could.
    • Learned resilience, communication, and the courage to navigate unconventional spaces.

    Print Journalist Trainee
    • Trained for a world of ink and presses… just as the industry went digital.
    • Failed to build the professional network needed to pivot when everything changed.

    Full-Time Parent (career break)
    • Managed small humans with complex needs and strong opinions.
    • Gained skills in management, conflict resolution, diplomacy, advocacy, and negotiating with multiple authorities.
    • Failed to convince employers these were “real” workplace skills.

    Early Career Misstep (mid-90s, Ireland)
    • Posted a job ad titled “Swedish girl looking for work.”
    • Failed to anticipate the replies this would generate.
    • Learned the importance of precise wording.

    Early Education + Work Life Wanderer
    • Left school early, failed to get on the straight-and-narrow career path.
    • Moved from one job to the next — quirky, fun, physically demanding work like grave digging, baking and farming.
    • Moved from town to city, from Sweden to Finland, and eventually Ireland.
    • Didn’t get the posh job. Cleaned toilets in a caravan park in Wexford before starting in the home care business, where I failed to keep a “professional distance” and instead made friends with everyone I encountered.

    Education

    • Learned that success is never linear.
    • Learned that failure isn’t the opposite of success,  it’s part of it.

    References

    My children — they can vouch for my authentic parenting style, and will give both the positive and the negative, because authentic parenting is about being real.

  • Love Education

    Love Education

    None of us is shown or taught how to love, but we should be. We may learn facts and skills in life, but rarely do we learn the deeper skill of loving. We can choose to live without sex, but we can’t live without love. How to love deeply and broadly is what we need—and what the Earth needs too. We must learn how to love strangers, how to love nature, and how to love everything we encounter.

    Our goal in life should be to make love. Not just in the romantic or physical sense, but in the way we move through the world. We can learn to live in love without being in love. Turning living into loving is a lifelong path.

    Yet society’s idea of love often misleads us. We are taught that love is something that happens to us, a reaction when we encounter something “deserving” of love. But deep love is not a rare event to wait for—it is something we practice. Don’t wait for the big love. Love the ordinary people and the small things. Loving the ordinary makes it extraordinary. Saving your love until something better comes along is not loving at all.

    If your culture has taught you to hold back—to wait, to make sure who or whatever is “worthy” before you give love—what are you losing out on? Love is not a prize to be earned. Love is a decision. Love is action. Love is a choice you make again and again. And there is no need to be loved back in order to love.

    We should also be careful not to mistake love for its imitations. To seduce is to lead astray—to try to make someone become who we want them to be, instead of loving who they really are.

    True love goes deeper. True love is core love. True love is mutual love. We don’t simply fall in love—we practice love. To love takes energy, especially when love awakens feelings of powerlessness, helplessness, or vulnerability. Real love takes work.

    And yet, this work transforms us. When we are courageous enough to be ourselves with another, to grow and change together, love keeps growing. Passion can ripen into something more real when we dare to take the risk of loving fully. Because real love changes us.

    It is only when we dare to have our heart broken that we can truly love. True love gives and forgives.

  • Ireland Is Indigenous: A Truth Declared

    I was not born Irish. I was born Swedish Karelian. Ireland did not choose me — I chose it. And I choose it still. I am Irish-ish, not because Irishness is a cloak to wear, but because it is a heritage I have taken on with responsibility.

    Ireland is indigenous.
    Not partially. Not metaphorically. Fully.

    The Irish carry a handed-down culture:

    • A language born of this land, carved into ogham stones.
    • A law, the Brehon law, older than English common law.
    • A memory of colonisation, dispossession, famine, and survival.
    • An identity carried in families, music, and names.

    I carry a learned culture:

    • I was not born into Gaeilge, but I can support it.
    • I did not inherit Irish history, but I can stand with it.
    • I was not shaped by this soil from birth, but I can root myself in it.

    Handed-down culture is inescapable. An Irish person cannot shrug it off, even if they try. Learned culture is chosen. I could turn away — but I don’t. Because to be Irish-ish is to commit. To carry the flame, not wear the cloak.

    I cannot speak Gaeilge. But I support it fully. My daughter must pass a Gaeilge test to qualify for a Masters in teaching, because she wants to be a primary school teacher. And she is one of the good ones — born between cultures, yet carrying Irish identity forward.

    She shows what I mean by Irish-ish. She is differently Irish, and in that difference she understands empathy. She knows that Irishness is not a cloak of purity, but a heritage that can be lived, learned, and handed on.

    And so am I. I am differently Irish. I am Irish-ish.
    That means I honour Ireland’s indigeneity, but I do not take on every cause the Irish take on.
    Irish-ish is not mimicry. It is commitment with independence.
    I stand with Ireland’s survival, its language, its culture — but I choose my own battles.
    That is the difference between handed-down culture and learned culture: one is inherited, the other is chosen.

    Ireland is for the Irish.
    And Irishness is not something borrowed, not a fashion, not a joke. It is survival. It is memory. It is a people who refused erasure.

    To be Irish-ish is to join that survival. To learn what others inherited. To protect what others preserved. To take responsibility for a culture that is fragile and precious, and in that responsibility, to become kin.

    I stand with all indigenous peoples who fight for survival, culture, and sovereignty.
    But I will not misuse that word. Not everyone who claims indigeneity is indigenous.
    Indigeneity is continuity with land, language, and culture through history.
    It is not a slogan to be borrowed, or a mask for imperialism.

    And my solidarity goes further: I do not stand with Islamism. I do not stand with the Far Left. Not because I oppose Muslims as people, or ordinary Left-leaning folk — but because Islamism is an ideology of domination, and the Far Left is an ideology of erasure.

    I am against Islamic imperialism, just as I am against every form of empire that seeks to erase peoples and cultures. Ireland knows too well what imperialism does: it steals land, outlaws language, mocks tradition, and scatters communities. To resist it abroad is to honour the fight we carried at home.

    I know what cultural erasure looks like — I see it in Ireland’s story. The outlawing of Irish, the mockery of Irish identity, the scattering of Irish people. That is why I cannot ignore the same threats when they are aimed at Jews and Israelis.

    My stance is simple: I am against Islamic imperialism. I am against the Far Left’s excuses for it. Erasure is erasure, no matter who does it, no matter who suffers it. If I stand with Ireland’s survival, I must also stand against the call to erase another people.

    I was born on the Left. I believed in justice, fairness, and dignity. But the Left I knew is gone. Today the Left has become the new Right — rigid, censorious, hostile to dissent. If I were American, I would be a Republican. Not because the Right is flawless, but because there, I still see speech defended, culture preserved, freedom named as truth.

    Even those called hateful can show respect. When Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, Donald Trump — her fiercest opponent — called her remarkable. He honoured her life. He showed dignity. And yet he is still painted only as hate. Tribalism blinds us. It blinds the Left most of all.

    This is what I admire about America: its openness to invent a new nationality, to make belonging something chosen. To live together, to work together, across difference. But America also shows us the cost: there are always two sides. Openness does not end conflict — it begins coexistence. That is the true test of belonging.

    And here I stand.
    Not an influencer. Not a leader with millions of followers. In the world’s eyes, I am nobody. But I am still somebody — with a voice, with convictions, with a duty to speak.

    Charlie Kirk inspired me to do this. He was important; I am not. But he proved that even the small can stand for something larger. To be Irish-ish is to carry a flame, even when you are the smallest spark.

    Freedom lives in words.
    That is why they outlast bullets.

    We are not post-colonial. We are still decolonising.
    And we declare it again and again:

    Ireland is indigenous. Always was. Always will be.

  • Not a War of Nations — A War of Narratives

    You think it’s about Israel and Palestine.
    Or Ukraine and Russia.
    Or Iran and the U.S.

    That’s the first trap.

    This was never about borders, tribes, or gods.
    It’s about narrative control.
    It’s about attention hijack.
    It’s about locking your consciousness into fear-loops while the system resets itself with fire.

    The bombs are real.
    The grief is real.
    But the story you’ve been fed is a ritual script, written by those who profit from every scream and every silence.

    They don’t care which side you chant for.
    They care that you’re chanting.
    That you’re performing their conflict.
    That you’ve chosen a flag over your frequency.

    Every time you feed the loop — they feed off you.

    This isn’t about a holy land.
    This is about a synthetic architecture of division — collapsing.

    And when it collapses?
    They need your fear to glue it back together.

    So What Now?

    Stay coherent.
    Don’t feed mimic loops.
    Don’t let grief become theatre.
    Hold your own signal.

    This isn’t a geopolitical war.
    This is a timeline war.
    And you’re the battleground.

  • We’re All Part of the Broken Family

    I read your words, and I felt something shift—not in the way I imagine you intended. You said what you needed to say, and I suppose this is me doing the same. Skriva av mig.

    You write with the tone of someone who’s already moved on, who’s emotionally detached and looking back at the wreckage from a safe, elevated distance. But I didn’t feel wisdom in your letter. I didn’t feel love. I felt something performative. Something self-satisfied. You used to be someone I admired for your depth—for your ability to hold contradictions, for your courage to look at the mess and not turn away. This felt like the opposite. This felt like someone writing to win a crowd, not seek the truth.

    You compared America to a mentally ill family member. That’s not philosophy, that’s pathologizing a people. That’s taking the worst of one nation and building a metaphor that makes everyone else the sane, stable, rational grownups. Europe becomes the wise wife. Canada, the pretty girl next door. Russia, the neighbourhood monster. And you? You’re the knowing observer, shaking your head in sorrow from your morally secure porch.

    You’ve written off an entire nation as if it’s a single consciousness—chaotic, erratic, no longer trustworthy. That’s not just lazy, it’s dangerous. It flattens the millions of people in that country who are fighting the good fight. Who are pushing back. Who are trying to hold something together while the ground shifts beneath them. You saw the storm, and instead of offering a rope, you stepped back to watch.

    And meanwhile, Europe—your golden child in this metaphor—gets a free pass. No mention of its own ongoing nationalism. No mention of how it’s leaned on the US for security, convenience, and political cover for decades. No mention of its own violent history or its complicity in the very global order you now denounce. It’s easier, I guess, to pretend Europe is rising like a phoenix while America flails.

    But this isn’t healing. This isn’t insight. It’s resignation dressed up as moral clarity.

    You say you haven’t given up on America, that your door is open. But everything in your letter says otherwise. You’ve already packed the bags, changed the locks, and started dating someone new. What remains is the guilt talking, not the love.

    I don’t say this as a flag-waver or an apologist. I see the mess. I feel the grief. But I also see the reductionism, the projection, the convenient forgetting. And that—coming from someone who claims to be a philosopher—is what stings the most.

    If you want to walk away, fine. But don’t pretend it’s out of compassion. And don’t pretend you’re not part of the same broken family.

    We all are.

  • Navigating the Journey of Parenthood: Insights from Sociology

    Navigating the Journey of Parenthood: Insights from Sociology

    We need to understand children to understand ourselves. We carry the child within and they carry the adult within. Adults are not superior. We are just further along the life course than they are.

    The Family as the Crucible of Socialisation

    Family is our first socialisation process and the one that will have the most impact and last the longest. Socialisation is extremely important not just to become a human but to find one’s place within society and throughout different stages of the life course. Family is the nucleus of society, it’s the smallest part of society and if the family doesn’t work, society doesn’t work.

    Childhood is when we become humans, and parents do the most important part of socialisation. When the first five years are gone, parents might doubt whether they have done a good job, but don’t worry, your job is not done and it’s never too late to become a better parent, as well as a better teacher and a better friend. Socialisation is a lifelong process.

    The socialisation process is an interactive process that most of us do without thinking, but we should because it’s how we become who we are. In our diverse culture, it’s important to make space to understand differences but also question them. We all come from different cultures, but we live in the same country. We must talk about what happens when we parent without purpose and when we continue to do what was done to us without questioning it. This is not about judging different cultural practices but reaching conclusions as to how we can bring our children through childhood into adulthood in the best possible way.

    We tell children to not grow up so fast, to enjoy childhood, but when children start school, a place where only a few thrive, most cope and survive, some children want to escape childhood. School is like a soft prison. Children start school as early as age 4, and in most countries won’t be released until they are 16. Leaving at this age won’t guarantee a job or a fulfilling future, so many continue until their mid-twenties and some don’t start working until their early thirties.

    The Schooling Dilemma

    Fear of school can be a healthy expression of an unhealthy environment. Not fitting in doesn’t have to lead to school shootings or a terrorist mindset. A pressure cooker mindset can come from maladaptive socialisation and a refusal to listen to a child who doesn’t fit in. The child knows. We need to listen to children.

    We know children need love, play and imagination, but school kills what sustains us on the life course. In school, children learn to compete for grades and rewards. They learn that failure is their fault and they also learn gender roles which can be too strict because while we’re all either male or female, we also contain both female and male energy. If you are a tomboy, be one without thinking you have to change your body. Your body is fine. If you are a feminine boy, be one without thinking you have to change your body. Your body is fine.

    Teachers are doing a difficult job too; they are stuck in a system that refuses to change. We live in a different era from when school began.

    We all have to breathe to listen to understand our children. Instead of talking down, let’s sit down and listen to how our children experience life. We can design a new blueprint for life by listening to the experts on how they wish they could be treated. Culture is the software and society is the hardware. If we don’t scrutinise what we teach, we could end up with a society no one wants to live in.

    Children and young people need boundaries. Absolute freedom isn’t liberating, it’s paralyzing. We all have to learn to follow rules and the law, but also when to question it, and when to protest it. Children don’t need authoritarian parents or teachers. We can lead with authority without being dictators. We must admit that socialisation is an interactive process, we learn from those we teach too.

    Listening to the Voices of Children

    We must listen to our children because we don’t always know best. No one knows a child better than the child. We can be authoritative adults while still listening. We need a listening society.

    We all want what’s best for our children, but many of us disagree on how to achieve that. Teachers have training on how to teach and how to control large groups of children and teens, but parents do it by how it was done to them. How would society change if we parented with purpose? If we went to parenting classes on how to be the best parents we can be? Family is for life and so will some friendships, but while it’s important to have close friendships as children grow and move towards independence, parents continue to matter, so hold on to your children because many will go through an identity crisis in their early adulthood and your support will be as important if not more important than their peers.

    Of course, peers are important in the socialisation process and even more so friends, some who might become lifelong friends. Peers provide emotional support. Peers teach us who we are by reinforcing or punishing behaviours and social interactions. Peers show each other who they are, don’t want to be or aspire to be. Peers teach how to conform and adjust in a group setting. Peers help in the confusing search for an identity, but belonging to a group also creates tension. Peer pressure happens when a person searches for an identity outside of the accepted norms and values of the in-group.

    Challenging Cultural Norms and Redefining Parenthood

    There is intended and unintended socialisation and unintended socialisation is more powerful. If you want your child to grow up honest, you can’t lie, not even a little bit, you have to practice radical honesty or your child will eventually find out and dismiss your teachings. You have to walk the talk.

    Childhood is too short for parents and too long for children. We say don’t grow up too fast, but children don’t want to be trapped in childhood for as long as we want them to be, there is nothing magic about pretending after five or six years of age. Some parent insists on making up magic and discarding the magic of reality, but children must live in reality and the more we tell the truth in an appropriate to development way, we help them to thrive in life.

    The Authentic Child

  • The Unexpected Calling: Life Taught Me How to Coach

    I never set out to be a trainer, facilitator or coach. In fact, I left school early, unsure of what I was meant to do in life. But years later — after raising children, working across care, tech, and the arts, and returning to education myself — I discovered something surprising: I love helping people learn and grow. Not just the material, but about themselves.

    Over the past decade, I’ve taken courses in communication, mental health, and life coaching to deepen the insight I’ve gained from choosing a different path in life. I’ve been told often, “You should be a teacher,” but I think what people really meant is: “You make others feel understood.”

    That, to me, is the foundation of real learning — being seen, heard, and accepted. Whether someone is 14 or 80, I’ve found that the desire is the same: we want to be understood.

    The traditional school system didn’t make space for that when I was young. I didn’t like school, but I remember the rare teachers who took the time to understand me. Inspired by books like Tuesdays with Morrie, I’ve since reached out to thank them. Because they didn’t just teach me Swedish and English — they made me feel I mattered.

    That’s what I aim to offer others now. Whether I’m coaching, facilitating, or designing a training, my approach is rooted in one belief: understanding people is just as important as knowing the material. When someone feels seen, they’re far more likely to feel safe, ask questions, and learn something new — not just in their minds, but in their lives.

    Too many adults carry a quiet belief that they’re “not smart enough.” That’s rarely true. More often, they were simply misunderstood — taught in a way that didn’t match how they learn. If I can help someone reconnect with their curiosity, or feel good about learning and growing again, that’s enough.

  • The Blurring Lines: Fact, Fiction, and the Changing Face of Journalism

    A Communication Revolution

    We are living in the middle of a communication revolution and change is the only thing we can trust. We have gone from handwriting to print to the internet, and we still don’t know the full effect of this most recent communication revolution. Journalism is writing, but it’s also storytelling and a filter of reality.

    The Foundations of Journalism: Facts vs. Fiction

    Journalism is still about the five w questions and one h question.

    Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? At times, one might feel the urge to add are you joking? And seriously? Or at least to oneself, is this real?

    Journalism is a filter of reality. Journalists are information consultants who filter through information and opinion

    The Rise of Engineered and Fake News

    Today, we live in a world with engineered news and fake news. Journalism is losing power to people journalism or citizen journalism. We live in a reality where alternative news and facts are shaking and stirring not just journalism but politics and democracy.

    It’s old media against social media and also asocial media. Today, journalism compete with people shaping news with their opinion and feelings.

    The Blurred Lines: Information vs. Opinion

    Journalism has to adhere to ethics and take responsibility for unbiased reporting. Journalism must tell, inform and enlighten not falsify, mislead and seduce, but the border is gone.

    It’s hard to see what’s real and what’s propaganda. We filter news to get our worldview confirmed not challenged. Friends and family and celebrities mean more to us than journalists. X breaks the news now, not newsrooms.

    Different truths fight for attention in media, and false news have it easier since disbelief is everywhere now. It’s no longer sure that news is real and unbiased, the lie has become normal. Journalism has lost its status. Journalism has become misplaced.

    But does it have to be like this?

    The Impact of the Digital Era on Journalism

    We consume more news now than ever before. Technically, journalism has never had such good conditions to be produced and distributed as in the digital era, but everyone wants news and stories for free, and it must be short and instant. The erosion of the boundary between truth and lie has changed journalism.

    The erosion of the difference between information and opinion has changed journalism.

    The fact that good journalism can still be produced does not mean that it will be able to play the same role in people’s perception of reality as before. The information gap we see opens up in a digital society is not because the information is missing or unavailable, but the digital era has revolutionised the terms not only for journalism but the conditions for all human communication.

    How we tell the world has an impact, and as we today say it more through pictures, we don’t necessarily get more than a thousand words. A picture hasn’t been analysed the way a printed text on the subject has been and images can also be manipulated and sometimes we don’t know if what we see is what is there.

    Fiction as a Lens for Truth

    What is communicated directly through sound and moving picture say something different than when the same news is delivered through print. It speaks to another part of our brain. We are intellectually more defenceless when faced with pictures and also emotionally more vulnerable. The internet is changing how we see the world.

    How we tell the world is no small matter, we can make it better or worse depending on our ability to truthfully depicting our experience and the stories we are told to the world. Veracity is not the same as truth. Veracity is an aim, not a result.

    Journalism can’t be fiction or lies or untruth or degrees of truth. Journalism is the art of relevant storytelling, and we need it more than ever. Journalism informs and educates us on what we need to know not just what we want to know. The innate level of journalism is curiosity.

    Realistically today, we can charge for good journalism on the internet if the demand for good journalism exists and it does. We have to make the internet free and let people pay for quality content instead.

    What This Means for Journalism Today

    I grew up in an era when reading the morning newspaper and watching the eight-o clock news were sacred rituals. The news seldom confirmed my worldview, but we didn’t question the news as we do today. The news informed, and people took newsbreaks instead of getting depressed. Today part of being both a journalist and a citizen is the ability to distinguish between true and false.

    Facts are essential in journalism, and no fiction is allowed. Fantasy is allowed and expected in fiction, but it must still be believable and also contain facts.

    So, is there is a clear line between fact and fiction?

    As an unconventional fiction writer, I know that everything I’ve written so far is way off the mainstream, but still, it contains facts but perhaps because a lot of my stories are fantasy it’s easy to think it’s all made up, but there is also a lot of research in imaginative writing. I like using fiction to find facts if that makes sense at all.

    Does it matter if something really happened? Are all non-fictional works absolutely truthful? I doubt it as without even a flickering of fiction a non-fiction book would be dull. There could also be more truth in fiction, but non-fiction is sometimes written as fiction for protection.

    Could it be the same in journalism?

    Non-fiction reveals lies while fiction shows us the truth? Does the value of the story lie in its truth or how it makes us feel?

    A Call to Action: The Need for Veracity in Journalism

    We value truth, but all of us lie every day. We have always mixed fact and fiction, but anything marketed as based on a true story seems to give a story more value, whether we are reading or watching. Even historians make interpretations of the truth, so a novel set in the past must be both fact and fiction, it can’t be anything else. A historical novel can be based on historiography, but it can still never be truly non-fictional because history has layers and even if we were there, we can’t see all the layers of an event. And so can’t a journalist, they have to interpret the facts at hand which can differ from source to source.

    The best way might be to keep an open mind when we read fiction, and presume there is some truth in there and when we read non-fiction presume there are some inventions or biased views in there.

    All fiction can also be true depending on what multiverse one presently occupies. My daughter who frequently inhabits the magic world asked if Harry Potter is fiction or non-fiction and when I replied by asking what she thinks she said, both. And why not?

    Of course, that’s not the correct journalistic view to take, but it certainly can be a more liberating view of literature.

    People don’t read the way we used to though, and it’s not literature shaping our present reality, apart from perhaps Harry Potter, but the stories we share online and the stories that go viral are the ones readers seems to trust the most because they are the most popular ones. So, do we as humans prefer fiction or at least a mix of fact and fiction and is that why so many prefer the stories behind the news?

    Is fiction just another angle of truth?

  • Welcome to Involution Labs

    Involution Labs was born from an idea—to finally take charge of my creative output. Not just for the fun of it (though fun matters), but to share it—something I’ve neglected far too long. Most of my books, apart from PeaceCraft, were written before Involution Labs existed.

    I’m an unknown writer who loves to explore through words—both in English and Swedish, though mostly in English. I’m not an expert. In fact, I embrace a beginner’s mindset—maybe out of rebellion, because I’ve seen how “experts” often stop learning. I know the truth: the more I learn, the more I realize there’s even more to learn.

    I’ve always written: stories for friends (always with happy endings), love letters, poems, short stories that explore different viewpoints in life. I was a bit of a trickster too—telling tall tales and often fooling people with my ability to spin a good yarn.

    Did I dream of becoming an author? Maybe in the early days, when I started writing seriously again. But how many rejections can you take before deciding to write for yourself? Not just because you love it—but because writing becomes a survival mechanism. Here, Swedish has the perfect expression: “skriva av mig”—to write it out of my system.

    Even though English is one of the most expressive languages in the world (and I love it because no one owns it—we all do), sometimes Swedish is the only thing that fits.

    I’ve always looked at the world a bit differently. My life has been anything but linear, and that’s obvious in my stories too. They’re written more in “skriva av mig” mode than for a specific audience. But I love my stories. And while I’m not a mainstream writer—and for years thought, why spend time, money, and effort marketing something that’s not built for mass appeal? —now, with Involution Labs, I’m finally showcasing my work.

    But Involution Labs isn’t just a space for unconventional writing.

    Unburdened is a business idea that’s close to my heart—focused on decluttering and letting go, inspired by concepts like Swedish death cleaning. I hope to bring it to life fully this year, offering guidance and services to help others simplify and create more space—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

    PeaceCraft began as a book, but it was always meant to be more. The initial idea was actually a game, and I believe it still has so much potential to grow—into an online course, a teaching manual, and perhaps even something bigger that fosters peace-building in new ways.

    Far Far Out is my personal idea depository. It’s the space where I park my wild, ambitious, sometimes impossible ideas—the ones I can’t accomplish on my own but still want to share. Who knows? Maybe someone out there will see a spark and want to collaborate.

    So, while stories and words are at the heart of Involution Labs, the bigger vision is a place where creativity, curiosity, and meaningful action meet.

    Welcome.