Anyone who knows me knows I am always alone. Any human being that is brought before me is either there to give me a gift, or I am there to give them one, or both. There are no errors. I don’t lightly meet anyone – ever.

Going through the nightmares of publishing with Amazon Smart Publishing really opened my eyes. They came at me for more money, more money, more money, and I just said, “no!” They wanted $300-$400 for the domain name, Man is Ruining His Own Nest. I bought it for $28 and told them no way. They wanted over $3k for “insurance” against e-book hackers. No one will hack my stuff.

They can and do get away with people reaching the bottom of the coffee can cash and taking out a line of credit on their house just to get their words put in a book. A dream for so many until they realize the cost. Do other people realize they can say “no” to the demands? I don’t think they do. They are losing their lives to share the story they were born to write. 

In our new reality, personal injury billboards litter freeways in Las Vegas, and you willingly screw your brother to make passive income. But now, you are getting away with it. They can beat you down fifteen ways until Sunday and you can’t lift a finger. 

Because they are so powerful and you don’t think you have a leg to stand on, you feel screwed. It is because you were screwed. And in our current state of reality, there is nothing you can do about it. Until you do.

you willingly screw your brother to make passive income.

ASP opened my eyes to other means of illicit ways to make passive income. Because I was getting screwed on publishing, a video landed in my lap about “e-book hackers.” In this video, a young man is teaching people how to go to Amazon using a very specific formula and algorithm. It breaks down what e-books are selling well and making money. He tells them how to basically hack the successful books; re-create it as your own, and you sell it as an ebook on Amazon.

There are hundreds of comments from successful hackers, and a few from those still learning how to perfect laziness. I don’t believe this highly trophied layer of society has had success or accomplished anything. If they did, they wouldn’t settle for easy income. They would have a pilot light inside trying to fire them into inspired. 

What happened to actally doing something to make money? What happened to creating something marvelous because you can. You allowed your thinker to be free.

Why steal something that somebody else did in order for you to be successful? Accomplishment does not come by theft. If you don’t feel good about what you’re doing, it will make you sick. Which is why I was brought to Melisa.

Melisa gets a group of people together that are excited about a topic, and she will hold your hand, she will nurse you, she will change your diaper and do everything in her power to keep you happy. She knows she just needs to tolerate you for a few months of her life. You being happy when you work with Melisa means she is going to make money from you. All she has to do for a couple of months is hold your hand and wipe your ass.

Here is how her industry works.

She finds a group of people who have a topic such as ‘what brought you to Mount Shasta?’ What did Mount Shasta do to call you to her? I realized I did not have this story written anywhere. So, when I saw the opportunity for a collaborative project, I immediately responded.

This is not a Cari decision. This is very God-driven. Cari does not make decisions. She hasn’t in eight years. When Cari shows up for you – you prayed. And you know it. 

She talked to the woman behind the project, Melisa Keenan with Hope Publishing. She was in. 

 Here’s how this works. Everyone’s name who you see on the cover of her book gave this woman either $2,000 or $3,000.

For $2,000 you get 3,000 words in the book. 4,000 words for $3,000 includes your picture and bio. Anyone who has the money would come from ego and want their name and picture in the book.

I was no different. After all, I’m already a published author. Why wouldn’t I want my name on this book? I paid $3,000.

I pretty much had it written, so I submitted it quickly. Along with my 150 word placeholder for a bio. There was much work ahead, I was just sending what she needed to get started.

Melisa was flying to Mount Shasta for a retreat with the authors in early October. My gut told me there was no way I could be around this group. Something about it felt off, but I thought I would be okay being in the book. I felt like my protective bubble would bounce any icky stuff off of me – so I moved forward.

I offered to speak on behalf of the book since I have a video channel and website. I also offered recording space to produce the audio version since I made a sound proof booth in my house. I would have offered to use my voice as well for the recording. It felt almost “fun” to be part of something. At this time, I thought I was going to be in the book. But, I haven’t been around any humans. Let alone a group. No matter, it would be icky for me. 

Turned out I had a young woman who needed to visit me that week. She flew here from Louisiana and that week was needed for her awakening. It was a very brilliant investment of time and energy on our parts. Oh my God, the things that happened to us in just a few days. Unreal. 

Turns out Melisa couldn’t make her retreat because she was sick. This was the first time I knew what was going on with this experience. Now I was starting to understand why I was delivered to her. I couldn’t like her as a person. The stuff she shares openly is over the top; the first book I wrote that I may never publish. It is the icky stuff from my history that has no place in this reality.

I am the “now” version. Who she was doesn’t matter. This is what she needs to let go of. It is so yesterday, yet she carries her mountain and she waves it loud and proud in front of her village. 

I was finally going to hop on to a Zoom call with the group. I knew I would not participate or let them see me, but I wanted to see what this goat rodeo was all about. It turned out their fearless leader Melisa was sick. Again. 

Not to digress, but does anyone know why we get sick? OK, good. That’s what I thought. We bring it on when we’re not being authentic, ethical, or being good people. It’s our way of showing the world we are doing something that’s naughty or we are not being true to our calling. 

What set me over the edge was the whining and crying of these toddlers; I haven’t been in a “group” in years. Let alone something of this caliber. I knew I didn’t belong with them – but I was delivered here to experience this call. I joined only because we were done writing. We already had to submit our chapters. The deadline was long gone, or so I thought. These people still wanted to read each other‘s work, and they wanted to get together to work on their chapters. Excuse me? This part was months ago. 

Everything became crystal clear. All Melisa needs to survive for a few months is to hold their hands, pull them through the mud, and get her book published. Then she can be done with them. She can wash her hands and move on. Here’s why.

$3,000 and $2,000 from the writers of this book. Figured she came up with around $50,000 for the publication of this book. What she tells ‘her authors’ is that all of the money made on the book is going back into the marketing of the book. Are we all this stupid? If you have a book that you’re marketing, that means it is selling and people are making money. The thing is, the authors won’t see a dime. Melisa makes every penny.

How do I know this? Because I have two books on Amazon and I’m not doing any marketing. And I’m getting paid for them.

When I realized this woman actually prayed for help and that was why I was sent, I sent her a note. I told her I see that you’re sick. You and I both know why. I’m probably not a fit for this, so you can feel free to remove me from this book if you’d like to. 

I knew she could no longer stand my presence. I was now officially calling her out and she was scared to death. This is when they go from the love of my life, to wanting to shoot the messenger. How did I show up, Melisa? You still believe in God. Or, you did. 

The next morning I got a letter saying I was removed from the project. But she also said she’s keeping my $3,000. I’m here to tell her that she is not. Who does she think she is? I work for God, Honey. He sent me to you because you are melting inside and you know it. You can’t keep my money any more than you should keep theirs. It is truly killing you inside. You chose it.

You may have pulled the wool over the eyes of the people in your group projects, because they are so excited now because you keep telling them “you will be a published author.” Nobody else sees them this way. They’re just someone buried in a book that you’re making money on.

What I suggest to these authors is they should make their chapter into an ebook and publish it as I am. Why shouldn’t you make money on your part of the story? If she threatens to sue you, she already has all your money. She’s getting royalties from you for life. What more can she get?

If you are around someone who is always bringing on sickness, you need to ask them why. I was constantly sick with so many varieties and flavors of fun to knock me down. It was because I was miserable. I was an unhappy soul who was living a lie. But no matter what. I have always been ethical. Always. I am a good moral person with a great moral compass and I would not hurt a fly. Anything I say or do to you is because you asked me to before we were born. You asked for my help. And I showed up. I don’t have to live with you. You do.

 …she said she’s keeping my $3,000. I’m here to tell her that she is not. Who does she think she is? I work for God, honey. He sent me to you because you are melting inside and you know it.

When I thought of who she is and how she does this, promising a fun existence as an author, it made me feel icky. I visualize her going to a sweet little fishing town like Newport, Oregon. This town has stories that would break your heart. Lives lost. Sorrow. The stories would be amazing. Many of these people work on the edge of life and death every day. They have stories that you could not believe. But they do not have the money to give you.

But if you were before them, you would encourage them to find the money as your story is riveting. They would sell their soul so you can make a living on them forever. Like the others out there; she just wants to borrow you and your money for a little while. You will then be history. This is why she is always sick. 

I’m not worried about the money. I don’t have the ability to worry about anything. Why would I want it? I work for God. I will always be provided for and abundant.

… I suggest to these authors is they should make their chapter into an ebook and publish it as I am …  If she threatens to sue you, she already has all your money. She’s getting royalties from you for life. What more can she get?

But let me make this clear, no one shows up before me unless it is their time. Four people came to me who were at the end of life. A few have children who won’t speak to them. ML desperately needed my help in saving her grandchildren. Karen just needs help. So many souls were sent my way over the last few years. You know who you are.

You prayed for help and dammit, they sent me. You were fooled. You fell in love with me. Then you said that thing where I said the thing back that you hoped you were ready to hear. No one ever is ready, silly.  

You’ve never been able to move beyond it. You want to get beyond it. This is why it got to the point where Cari showed up. All you need to do is turn and face that thing that scares you. Why do you let it have power over your life? Face it. Kick it to the curb and bless the lesson. Grow from it.

Do not let this be what you are remembered as. Make this life count. If not, you are going to experience the same painful lessons over and over again. You came to grow and drop all of the garbage. 

See the red map dot on the top left? This is where I am staying. I am on a month-long excursion to ‘from whence I came’ in Las Vegas. I am over two weeks in now. It is where I was born. I am in no way connected to this city. The town I was born in had hotels scattered along the boulevard. The first thing you saw when you drove in was the Tropicana. 

Then the rest. Caesar’s Palace, Stardust, Dunes, Sahara, Hilton, and the Sands. Imperial Palace. Aladdin. Desert Inn. Flamingo. Landmark. And of course, “Howdy partner” in downtown Las Vegas. Henderson had under 20,000 people.

This is the town where I got through my tumultuous childhood. This town came from a colorful history that was unique and ours. It was fun to be one of the few actually “from” here. When I moved to Boston, the ladies asked what hotel I was born in. They also wondered if we all had a tall set of colorful “plumes” for our hair. 

Coming back home for whatever reason was inexpensive, and easy. You could eat cheap and fly for practically nothing. Then we discovered celebrities and the need to fill high end nightclubs with their presence. That was where the end began. 

I can’t be near what Las Vegas has become. Those I know who are retiring are looking for where to move to, now that Vegas has gone to hell.

Look at the images encroaching on the lake, and Mount Charleston. Stay back! Go another way. 

Man is Ruining His Own Nest speaks of the change to our planet. The lake is low. Lake Las Vegas makes me sick. How the three-story stucco-exact structures come into an area of nature like the wall of a thunderstorm sickens my heart. And now I know first hand, you are killing the energy of the land. If you find you can’t create here. I know why.

As you approach, you see the wall of buildings as far as the eye can see coming at you. You want to deny that it is real. This was all God’s country. Now it is full of humans and strip malls. I hear the valley has 4.4 million human beings. If I was not on the fringe of town, I could not survive this task.

A week in, I hiked with a high school classmate. I played guitar with my step dad for two hours. Lastly, my nephew joined me at a smoke filled country bar so I could sing one song. Too loud to speak. Those are my conversations. I have no chats with anyone 

The thing is, I feel absolutely no inspiration here. This town carries a heaviness that does not allow the flow of my creative energy. 

I am on the fringe of town. I go to the mountains. Without it, I couldn’t do this.