You can’t build a protocol from a theory. You build it from the fractures in your own life—the moments where the old way breaks, and something real stares back at you.
For me, the first shift came from a book written millennia ago: the Bhagavad Gita. It wasn’t the philosophy that struck me; it was the brutal, practical physics of it. Attachment to outcomes is a recipe for disappointment, and disappointment ferments into anger. I saw it in myself. I’d set a goal, strive with everything I had, and if the result didn’t match my picture—or arrive on my schedule—the energy curdled. The teaching wasn’t spiritual; it was operational. Cease the striving. Create the work—good, clean, aligned work—and let the outcome belong to God, or the Field. That was the first shift: from maker of outcomes to steward of intention.
The second shift came from watching a client do what I used to do. They were brilliant at setting intentions, but they were breaking the two sacred rules without knowing they existed:
- They never rested from the creative act. The mind was always on, always planning, always “visioning.” It was a form of mental hoarding.
- They were constantly measuring for the outcome. Peeking at the soil to see if the seed had sprouted. Every glance was a vote of no-confidence in the process.
Our work wasn’t about adding another technique. It was about enforcing a Sabbath. A cease-fire on the mind’s compulsive creating and measuring. The breakthrough wasn’t a new goal achieved. It was the day they reported a strange new feeling: focus on the process of doing good work, aligned with the highest truth they could sense, and a deep trust in simply being within that process. The outcome became almost irrelevant. It would arrive, in its own form, in its own time. They had moved from being an architect demanding a specific building to being a gardener tending a field.
The third shift was the quietest, and the most personal. It happened in an ordinary evening. No fanfare. A feeling descended that I had no prior reference for: total, unshakable peace. It wasn’t relaxation. It wasn’t satisfaction. It was the experiential knowledge of being unattached and fully liberated. It was the Sat state—not as a concept, but as the ground of my being. It was the proof, written in the silent language of feeling, that the protocol wasn’t just a map. It was the territory.
These three shifts—from the Gita, from my client, from that silent evening—are the pillars of the Sat Protocol. It’s not a system for getting what you want. It’s a disciplined practice of returning to who you are before the want, and letting all action flow from that place.
This is the invitation: to stop building your life around the harvest, and to become utterly faithful to the quality of the seed and the sanctity of the soil. Everything else is commentary.
