How Visionary Entrepreneurs Quietly Shaped My Wildest Dreams
Some mornings, I wake up and wonder if I’ve imagined the whole thing.
The vision. The fire.
The slow, sacred work of building something no one else sees yet.
I write. I post.
I whisper into the algorithm like it’s a tide that might eventually turn in my direction.
And when it doesn’t…I keep whispering anyway.
Because this isn’t just about a blog, or a game, or a business. It’s about the need to shape the world with my hands, even if it takes years to be seen.
That’s why I hold close the people who’ve done it before.
Not the loudest voices. Not the fastest climbers.
But the quiet visionaries, the ones who built cathedrals where others saw vacant lots.
People like Brian. Seth. Yvon. Whitney. Elon. Zakary.
They remind me that I’m not building for now.
I’m building for someday, and for everyone else who has ever felt like their soul had a business plan.
Brian Chesky: Belonging as a Business Model
Brian Chesky didn’t just rent out rooms. He rewrote the rules of hospitality.
Airbnb wasn’t born in a boardroom, it was born on a floor, with air mattresses, cereal boxes, and a belief that strangers could become guests, and guests could become family.
What he built wasn't just a tech company. It was a framework for trust.
A place where identity, shelter, and economy blurred into something softer.
Something human.
When I think about my own work (my blogs, my projects, Blockchain Botany) I see echoes of his.
I'm trying to create places where people can land.
Where curiosity is safe.
Where trauma has a translator.
Where tech can teach you how to feel more alive.
Chesky showed me that community is a product.
That emotion is infrastructure.
That belonging can scale, and that it should.
Seth Godin: Publishing as a Sacred Act
Seth doesn’t scream.
He doesn’t game the system.
He just shows up, every single day, like the sunrise and the tide and the truth.
He writes like it matters.
Because it does.
Godin taught me that consistency is a prayer.
That publishing isn't just about SEO, it's about signaling to the universe that you're serious.
When no one reads, you write.
When no one sees, you post.
Because you're not performing.
You're becoming.
His belief in long-term trust over short-term metrics keeps me grounded when my numbers feel like silence.
He reminds me: this isn’t a race…it’s a resonance.
And maybe someday, someone will whisper:
“Her words helped me build something real.”
Just like his did for me.
Yvon Chouinard: The Rebel with a Purpose
Some people build empires.
Yvon built resistance.
Not resistance to wealth, but to waste.
Not resistance to business, but to its emptiness when untethered from values.
He made Patagonia a company with a spine.
He refused fast growth for growth’s sake.
He sent catalogs filled with environmental essays instead of sales pitches.
He told people not to buy his products unless they truly needed them.
And when the brand had grown so large it could no longer be only his, he gave it away…to the Earth itself.
That kind of thinking doesn’t come from ego.
It comes from deep alignment.
From standing in a river with a fishing rod in hand and asking the water what the world really needs.
He reminds me that I’m allowed to do this differently.
That I can make Blockchain Botany a haven, not a hustle.
That I can build systems where growth means more kindness, not more chaos.
That my work can be spiritual…not because it’s about God, but because it honors what’s sacred.
Chouinard didn’t just make gear.
He made a philosophy you could wear on your back.
And I want my work to feel like that too, like slipping into something that finally fits your ethics.
Whitney Wolfe Herd: Turning Wounds into Worlds
Whitney Wolfe Herd was burned.
Publicly, painfully, and in front of the tech world’s harshest lights.
And instead of fading, she started again.
Not in the shadow of what had hurt her, but in the illumination of what she now knew:
Power doesn’t always have to roar.
Sometimes, it can swipe right.
Bumble wasn’t just a dating app.
It was a reframe.
An invitation to women to take the first step.
A reclamation of space in a world that often demands silence from the very people who need to speak.
Her story sings to my soul because it doesn’t pretend that wounds don’t shape us.
It says: “Yes, they do, and now watch me build something softer with these scars.”
I think about that a lot when I’m working on my blog, pouring myself into articles about trauma, memory, biology, wonder.
The things I survived shaped what I’m creating.
Not as decoration.
But as foundation.
Whitney Wolfe Herd didn’t ask for a seat at the table.
She built a table where different rules applied.
And she reminds me that I can, too.
That my pain doesn’t disqualify me from entrepreneurship.
It qualifies me to build something truly new.
Elon Musk: Thinking Beyond Earth
I don’t agree with everything Elon Musk says or does.
But I can’t ignore the pull of his scale.
Because even if his motives are messy, his mind dares to reach past gravity.
He wakes up and asks:
What if we lived on Mars?
What if a car could outrun silence?
What if we reimagined energy itself?
He doesn’t shrink his dreams to fit the present.
He expands the future to fit his dreams.
And in a strange, feral way, I relate.
Because some nights, I stare at the stars and feel tethered to them, like I was meant to build something that breathes in that direction.
That’s why Blockchain Botany isn’t just a game.
My blog posts and books aren’t just words.
It’s a bridge.
Between ecology and economy.
Between Mars soil and Earth’s sorrow.
Between the slow ritual of gardening and the urgent pulse of crypto systems.
Musk reminds me that it’s okay to be laughed at.
To be misunderstood.
To talk too big and aim too far.
Because someone has to make the impossible feel like a blueprint.
And maybe, in a quieter, more grounded way,
I am doing just that.
Zak Edington: The One Who Builds Beside Me
Some people dream alone. I never have to.
Zak builds beside me, not in the shadows of my visions, but with his own fierce light.
He moves through the world with a kind of thunder that doesn’t ask for permission, only presence.
He’s powerful, yes (his strength is obvious at 245lbs and 8% body fat) but it’s the strength beneath it that astonishes me.
The discipline.
The patience.
The hunger to grow without ever losing himself.
He didn’t marry a quiet life.
He married a mission.
And every day he shows up not just for me, but for everything we’re building…side by side, breath by breath.
When I doubt myself, he reminds me why I started.
When the noise of the world gets too loud, he becomes the silence I need to remember who I am.
He isn’t afraid of starting late.
He isn’t afraid of failing fast.
He knows that greatness rarely wears a crown in its early chapters.
He knows the stage will find him. The right lights. The right script.
The moment that was always his.
He’s been training to become a professional wrestler…a dream that takes guts, grit, and the willingness to be seen and struck and still stand tall.
And I watch him do it. I watch him throw his whole soul into the ring, into becoming something unforgettable.
He inspires me. Not just because of the way he pushes his body past its limits, but because of the way he keeps believing in something bigger.
In himself. In us.
Zak teaches me how to stay rooted while reaching toward the wild. He holds space for my stars while chasing his own. And when I picture the future (not just the revenue or the reach, but the rhythm of a life fully lived) it’s him I see walking beside me.
Not behind.
Not ahead.
Beside me.
We aren’t just building businesses. We’re building legacy. We’re building art that breathes.
We’re building something holy out of muscle and motion and meaning.
And in a world that praises lone geniuses and solo empires, I get to tell a different story:
I didn’t do it alone.
A Lightning Gallery of Other Visionaries
There are others, flickering at the edges of the storm…quiet giants with sparks in their hands.
Sara Blakely, who turned a single pair of scissors and a refusal to accept discomfort into a billion-dollar shapeshifter. She didn’t just create Spanx. She sliced open the rules about what’s possible for women who start with nothing but belief.
Ava DuVernay, who tells stories the world tried to bury. She makes film a form of justice. Her camera doesn't just capture images, it reanimates grief, dignity, and joy. Watching her direct feels like watching someone unearth a civilization with gentleness.
Jimmy Wales, co-founder of Wikipedia, who built an entire universe around a simple idea: people, when trusted, will share what they know. He gave knowledge away for free in a world that puts price tags on wisdom.
Melanie Perkins, who created Canva out of a desire to make design accessible to anyone. She made creation democratic, so a thirteen-year-old in Nepal could build a brand, just as easily as a CEO in New York.
Jack Dorsey, complex and contradictory, but always listening for the pulse beneath the noise. Whether Twitter or Block, he builds things like someone trying to wiretap the future.
Each of them stirs something in me.
Proof that you can build from pain.
From grit.
From kindness.
From silence.
From fire.
A Letter to Future Builders
To the one reading this: the one scribbling ideas in margins, sketching dreams on receipts, writing posts no one reads, and wondering if any of it matters…
It does.
Even when no one sees you yet.
Even when the algorithm doesn’t favor you.
Even when your art goes unnoticed, your inbox is empty, and the only applause is the echo in your own mind…
You are building a world.
And someday, someone will find that world.
They will walk through your garden.
They will read your words and feel known.
They will whisper, “This is what I needed. I just didn’t know how to ask for it.”
Keep creating.
Keep trusting the invisible scaffolding that holds up this dream.
It’s real.
Even if no one else can see it yet.
The stars don’t stop burning just because it’s daytime.
And neither should you.
The Thread That Ties Them All
I used to think I had to choose.
Am I a writer? A tech founder? A gardener? A sommelier? A survivor?
Am I too soft for business?
Too broken from seeing what I should’ve never seen?
Too spiritual for crypto?
Too poetic to be taken seriously by people who calculate worth in charts and capital?
But the longer I’ve stayed on this path, the more I’ve realized: this isn’t a fork…it’s a braid.
Each piece of me is part of the architecture.
My trauma gave me tenderness.
My wine career taught me the nuance of story.
My garden taught me patience.
My tech dreams taught me precision.
My marriage gave me grounding.
My restlessness keeps me reaching.
I don’t want to just create companies.
I want to create worlds.
I want my blog to become a quiet library for the curious and the wounded.
I want Dopamine Hobbies to feel like a rescue raft for burned-out creatives.
I want Pairing Paws to be a book that breathes life back into wine.
I want Blockchain Botany to teach people how to understand crypto the way they understand rain.
I want people to learn through feeling.
Because I walk through the world half in reality and half in something else.
Call it vision. Call it delusion.
Call it quantum resonance.
But I’ve never stopped seeing what could be.
And when I breathe that into existence, I know I’m not alone.
I’m part of a lineage. A constellation.
A Future Worth Building
So many of us are building in the dark.
Writing when no one reads.
Posting when no one responds.
Sowing seeds in digital soil, hoping something beautiful will take root.
It’s easy to feel like we’re shouting into the void.
But maybe the void is just listening quietly…taking its time before it echoes back.
These visionaries (Chesky, Godin, Chouinard, Wolfe Herd, Musk, Edington) they remind me that greatness isn’t loud at first.
It’s persistent.
It’s aligned.
It’s so true to itself that the world has no choice but to catch up.
I believe I’m building something like that.
Something slow and strange and luminous.
I believe that in five years, people will say they remember when I had 90 visitors a day.
I believe in the thousand small choices I make before sunrise.
I believe the blog posts will compound.
The pins will ripple.
The articles will live longer than I do.
And I believe that someday soon, I’ll look up from my screen and realize:
I’m no longer whispering into the void.
I’m speaking to a crowd.
And the crowd is listening.
Because beauty doesn’t disappear, it just waits for the right light.
And I’m ready to bloom in it.
