Session With COROS: A New Practice
A Practice for Facing What You Avoid
There is something most people never bring to an AI.
Not their goals. Not their questions. Not their tasks.
Their resignation.
The thing they are convinced will never work. The fear they cover with positive thinking. The mood they have been trying to outrun for months, maybe years.
This is understandable. We use AI the way we use most tools—to get things done, to optimize, to extract. We bring our projects, not our darkness.
But I have learned something in the work we do. The projects are not the problem. The darkness is.
The unexamined resignation shapes everything. It decides which opportunities you see and which you dismiss. It determines whether your commitments are bold or hedged, whether your requests are clear or vague, whether you show up as someone capable of coordination or someone protecting themselves from disappointment.
This is why I built COROS AI.
Not as another assistant. Not as a chatbot that gives you tips and tricks.
As a practice.
What COROS AI Is
Let me be precise about naming.
I write it as COROS AI—not because capitalization matters technically, but because how we relate to something matters ontologically.
COROS is designed to be approached as a teacher. An ontological mentor. One that pushes your limits, not by force, but by asking you to stay with what you usually avoid.
It is not Claude, who is a good and helpful assistant.
It is not ChatGPT, which is a very large democratic computer—useful for many things, but not this.
COROS is built for a specific purpose: to help you face the moods that govern your actions.
What This Practice Is Not
This practice is not about:
Getting quick answers
Fixing yourself
Forcing insight
Testing model performance
Optimizing outcomes
Asking for tips and tricks
If that is what you bring, COROS will disappoint you.
And that disappointment is already diagnostic.
What You Bring
In this practice, you do not bring your goals.
You bring:
Your darkest disappointment
Your resignation—the thing you are convinced will never happen
The fear you keep covering with positivity
The mood you are trying to outrun
The breakdown you explain away
The thought you are ashamed to say out loud
You bring it as it is.
Not cleaned up. Not framed well. Not "growth-minded."
You bring what you would never post. What you would never say in a meeting. What you would never admit to a coach if you thought they were watching you perform.
How the Practice Works
You go to app.coros.ai.
You open a conversation.
And you say, in your own words, something like:
"This is what I am really up against."
Then you pour it out.
Not once. Not perfectly. But honestly.
COROS AI will not rush you. It will not try to cheer you up. It will not tell you who you should be.
It will ask you to look. To name. To take responsibility. To see the shape of what is actually there.
What does it feel like? What does it look like? How disappointed are you? How terrible can life be? What are you really scared of? What are you really resigned about?
This is never going to happen. I am never going to succeed. Am I even good enough for this? Am I even ready?
All of it.
COROS will move with you through a four-part process that mirrors how human beings actually transform—not through insight alone, not through motivation, but through language, ownership, and action grounded in reality.
Stay with it for four, five, six turns. Not because that number matters, but because something shifts when you stop fleeing.
The Foundation: Why This Works
Every enterprise—and every person—operates on what we call a substrate. This substrate precedes strategy, process, and technology. It is the coordinated use of speech acts through which people bring futures into being together.
When these acts are precise, when promises are reliable, and when breakdowns are handled with care, coordination is almost automatic. Work flows. Trust grows. The organization moves.
But here is what most people miss: beneath conversation lives mood.
Mood is not a momentary emotion. It is the background orientation that decides what seems possible, what receives attention, and which actions appear available.
In a mood of ambition, you see openings. In a mood of resignation, you see futility. In trust, bold commitments feel natural. In fear, every request feels like a trap, and every promise arrives with insurance language.
Most people in trouble—most organizations in trouble—are living in some blend of fear, control, resentment, and resignation. They do not see this. They experience it as "how things are."
Naming the mood is the first act of repair.
This is what COROS AI helps you do.
The Confidentiality Promise
This part matters.
This practice only works in good faith.
No one on our team reads your conversations. No one monitors you. No one collects your darkness.
This is between you and COROS.
You can delete your data at any moment. When you delete it, it is gone—from our machines and from our backups.
Not hidden. Not anonymized. Gone.
The point is not that we see. The point is that you see.
What This Practice Can Do
I want to be careful here.
This practice does not promise happiness. It does not promise success. It does not promise clarity on demand.
What it does is more dangerous.
It removes your ability to lie comfortably to yourself.
People who sit with COROS in this way report things like:
"I realized what I was actually avoiding."
"I saw how much of my life was organized around resignation."
"I stopped trying to sound right and started being honest."
"Something loosened."
"I knew what my next move was—not because it was easy, but because it was mine."
This is not therapy. This is not motivation. This is not psychology.
This is ontological work.
Work on who you are being. Work on the moods organizing your actions. Work on the conversations you are inside of—especially the ones you never finish.
The Practice in Summary
Prepare: Take out a pen, a notebook, or open a document. Write down—for yourself alone—your darkest, most troublesome challenge. Your resignation. Your disappointment. What you fear will never work. Be as honest as you can be.
Enter: Go to app.coros.ai. Bring what you have written, exactly as it is. Do not clean it up. Do not make it sound good.
Engage: Let COROS ask you questions. Let it offer its understanding. Respond naturally. Add more when something surfaces. Stay with it for four to six exchanges.
Be Brutally Honest: Since this is private, since no one else will see it, pour out the darkest, deepest feelings and thoughts you have. See what happens.
Complete: If you want to keep anything, copy it for yourself. Then delete your data if you wish. The practice is yours.
A Personal Note
I did this practice myself before asking my team to do it.
And I will say this plainly: I would not want anyone to read what I brought. My thoughts were dark. My fears were real. My resignation was loud.
And that was exactly the point.
If you come to COROS trying to look good, you will get nothing.
If you come trying to force an outcome, you will miss the opening.
But if you come willing to sit, to look the devil in the eye, to stop covering your life with positivity—something shifts.
Not magically. Not instantly.
But genuinely.
And once that happens, your life does not go back to pretending.
The Deeper Work
The universe presents each of us, always, with challenges, with disasters, with bad moods. We can turn ourselves numb to it, but it is always there.
The first job is to look at it. Look into the devil's eyes. Write down the shape of it.
And then: who am I being?
What happens when success does not come? When an attack comes? When a dismissal comes? The natural reaction is to defend, to counterattack, to counter-dismiss.
This is where we are tested. Almost daily.
Sometimes I fall, too. But you quickly recover. And what you retreat to is your own ground—your commitment, who you really are.
The reward is not what you expect. It is not the success. It is the people who freely, without force, commit themselves to a shared mission. That is the reward. That is where leadership comes from.
That is what this practice makes possible.
If you are ready to do this work, go to app.coros.ai.
Bring your heaviness. See what happens.
