I started from zero too.
In early 2025, I started building with AI. Not studying it, not talking about it — building.
The first thing I made was rough. So was the second. But somewhere around the tenth, something clicked: the distance between an idea and a working version of it had collapsed. What used to need a team and a quarter now took me a weekend.
Over the months that followed I took dozens of concepts from nothing to something real — tools, platforms, apps, internal systems. Some were for my own businesses. Some were for friends. A few were just to see if I could. Almost none of them would have existed a year earlier, because the cost of trying had been too high.
AI didn't make me smarter. It removed the reason not to start.
That's the part I can't stop thinking about. For the first time, the bottleneck isn't capital, or credentials, or a computer science degree. It's whether you decide to begin. The leap from zero to one — the hardest leap there is — is suddenly available to almost anyone willing to take it.
But “available to anyone” isn't the same as “reaching everyone.” A lot of people can feel the ground shifting and don't know where to stand. They have the knowledge, the instinct, the unfair advantage in some corner of the world — and no idea that it's now the raw material for something they could build and own.
That's why Anastasis exists. The next economy is being written right now, and I don't want it written only by the people who happened to start early. I want to hand the leap to as many people as I can — sit down with you, find the thing only you could build, and help you stand it up. Built with you, not for you. So when we're done, it's yours.
So: zero to one. Let's go find yours.
ἀνάστασις
anástasis · Greek
ἀνά (up) + στάσις (standing) — a rising; a standing up again.
Anastasis means a standing up — a rising. Something that was only ever in your head, brought to its feet and made real.
That's the work, and it's why the caret in our mark points up: the moment a thing stands. We help you make that leap — from zero to one — and hand it to you on its feet, so it's yours to run.