Beyond the Scroll

By Jm Alexander

 

In a world consumed by the endless scroll, where algorithms dictate our desires and manufactured outrage replaces genuine connection, we are losing ourselves. Our time, our dignity, and our very souls are being surrendered to the "digital antichrist," leaving us adrift in a sea of superficiality and constant distraction.

Jm Alexander's Beyond the Scroll is a powerful and urgent call to reclaim what truly matters. With a searing indictment of the forces that bind us, Alexander challenges you to confront the unseen threads controlling your reality. This isn't just about disconnecting from your devices; it's about reconnecting with your deepest self, with the world around you, and with the ancient wisdom that lies buried beneath the digital noise.

Through a journey of self-reflection and spiritual awakening, Alexander unveils the illusion of "the feed" and guides you towards a life of presence, purpose, and true wealth. Break free from the fear of missing out, silence the echoes of external validation, and discover the profound peace that comes from embracing stillness and genuine human connection.

Beyond the Scroll is more than a book—it's a manifesto for liberation. Are you ready to step away from the screen and truly live?

 

 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yellaboy Productions
• Release date: Jun 10, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231938469

Jm Alexander

J.M. Alexander is a truth seeker, storyteller, and founder of Yellaboy Productions, specializing in content creation and literary works that challenge mainstream narratives. With a deep passion for uncovering hidden truths, Alexander explores government cover-ups, historical conspiracies, and the unseen forces shaping society. His works, including Controlled Chaos: Manson and the CIA and Shadow of Deceit: The 9/11 Cover-Up, blend investigative research with compelling storytelling, pushing readers to question everything. A Mississippi native and lifelong blues enthusiast, Alexander finds inspiration in music, philosophy, and the mysteries of the past. His personal experiences with loss, eerie encounters, and the pursuit of knowledge fuel his writing, making each work a thought-provoking journey. When he's not writing, he's lost in the sounds of Otis Redding or digging into the next great mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Book preview

​Beyond the Scroll

​Street Sermon for the Soul –

​Tired and Wide Awake

​In the beginning, there was noise.Not the holy kind—nah, this was static,Distraction in high-def,Streaming lies on loop.God spoke—but they had AirPods .Creation happened,But most were too busy scrolling to notice.And the earth was without filter,And void of clout,And darkness moved across the face of the deep web.Then came the light—Artificial, fluorescent, LED...And they called it good.But it wasn’t.The Most High said,Let there be realness,But the people said,Nah, let there be trends.And they made idols outta followers,Built golden apps and worshipped engagement.They clicked and tapped.But never prayed.And God made man—In His image, with breath and backbone,But the system remixed him,Turned him into a product:Gender neutral, purpose optional,Soul sold separately.And Eve didn’t eat the apple this time—She downloaded it.Bit into that Apple logo,And knowledge came in 5G speeds.But wisdom?That was offline.The serpent wore a suit now,Spoke through press releases and sponsored posts.He said,Ye shall be verified,And the people believed him.They sold their birth rights for likesAnd baptized their babies in brand deals.But there was a remnant—The ones who saw past the pixels.They walked barefootthrough.Babylon,Spitting truth in alleys,Carving scriptures on subway walls.They weren’t perfect—But they were real.And God said,"Yeah... I can work with that.

​The Book of Disconnect

​The silence wasn't sudden. It wasn't a switch flipped from the cacophony of the feed to a deadening hush. No, it was a slow bleed. Like air escaping a punctured tire, the digital din began to soften, the insistent buzz receding into a background murmur, then fading altogether. It started with intention, a conscious turning away from the glowing rectangles that had become extensions of our hands, our eyes, our very selves. But intention, as we all know, is a fragile thing, easily eroded by the gravitational pull of habit and the fear of missing out on... well, whatever it is we’re perpetually afraid of missing.

​The first few hours felt like phantom limb pain. An itch in the pocket where the phone usually resided. A nervous twitch of the fingers that instinctively wanted to scroll, to refresh, to seek that fleeting hit of validation or outrage. The world felt strangely muted, the vibrant colors of the online realm leached away, leaving behind a reality that felt... less. Less exciting, less urgent, less... important? That was the lie the constant connection had whispered in our ears for so long: that the real world was out there, in the stream of updates, in the curated lives of strangers, in the endless scroll of opinions.But as the hours stretched into a day, and the day into two, a subtle shift began. The edges of the real world sharpened. The way sunlight filtered through the leaves of the oak tree outside the window became a spectacle worthy of attention, not just a backdrop for a selfie. The intricate patterns in the peeling paint of the old fence held a strange kind of beauty, a testament to time and the elements. The silence, initially unsettling, began to reveal its own textures – the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant call of a bird, the gentle rhythm of our own breathing.

​Our minds, starved of the constant influx of information, began to wander in new directions. Thoughts that had been drowned out by the digital deluge bubbled to the surface. Half-formed ideas took shape. Long-forgotten memories resurfaced, carrying with them the weight of experience and the quiet wisdom of time passed. We remembered conversations with loved ones, the feel of their hand in ours, the sound of their laughter. These weren't filtered, edited snapshots; they were full-bodied experiences, rich with emotion and nuance.

​The urge to document every moment began to wane. Why capture this sunset on a screen when we could feel its warmth on our skin, witness the slow descent of the fiery orb with our own eyes, etching the memory directly into our hearts? The pressure to share our experiences evaporated, replaced by a quiet contentment in simply having the experience. There was a profound liberation in knowing that this moment was ours, unburdened by the need for external validation Conversation took on a different quality. Without the crutch of our devices, we were forced to truly listen, to make eye contact, to engage with the person in front of us. Awkward silences stretched out, yes, but within those silences, there was space for deeper reflection, for the unspoken understanding that often lies beneath the surface of words. We noticed the subtle shifts in tone, the flicker of emotion in their eyes, the unspoken stories held within their posture. Human connection, stripped of its digital intermediaries, felt richer, more authentic, more... human.The world didn't suddenly become perfect. The problems we had scrolled past were still there, the injustices still present. But our relationship with them began to change. The constant barrage of negativity, the endless cycle of outrage and despair, had created a sense of helplessness, a feeling of being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of it all. Disconnecting didn't mean ignoring the world's pain; it meant creating space to process it, to find our own small corner of action, to move from passive consumption to active engagement, however small.We started to notice the small acts of kindness that often went unrecorded, the quiet heroism of everyday people. The neighbor helped an elderly woman with her groceries. The barista offered a genuine smile. The stranger holding the door open. These moments, often lost in the noise of the online world, shone with a quiet brilliance, a reminder that goodness still existed, often in the most unassuming places.Sleep returned, not as an escape from the endless scroll, but as a genuine state of rest and rejuvenation. The blue light that had stolen our nights receded, allowing our bodies to find their natural rhythms. Dreams, once fragmented and influenced by the last things we had seen online, became more vivid, more personal, a landscape for our subconscious to explore and process the day's experiences. We woke feeling more grounded, more present, ready to engage with the world with a clearer mind. The fear of missing out began to be replaced by the joy of missing out. Missing out on the drama, the manufactured outrage, the endless comparisons. We