As-Salaam-Alaikum (peace be upon you) and hello to each and every one of you.
This is a very personal and transparent post. I hope you will read it all.
If you are in a hurry, I could personally really use your support.
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I have finally received a date for my spinal surgery. It is scheduled for mid-October. It’s possible the date could be moved up, but I actually need that time to prepare my life and my family for the time it will take me to recover.
Having a date brings a certain amount of relief. After living with so much uncertainty, I can now begin preparing for what lies ahead. But it also makes everything feel much more real.
This is not a routine operation. It is a rare, complex and serious spinal procedure, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t frightened. The severity of the surgery, the risks involved and the long road back are all weighing heavily on me. I am trying to face those realities honestly while holding on to the hope that this operation will eventually give me a better quality of life.
In the meantime, I still have six difficult weeks to navigate.
The pain is significant, and my physical limitations increasingly affect the most ordinary parts of my life - like writing, sleeping, speaking, and even using my arms and hands for basic stuff. Tasks that once required little thought now demand planning, patience and far more energy than they should. Some days are better than others, but there is no escaping the fact that my health places very real limits on what I can do.
Even so, I want you to know that I will give these next six weeks everything I have.
I will continue writing, publishing and keeping you informed as consistently as my condition allows. There may be days when I need to slow down, change my plans or step away altogether. If that happens, it will not be because I have stopped caring about this work. It will be because my body has given me no other choice.
I have always tried to be honest with my readers, and that honesty matters especially now. I do not want to disappear without an explanation or pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t. I want to bring you with me through this period—the difficult days, the preparations, the surgery itself and the long recovery that will follow.
And it will be a long recovery.
My doctors expect the full recovery process to take nearly a year.
The first part will be particularly demanding, and I do not expect to be able to work at all for at least eight weeks after the operation. Even beyond that initial period, returning to anything resembling a normal working life will have to happen slowly and carefully.
That reality is difficult for me to accept.
The North Star is not simply something I publish. It is a deeply personal commitment and an important part of how I support myself. Being unable to work for an extended period means losing not only my daily routine and sense of independence, but also the income that makes it possible for me to meet my basic needs while continuing this work.
This is why I need to ask for your help.
I need your support more than ever before—not in some abstract or distant sense, but personally and directly. Your support will help me get through a period in which I may be physically unable to write, publish or earn as I normally would. It will give me some stability while I am in hospital and recovering, and it will allow me to focus on healing without carrying the full weight of financial uncertainty at the same time.
If The North Star has informed you, challenged you, encouraged you or helped you see the world more clearly, please consider supporting it now.
You can make a one-time donation, or you can become a monthly or annual subscriber. Monthly and annual subscriptions are especially valuable because they provide a dependable foundation during the months when my ability to work will be severely limited. But every contribution matters, regardless of its size or form.
I know that many people are struggling, and I understand that not everyone is able to contribute financially. If you cannot, you can still help enormously by sharing The North Star, recommending it to someone you know or simply continuing to read. Your messages and words of encouragement also mean more than I can adequately express.
But if you are in a position to give, I am asking you—openly and sincerely—to stand with me now.
Asking for personal help does not come easily to me. I would much rather be able to assure you that I can manage everything alone. The truth is that I cannot. This procedure is too serious, the recovery is too long and the uncertainty is too great for me to pretend otherwise.
I am going into this with determination, but determination alone will not pay the bills, sustain The North Star or carry me through months of recovery. I will need practical support, emotional support and the reassurance that this community will still be here when I am ready and able to return fully.
For the next six weeks, I will do everything within my power to keep writing and communicating with you. I will keep you informed about my health and any effect it has on my publishing schedule. I will be as transparent as I can, while also respecting the limits my body is placing on me.
After the operation, there may be a period of silence. There may be delays, interruptions and changes that none of us can predict. I ask for your patience during that time—and, if you can offer it, your support.
The North Star has always depended on readers who believe that independent, honest writing is worth sustaining. Right now, that support will also help sustain the person behind the work.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. And thank you to everyone who chooses to help me face what comes next.
I am frightened, but I am also hopeful. I know the road ahead will be long, and I know it will test me. But I intend to meet it with as much courage as I can.
With your help, I will not have to meet it alone.
Love and appreciate each of you.
Your friend and brother,
Shaun





Thank each of you from the bottom of my heart for your prayers and support. Not just now, but for nearly 30 years of my life as a very public leader. I'm deeply grateful.
My thoughts are with you and your family during the ramp-up to your surgery (and both during and the recovery phases). May it go smoother than you've been expecting!