The Door to Crypto — Safe Wallets and First Steps
Part 1 showed you the map and the ferry. You learned what custody means, how hot and cold shape risk, and you felt a receipt land on-chain. That gave you rhythm.
But without Part 2, you’re stuck on borrowed rails. You’ll never own your key, never feel the calm of knowing a seed phrase secures your door, never close the approval window that would otherwise stay open behind you.
Here you set the foundation: install your first wallet safely, anchor habits that keep ghosts out, and complete one honest on-chain loop—swap, mirror, revoke.
Ava says it flat:
“Skip this, and every later trade rests on sand. Do this, and your posture holds no matter the size.”
Rabby / MetaMask / Trust done right — seed, settings, sanity
Ava closes every tab except one. Noise scatters keys; quiet keeps them.
“Today isn’t clicks,” she says. “It’s care. We build the door so it opens only when you mean it.”
You’ve crossed the ferry with coffee money and a receipt. Now you’ll install your wallet like someone who plans to still have their funds a year from now.
Ava points at your bookmarks bar—your Official page (Ava’s safe path) for the wallet you chose.
“No searching. Lanes before speed.”
You open Rabby — Official page (or MetaMask — Official page). The site looks boring. Good. Boring outlives hype.
“Fresh profile,” she says. You create a new browser profile named after the wallet (Rabby-Practice or MM-Practice). Empty of random extensions. You pin only the wallet you’re about to install.
You click Install. The extension blooms into a small window.
“Create,” Ava says.
Twelve (or twenty-four) words appear. The room shrinks around them.
“This is not a password,” she says. “It’s the house.”
You write the seed phrase on paper—twice—slowly enough to notice if your hand skips. One copy goes in a quiet place at home; one somewhere else you control. No photos. No cloud. No “temporary” notes.
You set a strong local password and flip auto-lock to 1–5 minutes. The timer will save you on the day you’re interrupted.
Rabby opens with its calm dashboard; MetaMask opens with its familiar fox. Ava toggles a few lights:
“Now prove to yourself the door is shut,” she says. You lock the wallet. You unlock it. The click pattern sticks in your fingers.
“One extension per profile,” Ava adds. “If you want both, each lives in its own space. No ghosts. No crossed wires.”
Ava turns the phone in your hand so the screen faces the desk.
“Same rule. Official page, not search.”
You install Rabby Mobile or Trust Wallet from their official pages. On first open, you choose Create new (not import): this is a separate wallet with its own seed, not a duplicate of desktop. Write that mobile seed on paper too—also twice, stored in two places you control.
You enable Face/biometric to unlock the app, then turn on auto-lock. A small haptic click confirms the lock; the phone feels like it exhaled. You pin your explorer app (Etherscan or your preferred mirror) to the home screen.
“Desktop is depth,” she reminds you. “Mobile is presence. Rabby brings its clarity to both; Trust keeps it light and broad. Either way, the mirror lives one tap away.”
On desktop, you open Address Book and add an entry:Me — Hot Wallet (your address).
You copy the address from the wallet UI—not from a chat, not from clipboard history.
You open the explorer and paste your address. A clean, empty page stares back.
“This is your mirror,” Ava says. “It tells you what you have, not what you believe.”
You star the page. The star’s click is small and satisfying.
Ava sets the small metal device—Ledger or Trezor—next to the keyboard.
“You don’t buy a vault for speed. You buy it so your future self never has to bargain with the past.”
You don’t have to set it up today. But she has you open the official page and read the first two setup steps. You learn one thing that matters: the private key never leaves the device. When the day comes, your hot wallet (Rabby/MetaMask) will “speak” to the chain while the vault signs offline.
You close the tab without rushing. Knowing where the vault will live is enough for today.
Ava doesn’t let you trade yet. She treats it like rehearsal.
“Musicians warm up before a concert. We do the same.”
You open the official page of a well-known dapp. The site loads, quiet and plain. You click Connect wallet. A prompt appears: permissions, address, chain.
“Read it,” she says. You do. Then she makes you cancel. The window closes with a soft thud.
“That,” she says, “is the feeling of restraint. You’ll need it as often as you need action.”
You switch to your explorer, refresh your address, and see nothing new. Balance unchanged. History clean. The mirror confirms stillness.
“Most people only practice doing,” Ava says. “You’ll practice not doing. That’s posture.”
Her voice lowers, like someone teaching you to breathe.
“Now we shape habits that run without willpower.”
She walks you through them in plain scenes:
Your laptop restarts and installs updates before you even open the wallet.
Your wallet profile is a quiet room—no random extensions, no shared logins.
Your bookmarks bar has four stars only: Wallet official page, Exchange sign-in, Explorer, Revoke tool. If it isn’t in the bar, it isn’t real.
You write Hot wallet max = €___ in your notebook and circle it. Anything above that will sleep in cold.
And before any signature, you whisper the same line aloud: Who gets what power, for how long? If you can’t answer, you don’t sign.
“These aren’t tasks,” Ava says. “They’re posture. They carry you when you’re tired.”
She clears the desk.
“Now we do it once, end to end.”
You install from the official page in a fresh profile.
You write the seed twice on paper, set auto-lock, lock and unlock once.
You add yourself to the Address Book as Me — Hot Wallet.
You paste your address into the explorer and star the page.
Finally, you repeat the rehearsal: connect wallet, read the prompt, cancel. The explorer shows nothing changed.
Ava slides the notebook toward you.
“Sign it,” she says.
You write one line and press the pen down hard:
“I will never type my seed into a website—even if it says ‘verify.’”
Ava closes the laptop gently, two fingers on the lid.
“Door’s in place,” she says. “Next we use it once—one honest micro-swap, one mirror, one window opened and closed on purpose.”
Swap, mirror, revoke — one loop you can trust
Ava doesn’t promise profit. She promises a loop.
“We’ll do this once,” she says, laying a sticky note beside your keyboard. “Small, visible, complete. You’ll open a door, you’ll see yourself in the mirror, and you’ll close the window you opened. That’s a trade.”
You already crossed the ferry and installed the door. Today you teach your hands a rhythm you can repeat at size without shaking.
You open your bookmarked dapp—the official page of a major DEX. No search. No ads. Plain page. Good.
“We start with ETH → USDC,” Ava says. “It spends ETH—no approval yet—and gives us a little USDC so we can show approvals on purpose next.”
She reads the sticky note with you:
“Say it.” You do. The room gets simpler.
Connect wallet. Rabby shows a simulation; MetaMask/Trust expand details on click. You confirm.
Ava taps the explorer bookmark. “Let the chain speak.”
The transaction appears pending, then turns Success. You open it:
You copy the Txn Hash under today’s date. Nothing dramatic—just a receipt no one can quietly edit. Your shoulders drop a few millimeters.
“Good,” Ava says. “That was motion without a window. Now we’ll open one on purpose—and close it.”
You now hold a little USDC. To spend an ERC-20, you must approve a contract to move it on your behalf. That approval is a window.
Back on the DEX, flip the direction: USDC → ETH, tiny size. The interface asks to Approve USDC.
“Read it,” Ava says. “Who gets what power?”
The prompt shows the spender (router/permit contract) and an amount. If the dapp offers approve exact or custom amount, you choose the tiny swap size—not unlimited. If only unlimited is offered, you whisper to the notebook: we’ll revoke right after.
Approve. On the explorer, a separate transaction appears (approve, Allowance > 0).
Swap. A second transaction follows—the actual trade.
You copy both hashes beneath the first—proof stacked in a neat column.
“Door opened, door used,” Ava says. “Now close it.”
Open your revoke tool (official page, from bookmarks). Connect. The list shows USDC → [DEX Router]. You click Revoke. Your wallet asks; you confirm. A small click in the UI, the entry blinks—then vanishes. On the explorer, one last transaction sets Allowance = 0.
Silence, like a window settling into its frame.
“That quiet you feel,” Ava says, “is posture.”
On desktop, Rabby’s simulation keeps you from blind-signing; MetaMask’s details expand when you ask.
On phone, Trust/Rabby Mobile confirm with Face/biometric; the explorer app sits one tap away. The mirror doesn’t care about screens—only history.
A cheaper chain winked in the dropdown; you said E-R-C-20 out loud and ignored it.
The DEX defaulted to unlimited approval; you chose exact (or revoked immediately after).
The UI flashed “Completed” early; you waited for Success on the explorer before touching anything else.
A look-alike “Un1swap” tab lurked in search; your official bookmark kept you out.
Every time, the mirror and your notes kept you honest.
You look at the page: three lines of proof (swap 1, approve, swap 2) and a final revoke. The explorer tabs sit like receipts in a drawer. Nothing wobbles.
Your pulse stays level. You’re not guessing. You’re done.
Ava’s smile is small. “You didn’t chase. You executed. That’s the difference between clicking and trading.”
Ava closes the notebook.
“You’ve done a full on-chain loop,” she says. “Next course, we take these calm hands into weather—and keep them steady.”
From door to loop — and the calm you can carry
Ava doesn’t applaud. She listens—to the room, to your breath, to the quiet on the screen.
“You came in with a map and left with a door,” she says. “You crossed a river without hurrying. You made one honest loop on-chain and shut the window you opened. That’s not swagger. That’s structure.”
She flips through your notes: posture named; wallet installed from the official page; seed written twice; explorer starred; ferry crossed with coffee money; swap → mirror → revoke; hashes stacked in a neat column. Nothing theatrical. Everything repeatable.
“You don’t need more tricks,” Ava says. “You need fewer surprises.”
Not tokens. Habits.
A posture: who holds the key, and where it sleeps.
A mirror: you don’t ask a screen—you check the chain. The explorer tells the truth.
A habit: doors opened for a reason, windows closed on purpose.
She taps your notebook once. “That’s what transfers across markets and years.”
“Pen down,” Ava says. “One minute. Three questions. Say the answers out loud.”
Where did your hands hesitate?
What felt noisy?
What felt quiet?
You speak, then write three short lines. The room gets lighter.
She leans back, arms crossed. “Say yes, or be honest and say no.”
Can you install from an official page without searching?
Can you move coffee money with a mirror and keep the hash?
Can you open and close a token approval on purpose?
Three yeses? Ava nods once. “You’re ready for weather.”
Explorer is truth.
Windows close.
Hot is capped; cold sleeps.
Ava closes the notebook and stands.
