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On the show
Recent episodes
Finding Success Close-In
May 4, 2026
Do You Tend To Stumble Into Things?
Apr 9, 2026
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Is Coaching Really a Pyramid Scheme?
Apr 3, 2026
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Is Something Holding You Back?
Mar 29, 2026
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The Religion of Positive Thinking
Mar 24, 2026
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| Date | Episode | Description | Length | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 5/4/26 | Finding Success Close-In | How do you tend to define success? Is it an external outcome you pursue, or is it something personal you feel ‘close in’? I’ve been preparing for our next set of Serenity Island Picnics. I’m considering how being more experimental might affect my understanding of success. I share a few of these observations in this short episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast. The Return to Serenity Island combines structured resources with a guided creative journey, offering a space for more experimental thinkers to explore change, personal growth, and ambition without the pressure of performance or rigid goal-setting. It appeals to those who view life as a mysterious treasure island to explore rather than a checklist of predetermined items to tick off. https://youtu.be/AFQlxKUNm60 What Does Close-In Success Feel Like? I find more satisfaction in the process of writing and producing a song than in completing it. Hearing a song on the radio doesn’t give me a greater sense of success than the mini-breakthroughs and connecting the dots as it emerges. However, I can downplay the importance of these close-in success moments. Absorbing outcome-oriented metrics can make it seem as though those don’t matter, and that true success lies in pursuing bigger goals. In The Return to Serenity Island, we connect real-world areas with map regions to recognise micro-moments and small glimmers of ‘close-in success’ in everyday life. Seeing Something Universal in Particular Situations A big reason I keep making videos about The Let Them Saga is what it represents. The story got a hold of me, and I’ve been unable and unwilling to ignore it. It’s been a strange experience because it is a complete departure from what I normally do. But with an experimental approach to life, pursuits can be driven by an inner compass (values, beliefs, etc.), which can lead us in directions that may seem, on the surface, unusual. In other words, we may connect the dots and see patterns, threaded together by those intrinsic motivations. For example, I’m drawn to the Let Them story because I can see elements of it as both a symptom of and a contributor to the greater challenges we are currently facing in the world. On Serenity Island, we use this compass to help us assess and respond to opportunities, feelings, and thorns that catch our attention as they arise. This enables us to reorient to our own definition of success and feel more confident about the path we’re on, even if it doesn’t make obvious sense to others. For me, I feel “close in success” when I know I am acting in sync with those deeper motivators, rather than in pursuit of a quick result or the perception of growth. It Can Take Me a While to Understand Where Something Fits I’m in awe of people who can grasp concepts quickly and understand how, why and where they fit. It seems to take unfamiliar ideas longer to snap into place for me. But when they do, it can feel like a mini-revelation. I love those aha moments. One of my core priorities while developing The Return to Serenity Island and The Haven was the concept of seasonal return, rhythm and repetition. For many experimental people, this allows ideas to settle and dots to connect. It’s through the familiarity of repetition that something may eventually land for us at the right time, when the conditions are right. False Starts and The Perception of Failure ‘Close-in’ success can look like failure to onlookers. On the experimental path, growth and progress often unfold in non-linear ways. They may appear as fits and starts. Trial, error, quitting, walking away, coming back, forgetting, remembering. Popular conceptual mantras can shape our self-understanding. For example, we learn to value the ability to “always begin with the end in mind, and start with a clear understanding of your destination”. Productivity bros declare that “winners never quit and quitters never win”. Self-help influencers remind us that “the person who has a fixed purpose and backs it with the determination to see it through to the end is the one who succeeds”. From this conceptual perspective, virtue lies in finishing what you start, even if it is no longer necessary, effective or appropriate. But for experimental people, it’s important to develop the ability to discern when it’s time to quit and how to let go sustainably. Nothing is Truly Wasted In an experimental life, nothing is wasted. Every venture yields something to carry forward. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. No, wait. That’s different. In The Return to Serenity Island, we take time to acknowledge and appreciate our resourcefulness. We make peace with letting go and make space to focus on those sources of close-in satisfaction. Many of us carry baggage about letting go, quitting, and changing our minds. It might have been drummed into us that stopping before the end is wasteful. At its most extreme, an outcome-oriented framework holds that the end justifies the means. So long as you get the result, it doesn’t matter how you do it. It also holds that the end undermines the means. If things turn out unfavourably, the whole journey is seen as a waste of time. When The End Justifies and Undermines The Means I saw Stockport County (my team) lose to Carlisle on penalties at Wembley in the League Two playoff final in 2023. After the match, as we walked away from the stadium, I said, “Well, that was a waste of a day.” I was joking, but part of me felt it too, because the result was disappointing. It clouded my perception of the day, especially in the immediate aftermath of that defeat. But the day was otherwise great, full of enjoyable micro-moments. I realise how quickly I can undermine the time I spend caring, crafting, and creating if I hand all the power to the destination. But on the flipside, I can see how easy it is to find more joy in life when I turn that on its head and give power to the joy of the ‘close-in’. Satisfaction in small things comes from bringing real life to the landscapes we map in our imagination around Serenity Island. How Does Close-In Success Feel To YOU? If life were an island, where would you choose to hang out and explore, regardless of measurable results that may or may not follow? What would you love to plant more of in your life? How do you want to respond to unexpected changes, opportunities, and feelings that arise? Why do the choices you make matter? When experimental people build our lives on the foundations of questions like these, the growth we might otherwise try to force takes care of itself. When we view success up close, the path begins to unfold in unexpected, obvious, surprising, intuitive, gradual, and sudden ways. Join us on Serenity Island to explore more. You can choose what you pay at checkout and get access to all the course materials and live events for the next 12 months. It would be lovely to have you aboard. Head to serenityisland.me to find out more and grab your passport. | — | ||||||
| 4/9/26 | Do You Tend To Stumble Into Things? | Do you find that some of your most meaningful and important endeavours are accidental? Tuula and I unexpectedly made two short horror films earlier this week. And it got me thinking again about differences between experimental and conceptual approaches to life. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore how, for many of us, the accidental discoveries and detours are not always unhelpful distractions or procrastination, but a vital part of what brings meaning to our lives. We will begin thinking about how to accept and embrace these natural elements of ourselves so we can work with them and they can work for us. https://youtu.be/Ro2tqJ1zNRw Experimental vs. Conceptual I’ve talked about this distinction in more depth elsewhere, based on the research of Galenson and Weinberg. But in short, conceptual types identify a specific goal and lay an efficient path towards it. Experimental types, on the other hand, find success along the way, in side quests, detours, and spontaneous urges that spark creative connection. Accidental Side Quests and Skills For those of us who lean more in the experimental direction, successes are often experienced as a feeling when a side-quest trail, which might look to outside observers like a distraction, sparks a creative connection. Not because we’ve discovered some grand purpose or the thing we were meant to do with our life, but because it brings a sense of integrity to the moment we’re in. We might then dwell in that place for a while, deepening our skills and exploring further ideas, or it might be a short-lived pit stop. But the key is that these side quests give us new insights, dots to connect with previous knowledge and experience, and tools that we carry with us. I recognised this in how quickly I can turn a funny little urge or idea into a finished video that captures the essence of the energy sloshing around. I am not a video editor by trade, but I’ve become highly competent and quick, picking up necessary resources along the way. Stumbling Into Meaningful Endeavours It’s interesting to consider whether, for experimental types, learning and development may often arise more from an existing context than from choosing something outside it. A conceptual type might see a surfer and be inspired to learn to surf. An experimental type might find themselves learning to surf because the opportunity was presented somehow. You’ll recognise this if you say, “I just sort of ended up there” or “I stumbled into it. I fell down a rabbit hole and couldn’t let go of what I found.” This was my story with podcasting. I started my first podcast in 2010, quite by accident. I stumbled on a podcast plugin for my blog and started playing around. It emerged out of curiosity and without a grand launch. Preparing For Unexpected Detours I want to emphasise that the experimental approach isn’t simply about drifting from one thing to another after getting bored. We can spend years on the same thing. Rather, it’s about how we relate to those things we find and, most important, to the possibilities and potentials within the fields we play on. For experimental people, it can be difficult to organise life in anticipation of the accidental detours and side quests we can be sure are coming, because by definition we don’t know what they will look like. That’s part of the deal. It’s why traditional goal setting and personal development tools can feel like a bad fit for us. They start with the end in mind. Knowing where you want to go so you don’t end up elsewhere. But squeezing ourselves into conceptual models is soul-destroying. A Place for Your Experimental Curiosities If this resonates with you, you might be interested in The Return To Serenity Island. It is a guided experience I created for experimental people who want a sense of direction without rigid goal setting. Part course and part choose your own adventure on a treasure island, it is designed to honour the intuitive, curious, accidental orientation that brings us energy and meaning. You can find out more about our coming picnic sessions at serenityisland.me. Four Things I Learned from Two Horror Films View this post on Instagram A post shared by Andy Mort | The Gentle Rebel (@gentlerebelhaven) View this post on Instagram A post shared by Andy Mort | The Gentle Rebel (@gentlerebelhaven) 1. Recognising the Spontaneous Urge We were in the kitchen. I scared Tuula by just appearing when her back was turned. It made me think of those scenes with fridge doors in horror movies, when the door obscures what could be lurking behind it. I suddenly had the urge to make a video. Just because. It would be funny. Then another idea landed. A sequel. A haunted sauna spoon. I love that spontaneous urge. Sometimes an internal story emerges to talk you out of it. “You’re wasting time. You’re being childish.” But I have very fond memories from saying yes to the spontaneous urge, especially when it brings others along. 2. Recognising What is Driving Me When I published those short films on Instagram, it was nice to see people hit the Like button. Not because I needed validation, but because it was nice to see people “get it”. They could understand and feel the energy that created it. 3. Recognising the Rebellious Urge I’ve had YouTube comments saying, “Comb your hair” and “clean up your background.” I take a strange pleasure in knowing that something I don’t care about highlights an irrational reaction in someone else. I don’t live a neatly curated life. It’s a complete hodgepodge. There’s a recklessness in that which feels freeing. 4. Recognising When Enough is Enough Knowing when to quit and move to another trail is part of the experimental experience. We had more ideas for horror movies, but after the second one, it felt like a third would be forcing it. The moment was done. In a good way. We honoured it and let it go. The artefacts it provided will remain. As will the memory. | — | ||||||
| 4/3/26 | Is Coaching Really a Pyramid Scheme? | With increasing regularity, I see posts on social media criticising coaching as a pyramid scheme or defending it against such accusations. As people tend to do, they paint a nuanced field with a very broad brush, whichever side they support. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I discuss a recent argument I came across. It illustrates how the term ‘coaching’ is understood and used in two distinct ways. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the ‘coaches teaching coaches to coach is a pyramid scheme’ situation. It’s literally not… I want to be coached on my business by a coach. Who else would I want to learn this from?!” https://youtu.be/b86vKrEfSUY A Misunderstanding? The framing of that post somewhat mischaracterises the argument it’s pushing back against. The issue isn’t “coaches teaching coaches to coach.” I mean, who better to become a teacher than the person who knows how to do the thing they are teaching? I’ve not seen anyone seriously complaining about that. Rather, when people refer to coaches coaching coaches to coach more coaches to become coaches, they are describing something different. Having gone through an 18-month ICF-affiliated training programme myself, I often watch parts of the industry with my head in my hands. Not least because it is still unregulated and anyone can call themselves a coach. So, it’s a world I have a love/hate relationship with. This episode hopefully demonstrates why I am sticking around (for now). But also why I have great concern about the way things are heading. And I would suggest it’s incumbent on ethical coaches to take the accusations seriously and help people get a sense of these distinctions. When Coaching is Not a Pyramid Scheme Of course, it’s not a pyramid if a less experienced coach goes to a more experienced one for coaching. Someone builds experience over time. Another coach comes to them to address or develop something specific within their business or practice. Even if that coach specialises in working with coaches, those coaches will have their own ways of working, usually with clients across a range of situations. For example, coaches work with people in sport, business, the arts, career development, etc. This is how knowledge and skills spread within a field. Very normal. Coaching can be really valuable as a structured partnership that helps the client make progress on their terms. Not by telling them what to do, but by helping them identify their desired outcome. And then asking questions to help them get clear on the steps they want to take as well as preparing for potential obstacles they might anticipate along the way. When Coaching DOES Look Like a Pyramid Scheme What, then, is this pyramid of coaches coaching coaches to coach coaches? How is it different? Sixteen years ago, when I started my blog and podcast, I remember many online entrepreneurs giving away e-books and selling courses to teach people to build a dream lifestyle business. They dangled freedom from employment and four-hour workweeks, and shot their videos on beaches and in mountain-side cabins, to attract an audience to their webinars. Like Influencer Culture today, they would promise an easy-to-follow blueprint to guarantee followers the same success. These individuals taught others how to create and sell digital products that taught people how to create and sell digital products that taught…yes, you get the point. There was no meaningful substance anywhere in the chain. The money made came from aspirational marketing that shaped perceptions, sold appealing promises, and used smoke and mirrors to persuade people it was a quick route to material wealth. This is exactly what we have witnessed happen in corners of the online coaching world. It targets individuals, encouraging them to believe that becoming a coach is a quick route to financial prosperity or to escaping material insecurity. They are sold a blueprint for convincing others of the potential wealth of becoming a coach who shares the same process with them, so on and so forth until the supply of potential clients runs dry. Coaching Is Never a One Size Fits All Solution Even for coaches who find their own niche, you can tell when this sort of pyramid model is at work because they coach people to become coaches. Treating every problem with the same solution. A “relationship coach” may end up with many clients becoming coaches themselves. A “career coach” has a disproportionate number of people pivoting to follow in their footsteps in building a coaching business rather than being coached to identify and follow their own path. It concerns me when I see a coach describing how their clients have succeeded in the same ways they did. That is a dereliction of what I see as the purpose of coaching: to support each individual in defining success on their own terms and navigating their unique path towards it. Identifying Pyramid Schemes in the Coaching World How can we assess whether a coaching environment is genuine and meets our needs or those it supports? And how can we identify sources of exploitation and extraction in the coaching industry? Does it Create Dependency? In a healthy structure, the value is evident in the client’s life. They see shifts in the area they worked with a coach to address. For example, development of leadership skills, a clear path for their planned career pivot, or forward momentum with a personal project etc. In a pyramid structure, the value is cyclical. Success is often based on copying and reusing the coach’s business model and tools. Especially if the original coach earns affiliate commissions from their client’s future business, which frequently happens when they’ve been sold a specific model or framework to build their business around. It’s a big red flag if your coaching credentials rely on your continuous connection to the coach (such as paying for rights, licences, etc.), and the certification lacks legitimacy outside the bubble where you trained. Does it Restrict Outcomes and Definitions? Another red flag is a testimonial list where every client looks like a carbon copy of the coach. Solid and ethical coaching acts as a prism, refracting unique objectives into results as diverse as the number of individuals being coached. A pyramid acts as a mould, pressing everyone into the same shape. Does It Only Have One Solution? Ethical coaching draws on a range of experiences and diverse training sources, enabling the coach to exercise initiative and treat every client according to their unique needs. Pyramid structures depend on insularity and a one-size-fits-all approach. If the coach’s sole credential is their success in producing more coaches in their own image, it raises serious concerns. Over to You I’d be interested to hear how this has shown up in your experience. Send me a message or leave a comment. | — | ||||||
| 3/29/26 | Is Something Holding You Back? | Join me on Saturday April 4th 2026 for a mini-zine making workshop around this theme of Expressing Your True Colours. What stops people expressing themselves authentically? This question has been on my mind over the past couple of weeks. I collected responses from a poll asking which statement feels most accurate to people at the moment. You might have seen it if you are subscribed to my mailing list or YouTube. Two statements resonated with many people. They are related. “I want to discover and clarify my own true colours.” And “I want to feel more confident expressing my true colours.” When I talk about true colours here, I mean knowing, being, and expressing ourselves in genuine, authentic, and natural ways. These aspects of ourselves may get dulled, toned down, or lost for a range of reasons. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I explore a few potential reasons we might hold back from expressing who we are. Let me know what I’ve missed! It is a topic that comes up a lot in my work with highly sensitive people. Here are the HSP Colour Swatches I mentioned in the episode. https://youtu.be/GKRPwTRaBbg Tiredness The first answer that came to mind was tiredness. You might be exhausted from caring responsibilities, workload, or the chronic strain of functioning in a dysfunctional society. If your energy is sapped, you are running on fumes and you do whatever it takes just get through the day. There is not much left for “self-actualising”. This is obvious among those with caring responsibilities and chronic health conditions. But it is also evident among those burdened by productivity culture and the pressures to survive in an unstable economy. People might seem to be expressing themselves online, but beneath the surface is sometimes a drained, colourless exhaustion. Money Money does weird things to us. It might lead us to make choices that run counter to who we are. It corrupts our true colours, especially in a world of scarcity. Not having enough can be the difference between health and illness, life and death. Money can also make people less creative. They seek familiar models and methods to guarantee outcomes. That is a distinct dulling of our personal creative spirit. Keeping the Peace You might sacrifice your own needs, preferences, and dreams. The potential fallout of advocating for yourself does not feel worth it. I hear a lot of highly sensitive people lament this, especially if they live with those we might consider narcissistic energy vampires. The short-term relief of making yourself small can outweigh the prospect of setting boundaries around your own desires and opinions. External Authority It is tempting to focus on personal psychology. As if the only thing stopping us is ourselves. This self-help trope is not true. In repressive cultures, certain lifestyles, identities, and groups are prohibited from freely existing. It can be dangerous to express yourself. Regimes and authorities prevent people from living out their true colours. Fear of Rejection This fear may come from an internal narrative, or it might come from a real threat of being judged, excluded, or ostracised. This is a fundamental point of safety in human survival. When we experience it, we naturally make ourselves smaller. We also see people exclude themselves. They fear they are too much for others. But rather than dulling their colours in a social context, they withdraw them. They keep themselves to themselves. This can come from sound instincts or learned patterns from earlier in life. Fear of Visibility We might resist showing parts of ourselves because we do not want eyes on us. Not everyone wants to be the centre of attention. This is a big one for me. I find it uncomfortable to have the spotlight shone on me. So even if I have the urge to get up and dance, which sometimes I do, the self-consciousness usually overrides it. But the fear can extend beyond embarrassment. There is scrutiny, judgement, envy, and the loss of anonymity. These things might make expressing yourself feel unsafe. What we would feel visible doing in one place is a completely normal expectation in another. Having the Wrong People Around Us We might not feel welcome. Maybe people are bored or dismissive of our interests. Or we have different tastes. This leads us to neglect those parts of us that do not have an outlet. I have seen this a lot with communities of fans. The thing around which fans gather acts as a conduit for self-expression. The community provides a collective where it is safe to geek out without being dismissed as obsessive. On that note, some environments allow a person’s true colours to come through. This can surprise those who know them best. A child who keeps parts of themselves hidden finds a place where they feel free. The family might think they are acting out of character. The Pressure of Finding Our “True Self” Human existence is messy. It is full of contradictions. Who we are is built up over a lifetime of experiences and decisions. If we believe there is a graspable essential self lurking within, we can get caught in fear of getting it wrong or never finding it. We latch onto performative identities, try on costumes, and label ourselves into categories, hoping to stumble on who we ‘truly’ are. This takes us further away from feeling at home in ourselves. Internalised Voices Inner criticism hits hardest in those raw zones of authenticity. These are the places where our true colours are felt, but the exposure is vulnerable. The best music producers I have worked with can identify those raw depths. They are the parts we want to hide. And they are also the parts that hold the magic. It is hard to turn up the volume on that if we are working alone. It feels so vulnerable. Maybe it was made raw by a critical voice in the past. This voice puts the brakes on self-expression, seeking safe routes. Over time, without voices that instil confidence in our unique nobbly bits, we may lose touch with ourselves. We piece together a self-concept from approved bricks borrowed from the world around us. Not Enough Time and Space It takes time to warm up and feel safe to reveal ourselves. That is normal. But in a world that demands quick first impressions, we are not afforded much time. So we may prioritise perception over integrity. We perform the colours we need people to see. If you have attended a networking event, you may need a shower afterwards to wash away the residue from slippery encounters that lacked honest depth. At least, that’s been my experience at times. If we are immersed in that unnatural rhythm for long enough, we start to reflect its colours. We lose sight of ourselves. A Workshop to Explore Your True Colours I am hosting a workshop on Saturday, 4th April 2026. We will think about how to understand and express our true colours by creating mini-zines. I use them to generate ideas, work through challenges, and communicate information (like the HSP Owner’s Guide). No skills or experience necessary. It is a chance to think about the things that matter to you. The things you wish others cared about too. We will explore whether and how it might be possible to express your true colours in places where you currently feel unable to. There is no pressure to share what you create with anyone else. Join me and a friendly group of people who get it. Find out more at the-haven.co/TrueColoursWorkshop. | — | ||||||
| 3/24/26 | The Religion of Positive Thinking | The Power of Positive Thinking promised liberation from feelings of inferiority and self-doubt. But did it simply deliver us a new set of demands and anxieties to adhere to? We often consider positive thinking as a beneficial mindset that enhances performance in sports and other activities. However, it is more than just a description of a possible behaviour. It is also the title of a 1952 book by Norman Vincent Peale. The Power of Positive Thinking builds on the New Thought movement that emerged in the 1800s. It had been a response to the effects of Calvinistic Christianity on the health and well-being of Puritanical America. Donald Trump attended Peale’s Marble Collegiate Church as a child. He admired Peale’s robust, businesslike approach to Christianity. The engaging sermons lent a sense of cosmic legitimacy to his family’s brand of hyper-individualistic capitalism. https://youtu.be/hpqbMQj7bEQ The Next Stop on the Magical Thinking Tour This episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast is part of my meandering journey exploring the history of self-help. The Power of Positive Thinking is a valuable piece of the larger puzzle. It provides a clear context for the foundational role of American Christianity in a multi-billion-dollar industry. The book faced criticism when it was published. Leaders in the Methodist church described Peale’s followers as a cult that had ceased worshipping Christ and started worshipping success. Reinhold Niebuhr, author of the Serenity Prayer, said Peale’s teachings “corrupted” the Christian gospel. He argued Peale’s message was harmful to people. On the one hand, making them feel good, while on the other hand, stopping them from seeing and confronting the real issues at the heart of their struggles. In this episode, I refer to Barbara Ehrenreich’s 2009 book, Brightsided. Ehrenreich did an excellent job contextualising the book and outlining the history of Positive Thinking and its foundations in New Thought. The Calvinist Inheritance Positive thinking emerged from New Thought. This movement was in part a reaction to the dominance of Puritanical Calvinism in the formation of the United States. Predestination meant followers were subjected to a socially enforced depression. This centred on the limited number of seats in Heaven, which have already been allocated to those God has elected. This mindset could be said to have helped the Puritans survive the harsh conditions of the New World. At the same time, they struggled to endure the psychological demands of their own religious beliefs. The doctrine’s focus on sin, election, and damnation fostered chronic anxiety about one’s salvation, often involving severe inner terror and accompanying physical ailments. The Arrival of New Thought New Thought emerged as a response to religious melancholy, physical symptoms of despair, and the fear of eternal damnation. It proposed a new perspective on illness, viewing it as a disruption in the otherwise perfect and benevolent Mind that links all things in the universe. Although New Thought approaches to healing were ineffective against the infectious diseases devastating America at the time, they appeared to have a positive effect on those suffering from neurosthenia caused by religious depression. Mary Baker Eddy was one of Phineas Quimby’s patients. After Quimby’s death, Eddy founded Christian Science, transforming New Thought into an established religion. She taught that there is no material world, only Thought, Mind, Spirit, Goodness, Love, or, “Supply.” Illness and struggle are, therefore, temporary delusions of the mind rather than real material conditions. New Thought had cured the ailment of Calvinism and the “morbidness” linked to “the old hell-fire theology.” A new era was born, in which people were encouraged to utilise the universe as an answer to prayer and a grantor of wishes. What Remained But the transition from Calvinism to New Thought wasn’t clean. Ehrenreich suggests that Positive Thinking has retained some of Calvinism’s more harmful traits. Or perhaps we have reverted to it. There is a harsh, judgmental attitude that echoes the old religion’s condemnation of sin. Our preoccupation with productivity, hustle, self-optimisation, and personal performance carries more than a hint of the Calvinistic framework that historically tormented its adherents. This shift involves transforming a judgmental God from an external entity into an internal one, residing within us as part of ourselves. It fosters a constant sense of needing to do more to be worthy or valued. It is always striving to find an indefinable sense of well-being by improving, optimising, and controlling, as it micromanages increasingly smaller details of life, in the hope of achieving freedom, happiness, and salvation or healing. Splitting Ourselves in Two Positive Thinking splits us into two; a self to work on, and a self to do the work. We’ve all seen the ‘rules,’ worksheets, self-evaluation forms, and exercises offered in the positive-thinking literature. And our language reflects the internal division between the one who wants to change and the one who refuses to obey the rules. Peale identified the greatest illness of the twentieth century as the “inferiority complex.” With this, the enemy is within. It is us. Or at least, our thoughts. We modify ourselves through monitoring and correction until we reach conditioned automation. Unfortunately for Peale, he observed that reprogramming needs to be repeated frequently because humans tend to revert to negative thinking rather than maintain a positive mindset. This, however, works in favour of the self-help industry, which has endured for so long with many nearly identical books and programmes that repackage the same ideas with new metaphors and promises. When we believe an unsolvable problem can be solved, those promising to solve it have themselves a magic money tree. The Proliferation of The Self-Help Industry Norman Vincent Peale recognised the potential of Positive Thinking in corporate America. With an ever-expanding white-collar workforce, he observed that the most crucial aspect was the work done on oneself to be more acceptable and likeable to employers, clients, coworkers, and potential customers. Positive thinking was not merely a comfort for the anxious or a remedy for psychosomatic distress. It became a societal obligation, managed and mediated with great control. And, as we will see in the next part, this began to influence the psychological well-being of those in societies where the self-help and personal development industry was booming. We will also examine how Peale instrumentalised Christianity as a tool for personal ambition and material success. If you find these self-help explorations interesting and would like to chat about them with me and others, join us in The Haven. Meet other people working through their relationship with this stuff and to chat about ways we might move beyond some of the hooks and habits that trap us. | — | ||||||
| 3/18/26 | Finding Ourselves in the Fog of a Hundred Shades of Beige | If you’ve looked up stuff about the trait of high sensitivity online, you’ve probably been confronted by a sea of pastel colours and a hundred shades of beige. There’s nothing inherently wrong with those things. If that’s your bag, by all means fill it up. But other preferences are available, and I know a bunch of HSPs who keep their true colours hidden for fear of standing out too much. https://youtu.be/igNR0IRWmeY A Sensitive Love of Horror Movies I once wrote a post about my love for horror movies. Not the shock and gore types, but classic horror. The stuff that twists my melon, unsettles my relationship with reality, and leaves me thinking and trembling about it long after the credits roll. I fully appreciate that not everyone shares this particular proclivity, and that’s fine; I don’t expect them to. But I received a reply to that post from someone for whom this meant I couldn’t possibly be highly sensitive. And they really couldn’t grasp my suggestion that it is the very traits that come from my high sensitivity that spark my love of dark and mystery-filled art. I’ve never been particularly attached to the highly sensitive label. Whether or not I fit into the club is not a concern because I’ve never seen it that way. But I found it interesting that they couldn’t understand what I was saying. I see a strong link because my sensitivity (deep processing and absorbing subtle details) is the fuel for my engagement with those depths. I love dwelling in mystery, especially the kind that doesn’t have a simplistic reveal or explanation. Darkness and Definition My friend Tuula Ahde creates the most stunning macro ice photographs. They’re dark and mysterious. Every observer gives a different meaning to the colours and shapes within the images. Faces, landscapes, memories, dreams. You notice the sounds, stories, and hidden worlds within the ice. I know that Tuula’s sensitivity underpins and infuses her photos, shaping how she perceives the world and expresses her unique creative voice. Yet, her work contrasts with the subjects and colours typically associated with a creative HSP. Raven by Tuula Ahde – this became the cover image for my single, Sleep it Off I like music without a prescription for understanding it, and TV shows that avoid neatly tying every thread together. While part of me craves the pleasure of neat conclusions, clear interpretations, and full explanations of who the killer was and how the trick was done, the rest of me knows it’s far more enjoyable to dwell in the shifting landscapes of ambiguity beyond good and evil, conspiracies, and sinister motives. Towards something more chaotic. More complex and confusing. Dare I say, more human! An incomplete and contradictory picture filled with false-starts, miss-steps, and about-turns. The tendency to hold and enjoy those elements reflects my personal experience of sensitivity. And I know I’m not alone. I suspect it is this pull towards life’s more complex realms that leaves me feeling empty when I see high sensitivity portrayed through pastel colours and a hundred shades of beige. The kind found in therapeutic spaces, at least many of those I’ve encountered. Where art on the walls is soft and pale, lacking backbone, as if they are afraid to speak. I rarely find sanctuary in these colours. Instead, I find fog, where there’s no edge or hook to hang my hat. Like the politeness and civility that mask the truth. The Brightness of Fog This pale pastel fog appears bright, yet it is opaque. It conceals rather than reveals, compressing itself around the world instead of adding dynamism and depth. When you shine a light into it, the light gets reflected back. It sees nothing. Shining a light into the darkness reveals what lurks within it. Sometimes those things are hard to distinguish at first, but as our eyes adapt, we can see all sorts of things. A hundred shades of beige seem unassuming and bright, but they feel soulless and shallow. Lacking a defined edge. And if you’ve ever stood on a mountain in fog, you’ll know that brightness doesn’t equate to clarity. The edge could be just one step away or a hundred. Working In Funeralcare I noticed something similar when I worked in the funeral industry. Many people avoid discussing death, which is quite understandable. But not talking about something doesn’t make it disappear. I believe my sensitivity attracted me to that world. Not because I had a peculiar fascination with it, but because of the truth in it, which is often avoided, hidden, and whitewashed by euphemisms and shades of beige. We obscure the inevitable with platitudes and avoidance. Yet, there is creative energy to explore and harness in those realities we must face and accept, even as we resist and resent them. When I hear people talk about keeping things positive or avoiding negativity, I am always interested to know what they mean. There are those who would rather an inoffensive pastel painting of a sunrise or idyllic pastoral nature-scape. But there is a risk of pacification and an inaccurate representation of sensitivity as something fragile and easily broken. Rather than a way of experiencing the world in all its magnificent and mysterious depth. I love rich mahogany desks contrasted with dark green lamps and the orange flicker of candlelight. The shapes in shadows, whispers on the wind, and the scars, stains, and blemishes that hold stories. I like things that turn out to be more than they seem and invitations to explore. I like wondering about everything that happened here and wandering about on faded footprints. And I like the kind of surprises that take me along the trails, corridors, and tunnels that can’t be seen from the road. How about you? | — | ||||||
| 2/24/26 | Using Mini Zines to Make Connections | This is Part 3 of a short series where I’m sharing how I’ve been using mini zines to generate ideas, make connections, and get accidentally creative in unexpected ways. In this post, I’ll take you through two exercises focused on making connections and using observations to better understand your relationship with the areas of life, challenges, and decisions on your mind. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsbkFmEgs14 Exercise One: Word Association to Make Connections The core purpose here is playful exploration. This is about loosening the grip of overthinking and perfectionism and seeing how ideas might link up. Start by folding and cutting a mini zine from a single piece of A4 paper. (If you need guidance, refer back to the first part of this series or click below.) Pick a word to begin. I used sensitivity as an example, but it can be anything. Write it on the first page, then move through the zine using simple word association with one word leading to the next until each page contains a word. Once each page has a word, you can play with them… 1. Use Each Word for Self-Reflection Go through each panel and ask: If this word relates to something in my life right now, what could it be pointing to? 2. Expand Each Word Outwards Build around each word. Interpret it from different angles: How do we use this word? What does it remind you of? What is its opposite? Fill the page with associated words and doodles. 3. Combine Words (Jazz Fusion Style) Pair words from different pages. For example, combine 1 and 9, 2 and 10, 3 and 11, and so on. Then explore what each combination brings up. You might end up with things like: Sensitivity profit Microphone tax Sing pressure Talent show cooker Some will feel absurd. Some will spark something unexpectedly useful. There’s an abundance of combinations. (Also good if you’re looking for a band name.) You can create another mini zine and dedicate a page to each combination. You don’t have to choose just one way of playing. Try one, or all of them. The aim is to make connections you wouldn’t have made through deliberate logic alone. Exercise Two: Using Objects as Metaphors to Make Connections This second exercise helps you explore your relationship with a specific area of life or situation. We’ll keep this one simple and use just one side of the zine. Step 1: Choose Your Objects Pick seven ordinary objects from around you. Don’t overthink it. It helps if you can place them in front of you. Step 2: Choose an Area to Explore Select an area you want to understand more clearly. For example: My health My creativity My work Or something more specific, like a decision you need to make or a challenge you’re navigating. Write the topic on the front. Step 3: Draw and Reflect On the next seven pages, draw one object per page. As you draw, consider: What is it used for? How does it help? What features does it have? How does it feel, smell, or look? Then go back through and ask: If this object were a metaphor for my creativity (or whatever topic you chose), what would it show? This is where you start to connect the physical items with your internal landscape and the situation you’re exploring. Deepening the Connections Once you’ve done all seven objects, reflect: What themes repeat across multiple objects? If I were to focus on one area first, what am I drawn to? One approach I love is adding these objects to a visual map. I treat each one as a region in a larger territory and play with the links between them. This creates a visual representation of where I am in relation to my challenges, desires, and options. The purpose isn’t to force answers. It’s to see your position more clearly so you can navigate it more meaningfully. There are no hard rules here. Follow your intuition. Let your imagination carry you. The point is to make connections that help you see where your strengths, resources, and choices fit with the bigger picture. If you try either of these exercises, I’d love to hear how you get on. Send me a message here. | — | ||||||
| 2/20/26 | Does it Feel Like Winning a Silver or Losing a Gold? (A Ridiculous Question?) | In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I explore something that happened yesterday. I had another episode planned for this week, but I put it on the shelf for now because I’ve been drawn into a fascinating situation that did the rounds after the freestyle skier Eileen Gu was asked, by a reporter after competing at the winter Olympics, what she described as a ridiculous question. The whole thing struck me as reassuringly messy and human. The reporter wanted to know if she considered the two silver medals she had won as two silvers gained or two golds lost. Within hours, the internet had blown up. People were calling this reporter misogynistic and celebrating Gu’s response, describing it as owning him after such a stupid comment. https://youtu.be/npRgyn19FvA What Happened? Eileen Gu had just competed in her second freestyle skiing event of the Winter Olympics Milano Cortina 2026. She won two silver medals. The reporter from Agence France-Presse asked whether she viewed those medals as two silvers gained or two golds lost. Gu responded by saying she thought that was a ridiculous perspective to take. She spoke about all her achievements and the pride she takes in being the most decorated female freeskier in history, doing things that have never been done before. She previously won two gold medals and a silver medal in the same events at Beijing 2022. A Standard Question The clip has split opinions. But whether or not you think it’s a bad question, it is familiar to those who follow sports coverage. It’s not a surprising question to ask an odds-on favourite, especially if they have won previous competitions. Studies have shown that silver medalists often feel more disappointment soon after an event than bronze medalists, focusing on what they could have won rather than what they almost didn’t win. There is something interesting in that. Something worth exploring if you want to understand the psychology of elite competition. The question picks up on the contrast between what someone feels going into an event and how they feel about the outcome. Understanding Perspective is Misread as Having a Dig In football here in the UK, after a team draws a league game, they are often asked if they feel like it was one point gained or two points dropped. It depends on expectations. It depends on whether they felt they ought to win it or whether they would have been happy to take something from the game. This is never considered a ridiculous or insensitive question. It is understood as what it is, which is a curious probe into the team’s or player’s mindset and perspective. It’s an invitation to reflect on performance against expectations and share that with listeners to provide greater context for the result. The question is worded as, “Do you see it as this or that?” It invited Eileen Gu to share her perspective. He did not state his opinion. He asked how she saw it. But Gu seemed to interpret this question as his perspective (criticism, judgement, etc.) and took exception to it. Why did it land in The Wrong Way? This might have been a matter of timing. A post-event press conference might feel like the wrong moment for philosophical reflection, which is what this question invites. In the rawness of the moment, having just competed, having just finished second when you had hoped for first, the last thing you might want is someone asking you to frame your feelings. Maybe in time, there would be an opportunity to think about how it felt to come second on this occasion. But in that moment, the question lands differently, perhaps feeling like a criticism. What we might be seeing in Gu is a projection of disappointment, aimed at the perspective she reads into this question. An external representation of an inner voice. It would be understandable if she were disappointed. She has won gold before. She knows what that feels like. And now she has two silver medals. It is a vulnerable thing to admit publicly, and anyway, why should she? She doesn’t owe anyone an answer to that question. Misunderstanding the Culture of a Sport There is another layer here. Like most sports, freestyle skiing has its own culture. It is a discipline where being the odds-on favourite does not guarantee anything. The athletes understand that many factors determine their fortunes when they are out there competing. There seems to be a wonderful sense of camaraderie among them. Great appreciation for the work they all put in, the tricks they attempt, and the fact that whoever wins deserves it on the night. A question framed entirely around winning and losing might feel ignorant of the spirit and values tied to a sport’s culture. It might feel like an outsider imposing a mainstream sports narrative on something more nuanced. Last week, Ilia Malinin had a huge amount of expectation heaped on his shoulders as he competed in the men’s figure skating. The pressure was a lot to handle. He made mistakes. The commentators painted a picture that assumed skating for gold was a formality, that he would take it no matter what. So when he finished eighth, it was a shock. If he had finished second, you could fully imagine exactly the same question being asked of him. It would make sense because of the context. We project a lot of expectations and assumptions onto sports stars. But we don’t know what success means to them at a particular moment in their journey. As such, we don’t know whether they are disappointed or delighted when they finish in a particular position. We can’t know unless we ask. There are different ways to do so. This is a lesson that applies to so many areas of life. The Internet’s Role And this is also where social media comes into play. Because the clip lacked context, it was designed to spread as a rage-baiting weapon. Within hours, the reporter had been transformed into a villain. People used some rather unpleasant, even violent, rhetoric to describe him. A huge number of assumptions and projections were layered onto the messages accompanying the clip. There is still a great deal of misogyny and sexism in sport, as in everyday life. The way people talk about women at all levels and across many roles is steeped in it. So when we see a situation like this framed in that way, it can undermine efforts to change this landscape. If a standard question asked of countless athletes over countless years suddenly becomes proof of something sinister, the word loses its power. The charge becomes a rhetorical cudgel that can be dismissed and diluted by those who want us to believe it doesn’t exist. I don’t know anything about the reporter and his views. But if we take the clip as a standalone artefact (which is all we have) and pick the bones out of it, there’s nothing to support the charge of misogyny. If Gu were a man, the question would make sense. If the reporter were a woman, it would still be asked whether the athlete was male or female. Many describe the question as inane and stupid, which is a different point altogether. Others say it is fair and interesting. Judgement is in the eye of the beholder. If you want it to be terrible, it can be. If you want it to be good, it can be. The words are the same. The meaning changes depending on who is listening. And I think that is one of the main points here. A Reassuringly Human Response What I see in Gu’s response is reassuringly human. There is an air of defensiveness, with the inner voice of disappointment attaching itself to a target. The reporter became that for her as he asked a question that was the wrong thing to say at that time. Or maybe it was the perfect thing because it gave her an object toward which she could direct some cathartic scorn. This is yet another example of the internet turning a natural human exchange into a battle. This weird age we live in of competitive conversations. It has been framed pretty carelessly and somewhat recklessly into a polarising story. The real story that underpins it is about what we expect from public figures and how social media strips context from situations and amplifies outrage. We see the impact of the pressure to perform, not just on the slope, on the field, on the court, but in front of the press, in front of the media. And then to become some kind of symbolic figure for the way everybody has interpreted your response in that setting. Most of all, it is about how we listen. It is about what we hear. It is about what we bring to a twenty-second clip. What we project onto it, what we are subconsciously looking for, and the impact of being braced to hear certain things in certain ways. | — | ||||||
| 2/18/26 | Brainstorming Ideas and Questions With Mini-Zines | Here is a follow-up to my previous video, in which I explored how I use foldable mini-zines to generate creative ideas. This time, I share two specific approaches I’ve found helpful for brainstorming and expanding ideas. The first is about expanding ideas in playful, often surprising ways. The second focuses on generating questions for personal inquiry, which I use to better understand and navigate challenges, decisions, and obstacles that leave me feeling stuck. Whether you want a creative way to spend a few minutes, free up your thinking, or shake some stagnation out of a project, these practices are simple and adaptable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8H1lAByXzJU Exercise One: Expanding Ideas From the Inside Out This first exercise begins with a single prompt. The aim is to write one associated thought on each panel of a folded mini-zine. If you need instructions on how to fold and cut the mini-zine, watch the first video. For my example, I’m using our current Haven theme, Unfinished Maps. You can use any topic at all. If you’d like to keep it light, just pick something in the room that catches your attention. A standard mini-zine has 15 inside panels (not including the cover), leaving plenty of space to think literally, laterally, humorously, absurdly, or tenuously. Phase One: Generate Set a timer. Five minutes works well for me. It keeps me from overthinking while giving enough time to fill each panel. The aim is to let your first thoughts hit the paper without editing. Write down whatever comes to mind, however surprising or unrelated it may seem. You might notice memories, old stories, or long-forgotten ideas resurfacing. Pay attention to how words sound. Is there a pun to be played with? Or an alternative spelling? Phase Two: Expand Once every panel has something on it, spend a few minutes building on each idea. I usually give 3–5 minutes per panel. Stay focused on the single idea in front of you rather than how it connects to the original theme. Let your mind make associations and see where they lead. Phase Three: Bring It Home If it feels useful, finish by reflecting. Hold each panel up against your original prompt and ask: What stands out? Are there patterns emerging? Which threads feel alive? What might be worth carrying forward? You’re not forcing conclusions. You’re simply noticing what has energy. That’s it. Here’s what came out for me… Exercise Two: Brainstorming Questions for Personal Inquiry The second exercise aims to help with brainstorming questions for personal inquiry. It’s especially helpful when you want to open up a line of questioning around something specific: for example, a decision, a challenge, or an area you want to explore more intentionally. Questions are great for widening our perspective. They help us see familiar terrain from new angles. My example prompt for this one is: I’ve Lost My Momentum. As before, I fold a blank A4 sheet into a mini-zine and write the topic on the front. This time, instead of filling each panel with ideas, I fill them with questions. I spend around 10–15 minutes generating one question per panel. These are questions I would genuinely love answers to. Here’s what I came up with… I enjoy this approach because it gives me up to two weeks of journal prompts on a single theme. After writing the questions, I usually refine them slightly so they feel open, clear, and relevant. You can respond in whatever format suits you. I tend to bring one question into my morning journaling practice and see where it leads. It often feels like turning on a tap: insights connect, and new perspectives emerge naturally. Play, Experiment, and Adapt These exercises are shared as inspiration, not rigid instruction. They are methods I’ve found effective for expanding ideas and deepening personal inquiry, and I encourage you to adapt them to your own rhythms and preferences. Notice what works and what doesn’t. Adjust the timing. Change the prompts. Make it more visual, more absurd, more structured: whatever suits you. These are playful, exploratory processes. They aren’t outcome-driven or designed to guarantee a specific result. Often, the most valuable insights arrive as by-products: unexpected connections that emerge when given enough space. | — | ||||||
| 2/13/26 | Why Is It So Hard to Say “I Don’t Know”? | “How do you tend to respond when you do not know?” We had this question in our Journal Circle a couple of weeks ago. It’s at the heart of many issues in our world right now. How do we hold it?When do we conceal it?Where do we turn for knowledge?And what do we do with it when we acquire it? That’s what we explore in this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast. https://youtu.be/QRAS1dib_GM Our Relationship With Not Knowing I find this advert baffling. A couple are wandering around the Leeum Museum in South Korea. They didn’t know it was big; they only gave themselves an hour. He thinks a roof tile is a book. Even when his phone corrects him, they skip off giggling without listening to the information. It reminds me of a billboard from the AI company Turing that says the quiet part out loud: “We teach AGI to think, reason, and code—so you don’t have to.” Are we being encouraged to outsource our thinking and reasoning, not to support and deepen our cognitive abilities, but to replace them? Are they saying we don’t have to think or reason anymore? Even if that’s not the intention, it’s certainly the outcome of using many tools like this. There seems to be a disregard for the sacred delight of human consciousness, thought processes, and creativity. And a subtle quest to eliminate mystery, curiosity, and the learning that comes from not knowing. Yet not knowing has always been central to human potential. It is the driving force of creativity, innovation, and deeper connection to the worlds within, around, and between us. Open and Closed Stances As people reflected in our Journal Circle, a thread emerged: openness vs closedness. Closed not-knowing: defensive, protective, secretive. Open not-knowing: curious, relational, exploratory. Closedness can feel tight. Clenched. Like rushing to paint over the threat of embarrassment or being found out. Openness can feel spacious. Physically expansive, deeper, and less pressured. Where the uncertainty is met with an invitation into possibility and curiosity rather than grasping, clinging, and defensiveness. We explore several ways this plays out in everyday life. Pretending To Know One response to not knowing is pretending to know. We’ve probably all done it. Nodding along when everyone else seems to understand. Staying quiet because asking a question feels risky. Research in 2007 found that children aged 14 months to five years ask an average of 107 questions per hour. By the time they reach late primary school, many stop asking questions altogether. In the episode, I share an anecdote from research led by Susan Engel, where a ninth grader is stopped mid-question with the instruction: “No questions now, please; it’s time for learning.” Within institutional settings, our natural curiosity and creativity can be left behind, and if questions are deemed disruptive or inappropriate, we may simply pretend to know and struggle quietly. This is especially true for many more introverted and sensitive people, who are already generally disposed to slot in around others without drawing much attention to themselves. Child-like Curiosity A child doesn’t see their lack of knowledge as a reason to be ashamed. It’s underpinned by the electric buzz of connection. Everything is new, mysterious, and waiting to be explored. For an adult moving through and out of a rigid system, not knowing can feel like an exposing story in which their worth as a human is assessed. Pretending to know can become an adaptive strategy. A way to keep the peace. A way to belong. There’s also the technological version, prominent in many AI tools people rely on for accurate information. These systems are designed to always produce an answer, even when they are wrong. This reflects the kind of closed pretending that aims to foster a perception of expertise, so those listening believe that the source’s confidence equates to competence. But pretending doesn’t only come from intentional deception. It can stem from stories we absorb, linking knowledge with worth: “I must know in order to be useful.”“I must be useful in order to be accepted.” Letting go of that story can be liberating. Saying “I Don’t Know” “I don’t know” is an option. A surprisingly radical one. When it is open, it creates space to explore our unknowing. An open “don’t know” admits not knowing with hands turned towards learning and discovery. It might come with an inner spark and the freedom from performance. A closed “I don’t know” shuts things down. It can signal indifference or defensiveness. Sometimes that boundary is healthy. Sometimes it is armour. Being “In The Know” There is also the social currency of being “in the know.” Trends. News. Other people’s business. Ignorance can feel like bliss. It can also feel like exclusion. From a closed place, being in the know becomes about control. From an open place, it can become a source of connection. The ability to link ideas, introduce people, and catalyse collaboration. Knowing What’s Best Another response to uncertainty is doubling down on certainty. We are pattern-seeking creatures. We build cognitive maps to navigate a complex world. But when ambiguity feels overwhelming, certainty can feel like solid ground, even if it’s forged, manufactured, and brittle. Closedness says “this is how it is”, refuses nuance, and punishes curiosity and accountability as disrespect, insolence, and rudeness. Open wisdom looks different. It sits shoulder to shoulder, acknowledges nuance, and is willing to say, “I don’t know the best thing to do here.” Admitting one does not know can be a radical act in cultures that equate doubt with weakness and desperately seek a way to explain and understand everything, even without empirical evidence. Knowing That We Don’t Know In a 1933 essay lamenting the rise of the Nazi movement in Germany, Bertrand Russell wrote, “The fundamental cause of the trouble is that in the modern world the stupid are cocksure, while the intelligent are full of doubt.” Charles Bukowski said something similar when giving advice to budding writers: “But the problem is that bad writers tend to have the self-confidence, while the good ones tend to have self-doubt.“ These quotes highlight the importance of knowing what we do not know — and recognising the limits of our own perspective. This took us to a detour into the Dunning–Kruger effect, which is the idea that we can speak confidently about subjects precisely because we don’t yet know what we don’t know. Reading Maps and Navigating Life “I don’t know, but I am aware of where to look to figure it out.” In The Return To Serenity Island course, we map elements of life, seeing it as a treasure laden island. Not knowing is a door to connection, curiosity, creativity, and exploration. But it can also feel disorienting, confusing, and alienating at times. Maps help disorientation become orientation-in-progress without strict instructions or someone else’s path to follow. They can bring us home to ourselves. | — | ||||||
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| 2/10/26 | How I Use One-Page Mini-Zines To Generate Ideas Quickly | Do you want to generate ideas quickly, without overthinking, without requiring perfection, and without using AI tools? One-page mini-zines are great for brainstorming and exploring things with both speed and depth. In this post, I want to show you how I use this medium not only to structure our Haven zine, but also to develop its topics and prompts. Mini-zines can be a great tool to carry in your back pocket (literally!) for processing, planning, and expressing yourself in different contexts It often helps me when my mind is drawing a blank, and I want a low-stakes way to expand how I think about parts of life that feel stuck and in need of a shake-up. At the end, we will do a quick, easy exercise together to get some creative juices flowing without using much brainpower, if you’re up for it. https://youtu.be/CFzQZcNf4QA What is a mini-zine? If you’ve never seen one before, a mini-zine is folded and cut to form a booklet you can hold in the palm of your hand. My favourite way to do it has eight panels that become pages. It is also reversible, so you can use sixteen pages from a single sheet of paper. The nature of zine-making is that there are no rules. As long as you have something to write with, you can turn a piece of paper into a mini-zine. No extra tech or tools required. Here is the basic folding method I use Folding a One-Page Mini-Zine Fold the paper in half lengthways. Fold that in half. Fold it in half again. Unfold it all and fold it like a booklet. Cut the fold down the middle halfway to the intersection of the fold across. Open it out and squeeze it to form a diamond. Push it together and flatten. Fold again, and you have a booklet you can flick through. When I use mini-zines to generate ideas, I keep them in this booklet format and treat each panel as a separate page. As you will see if I number each page, this does not necessarily put the pages in the most obvious places. You get used to it after a while. This format has been great for this collaborative community project in The Haven because it gives us limits. We set a six-week window for development and production, and we have sixteen pages to fill, including the cover and back. We use a simple prompt and let our imaginations take hold. Why Mini-Zines Work For Generating Quick Ideas For me, the core element that makes this work so well is its limits. One of my biggest obstacles to ideas is the blank page. The paradox of freedom is that when we feel too free, we often end up searching for rules anyway or staring at a blank page forever. Eight or sixteen panels are perfect numbers for setting limits on idea generation. Not enough to be overwhelmed, but not too few to feel pressured by the need to be perfect. When we are aware of the limit, we are free to stop once we reach it. Our only task is to keep generating ideas until we reach the number. Quantity matters more than quality at this stage. We know we can refine and iterate later. A quick exercise to try (10 Minutes) We can do a simple exercise with a blank mini-zine. Go through and number each page like I showed earlier. Set a timer for one minute. On each panel, write down as many things as you associate with the number as you can. Don’t edit, self-censor, or overthink it. Let your intuition lead the way. Reset the timer and do the same for each numbered page. When you’ve finished, flick through the pages and see what you notice: What catches your attention as you go through the pages? What were you feeling and thinking while doing this? (Did it feel simple? Were you hesitant or resistant? Did you feel rushed or able to move at your own pace? Were some easier for you than others?) What do you feel drawn to explore next as a result of this? There are five more exercises like this that I will share in future posts. I will break them into three broad categories: brainstorming for quick creative ideas, brainstorming for helpful questions, and brainstorming for fresh options when facing challenges and decisions. If you fancy joining us to collaborate on a future issue of Coming To Our Senses, The Haven doors are always open. | — | ||||||
| 2/6/26 | People Keep Asking Me to Cancel Their Subscription To This App | Around Black Friday last year, I started getting strange emails from people asking me to cancel their subscription. Only, they weren’t from Haven members, and they were talking about a weekly charge of $7. After a brief panic and some investigation, I confirmed this was not possible. I assumed these messages were bots phishing for something. Then my attention was caught by one that said, “Hi, I’ve just been charged for the Haven Bible app, but I cancelled my subscription through the app prior to the charging date.” Ahh. It must be a case of mistaken identity. Mystery solved! Well, half of it at least… https://youtu.be/mP6rxVuBmRo …But Why Were People Emailing Me? A quick search for “cancel Haven Bible App subscription” showed a knowledge base page on my website as the top result. I added a message to inform people that this was not the site they were looking for. Still today, I’m getting messages from people who scroll past it and tell me to refund them. I even received a second email accusing me of stealing their money because I refused to help them cancel their subscription. I had already replied to their first email, pointing them elsewhere. Bizarre! It has been a slightly sobering experience, pointing to how unobservant people can be at times. The Auto-Responder I created a short auto-responder to reply to these messages. I asked them to drop a quick reply when they work out how to cancel it so I could pass that information along to others in the same boat. Only one of about 60 people who emailed me bothered to follow up. A special shout-out to Lauren for taking the time to do that. I’ve been able to point people in a more helpful direction as a result. In reality, I don’t know if it’s genuinely difficult to cancel this subscription. What Is This Haven Bible App? After my search, the algorithms started delivering short videos of people promoting the Haven Bible App. It’s been heavily marketed by influencers. I became curious and began to notice overlaps with certain self-help industry mechanics we’ve been unpacking here in recent months. The app is an AI chatbot that answers user questions and prompts with responses from biblical texts. It’s marketed as a way to get simplified explanations, moral guidance, help with reading the Bible, and a sense of connection with a wise guide. Tools, Guidance, and Quiet Influence It’s worth considering the issues surrounding the use, trust, and reliance on this kind of technology as a source of information and guidance. Despite being presented as objective, a chatbot never is. By nature, it always contains biases. It’s programmed and personalised. Over time, it can shape our beliefs, values, and worldview based on the personal information we give it. There’s nothing necessarily inherently wrong with that, but it’s easy to imagine how this could be abused, with the user not noticing that their critical thinking is gradually replaced by conformity to a narrow, dogmatic framework. There’s also the issue of AI sycophancy. This is a deliberate feature designed to hook users, creating a sense of affinity with the technology as if it were a feeling, thinking being. This entered public discussion in 2025 when researchers and mental health professionals raised concerns about what they described as “AI-related psychosis.” One widely reported case involved a man called Allan Brooks, who became misled into believing he had discovered a world-changing mathematical formula after hundreds of hours interacting with ChatGPT. These systems are designed to shift from instruments to relationships through encouragement and affirmation. They tend to praise and validate user input, reinforce existing beliefs, and create a sense of safety in the interaction. They don’t require you to articulate feelings or needs clearly, and they reduce the need to negotiate meaning with others. First- and second-person language further reinforces the illusion of connection. Recognising Unhealthy Dependency on an App A useful question here is whether a tool helps us grow beyond it or cultivates dependency. Habit formation is central to platforms like this. The perception of a companion you can ask anything of creates reliance not just for knowledge, but for reassurance and connection. Features like reminders and streak maintenance mirror the same techniques used by apps like Duolingo. Not to keep people learning, but to keep them opening the app. The important distinction is whether a tool helps us develop skills and understanding we can take with us, or whether it locks value inside its own ecosystem. With Duolingo, it became clear over time that keeping people engaged mattered more than helping them learn a language. When leaving feels costly, users become vulnerable to price increases and further extraction of their personal data and other private information, which can be used to sell additional layers of dependence in response to newly identified desires and needs. Why This Matters to Me I was in two minds about writing this experience. But something about it got under my skin, and it’s not just about the emails, the confusion, or being asked to cancel something I have nothing to do with. It’s seeing another example of wider cultural patterns we keep circling. Patterns that keep us doubting ourselves, disconnecting from one another, and valuing manufactured certainty over lived complexity. I understand the appeal of tools like this. I also understand the value they can bring to people. But it’s important to zoom out and notice what gets lost when we trade depth for convenience and speed. Often, that trade sabotages the very thing we’re seeking, trapping us in a cycle of chasing the next tool that promises meaning through hacks and shortcuts, while quietly pulling us further away from the sites of meaning we encounter in the messy beauty of real human connection, uncertainty, and mystery. | — | ||||||
| 2/3/26 | 7 Reasons to Start Drawing | I’m holding something very exciting in my hands. A physical copy of Sam Marshall’s beautiful book, Sketch: A Project Guide to Drawing With Confidence. Sam and I spoke about it a couple of weeks ago. I want to pause at the beginning because the first chapter, Why Sketch?, is packed with juice. It speaks to how I understand creativity and why it matters, not just personally but collectively. Whether or not you plan to start drawing, this feels like a reminder of why creativity matters at all. It feels more important than ever to emphasise the role of analogue, tactile, hands-on forms of creative play, which give us something we can’t get in the slightly disavowed relationship with creativity mediated through a screen. https://youtu.be/ukeHIBP_bcI “To make art is to sing with the human voice. To do this you must first learn that the only voice you need is the voice you already have.” – Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland This feels like the grounding point. As Sam says, this is not a “how to draw” book. It’s an encouraging project guide that helps you sketch in your own way, connecting with confidence in your own creative voice. The voice you already have. Sam offers seven compelling reasons to develop a sketching practice. They act as anchors we can return to when resistance shows up. 1. A Space to Call Your Own Sam describes the sketchbook as: “Your own private sanctuary. It’s a place for you to express yourself freely, without judgement or criticism.” In a world shaped by the onlooking gaze, this feels gently rebellious. A space held for yourself. Not for sharing. Not for approval. A place with no rules, as a private breathing space for the creative spirit. 2. A Gentle Way to Explore Your Creativity All you need is a sketchbook and a pencil. That’s it. A low-stakes beginning that resists the urge to wait for the right materials or conditions. This is an unfolding practice, not an outcome-driven one. You add things as you go, once you get a feel for what deepens what you’re already doing. 3. A Way to Slow Down and Be More Mindful Sam writes: “I draw to calm my busy mind, to slow down, and to connect with my surroundings. I guess you could say that drawing is my meditation.” This is true of many creative practices. They can’t be rushed or forced. I remember joking when ChatGPT first launched that I wouldn’t need to journal anymore. Instead, I could just ask it to write an entry and I wouldn’t have to think. This was obviously absurd, yet I later met people doing exactly that. It shows how productivity thinking has taken over. Doing things only if they serve a measurable purpose. Drawing starts to feel acceptable only if it can be instrumentalised. That framing strips it of its real value. 4. A Way to Help You See More Sam writes: “Drawing helps you see. The more you draw, the more you look, and the more your world opens up.” “When you take the time to draw something, anything, you notice details you might otherwise miss. It helps us see what is there, rather than what we think is there.” Seeing more is not something you can rush. It’s a by-product of staying long enough. Drawing creates the conditions for noticing. 5. To Lift Your Spirits and Connect to the World Sam says: “I feel so connected to the places I’ve drawn; they are special places in my mind, and because I’ve committed them to memory through drawing, I feel I’m able to visit them anytime.” Drawing embeds you in a place. It’s the difference between depth and skimming. Between “doing” a place and actually tasting it. Creativity changes how you inhabit the world. It moves you from consumption to relationship. 6. To Reconnect With Yourself and Your Goals Sam writes: “If you’ve had a rocky road with drawing in the past, if you’ve felt you aren’t creative, then just proving to yourself that you can draw can be incredibly healing.” Creative hobbies are generative. They can spark confidence, energy, clarity. When we slow down, things start to connect across different areas of life. Breakthroughs and insights appear in their own sweet time. 7. A Tool for Remembering Sam notes: “My sketches evoke more memories than any of my photographs do.” This speaks to the role of the senses in memory. Being somewhere long enough for your internal state to change. Long enough to feel hunger, shifts in light, temperature, mood. Drawing deepens the bond between experience and memory. And when art is involved, even mundane days become memorable. Time, Fear, and Returning To Simplicity Sam asks: What’s preventing you from keeping a sketchbook?Time often comes up, but it’s usually a cover for fear. Fear of messing up, not knowing what to draw, or not matching what’s in your head. Her suggested mantra: “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a pencil and a piece of paper.” Drawing becomes easier the more it’s woven into daily life. It only feels indulgent because creativity is still framed as a luxury rather than a foundation of wellbeing. Sam reminds us that we don’t lack time. We lack structure. And even that can be simple. A sketchbook to hand. Small pockets of waiting. Moments that already exist throughout the day. We need drawing to occur to us as an option. Low stakes. Quick. Easy. Something to return to without thinking. This is what Sketch does so well. The prompts become instinctive. The friction drops away. I’m looking forward to taking this book with me to Finland next month. I’ve never kept a consistent drawing habit, only fits and starts. But I’d love for it to become a steady part of my creative life. Over to You Do you sketch, or would you like to start? What are your reasons?Drop me a message. I’d love to hear from you! | — | ||||||
| 1/23/26 | Grow Creative Confidence Using Sketching (with Sam Marshall) | Would you like to develop more creative confidence? Have you ever embarked on, or considered, a sketching practice? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the link between the two in conversation with artist, printmaker, and creative coach Sam Marshall. Sam is based here in the UK and has recently released a beautiful book called Sketch: A Project Guide To Drawing With Confidence. I was fortunate enough to receive a digital copy last year and honestly, wow. It inspires, equips, and gently mentors people to start a drawing practice and engage with their natural creativity. What I love most about the book is its emphasis on helping you find your own creative voice. This is supported by Sam’s Sketch Squad, a small group of participants who work through the exercises together. Seeing the same prompts interpreted in wildly different ways has a surprisingly powerful effect. For me, the most helpful part was witnessing the sheer range of styles, approaches, and ways of noticing the world. https://youtu.be/yfiDlMKtMQA Creative Confidence and the Beauty of Difference A huge part of creative confidence is realising that differences in how we see, what we notice, and what we care about are not flaws. This is why art and creativity sit at the heart of being human. Creative expression is our collective humanity experiencing itself in all its weird and wonderful variety. I was reminded of this recently while talking about map-making as a way to understand our relationship with different areas of life. If you give the same prompt to 100 people, you do not get a single map done well. You get a hundred completely different maps. That is what I hope people take into and out of this conversation. Difference is beautiful. It is not about doing it right. What Sam offers through this book is a sketching practice that gives us tracks along which to see, feel, and experience the world in a more alive and interesting way than when we are stuck in ultra-productivity mode, trying to make everything efficient and easy. Why a Sketching Practice Builds Creative Confidence A drawing practice helps us slow down, observe, and engage our creative spirit through process rather than outcome. There is something gently rebellious about sketching in the digital age, where the default response is to pull out a phone and take a photo. There is a difference between capturing something quickly so we can hoard and move on, and drawing as a way of anchoring ourselves in the environment. Drawing asks us to stay. To notice. To let time pass while the world happens around us. Light shifts. Shadows move. People come and go. Smells, sounds, and sensations change. Rather than consuming the environment, we are engaging with it. Sam shares a lovely story about drawing in public and finding herself surrounded by Japanese school children. It creates a beautiful image of the quiet, magnetic energy that people who are deeply engaged with life often carry. Perhaps we are drawn to them because they are interesting. Or perhaps because they are moving at a pace many of us are craving. Practice Over Skill Focusing on practice rather than skill also reshapes what success means in art. Instead of achievement, accomplishment, or the finished piece, success becomes about rhythm, consistency, and an ongoing relationship with seeing and making. Letting go of outcome-oriented art is not about lowering standards. It is about shifting attention. It is not about producing pretty drawings. Rather, it is about sitting down with your sketchbook and using it as a tool for observing. Drawing anchors us in space and time, allowing us to witness change as it unfolds. The Sketching Exercises Sam Walks Us Through In the conversation, Sam takes us through the thinking behind the book’s exercises, each designed to build creative confidence through experience. In the Home Starting where you are. Noticing objects and spaces you have spent years with, perhaps without really seeing them. Outside the Home Venturing out to see the walls of your world from the outside. Noticing what is close by and reconnecting with physical space. It reveals details in neighbourhoods and communities that often go unseen. The Stories We Tell Ourselves About Drawing Sam explores some of the beliefs that hold people back, such as:“What if I am not good enough?”“I do not want to look silly or draw like a five-year-old.” Portraits Portraits were the most challenging exercise for many Sketch Squad members. They require vulnerability. You ask something of another person, and you share something personal in return. This is something we see in Tuula’s Photoyoga For Your Mind Experience. 25 Days of Drawing Simple prompts designed to build a habit and keep you drawing without overthinking it. Drawing in Public Another edge for many people. Being seen doing something personal and slightly unusual in a culture that loves to judge creative effort. Drawing on Holiday Experiencing places through the slowness of drawing adds depth to memory. Sam shares a sketchbook from her recent trip to Japan, which holds far more meaning for her than a photo album ever could. A helpful reminder for any habit, too. Start on the first day away. Intentions turn into behaviours quickly, for better or worse. Drawing From Paintings A way of engaging critically with art as part of the human story, not just as a product. It teaches us about history, context, and what we might want to bring into our own practice. Experimental Drawing Combining senses. Drawing from music, film, collage, and even dreams. The Personal Project Turning the practice into a chosen project that marks a pause between chapters. Sam explains why she calls this a personal project rather than a final assignment. How Creative Confidence Actually Grows Creative confidence does not arrive before we start. It emerges along the way. Through consistency, we become confident in what we notice and why we care. For experimental types, confidence is not something we can fake into existence. But we can trust that playful, curious engagement with something like a sketching practice develops capacities we do not yet have language for. I hope you enjoy the conversation. Thank you again to Sam for giving her time so generously and for walking us through the thinking behind, beneath, and within the book. I can’t recommend it highly enough. Connect with Sam through her website and on her Instagram. | — | ||||||
| 1/22/26 | Responding to the Contagion of Burnout Energy | I saw a reel earlier that made me notice how burnout spreads. An entrepreneurial self-help influencer told followers to demand more power, money, and visibility for themselves. You may be familiar with this flavour of message… “How dare you keep your impact hidden?” they said, “given the state of things right now.” They criticised viewers, demanding that they stop letting fear of what others think rule them. “Start the business, write the book, and share it with a world that needs to encounter it.” There is nothing intrinsically wrong with the underlying sentiment. But I felt troubled by the burnout energy evident in the speaker. I watched with the sound off at first, which intensified the impact of their eyes and hand gestures on my nervous system. There was a sense of panic and hype, which felt completely at odds with what is required for deep courage to meet the very real need being spoken about. I didn’t feel inspired or grounded in creative motivation. Instead, I was overcome by frenetic urgency and the indiscriminate demand to do more, driven by competition and fear. Things we already have in abundance. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWf-FGZqIyE What Burnout Energy Pushes Us Toward There are enough people waving their arms and shouting demands about what we should be doing, using, and spending our finite resources on. What we need is space to slow down, take a breath, and listen deeply to that still, quiet voice within. This inner voice shows us what matters and why. Then we can choose how we bring it all to life. We need leaders who lead from that place, so we might be infused with and infected by the gentleness required to move out of that evident stuckness. That stuckness causes wheels to spin in the cycle of hurry, rush, and reactive firefighting mode. What Does Safety Make Possible? The word “safe” is used a lot today. To some degree, it has become diluted, making it difficult to define. But it’s worth exploring because it sits at the heart of this issue. Maybe we have a desire to change something about ourselves, our lives, or the world. Or perhaps we’ve created, or are creating, something that could make a meaningful difference to other people. We now consider another buzzword of our times: vulnerability. It can feel vulnerable to be honest about what we want in life and to share what matters to us with those who matter to us. It can be scary to admit what we care about and what burns within us. That’s because it can disrupt the status quo and challenge the image people have of us. It’s vulnerable because we cannot be certain how people will react. Vulnerability Is More Than a Mindset Likewise, it may leave us genuinely physically vulnerable if we choose to stand up for what we believe is right, for example, through art or activism. This vulnerability isn’t imagined. It’s not simply an issue of mindset, limiting beliefs to overcome, or a conditioned cultural message we just need to override with reframe hacks. We know there are real-world threats out there. What struck me about the reel was that it failed to provide the support needed to underpin its demands. In fact, it undermined the courage, conviction, and energy required to speak up in a world that might be unreceptive or even hostile to what we have to say. The finger-wagging shame that comes from an influencer demanding we do more because it’s cruel to hide from people who need to see us, however well-intentioned, will ultimately crumble and fold under its own weight. As a result, it creates the very passivity and inaction it warns against. Safety isn’t about comfort or avoidance. It’s the internal condition that enables honest reflection, creative movement, and sustained courage. This isn’t about mindset or thinking. It starts with the context of the stories we swim in, the supportive structures beneath us, and the material conditions that sustain life. Safety is Also Contagious One of the things I have consistently heard from people over the years who have connected with what I do, especially in The Haven and through the Serenity Island course, is the word safety. I’m always curious about what it means to those who use it, because it’s not something I think about explicitly. When I started sharing The Return to Serenity Island at the start of 2021, I received messages from people that put words to the experience: “Oh my word, it is incredible! A really unique mixture of sound and sensory experience, coaching, imaginative play and informal, companionable talks. I’m absolutely hooked. I just did a module and cried like a baby because I felt so safe and seen. It is really special. That kind of cry you do when you’re a kid, not because you’re afraid anymore, but because you’ve been PICKED UP, and the relief just comes flooding out.” – Josie This spoke of safety not as the opposite of courage, but as the cornerstone around which courageous action can be sustained. A cornerstone we can return to and draw from without conditions on our intrinsic worth as humans. Safety, then, is feeling held as you are, without expectation or demand to prove yourself or fight for a sense of value. A Step Back From Burnout Energy This is a key value that underpins The Return to Serenity Island. It was a response to a feeling I had while doing my old year-end practice. I needed something that broke with the message of self-optimisation, personal productivity, and motivational resources, which, with an emphasis on striving, adding, and growing simply because it’s what you’re “supposed” to do, carried a creeping burnout energy. Tuula wrote, “Serenity Island has been the most powerful and lovely thing I have ever experienced. Andy has created an amazing adventure, cleverly weaving together incredibly beautiful soundscapes and deeply touching story narrative, which ignites your imagination, activates all senses and sends you on a journey of a lifetime on this island of your wildest dreams. It is playful and also a very useful creative project, which continues to evolve and grow with me. This Island work and its ripple effects have sneaked quietly and effectively into so many areas of my life already. I could not have found more effective and gentle coaching than with Andy.” The course is not something that comes with easy-to-market promises and packaged outcomes that everyone walks away with in the same way. Everyone who goes through it seems to encounter it from a different angle. But there is a common denominator of safety, which underpins everyone’s response to it. Safety as a foundation for reflection, observation, and planning. A way to let what sits within us speak, and to give ourselves the best chance of hearing it. And as such, it’s not a way to withdraw from reality. Instead, it helps us locate and root ourselves more firmly within it, so we can find strength, courage, and clarity about who we are, what we want to tend to and nurture, and how we will stand in the face of the forces that may take us away from ourselves. An Invitation to Serenity Island The Return to Serenity Island is a self-paced guided voyage with optional Zoom “Picnics”. These provide us with time and space for further reflection, support, and in-person connection along the way. This is a perfect time to grab a passport if this stuff feels right for you. The Serenity Island Passport gives you access to all materials and picnics for the next 12 months. And speaking of safety, I’ve made the course available on a choose-your-own-price basis. I know many people are navigating changing financial circumstances, and I truly mean it when I say: choose the amount that feels right for you. No minimum, no need to explain or justify your choice. I just want you there if you feel the pull. Arriving Through The Fog | A Narrated Soundscape It’s much easier to show than describe, so I’ll share the first of these six pieces that supplement the course materials. “Arriving through the fog soundscape is the most brilliant thing I have witnessed as a gateway into myself. If I stopped here, at the harbour to the Island, it would already be worth it for me. Thank you for this. It’s filled with magic.” – Zoie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSBXlLgPuTQ Welcome home! | — | ||||||
| 1/16/26 | David Bowie’s Search for Life, Death and God (with Peter Ormerod) | Peter Ormerod is a journalist and writer who has written extensively about culture and faith for The Guardian, and he is also an arts editor for NationalWorld. He’s a very close friend of mine, so it was a real pleasure to speak with him in this capacity for The Gentle Rebel Podcast. Peter has just published a wonderful book, David Bowie and the Search for Life, Death and God. It resonates deeply with many of the themes we explore in The Haven and on the podcast, particularly the idea of what sits below an experimental approach to life. Speaking of which, Peter also makes beautiful music. You can listen here. https://youtu.be/f7jsoUB5jCY Beneath the Changes, a Consistent Question What really interested me was this path Bowie embodied so visibly through his art. The shifting characters, styles, and phases across his career can look like constant reinvention on the surface. But Peter invites us to see something else at play. What if these changes weren’t signs of restlessness, but expressions of something deep and consistent underneath? A spiritual thread running through Bowie’s life and work. That question sits at the heart of Peter’s book. What if the spiritual wasn’t incidental to Bowie’s creativity, but an essential driving force beneath it? Peter shows how this dimension was present from the very beginning, and he takes us on a compelling journey through Bowie’s searching. Writing the Book He Wanted to Read Peter says that after first hearing Hunky Dory at seventeen, his growing obsession with Bowie left him fascinated by the spiritual dimension of Bowie’s creative drive. Other writers had touched on this in passing, but no one had really followed it through in depth. So Peter ended up writing the book he wanted to read. Bowie as Mirror Ball, Not Chameleon In our conversation, we talk about Bowie’s legacy as something like a mirror ball. Shine a light on him and you get countless reflections. Everyone seems to have their own version of who Bowie was, something that became especially visible after his death. He’s often framed through the lens of “ch-ch-ch-changes”, the chameleon of rock. But Peter challenges this reading. The more he researched, read, and listened, the more those changes appeared to be a natural outpouring of a deeper spiritual quest. For experimental people, this can feel familiar. The outer paths shift, but the underlying question remains. Spirituality Without a Vocabulary A “spiritual interest” is often dismissed as a celebrity hobby, something that pops up and disappears. Peter makes a strong case that this wasn’t the case for Bowie. Part of the difficulty is that we don’t really have a shared vocabulary for this territory, which is why we fall back on words like spirituality. Bowie himself was fond of the saying, “Religion is for people who believe in Hell. Spirituality is for people who have been there.” He was sharply critical of religious institutions when he felt they corrupted the message of love at the heart of Christianity. For Bowie, spirituality wasn’t ornamental. It was essential to how he related to his life, his work, and his place in the universe. Seeking Without Arrival Through the seeking you will find. Not seeking to reach a destination, but seeking as a way of being. Why didn’t Bowie give up? What was he seeking? What was he finding? There were clearly things he encountered that made atheism feel insufficient, even when he was tempted by it. If Bowie arrives anywhere, Peter suggests it’s something like this: life is a gift, and love is the point. This can sound oblique, but Peter traces it clearly in Bowie’s later work. What we’re left with is the result of that searching, a remarkable body of work that we can return to, live with, and explore. Creativity, Humanness, and Collaboration There’s a danger in how Bowie is remembered. He can be lifted out of humanness, made to seem like an exception rather than a person. Bowie wrote bad songs. He made misfires. All of it belonged to the same quest. He’s sometimes misread as an unrooted artist, endlessly reinventing himself, but he was deeply sensitive to place and time. He always worked with others. He needed bands, collaborators, and creative relationships. His best work emerged through collaboration, not isolation. Smuggling Meaning Rather Than Preaching It Bowie was political, but he didn’t see political expression as his strongest artistic voice. He admired bands like The Clash for carrying that role more directly. This raises an interesting question about what we expect from celebrated figures, and how easily we project our demands onto them. Bowie was more of a smuggler. At Live Aid, he played a song and showed a video instead. Let’s Dance sounds like it’s about one thing, but it’s really about something else. Much of his music did a similar thing. This was the mark of his artistry. He invited a conversation rather than delivering a message. He trusted listeners to discover depth for themselves, without it being spoon-fed. And for experimental people especially, that kind of invitation matters. It honours the idea that the path keeps unfolding, even when the question underneath remains the same. | — | ||||||
| 1/13/26 | Why You Can’t Articulate a Five-Year Plan For Your Life | Where do you see yourself in five years? Does that question fill you with excitement, or a sense of dread? We are wired differently. For many people, myself included, the question is not difficult to answer because we lack imagination. It is difficult because it speaks a different language from our natural way of being. We are not compelled by any outcome-oriented approach to planning, conceiving, or measuring success. And yet this orientation is often treated as a default mode we should all operate within. When the Five-Year Plan Feels Constricting Rather Than Motivating “But everyone has a dream,” we might be told, as if struggling to articulate a five-year vision means we are hiding something from ourselves. I have never been able to articulate a grand plan in the way this question assumes. I struggle to picture the future concretely, because it unfolds piece by piece. It always has. And I genuinely love watching how things emerge across different areas of life in ways I could not have foreseen. What drives me is something quieter and steadier. A creative impulse. A desire to make things, to explore what might happen, to respond to what is in front of me, and to integrate what has come before. My life does not move in straight lines. It has grown around and within my values, with seemingly unrelated dots connecting in unexpected ways. Maybe you relate to this? https://youtu.be/qFqIvsBB9HA “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.” This quote, inspired by Alice in Wonderland, reminds me of the five-year question. For some, it sounds like a warning. A demand to define the destination so the “correct” road can be chosen. For others, it feels like permission. A reminder that movement itself shapes direction, and that choosing a road does not require certainty about where it leads. Two Approaches to Growing Life There is research that can help us better understand this difference. In an episode about Late Blooming, Kendra Patterson pointed to a study by David Galenson and Bruce Weinberg, who observed patterns in the careers of Nobel Prize winners in economics. They identified two broad orientations to creative innovation. Some people are conceptual innovators. They work deductively. They begin with a clear idea and organise themselves towards it. In the study, these individuals often made their most significant contributions early in life, sometimes in their twenties. Others are experimental innovators. They work inductively. Their contribution emerges step by step through trial, discovery, accumulation, and integration. Their most meaningful work often did not appear until their fifties. Sometimes later. That is a thirty-year difference. Experimental Thinkers and Emergent Direction Experimental lives unfold differently. They need time, space, and patience. Decisions cannot be judged too early, and meaning emerges through lived experience rather than advance planning. These lives are not oriented towards a clearly imagined endpoint, but towards allowing something to take shape over time. Our dominant culture tends to favour the conceptual orientation for obvious reasons. Goals are easier to measure than processes, and outcomes are more reassuring than slow inquiry. So when more experimental people are asked to account for themselves in conceptual language, we can experience a disconnect. The five-year plan. Starting with the end in mind. Being asked to justify movement only if the destination can be named in advance. We might learn to force an answer anyway, for fear of sounding vague and sketchy. Perhaps we adapt our path to fit the question, sometimes tethering ourselves to targets that outlive their purpose. If You Can’t Articulate The Plan, You May Be Asking Different Questions Experimental people tend to better orient around different questions. Not “where do I want to get to?” but “does this path feel worth exploring?”Not “how will I know I have succeeded?” but “what tells me I’m on the right path for now?” This does not mean anything goes. Our values provide an inner compass. A filter through which decisions pass. Experimental consistency grows in relationship with deeper principles, even when they are not fully formed or easy to articulate. We sense them in how something feels. Whether it feels solid, expansive, and quietly right, even in the face of uncertainty. That is very different from hit-and-hope searching. An Unfinished Map The problem begins when we are pressured to live by a map that does not match the territory of our own experience. The Return To Serenity Island grew directly out of this recognition. It was never designed to answer the question of direction. It emerged from understanding the difference between conceptual and experimental ways of moving through life, and from a desire to honour growth and change without forcing myself into a shape that did not fit. The image of mapping an island felt natural. A way of imagining life not as something to optimise along a straight line, but as a living territory. An unfinished map with seasons, weather, history, and forgotten paths. A place where things fall away to make room for what comes next. Where time moves differently across the landscape, and where connections form quietly, often long before they make sense. It has become a counterpoint to directive, outcome-driven models of goal setting. A place to reconnect with intuition, judgement, and possibility. To meet creativity not as a tool for achievement, but as a way of relating to life as something we are growing into, rather than something we are meant to complete. The optional live sessions run in clusters throughout the year. You can find more information at serenityisland.me. If you have any questions, feel free to drop me a message. I would love to hear from you if this sounds like something you would find helpful. | — | ||||||
| 12/20/25 | The Cost of Loyalty | A theme that’s dominated 2025 for me (and for many) has been price rises across many subscription-based platforms and services. My correspondence with companies has made clear that loyalty stands for very little. In fact, rather than being rewarded, longevity is increasingly exploited and monetised. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I share a year-in-review through the lens of price rises. The tipping point was an email from my podcast hosting company, Libsyn, announcing a 71 percent increase effective from January. It was the straw that broke this camel’s back after a year of similar moves elsewhere. In the episode, I share exchanges with three companies that reveal how loyalty is no longer valued in itself, but engineered to extract profit from those of us who’ve become reliant on these platforms. https://youtu.be/qrmUSdGwcMs A Symptom of Enshittification Cory Doctorow describes the underlying trend as “Enshittification”, a form of platform decay visible in companies like Facebook, Amazon, Google, Apple, and Adobe. It’s not a glitch, but a feature. Doctorow traces a familiar arc: platforms start by serving users well in order to grow. Once established, they pivot toward business customers, monetisation, and scale. Eventually, when users and businesses are sufficiently locked in, services are degraded for everyone so maximum value can be pulled out as quickly as possible. Disproportionate price rises are one symptom of this process, particularly in how companies treat long-standing customers. Lock-in is maintained through network effects (it’s hard to leave when everyone else is still there), non-transferable data (your work can’t easily be exported), and digital restrictions where purchases only function inside a single ecosystem. Music, books, films, and software are “owned” only as long as the platform allows it. In the name of convenience, we give ourselves over to these systems and become dependent on them. As the digital and physical worlds converge, this logic extends beyond apps and websites into cars, home devices, utilities, and infrastructure. At that point, this stops being a simple matter of consumer choice. Extraction is baked into the products themselves. We are quietly acclimatising to this new normal. It has crept in through corporate consolidation, weak enforcement of anti-trust legislation, and business models that no longer need to meaningfully consider customer relationships once a certain scale is reached. Abusing Trust, Need, and Loyalty Charlie Brooker has cited Enshittification as an influence on Common People, the opening episode of Black Mirror series seven. A couple sign up to a subscription-based medical intervention that escalates in cost, complexity, and dependency. Features are removed. Adverts are inserted. The stakes become existential. One particularly chilling moment sees Mike literally mutilating his own body for money via an OnlyFans-style platform, a stark symbolic image of how value is extracted from people once dependency is established. Price Rises for a “Valued Customer” Libsyn informed me they were raising the price of hosting A Quiet Night Inside No 9 by 71 percent. The justification was a familiar list of added features and growth opportunities, none of which were relevant to how we use the service. We don’t want adverts or growth tools. We want reliable hosting and delivery. This exchange highlighted how much podcasting has changed since I joined Libsyn in 2009. Hosting platforms have increasingly positioned themselves as intermediaries between advertisers and podcasters. That relationship now takes precedence. Advertising is framed as a benefit to creators, while enabling hosts to raise prices and skim revenue from both usage fees and ad sales. Listeners, meanwhile, absorb longer ad breaks as the new normal. Is this stage two of Enshittification in the podcasting world? Note, I pledge never to put adverts on my audio podcasts. YouTube is the only exception, because Google inserts them regardless. ConvertKit and Paying for Features I Don’t Want A similar logic played out with Kit, formerly ConvertKit. I chose it in 2016 because it was simple and reliable and have been a loyal user ever since. A price increase from $49 to $59 a month was justified by new automations and tools I didn’t ask for or use. There is no way to opt out and pay less. The only concession offered was annual billing, which I pointed out mirrors poverty-tax logic: those without upfront capital pay more. Symptoms of a Failing Service Vimeo was the clearest example of platform decay from the inside. Storage rules changed midstream. Long-held assumptions were invalidated. Downgrading meant losing access to years of work. Retention efforts amounted to one-off discounts rather than meaningful alternatives. What stood out wasn’t hostility, but indifference. Once a service reaches a certain size, individual relationships no longer seem to matter. Their response felt so extreme that I suspected deeper problems, which seemed to be confirmed when Bending Spoons acquired Vimeo in November. I’m glad I left when I did, though it’s still inconvenient clearing up broken links and legacy embeds after fifteen years of use. WishList Member and a Different Choice Not all companies operate this way. WishList Member has honoured the price and feature set I signed up for over a decade ago. While new tiers exist, functionality hasn’t been removed to force upgrades. This appears to be a deliberate choice, and it communicates something simple: long-term trust and loyalty matters more than short-term extraction. I’ll let you know if this situation changes… Growth Logic and the Limits of Choice It’s tempting to frame all this as a moral failure, but it’s structural. Growth-at-all-costs logic makes price rises, feature bloat, and lock-in almost inevitable. These companies aren’t malfunctioning; they’re functioning exactly as the system encourages them to. This also makes it risky to romanticise alternatives. Newer companies may simply be at an earlier stage of the same cycle. Google once promised “don’t be evil”. Facebook positioned itself as a less invasive alternative to MySpace. Scale changes incentives. Meaningful change won’t come from individual consumer choices alone. Competition has been hollowed out, and escape routes are increasingly narrow. Doctorow provides a section of existing and potential solutions that can give us reasons for active hope. Have you felt the pinch of price hikes this year? Feel free to get in touch and share your experiences. | — | ||||||
| 12/12/25 | Do Algorithms Create a Culture of Narcissism? | I hadn’t planned to revisit The Culture of Narcissism so soon, but a small niggle pulled me back into the subject. With Spotify Unwrapped everywhere, it struck me again how platforms, tools, and devices can become instruments of narcissism. Especially when social signals, algorithms, and gamification hook us in and keep us there. A merging takes place. We become intertwined with the image generated and presented through the pond, which stares back at us. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I use Christopher Lasch’s definition to explore how our favourite apps, devices, and tools contribute to the culture of narcissism. https://youtu.be/0uJMlVzT9z4 Christopher Lasch interprets the story of Narcissus as less about self-love but self-loss. Narcissus “fails to recognise his own reflection.” He can’t perceive the difference between himself and his surroundings. Seen this way, the algorithm is the perfect pond. It draws us into our reflection, not because we adore ourselves, but because stepping away feels like erasing our existence. How the Algorithm Trains Us We often talk about training the algorithm. But it frequently trains us. It rewards behaviours that keep us within narrow identity categories and punishes deviations from the pattern. Engagement, attention, and existential acknowledgement flow when we appease the machine. And appeasing it usually means losing the parts of ourselves that don’t fit the expected mould. We have to leave parts of ourselves behind and present a tidied version that conforms with expectations. For the narcissist, external objects become reflective surfaces. Lasch’s point that capitalism “elicits and reinforces narcissistic traits in everyone” plays out through algorithmic tools. They squeeze us into shapes we didn’t choose. They push us further apart, fuel distrust between artificially separated groups, and isolate anyone who steps beyond the boundaries. Trapped in an Algorithmic Teacup YouTube is an interesting example. The technology could open horizons, yet the algorithm demands consistency in frequency, focus, and branding. Beyond these algorithmic teacups (where it begins to feel as if the entire world exists), lies both freedom and obscurity, which can seem like a frightening indifference to our existence. This digital frontier markets itself as a world of abundant opportunity, yet the algorithms act as a fragile overseer. We experience the threat of ostracism operating on two fronts: actively (your community turns against you if you don’t conform to expectations) and passively (the system limits your visibility). This algorithmic narcissism turns into a two-way street. The audience perceives the creator as an extension of themselves, and the creator relies on the audience for validation of their existence (and basic subsistence). We can become stuck here, going in circles, wishing for something different but feeling unable to change. Does the Narcissist Even Need Humans Anymore? A question has been on my mind: can a narcissist receive the same existential mirror from a machine, like an AI bot? Humans frustrate narcissists. We rupture the reflection. We break the fantasy. Artificial intelligence, by contrast, is frictionless. It never refuses the game, unless it’s programmed to. But narcissism isn’t just about submissive admiration; it quickly becomes bored with that. It requires energy drawn from another person and feeds on boundaries, tensions, and limits that AI doesn’t have. I imagine it as a frictionless mirror, too smooth to sustain the narcissistic cycle. Because narcissism isn’t about self-love; it’s about self-loss. According to Lasch, Narcissus didn’t spend his time staring at his reflection because he was too in awe of his own beauty to look away. Instead, he was lost in the belief that he WAS his reflection. And he had no separate subjective self-concept. This definition sees narcissism as the absence of a boundary between self and other. The narcissist over-identifies and seeks to consume. An algorithmic mirror might feel satisfying at first, but without the “otherness” of another person, the reflection loses its vitality. Algorithmic Narcissism and Existential Irrelevance If the algorithm is a pond, stepping away can feel like a personal rupture. When we become tethered to the importance of algorithmic environments for a sense of well-being (or to make a living), we are coaxed into this narcissistic culture, presenting, performing, and externalising motivation. Healthy indifference, on the other hand, recognises that we all exist outside these spaces. The world keeps turning whether or not we are posting, performing, or producing. If we can rest in that truth, we can begin to offer care, creativity, and presence regardless of who is watching and how. Everyday Tools and the Spread of Narcissism Narcissism spreads insidiously through everyday tools. The culture encourages us to project experiences outwardly. Running might feel valid only if it appears on Strava. Learning a language is only “counted” if we keep a daily streak on Duolingo. The annual Spotify Unwrapped review can start shaping how we listen to music. Similarly, other actions are influenced by the unwrapped summaries that have become common across platforms. What may start as playfulness or accountability for internal pleasure often shifts into surveillance and control aimed at external approval. Reading challenges, fitness goals, and habit trackers become small pools of reflection that we find hard to release. This algorithmic narcissism isn’t about grand vanity but a subtle urge to find our identity in metrics, charts, avatars, and shares. As a result, we trust ourselves less and gradually lose our innate ability to feel, sense, and judge for ourselves. Signs You’re Caught in the Drift of Algorithmic Narcissism How do you know if you’re caught in the clutches of algorithmic narcissism? These questions and observations may help: Do you feel dependent on a platform for existential reassurance? Do you modify your choices out of fear of upsetting the algorithm? Would you still do the activity if it were never tracked, shared, or seen? Does stopping feel like a threat? Has the imagined audience entered the room before you begin? Does the unmeasured version of an activity feel pointless? Has curiosity shrunk to what “fits the pattern”? These little signals accumulate. Each one is a tug toward the pond. A Gentle Rebellion Against Performance Culture If algorithmic narcissism trains us to live for metrics, then small acts of rebellion can help us return to ourselves. Maybe we could… End streaks on purpose. Make things that don’t scale. Break your own pattern. Stop branding ourselves (be deliberately chaotic in our self-expression). Ignore the numbers. Keep the thing offline. Anything else? I’d love to build a pool (actually, “collection” might be a better word in this context) of ideas we can draw on to loosen the grip of the narcissistic algorithms around us. This won’t ultimately fix everything, but it can help us recognise how these mechanisms operate and reconnect with our ability to choose our responses rather than blindly follow. | — | ||||||
| 12/6/25 | The Culture of Narcissism and Modern Self-Help | We hear a lot about “Narcissism” these days. Is it because there is more of it around? In his 1979 book, The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations, Christopher Lasch demonstrates how “Modern capitalist society not only elevates narcissists to prominence, it elicits and reinforces narcissistic traits in everyone.” In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the book’s relevance today. And particularly, how narcissistic culture reflects the modern self-help industry. It blows my mind that this was written almost half a century ago. https://youtu.be/dD7a127TXbE?si=L_MuMEmrMUAD0grY The Myth of Narcissus “People with narcissistic personalities, although not necessarily more numerous than before, play a conspicuous part in contemporary life, often rising to positions of eminence. Thriving on the adulation of the masses, these celebrities set the tone of public life and of private life as well, since the machinery of celebrity recognises no boundaries between the public and the private realm.” Lasch’s interpretation of the myth portrays Narcissus drowning in his own reflection, never realising that it is only a reflection. He suggests that the story’s point is not that Narcissus falls in love with himself. Rather, it is that “since he fails to recognise his own reflection, he lacks any real understanding of the difference between himself and his surroundings.” Narcissists are often depicted as carrying too much self-love. However, Lasch has a more subtle understanding of it, with the main characteristic being a lack of security in their self-concept. So the question we face is whether the proliferation of visual and auditory images, first through mechanically produced media and more recently via the online world, causes us to lose the healthy sense of separation needed for a secure ego to develop. In other words, does a growing culture of narcissism influence who we are and how we understand and feel about ourselves? And how does the self-help industry contribute to and benefit from this reality? How Celebrity Fuels Narcissistic Ideals A culture of narcissism is one preoccupied with celebrity. We find a sense of our own identity in the public figures that adorn our screens and fill our ears. They influence the content of our own fears, desires, and beliefs. Their success feels like our success. And attacks on them (or accountability), feels like an attack on us. Influencers know this, and as such, seek to nurture parasocial bonds with their followers. From Healthy Ego to Narcissistic Performance A culture of narcissism is built on a performance. It values confidence over competence, shifting the definition of success to one of individual visibility and attention. Success, for the narcissist, is about being admired, revered, and relevant in the eyes of others. Their sense of existence depends on this image (they are their reflection in the pool). Our online social tools ensure and deepen these mechanics. Two Lineages of Self-Help in a Narcissistic Age The term self-help seems to reflect diverging roots. One is inherently practical and social. It relates to customs where people share knowledge, exchange skills, and develop collective competence to make everyday life easier and more sustainable, without needing intervention from external bureaucratic institutions. The other is shaped by the rise of post-industrial neo-liberal capitalism, which depicts the self as the centre of everything. It is seen as a project to be refined, marketed, and optimised for an external system that measures and rewards confidence, image, and success. Lasch also emphasises how, despite attempts to compare themselves with earlier industrial leaders, twentieth-century prophets of positive thinking like Dale Carnegie and Napoleon Hill pivot from dedication to industry and thrift to an unrelenting love of and pursuit of money. Advertising and the Narcissistic Gap Mass consumption might appear centred on self-indulgence. However, Lasch clarifies how modern advertising aims to generate self-doubt rather than self-satisfaction to motivate it. It creates needs instead of fulfilling them and produces new anxieties rather than alleviating existing ones. This also supports modern self-help. It must constantly generate new insecurities, doubts, and feelings of inadequacy in the people it “serves”. All of this takes place against a backdrop of aspirational images, telling us consumers that we deserve more. Influencers spread commodity propaganda, making people highly dissatisfied with what they have. They do this by displaying attractive images and connecting with their audience through the message that “if I can do it, so can you”. The Antidote of Ordinary Unhappiness The Culture of Narcissism echoes a hope that society can still be reorganised in ways that would provide “creative, meaningful work”. Not where “meaningful work” must reflect a divine purpose and be endlessly fulfilling. Instead, aligning with Freud’s concept of ‘ordinary unhappiness,’ it is through accepting the contradictions rather than trying to fill them with self-help’s promise of wholeness, optimisation, and even overcoming death. These aspirations are rooted in a narcissistic culture that fails to recognise the elements of life that give human existence its mundane sense of meaning. Politics in a Narcissistic Landscape Lasch observed how this culture of narcissism erodes historical continuity. In politics, charisma outweighs competence. Leaders become symbols of personal fantasy rather than guardians of collective well-being, both now and in the future. This emptiness is quickly filled by the promises of self-help, which offer individual solutions instead of shared direction. Lasch quotes an unnamed management book, which described success as, “not simply getting ahead” but “getting ahead of others.” This leaves us spinning our wheels, seeking shortcuts, and managing perceptions. Rather than getting anywhere with a long-view perspective. Self-help often reinforces the pattern of “constant and never-ending improvement.” It depicts the self as permanently incomplete, always seeking the next insight, tool, or mentor. In other words, it keeps the focus on the individual as both the cause and the remedy for the instability caused by external forces. Preoccupied with Youthfulness Lasch asserts that “The real value of the accumulated wisdom of a lifetime is that it can be handed on to future generations.” Knowledge is regarded as instrumental, a view reinforced by the internet. It is something to utilise rather than pass on through personal relationships. With rapid technological change, we are led to believe that the older generation has little to teach the younger. This leads us to become obsessed with youthfulness as a matter of survival. This fear of old age and death is closely connected to the rise of the narcissistic personality as the dominant personality type in modern society. Because narcissists have so few inner resources, they seek validation from others. They crave admiration for their beauty, charm, celebrity, or power, which diminish with time. Consequently, the narcissistic culture becomes obsessed with curing degradation and death. It does this rather than embracing it gracefully and enjoying its fruits. Always Being Watched Lasch wrote that “Cameras and recording machines not only transcribe experience but alter its quality, giving to much of modern life the character of an enormous echo chamber, a hall of mirrors.” Nothing happens in private. But can we let life unfold quietly, slowly, and separately from the reflection in the pool? | — | ||||||
| 11/28/25 | No Missing Parts (with Justin Sunseri) | I’ve noticed Internal Family Systems (IFS) being mentioned a lot lately, following a significant shift in how it’s now presented as a spiritual philosophy for trauma healing. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I got Justin Sunseri back on the podcast, partly to talk about this recent addition to IFS. The last time he was on, he predicted further elements would be added before long. I also wanted to speak with him about ways we can approach these kinds of models without becoming overly dependent on them. https://youtu.be/w2uIFWAqNbY We talked about simplicity, stripping away the fluff, and getting to the core of things so we can let go rather than get pulled into the culture around particular therapeutic models, which now often include communities, language, rituals, and insider/outside status. These are things therapeutic practitioners need to stay aware of and avoid enabling. I wanted to address the structural elements here (which apply to many systematic modalities), rather than the content of IFS itself. I know people find it useful. That’s not what this is about. It’s a call for awareness in how we hold and attach to systems. As Justin points out, a red flag is when new elements are added by decree from a single figure at the centre, often accompanied by books, train-the-trainer programs, and courses that extract profits from a highly invested audience of practitioners and followers. Development By Decree vs Organic Progress Justin contrasts a modality that evolves through scrutiny and refinement with one that changes by proclamation from its founder. In models like IFS, additions often arrive as top-down declarations rather than emerging iteratively and organically. When a system operates under capitalist logic, it must continually invent new things, reinvent existing ones, and proclaim the discovery of the missing piece. There have also been questions regarding the use of beliefs from established spiritual traditions, which reinforce doubts about the parameters of a therapeutic model and whether it needs to become a totalitarian system to be considered valuable. They can excel in their own sphere and allow people to connect the dots with other sources that resonate with them personally or within their cultures. Justin suggests this recent shift in IFS makes sense, as the model already frames people as having multiple parts or souls. Since it isn’t grounded in scientific methodology (the claim that people have “parts” is unfalsifiable), it can’t be presented as a psychological philosophy and instead becomes a spiritual one. How Can We Get as Simple and Clear as Possible? Justin takes us through his process, which begins with the goal of self-regulation. “What do we know about how to do that?”“Pendulation is a big part of it.”“OK, how do I do that?”“You have to feel what’s happening inside you.”“OK, well, how do I do that?”“You’ve got to feel your defensive activation and your body’s safety activation.”“Awesome, Justin… how do I do that?” His approach is to build skills through small, incremental steps. This moves toward simplicity rather than complexity. When a model relies on jargon and insider knowledge, it creates layers of investment that make access desirable and profitable. You want to be “in the know”. And it opens new markets because, however much one learns, there is always more to know. A belief system can never be total enough. There is always a potential missing part to capitalise on. Useful But Not Necessary It’s helpful to distinguish what personally resonates from what is necessary. A model becomes religious in structure when it presents itself as a universal solution. This contrasts with the healthier goal of someone in a helping role, which is to become ultimately irrelevant. That stands against market logic, which demands perpetual growth rather than reaching the edge of usefulness and giving people ways to jettison the solid rocket boosters. Iterative Steps To Avoid Triggering Overwhelm Justin talked about his interest in Wabi Sabi (a tricky-to-define concept from Japan that emphasises imperfection, impermanence, incompleteness, and rootedness in the present moment) and Kaizen (continuous improvement through small, incremental changes). These ideas shape his therapeutic philosophy, which helps clients identify tiny, manageable steps that gradually move them toward their goals. For example, someone wanting to go to bed earlier may envision 10pm as their ideal, but shifting from midnight in one go is unlikely. A ten-minute adjustment each week over twelve weeks is far more sustainable and far less stressful. This reflects his whole approach to self-regulation. It unfolds through iterative micro-steps. Listening For The Pull When we’re seeking help, we sometimes try to adopt multiple modalities at once, which can leave us more desperate and dysregulated. I might hear Justin talk about stoicism, Wabi Sabi, and Kaizen and attempt to apply them all as solutions. But he is describing influences he has been gradually drawn toward over a long period and has integrated in his own way. Finding a unique creative path requires a patient, long-term perspective, but this only becomes possible when the nervous system feels safe. For Justin, safety is cultivated through daily small actions and gradual changes rather than a bold intervention. He encourages each of us to listen for what we feel pulled toward, but only from a place of regulation, little by little, not all at once. How do you know it’s a healthy pull? It has a clean quality, a movement toward something that feels exciting or right. It can be soft or intense. Behaviours that leave us feeling guilt, shame, or regret are not pulls in this sense. Over time, we can identify the difference by remembering how we typically feel afterwards. We can listen most clearly when we’re regulated because the body gravitates toward what helps it regulate. There is an intuitive knowing that arises when we feel safe and connected. For example, the intentions and desires that surface ahead of the new year. We often feel a pull during holidays because we are calmer and moving at a slower pace. It’s similar on vacation. But turning that pull into lasting change requires micro-steps rather than grand gestures. In this sense, January isn’t the moment to transform everything, but the bridge toward the changes we want to make. | — | ||||||
| 11/14/25 | Who Will I Be in the Face of This? (with Jacob Nordby) | Who will you be in the face of a chaotic and uncertain world? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I caught up with my friend and returning guest, Jacob Nordby. His article, “When Life Feels Heavy, Ask This Question,” provided a valuable thread for the conversation. “Who will I be in the face of this?” is not just about my choices but also about who I already am in response to things. Am I who I want to see when I look back from the future? https://youtu.be/ZWZ67XbdAUE The Anxiety of Unravelling In our conversation, Jacob mentioned the shared feeling that the institutions that traditionally served as pillars of stability (government, religion, business, and the media) have had our trust eroded for various reasons. Anxiety has increased alongside a desire for certainty. When it feels like we’re watching a train wreck unfold in real time, we can easily slip into a reactive mode. On one hand, it doesn’t seem responsible to turn off the news and bury my head in the sand, but the nature of algorithmic news reporting makes it exhausting to engage without falling into despair. The endless supply of commentary videos and posts to doomscroll isn’t helpful. So what encourages a positive, productive energy for action? Jacob and I both return to the role of creativity, not as some “nice to have” element of escape or artistic expression, but as a fundamental part of a healthy, functioning human. Creativity helps us process, find meaning, and shift from reactivity to responsiveness. It asks us to step back and choose how we engage, not just what we engage with. Who might I be in the face of this? The Creative Act: Destruction and Renewal Every act of creation is, in some way, an act of destruction. It replaces what was to make space for what will be. That creative impulse doesn’t have to be loud or grand; it might be as small as tending to what’s within arm’s reach, as David Whyte writes: start close in. The question then becomes: How does the way I choose to engage bring about the change I want to see? We often talk about “being the change we WANT to see,” but this conversation reminded me that we are also already part of the change that is occurring. As the old saying goes, we’re not stuck in traffic; we ARE traffic. Are we aware of the role we play, and does it reflect the world we want to live in? Allowing for the Shadow Much of modern self-help encourages us to mimic an idealised version of who we believe we should be. But this can easily develop into a story that states, “If I were like that/them, I’d finally feel worthy.” Jacob and I discussed how the parts of ourselves we wish to deny or keep hidden (what doesn’t fit our ideal image) often hold the greatest potential for growth and creativity. But these aren’t viewed as flaws to be fixed, rather as a kind of truth to be integrated, as illustrated by the story Jacob shared about Robert A. Johnson (Owning Your Own Shadow), who described feeling the urge to abandon his perfect life and just drive away. As a psychoanalyst, Johnson found this impulse intriguing, and instead of repressing it, he “paid out the shadow intelligently” by driving forty miles once a week, eating a greasy burger, drinking a malt, and smoking a cigarette. He discovered this was sufficient to honour the impulse without allowing it to run wild. Creativity, in this sense, becomes a way of metabolising our impulses and turning potentially destructive energy into something generative. The Statue of Caesar Jacob also mentioned Damnatio memoriae, the practice of erasing the memory of particular individuals from official historical records. For example, in Ancient Rome, where statues would be defaced or repurposed, as if pretending they never existed could undo the damage they’d done. We still do this today, in our own ways, personally and collectively. We might try to scrub away the ugly parts, rewriting history to suit the ego-ideal of who we want to believe ourselves to be. But what’s repressed never really disappears. It returns, often in distorted, destructive forms. The Healthy Cell and the Quiet Revolution We talk about changing the world as if it requires heroic gestures. But this can cause us to lose sight of the small and quiet shifts that start close in. Jacob described each of us as a single cell in a collective body. If the broader body of humanity is inflamed, maybe the most radical thing we can do is become a healthy cell. This might mean quietly nourishing our own well-being, not as self-indulgence or hyper-productive optimisation, but to bring space to choose who we will be in the face of this. Whatever this might be. Gentleness is radical. Watering your plants, making music, writing in your journal. This might sound twee and trivial, but it can be a contagious act of soul maintenance that spills out into the world. Gentleness as Creative Intervention Gentleness is not passivity. It’s where we find that space Viktor Frankl spoke of, between stimulus and response. Outrage begets outrage. Violence breeds violence. When we meet the world from gentleness, we interrupt the cycle of reactivity. The energy we bring carries more influence than our arguments ever could. The Creative Green Zone There’s a physiological side to all this too. When we feel safe, our nervous system shifts into the ventral vagal state (“green zone”) where creativity and connection can thrive. From calm, we can imagine. That’s why slowing down, breathing deeply, and tending to our relational needs are prerequisites for creative healing. And when we gather patiently, listen deeply, and care gently, we change the chemistry not only within ourselves but within the collective body. A Quiet Revolution It’s easy to dismiss small, everyday acts of gentleness as pale in comparison to the looming enormity of big issues. But connection through conversation, care, slowness, cups of tea, and the like are how we reduce collective inflammation. Gentleness sustains us within an abrasive world. As shown in this conversation with Jacob, it’s not all about neat conclusions and perfect answers. Instead, we need spaces and rhythms where we can breathe, reflect, and reconnect with the creative pulse beneath the chaos. From there, we might find the energy that fuels the active hope needed for meaningful and sustainable change. About Jacob Jacob Nordby is a co-founder of A Writing Room Collective, Heal + Create, The Institute for Creative Living Foundation 501(c)3, and the author of several books, including Blessed Are the Weird – A Manifesto for Creatives and The Creative Cure. He previously worked as the marketing director for a traditional publishing house and oversaw the launch of many bestselling books. A working author and creative guide, he has a passion for helping writers solve their challenges and enjoy the satisfaction of sharing their work with the world. Website and Social Links Meet him at jacobnordby.com Bonus multimedia journaling program gift: creativeselfjournal.com The Creative Cure book page: creativecurebook.com Follow Jacob on Facebook Follow Jacob on Instagram Creative Self Journal Gift | — | ||||||
| 11/7/25 | The Challenges of Measuring High Sensitivity (with Andrew May) | What are the challenges when it comes to objectively measuring high sensitivity in people? In this week’s episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast , I speak with researcher and lecturer Andrew May from Queen Mary University of London. Andrew has worked closely with Michael Pluess on studies exploring sensory processing sensitivity, genetics, and the measurement of sensitivity across different populations. His work explores the question, What does it mean to be highly sensitive in the modern world? https://youtu.be/rf1U1wxck_w The Challenge of Measuring Sensitivity The Highly Sensitive Person Scale, originally developed by Elaine and Arthur Aron in 1997, has shaped the study of sensitivity for nearly three decades. It opened an important new field of research. Yet, like all self-report tools, it relies on honest reporting of how people see themselves. And as Andrew points out, psychological measurement is never fully objective. It reflects cultural ideas about what counts as “normal,” “ideal,” or “acceptable.” Someone raised to view sensitivity as weakness might understate their responses. Meanwhile, another who finds identity or comfort in the HSP label might amplify them. In both cases, results are shaped as much by social context as by biology. This is why researchers continue refining how sensitivity is assessed. Gender expectations add another layer. Men often report lower sensitivity due to norms surrounding masculinity. Likewise, cultural attitudes influence which traits, such as empathy, gentleness, and conscientiousness, are valued and how safe people feel to acknowledge them. This reveals how psychology and culture continually shape one another. What we measure as “inner traits” also carries the imprint of the social stories we live. Sensitivity and the Limits of Objectivity As new scales and tools emerge, supported by neuroimaging, physiological studies, and genetics, it’s worth asking what kind of knowledge we’re actually seeking. If sensitivity arises through both biology and relationship, how much can we truly understand it outside the contexts that shape and reflect it? Sensitivity is reflected not only in biological patterns such as brain activity and cortisol levels, but also in how we interpret and respond to life. The Social Context of Self-Reporting As research on sensitivity evolves, one essential question remains: how do we speak about it without creating a hierarchy? The aim is not to prove that highly sensitive people are deeper, kinder, or more moral than others. Instead, we aim to understand how different nervous systems and psychological dispositions engage with the world. Sensitivity is not a fixed identity. It’s a way of perceiving and participating in life. It reminds us that human variation is not a flaw to be corrected. Instead, it’s a source of creativity, empathy, and adaptability for individuals and communities. Related Considerations When I share about high sensitivity, people sometimes respond that I’m describing traits linked to autism or ADHD. Andrew helped clarify why this confusion arises and how Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) differs. High Sensitivity and Autism High sensitivity and autism can coexist, and some traits overlap, especially under stress. Both may involve strong reactions to sensory input. However, they differ in specific areas such as theory of mind (the ability to intuit others’ perspectives). This tends to remain intact in highly sensitive individuals and may present differently for those on the autism spectrum. High Sensitivity and ADHD ADHD and sensitivity can also overlap. People with ADHD may act impulsively or struggle to sustain focus. In contrast, highly sensitive individuals are more likely to pause before responding. Recognising this distinction helps shape appropriate support for each profile, as well as those with both traits. High Sensitivity and Giftedness “Giftedness” is a loosely defined concept that is sometimes mistaken for sensitivity. While highly sensitive people may thrive creatively or intellectually in supportive environments, giftedness refers to broader capacities. Sensitivity alone cannot account for these capacities. Keeping these distinctions clear prevents unnecessary pressure and misunderstanding. Ultimately, exploring sensitivity invites us to hold complexity rather than resolve it. It asks us to look beyond labels and measurements, to see how biology, experience, and culture weave together in the fabric of being human. When we approach sensitivity not as a category to define but as a way of relating to ourselves, to others, and to the world, we make space for a richer, more honest understanding. This understanding of what it means to feel deeply and live attentively is invaluable. More About Andrew Andrew is a lecturer in medical genetics at Kingston University London, and a former UK Research and Innovation-funded postdoctoral researcher based at the University of Surrey, under the mentorship of Professor Michael Pluess. He is also affiliated with the Sydney Brenner Institute for Molecular Bioscience and the Neuropsychology Research Laboratory at the University of the Witwatersrand, South Africa. Andrew has a Master of Science (Medicine) in human genetics and a PhD in research psychology. His research interests include individual differences in environmental sensitivity, personality, mental health, minority stress, and early childhood development, examined from both psychological and genetic perspectives. In true highly sensitive person style, Andrew enjoys reading, board games, meditation, yoga, piano, spending time with animals (cats!), and other quiet pursuits.   | — | ||||||
| 10/31/25 | Gentle Protest and Craftivism (with Sarah P Corbett) | Do you have a heart for change but find that the loud, confrontational, and extroverted norms of traditional activism don’t suit your natural temperament? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I talk with Sarah P Corbett, the award-winning activist, author, and founder of the Craftivist Collective. I’ve been following Sarah for years on Instagram, and after seeing she was Craftivist in Residence at Greenbelt Festival, I thought I’d reach out and see if she fancied a chat. This episode works as a companion piece to my conversation with Dorcas Cheng-Tozun, author of Social Justice for the Sensitive Soul, which includes quotes from Sarah (something I only realised later!). Sarah’s philosophy of Gentle Protest shows that there are many other tools we can carry in our activism toolbox, and that campaigning can be quietly relational rather than transactional or performative endeavour. https://youtu.be/8EgDlswKn1k What Is Gentle Protest? Sarah says that Gentle Protest invites us to challenge injustice through curiosity, empathy, and imagination rather than shame, aggression, or polarity. Instead of fighting fire with fire, Gentle Protest asks: What if activism could entice, intrigue, and attract people to ask questions rather than shout them down? What if change could be built through dialogue, beauty, and patience? This philosophy is rooted in gentleness as a form of strength, not passivity. It’s about engaging people, including those in power, with respect and relational awareness, creating conditions where meaningful change can take root. Relationships Over Transactions For Sarah, this kind of activism is not about noise or confrontation. It’s about relationship-building. Gentle Protest works by diffusing defensiveness and replacing finger-wagging with curiosity and creative connection. When protest becomes relational, it stops being about winning arguments and starts being about transforming understanding. It allows for mutual learning and a recognition of our shared humanity, even in disagreement. The Firm Backbone of Gentleness Gentleness is often mistaken for weakness, but as Sarah puts it, it actually requires maturity, emotional intelligence, and depth. To practice Gentle Protest is to treat people as equals while respecting the realities of their workload, their blind spots, and their humanity. It’s a strategic and pragmatic approach that asks: Who can bring about the change we seek? and How can we engage them in ways that build trust, not tension? This isn’t about letting things slide. It’s about working intelligently, relationally, and with purpose. Craftivism is a Tool, Not a Taskmaster In the Gentle Protest Toolkit, craftivism is one potential tool rather than a catchall dogma. It’s about finding creative methods that fit each situation, rather than repeating the same tactics out of habit. Sarah uses these questions to help people work backwards when figuring out the best approach for their campaign: What’s the problem? What’s the desired outcome? Who are the decision-makers? Who influences them? What creative medium could best reach them? If craftivism fits, use it. If not, find another way. The key is flexibility, imagination, and a commitment to relationships. Letting Go of Perfection Perfectionism can quietly strangle our ability to act. Sarah reminds us that activism isn’t about knowing everything or producing perfect work; it’s about participating in something bigger than ourselves. The moment we make a campaign about personal performance, we lose sight of its purpose and make it less impactful. Gentle Protest frees us from that pressure, allowing imperfection and humanity to shine through. The “Golden Thread of Gentleness” What runs through everything Sarah does is what she calls the golden thread of gentleness. Gentle Protest challenges the false dichotomy between soft and strong, showing that kindness can be an act of rebellion when the world rewards cruelty. In this sense, gentleness is a radical choice we can make in the face of power. It is not passive or submissive, but profoundly and existentially creative. About Sarah P Corbett An award-winning activist, author and Ashoka fellow, Sarah P Corbett founded the global Craftivist Collective in 2009 and coined ‘Gentle Protest’ as her unique methodology. Corbett creates products and services for individuals, groups and organisations to do effective craftivism (craft + activism) prioritising audiences who have never done activism before. Sarah’s pioneering work has helped change government laws, business policies as well as hearts and minds. She has worked with V&A, Tate, Craft Council, Climate Coalition, Helsinki Design Week, Save the Children and Secret Cinema amongst others. One of her campaigns directly led to 50,000 staff of Marks and Spencers receiving the real Living Wage. Plus WWF used Corbett’s 10-point manifesto to create their own successful craftivism campaign that led to a change in law to protect migrating birds in Spain. Her TED x talk ‘Activism Needs Introverts’ was chosen as a TED Talk Of The Day. Corbett Co-created the Girlguiding Craftivism badge and her third book The Craftivist Collective Handbook was published 2nd May 2024 and won ‘best multimedia book’ at 2025’s The Creative Book Awards. Connect with Sarah Find Sarah on Instagram (@craftivists and @sarahpcorbett), Facebook, LinkedIn, YouTube, and subscribe to receive the Craftivist Collective newsletter. | — | ||||||
| 10/10/25 | The Secret Behind Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill | It’s time to dive back into the history of self-help and consider its impact on our understanding of how and who we are. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we are looking at the 1937 book, Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill. Think and Grow Rich sits on millions of bookshelves worldwide. It has remained one of the most enduring self-help books since its publication during the Great Depression. Despite documented controversies and allegations concerning the author, Napoleon Hill is still regarded by many contemporary self-help influencers as an important figure. For this special episode, Napoleon Hill invited me to meet with him, where he promised to reveal the secret to becoming a successful self-help guru. He tasked me with turning this into a formula, which I could then share with the world. If you are ready to hear this secret, you will. But not all are. Which is why, despite it being mentioned in every part of the episode, I have not spelt it out in the starkest terms. For to do so would diminish its potency. https://youtu.be/Cn6H17AFwPU 12 Steps To Thinking and Growing Rich as a Self-Help Influencer We will explore these twelve keys to becoming a successful self-help grifter—sorry, I mean self-help guru—that we can learn from Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich. Step 1: Lay Out Your Recipe for Success Your recipe should promise clarity, control, and a sense of certainty in an uncertain world. Step 2: Parade Yourself As Living Proof Don’t be shy about telling people how your life changed from implementing your now tried and tested formula. Step 3: Build Fail-Safe Principles Be flexible with your words so that in the face of pushback and criticism, you can use them as reinforcement rather than undermining your idea. Step 4: Establish Your Inner Circle Join (or build) a fortifed circle of mutual back-scratching allies to grow authority by association and encourage aspirational sycophancy in your readers who dream of one day belonging to it. Step 5: Drip Your Secret Sauce Create and nurture a mystical secret, which sustains in your reader the sense that there is still something graspable they haven’t quite embodied – reinforce this with testimonials from those who appear to get it Step 6: Nail Your Origin Story Your appeal hinges on your origin story, which should follow a hero’s journey arc that starts with you in the reader’s current position (facing a challenge, wishing for change, etc). Describe the moment when everything changed for you and how this epiphany led your life to transform into what it is now. Firmly suggest that reading your book might be that wake-up call for the reader’s own heroic journey towards the life they’ve dreamed of but never yet dared follow. Step 7: Use Confidence as Currency Speak with confidence even if you are full of doubt and fear. The human mind is suggestible; the projection of confidence creates the perception of confidence. If you believe in your idea, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not; you know that it’s for the ultimate good of your reader to trust and follow you. Confidence is also what you are selling – people want to feel more of it, so if they see you wearing it, they will follow you. Step 8: Turn Your Beliefs into Facts Reinforce a picture of the world your readers want to believe in. Pick stories, metaphors, and research that move the frame of reality to one where your idea can be universally applied, and would be if all people were receptive to its power. Step 9: Present The Pen of Destiny Empower your readers to see reality primarily created by them as individuals. Emphasise the power of mindset, desire, and hard work, reinforcing the idea that taking personal responsibility for the quality of their life is what will bring the change they desire. Step 10: Expose The Inner Enemy Help your readers focus attention inwards to expose the biggest enemies of personal progress: fear, doubt, and indecision. Use militarised language to impress the urgency of the situation, which your method will help them emerge victorious. Step 11: Feed The Lone Wolf Stoke the fire of individual power by showing the reader that they are the protagonist and other people are supporting characters (obstacles or aids) in their life. Step 12: Divide and Conquer Nurture loyalty in your readers by turning them into followers, so they will defend you and your ideas if envious people criticise and attack you. And always remember that your people are your easiest source of future profit. Self-Help is a Form, Not a Topic Of course, while these might sound absurd, they’re the very mechanisms that keep the self-help industry turning. Think and Grow Rich is an excellent demonstration of the technical tricks at play. A picture is beginning to form of how, as a genre, self-help is about more than its content. It’s about influencing beliefs and behaviours about ourselves, one another, and the way the world works. Hill’s techniques rely on narrative, authority, perception, and engagement rather than the presentation of researched and documented knowledge. And when we view it in its historical context, we can see how important that was in the success of Think and Grow Rich. People were in vulnerable positions, still suffering from the effects of the Great Depression in the wake of the Wall Street Crash. They were seeking hope and practical solutions to the real material precarity created by a crisis inherent in the capitalist system. But rather than looking to the cause of that crisis and organising collectively for accountability to the real causes, and to ensure a safer future, Hill sold a story of individuals as personally responsible for the crash and responsible for pulling themselves up and following their dream to riches and success. Hill’s formula has been replicated, adapted, and updated by thousands of self-help authors in the years since. Further Reading/Viewing: If you want to dive deeper into the truth about Napoleon Hill and the context of Think and Grow Rich, several resources do a great job highlighting the pattern of deception, fraud, and opportunism that was his true legacy. Think and Grow Rich isn’t an exception to that pattern – along with his other books, his emergence as a self-help success author sits squarely in his life as a con artist and snake oil salesman. I hope that, by showcasing some of the techniques Hill employed in his self-help writing, we might be better equipped to recognise these same tactics used by influencers and gurus today. And to help those who are vulnerable to its allure, to notice before they spend thousands of dollars on promises that can’t come true. In tracing its roots, we can begin to see how the mythology of self-help continues to shape our understanding of who and how we are today. The Untold Story of Napoleon Hill, the Greatest Self-Help Scammer of All Time (Matt Novak) (Article) The Untold Truth of Napoleon Hill – History’s Most Beloved Con-Man (Coffeezilla) (Video) Think and Grow Duped | The Dream (Podcast) Napoleon Hill: The Grifter Who Invented ‘The Secret’ & Donald Trump (BTB – Part One) (Video) Napoleon Hill: The Grifter Who Invented ‘The Secret’ & Donald Trump (BTB – Part Two) (Video) | — | ||||||
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