Notes From a Slow Coach Archives - Andy Mort: Recent Episodes

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I often think about the other characters in stories. The ones who aren’t the key players, heroes, or villains. In fact, I am sometimes so distracted watching the extras in the background of a scene that I have no idea what’s going on with the main action.

As alluring as it is to imagine, life rarely plays out like a hero’s journey: Departure (the call away from ordinary life and into an adventure), Initiation (the quest that requires conquering a challenge and acquiring a reward), and Return (coming back to the ordinary life victorious and transformed).

And while the hero’s journey makes for a compelling and exhilarating story arc, it isn’t always a helpful one to view our lives through. We know reality is much less linear, neat, and resolvable. And yet, we often see it used in the coaching industry for framing goal setting and navigating seasons of change.

Several points arise from this, which we will discuss in our upcoming Haven Courtyard workshop on Tuesday with Kendra Patterson.

Manufacturing ConflictOne issue with the hero’s journey is that it relies on a central conflict, necessitating the identification of points of separation, competition, and hostility to fight against and overcome. Even when there isn’t one, it encourages us to find something or someone to rail against, including ourselves.

Another issue arises in the way we hold one another. In a hero’s journey, every character has a role, either to help or hinder the protagonist’s progress. In other words, they serve or sabotage the hero’s quest without acknowledging their subjectivity. The world revolves around the central figure, who is only answerable for successfully pursuing their goal, even if doing so harms relationships, duties, and commitments. In the wrong hands, this is a recipe for narcissistic abuse.

Finding Meaning In The MundaneI often think about the insignificant characters in a story: the people who make it happen, those who get on with daily life during the chase, and the background of the disposable henchman (this scene from Austin Powers is a perfect example).

The hero’s journey focuses on the surface. At the elite level of a story. But what about the others behind the scenes? The organisers, support staff, and teams that make it happen; the camera crew, sound technicians, and engineers; and those who appear briefly but are never mentioned again.

What about them? The ordinary folk. Me. You. Us?

Breathing The Air of The Hero’s JourneyThe Hero’s Journey is a ubiquitous framework. It is prevalent in Western storytelling and I believe we can overlook its impact on our self-concept and well-being.

• We see it in marketing. What challenges are you helping your customer overcome as the sage in their hero’s journey?
• We see it in business. What adversity has your comapny conquered to establish its unique origin story?
• We see it in sports. How does the latest success serve as retribution, redemption, or revenge for past events in sports?
• We see it in the arts. What adversity has the singer, artist, or author overcome to be published, displayed, or chosen?

The media is full of these narrative arcs. In fact, it’s almost impossible to find stories without a flavour of hero’s journey. This doesn’t mean they report real life; in contrast, we are often encouraged to bend certain elements of reality to fit this structure, leading to hyperbole, missing details, and even deception.

It runs wild and often unchecked in online wellness, productivity, and multilevel marketing spaces, where people can reap huge rewards by contriving the perfect hero’s journey origin story (and getting others to believe they can follow in their footsteps – for the right price).

Because it can be satisfying to read or watch, we like to apply the hero’s journey in the way we frame our relationship with our pursuits and ambitions. But is this the only way to tell relevant and compelling stories to inspire change?

Focusing On The Others in The Supporting CastWhile researching examples of alternative story structures (in particular, Kishotenketsu) that doesn’t rely on a central conflict, I found a one-star review of Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. It was intended as a damning critique of the novel, which I haven’t yet read (I might do after this though!)

“You know those random stock characters in sci-fi/action movies, the ones who never get names or any lines? They’re always spending their precious few minutes of screen time getting shoved out of the way as the hero hurtles desperately down a hallway, or watching from a safe distance as a climactic fight goes on, or diving out of the way whenever a murderous cyborg smashes through their office window. Have you ever wondered what those people’s lives were like? Have you ever thought to yourself, “Man, this movie’s interesting and all, but I want to know more about that guy who owned the hotel where Sarah Conner hid from the Terminator. I bet he leads a fascinating life.” (Believe me, he doesn’t.) Imagine if someone decided to write a book about this kind of person. The result is Never Let Me Go.”

– Review on Goodreads

When I read that review, I had a different reaction…* I OFTEN think about those random stock characters without names or lines. * I DO want to know what happens to those other characters who are shoved out of the way and killed off without a second thought. * I ABSOLUTELY want to spend some time with the guy who owned the hotel. I’d love to know how he folds the towels, makes the beds, and organises the keys (and tidies up/settles the insurance claim after a battle).

I love reading, watching, and learning about ordinary people and their weird and wonderful lives.

I also enjoy stories about those who didn’t get everything they dreamed of. Those who managed to relinquish the pressure of the hero’s journey and find a universal sense of satisfaction outside of the quest.

These are our stories. Normal, universal, ordinary, mundane, and meaningful.

I am interested in working to find other ways to conceive, frame, and follow our aspirations. The hero’s journey is common in personal development circles—goal setting is almost always positioned in that way. However, when our self-concept and character become wedded to our framing of success and failure concerning external outcomes, this can lead to pain and dissatisfaction.

While the Hero’s Journey offers a compelling form for storytelling and personal growth for certain people, it’s crucial to acknowledge its limitations and potential downsides. For many people, especially highly sensitive people (HSPs), I suspect that freeing ourselves from the hero’s journey narrative can help us navigate our paths with more awareness and flexibility and without the constraints of an idealised story arc.

So, what if there are other story structures we can use to build life around? Join Kendra and I to explore this question in our workshop.

The post What About The Other Characters In The Hero’s Journey? appeared first on Andy Mort.

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The pedal went spongy. Oh no, here we go again. That weird fight-or-flight energy fills my head and belly—accompanied by a sort of metallic taste.

At least I had a plan this time…don’t panic. Just wait it out.

About twenty minutes should do it. Give it time to cool down. At least, that’s what worked when it happened in October.

Oh dear, October. Yes, that was a bad morning. Everything was fine until the pedal jammed in the traffic jam. As I joined the crawl, something felt strange. The car no longer wanted to engage the clutch or change gear. It just stopped, and I was stuck.

I eventually managed to hop the car to the edge of the road, where I muttered, “Wow, that’s that then.” I could feel myself enter the familiar shutdown state in the face of stress.

“Hold on a sec,” I replied to whatever that first voice was, “look around you. No one else is in the car with us. We’re going to have to figure this out.”

Did I Imagine It?It was one of those wing-and-a-prayer moments when you hope you’re simply having a bad dream and you’ll wake up soon.

I regretted not printing out the roadside assistance number, which wasn’t easy to find without a phone signal. The inner voice chirped again: “OK, here’s an idea. What if the car isn’t broken, and you just imagined it?” Wishful thinking is strong at times like this. I mean, I couldn’t argue with the hope. That would be great, but I was sceptical.

I put the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. Here goes. I pressed the clutch down, hoping for that divine mechanical intervention to kick in. Ooh, what’s this? It seemed better and slid into gear. Hello! Dare I say it feels fine? No, I don’t dare say that. Why would I say that? OK, but what if I could return to the road and make it to the next service station where I can find some phone signal and coffee? “Coffee, really? No. Anyway. Let’s get out of here.”

So I took a deep breath and felt the biting point engage—first gear, second, third. We’re moving! It was back to normal. OK, weird. HAD I imagined it? Was it just a momentary blip? Maybe it was a dream after all.

There was a shot of adrenaline as I drove past the next service station. “Oh, I hope I don’t regret that,” I thought…Thankfully I didn’t.

“I made it home”.I landed on the driveway and let out an audible sigh of relief. My body finally relaxed. Only then did I realise how tense I must have been.

Everything was fine until a few months later, it happened again. I felt that familiar feeling beneath my left foot as I approached some crawling traffic, so I pulled over again to wait it out.

The third, or maybe the fourth time it happened, the 20-minute wait was more of a drill than a plan. I had given up on wings, thoughts, and prayers as my primary strategy for dealing with it. We also went with some practical examinations, tests, and experiments. But it happened again. And again.

I Hope The Waiting Ends HereAfter waiting three weeks for a replacement slave cylinder, I picked up my car from the garage this week. I really hope we’ve finally figured it out. I’ll keep you updated.

So many things are frustrating to wait for, especially when time crawls at an unbearable pace. Waiting can be painful. You need to know when to pause, when to push when to be patient, and when to take action.

Waiting on the side of the road, whether for roadside assistance or the clutch to re-engage, is made more painful when I feel like I’m in the way (or on display). There’s nothing you can do except wait like a goldfish in a bowl that everyone turns to stare at as they drive past. The closest thing I have had to someone stopping to check if I needed help was a guy lowering his window to shout, “You’re not allowed to park there”, before turning to everyone else in the car and giggling.

That didn’t help. Or maybe it did because I heard myself exasperatedly say, “I can’t wait for this to be over.” And ooh, I noticed how much I liked that as a prompt for us to explore The Haven. Just the first three words…

“I can’t wait”We use these words for various reasons: “I can’t wait to get home and fix this car. I can’t wait for much longer; this is painful. I can’t wait for dinner, and I can’t wait to see you.”

Then there are those parts of life that once required us to wait but no longer do. What are the trade-offs we make for the payoffs of convenience? What do we inadvertently lose when we gain access to an on-demand, instantly ready, same-day delivery world? And the parts of life where the waiting space has been filled with distractions to entertain, occupy, and keep us busy while we wait.

I often think of the waiting room as a liminal space between worlds. It’s not quite here, and it’s not quite there. But it’s often a great place to observe life. To explore ourselves.

There’s something about hearing your name called—a mix of relief and dread. OK, I’m up. I can’t wait to get in there, get this over with, and get out of here. The clutch has re-engaged, and I’m heading home.

P.S. Does any of this speak to you? Do you fancy joining us to ​explore this prompt in The Haven​? You’re most welcome!

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Something peculiar was going on. There was no way they could be achieving these results without cheating. Could they?

It left me wondering why people are so adept at ruining good things.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVYnyqf9lY4Now, the task at hand wasn’t high stakes. It was a game on my phone where teams take on one another in little battles. But the fact it wasn’t high stakes made the idea that players would choose to cheat even more intriguing (and irritating).

How do you respond when you suspect someone is cheating (deliberately deceiving others to get an unfair advantage)?

I’m not a particularly competitive person…most of the time. But something awakens in me when I sense suspicious activity. It probably comes from the same place as my response to people using technology to deliberately mislead audiences into believing in the impossible talents of deceptive artists.

It sparks confusion and frustration in me, especially when it impacts most people engaging in good faith. My instinct is usually to walk away, but sometimes that is not an option, especially when the integrity of the game, institution, or activity is at stake (and meaningful to me).

Why Do People Cheat?There’s not one universal reason people engage in cheating. That’s what can make picking the best response tricky. We might make wrong assumptions about a person’s motivations. But some potential reasons might be…

They Want To Win At All CostsSomeone might prioritise winning over the spirit in which they engage. They have developed a mindset that links their self-esteem to winning instead of focusing on participating in a particular way. They’ve learned to see through a binary lens, believing society values winners and disrespects losers.

They Enjoy CheatingSome people enjoy breaking the rules undetected more than actually winning. For them, winning symbolises their ability to outsmart others rather than being the ultimate goal. They don’t care about the result as much as they do about finding new and better ways to cheat. Therefore, the common phrase, “You’re only cheating yourself,” does not resonate with them.

Cheating Gives Them Attention inSometimes, people cheat not necessarily to win but to get attention. Some may even WANT to get caught, basking in the chance to explain how they did it, just like the antagonist revealing their foiled master plan in a movie.

If someone was rewarded for negative attention-seeking behaviour growing up, cheating might become a maladaptive way to feel seen and noticed by others.

They Don’t Realise They Are CheatingSometimes, people cheat without being aware of it. They might believe that they have discovered a more efficient way of doing something without realising that it goes against the rules or the general spirit of the activity. This can occur when expectations and regulations are not communicated from the outset, and individuals are unaware of what is “acceptable”.

Are there any other reasons people might cheat? I suppose I missed an obvious one: a sense of necessity. When under stress or pressure (basic physical needs, external demands/expectations, etc.), someone might seek shortcuts to do what needs to be done. If they perceive the game as balanced in someone else’s favour, they might hold cheating as their only option for recognition or survival.

How To Respond To CheatingIt’s easy to feel disheartened when faced with deception, but there are constructive ways to respond. On that final point, we can seek to understand the challenges that make cheating feel like the only option. We might work WITH them to find solutions that work for everyone.

1. Start With Acceptance Wherever people gather, there is a chance we will encounter those who want to game systems and cheat the collective. No amount of wishing people weren’t like that can make it so. But that doesn’t mean we can’t assume the best of people while at the same time being prepared for the worst. Preparing means giving ourselves options to willingly choose from if and when we encounter it.

2. Choose Our ResponseBy giving ourselves options, we can choose our response. What is the nature of the cheating? How is it impacting this situation? What is it extracting, and who is it taking from? What might happen if it isn’t addressed?

Set Agreements (this happens before “kick-off”)What are the expectations and acceptable ways of acting? Give people as much information as possible. Bring them into the agreement-setting process so that they take responsibility for upholding the integrity of the game and understand the consequences of breaking the agreement.

Punitive ActionsThe threat of repercussions works in specific contexts. For example, knowing that the consequences of being caught cheating are worse than the consequences of losing (e.g., failing the test) and setting clear boundaries if cheating is detected. For example, if you continue behaving in this way, you will be unable to continue.

Cheat HarderThis is one to use with caution, but we might respond to cheating by cheating—not to win but rather to demonstrate how much it ruins things. Cheating is only possible if most people are playing by the rules, so if the playing field is levelled, it can highlight the purpose of the rules.

Compete Cheating galvanises my competitive spirit (a drive to put the world right). If there’s a way of winning (i.e. their cheating method doesn’t make it impossible), I find a quiet, fiery determination to win. There is something quite rewarding about beating someone who is cheating.

Report and IgnoreIf there’s a fair and trustworthy process to report someone cheating, it can remove the noise of injustice in your system. Of course, this only works if you have confidence in the process.

Meeting Cheating With GentlenessGentleness (firm back, soft front) is an excellent way to encounter cheating because it can withstand it without being drawn into it. This might look like meeting the world in good faith, allowing people to explain themselves and have a second chance if appropriate.

Gentleness doesn’t indiscriminately indulge or dismiss cheating. It meets it as it is and chooses its response calmly and carefully.

Over to YouWhat is your instinct when you encounter cheating? Has this been effective? Would you like to add any other potential responses to your option box?

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Technology scrapes off imperfections, removes mistakes, and conceals blemishes. It can add or remove elements in a photograph, pitch correct music, and give the impression that someone was (or wasn’t) there.

We face philosophical questions about our relationship with truth, honesty, and integrity in art. But these aren’t limited to the “creative” space. They have implications for all of us.

The tools helping us improve can also eliminate differences and cause us to conform to standards that leave creative output compressed to lines and squeezed into boxes. We might ask how much of our humanity we are willing to “perfect” out of existence.

When we have access to tools that cover blemishes and make us sound better, it’s tempting to use them. Why would we choose not to? Why would we do anything else if we can avoid uncertainty, vulnerability, and imperfection?

From my experience making music, I know that when I lose confidence in my creative sound, I don’t fight as hard to keep it in the mix. I welcome the person who comes along with a tool to help me sound “professional,” “proper,” and “just like everybody else.” I tend to grimace when I hear too much of myself. But the uniqueness of my creative voice is intrinsically woven through those parts of me I want to conceal, hide, and iron out.

An effective producer gently amplifies rather than eradicates the unique aspects of our creativity, supporting us in becoming more confident in our humanity.

The Department of Pitch CorrectionsFil Henley produces videos, responding to requests to analyse music from live performances, online videos, and TV broadcasts. He isolates vocals and runs them through monitoring software to assess whether pitch correction has been applied.

His work raises some interesting questions about authenticity, integrity, and the essence of creative voice.

The issue isn’t necessarily the use of pitch correction per se. It’s what these tools and techniques do to our perception of possibilities. At its worst, pitch correction is used to deceive viewers and listeners into believing something untrue.

In one video, I REALLY don’t know WHAT to think about music anymore!?! Fil looks at a trend where singers film themselves singing at home. The simple aesthetic gives the impression of a relaxed, “just hopping on to sing a song”, impromptu, one-take performance. When they go viral, the captions for these videos focus on how perfect the vocal performance is. But as Fil points out, the most famous purveyors of the trend use perception management techniques so that the audience believes they are watching a live performance when the singer mimes to a pre-produced recording with pitch-corrected vocals.

The Line Between Illusion and DeceptionIn this sense, it’s not the technology itself that’s a problem. Instead, it’s how the results of using these tools are packaged and sold and whether or not audiences are aware of the illusion. This illusion matters when we are being led to believe that what we hear accurately represents the underlying performance.

When we see magicians perform tricks, we know they are not defying the laws of nature with their magic. Showmanship, sleight of hand, and consensual deception contribute to the entertainment. But that is also the essence of the art form—to sow that seed in the mind of the audience—”Whoa! How on Earth did they do that? I think this person actually IS a wizard!”

We might then ask ourselves how we want to approach and engage with art:1. As entertainment where we passively consume what we’re being fed (the artist as performer, putting on a show for the audience to observe – where process matters less than product) 2. As participation, where we are an active part of the creative act (the artist as a facilitator, inviting the audience into an exploration of what it means to be human – where the how matters just as much as the what)

There is space for technology like pitch correction. It works as a creative tool, a choice, and is applied to support our work. It can help us “find the music” in many things, fix mistakes, and develop fascinating new sound palettes.

Art developed by AI can help us think more deeply about what it means to be human. But only if it’s not being used to replace what it means to be human or to make us believe it’s a direct primary expression made by our hands (and voices).

Just Because You Can, It Doesn’t Mean You MustWhen our judgement of “good vocals” is how accurate they are to the lines, we potentially sacrifice elements that make a human voice truly compelling and attractive: the character, the expression, the tone, and the natural imperfections that arise from a human being. When we over-perfect ourselves, we lose our humanity. We iron out emotion, vulnerability, fragility, and the beauty that teeters on the ledge between holding it together and things falling apart.

When we strive for perfection, we compress our voices into homogeneous sameness. But life only flourishes when we embrace the blemishes. A community thrives through a celebration of our differences, not a moulding of sameness. And it’s when we allow, enjoy, encourage, and celebrate our differences the creative human spirit flies.

Progress Towards Utopian BlandnessProgress isn’t the pursuit of perfection; it’s the invitation to what is alive, needed, and present from moment to moment. For life to truly grow, we must invite all aspects of ourselves rather than ironing them out. Life becomes dull and meaningless when we become mechanically bland, robotic, productivity-focused creatures without authentically weird tonal sounds, odd quirks, and funny ways of expressing ourselves.

We might want to conceal, tamp down, and hide those vulnerable parts that make us feel self-conscious. However, those aspects of who we are sit at the core of our unique creative sound.

If we lack confidence or are a little unsure of ourselves, it won’t take much to convince us of the benefits of proverbial (or literal) pitch correction. But we need “producers” (friends, communities, families, professionals) who instil confidence. People who help build the confidence we have in OUR voice. Supporting us to sound like us. And we can be that for others, too.

Rather than helping people fit in and sound the same as everyone else, they encourage each other to connect with and express the bits that sound different. Embrace imperfection. Enjoy it. Encourage it. Celebrate it. Because of life’s blemished beauty, there are many spaces to explore inside, outside, and between us.

Meet Me At The FiresideWhether you’re seeking to reach a specific goal, complete a project, or explore the whispers of your soul, you might be interested in my ​Fireside Program​. Together, we’ll navigate the noise so you can unearth your sound and express your voice.

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It’s common to hear suggestions such as “spend time in nature” or “get out into nature” to improve our well-being. We instinctively know that being outside benefits us, and we usually don’t need to be reminded of its importance. Rarely do we read such advice and think, “Oh, that’s an interesting concept. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Obstacles to “self-care” are rarely due to our unawareness of what supports our needs. Instead, they exist because of a complex range of constraints, including limited time and access to green spaces. Additionally, the belief that everything we do needs to be productive or valuable can trip us up. This mindset can make it difficult for us to recognise the simple things we already do to support our well-being and to overthink (and compartmentalise) the options for bringing more soul-nurturing activities into our everyday lives.

Creativity as a CornerstoneCreativity offers a bridge to reconnect with nature and fulfil our need for purpose. It allows us to slow down without feeling guilty about “wasting time,” especially if we’ve been conditioned to believe that value stems solely from measurable achievements. Creative pursuits can provide a sense of progress without the pressure for tangible results.

We recently explored this question in The Haven: How can creativity facilitate our connection with nature and exploration of the world around us?

One response challenged the notion that “getting out in nature” requires venturing far or dedicating extended periods. They shared their simple morning ritual involving a short walk to a nearby park with a religious shrine. There, they sit amidst nature, allowing themselves to be present without specific creative intentions. Yet this ritual sets a creative tone for their day, fostering a sense of connection and rhythm.

Someone else highlighted the value of our perspective when we look beyond the twelve inches to the screens on our computers and devices. Stepping outside and “touching grass” can help untangle mind knots. I imagine we all have experiences of that.

Spending Time in Nature is a Result of Other ThingsOthers shared examples of integrating creativity into everyday activities. For instance, rather than focusing solely on the goal of an exercise, making it enjoyable through playful approaches can enhance engagement and effectiveness.

We sometimes confuse actions with results. For instance, if we aim to spend more time in nature because we know it’s good for our well-being, we can make it happen by focusing on a creative project. This way, spending time in nature becomes a by-product of our creative play rather than a task itself. This is similar to physiotherapy, where the ultimate objective might be strengthening a specific body part, but “getting stronger” results from other actions. It can be helpful to think about aspirations for well-being in the same way. What if “getting out into nature” just happens because it’s where our creativity, relationships, and curiosity take us?

We talked about different ways creativity can help us connect with nature. From collecting materials for artistic endeavours and junk journaling to letting the imagination get sparked by natural patterns, shapes, and tones and allowing us to see the abundant and excessive beauty in the world around us. Noticing and observing the tendencies of life can be an antidote to the unnatural pressures from particular messages about efficiency, productivity, and control that we are taught to see as natural, where everything must have a measurable purpose, articulatable point, and a learning objective attached to make it worthy of attention and time.

So, how can we use creativity to explore the natural world around us?* Find as many faces as you can in the trees * Photograph the clouds and tell stories based on the shapes you see * Collect unique leaves as natural art supplies * Build a den or fort using found materials * Record the sounds of water or birds (listen back and notice what you didn’t notice in real-time) * Take close-up photos of things you’ve walked past a thousand times * Create handmade gifts using discarded treasures from the forest floor

Over to YouThese are just a few examples of the countless creative ways to engage with nature. Do you have any more to add?

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Have you ever had a tranquil moment trampled on by strangers?

We’ve been exploring the phrase “I’m a hole, I’m not alone” as a creative play prompt in The Haven. As a group largely comprised of introverted and highly sensitive people, our conversation moved to thinking about holes as hiding places, nests, and sanctuaries. In other words, spaces with conditions for rest, connection, and growth away from strangers.

It’s not that strangers are bad. Some are, after all, friends we haven’t yet met. But we need conditions (moments/environments/rituals) that help us engage non-judgmentally with our creative spirit. And that’s a lot harder when our nervous system is busy working out who and what is safe to trust. We need places to explore and express our silly selves without worrying about what others will think.

Stranger DangerFor a highly sensitive temperament, the presence of others can adversely impact our engagement with an experience, situation, or activity. One of the original characteristics of the Highly Sensitive Person Test is, “When I must compete or be observed while performing a task, I become so nervous or shaky that I do much worse than I would otherwise.” It makes sense that the presence of an unusual observer is construed as a threat for the nervous system to respond to, mobilising flight/fight/freeze energy and maybe even withdrawal/shut down.

This is something I work on with many people. We need to find gentle ways to create conditions that work WITH and not against our nervous systems in “performance” situations. Whether we are being assessed, observed, or simply perceiving ourselves as being under scrutiny in everyday life, the added “threat” of an observer can make performing under pressure an even greater challenge than it already is.

Strangers in the SystemI felt an amusing surge of “strangers present” alertness kick in when I was in Lapland, and three strangers entered our gondola during a serene sunset journey up Ylläs. This activation isn’t easy to bring down when it arrives unexpectedly, even when, rationally, there is no need for it.

There was no genuine threat from these people. They are probably quite nice. But it changed the experience because my nervous system went from sensing safety (just the four of us in the cable car) to signalling danger (unexpected items in the bagging area). That shift meant I could no longer engage and express myself without running words and actions through my self-consciousness filter. It was fascinating to notice. I managed to channel it into comedy rage (which I was able to share later).

I describe the story here…

Many of the sensitive people I work with struggle with being observed. They can do something perfectly when practising in a low-stimulation environment. Yet, as soon as it feels like they’re being watched, their nervous system becomes protective and engages in the activated flight/fight/freeze energy. Or they shut down and withdraw from the situation altogether.

Maybe we can flip the characteristic around… “When I am in a spirit of acceptance and collaboration, I become more playful, creative, and able to do much better than I would otherwise.” This might help us consider what more favourable conditions would be for us. We need to get gondolas in place. Holes of stillness, solitude, and calm allow us to experiment, grow, and play without judgement. Away from noisy demands and pressures that can throw us off our course and onto someone else’s.

When we have nurturing, creative, non-judgemental sanctuaries, we are better able to respond when a stranger climbs in uninvited. Because they will, and when they do, we can roll our eyes, shake our heads, and laugh it off (eventually).

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I’ve been looking for a new home on social media this year. Like many people, I’ve been nomadic regarding relaying my online foundations post-Twitter for a while. I might be approaching options like Goldilocks (too corporate, hostile, self-congratulatory, noisy, blah, etc). Maybe I’m being too picky.

Algorithms killed something in social media. When Twitter turned them on and changed the organic network into one with an ever-evolving monster with an insatiable appetite for our engaging “content”. No longer could we start conversations with those who followed us; we had to “earn attention” by being as appealing (provocative/emotional) as possible.

For some, the most frustrating aspect of social media algorithms is how hard it is to reach others. For me, it’s how hard it is to be reached by posts that give me a richly diverse range of reasons to be joyful and hopeful. The algorithms are often so sensitive to what they think we need that they overwhelm us with more of what we already have in our bowl.

Meaningful Connection Is Full of SurprisesIt’s like you’re at a buffet filled with diverse and unfamiliar foods. The Algorithm follows you and watches as you explore what’s on offer. Something piques your curiosity and catches your attention enough to make you pause. “I’ll give that a go”, you think, adding a spoonful to your bowl. The Algorithm clicks its fingers, and suddenly, the whole buffet table changes. Quick! He wants porridge. Fill the table with porridge!

Out in the kitchen, the creators are busy making porridge. “He loves porridge!” Each chef pours a bag of oats into their many pans. They all run out to fill the serving receptacles on the table. The one who gets there first (they’ve paid their monthly subscription for a super fast heating fire hob) says, “I see you have porridge…if you like porridge, you should try porridge”.

“But I have porridge”.

“Not like this porridge.”

“Yes, it looks just like the porridge in my bowl.”

A crowd of porridge creators emerges from the kitchen and marches towards you…“You’ll love porridge if you love porridge”.

“Well, yeah. You’re not saying anything!”

Suddenly, your desire for porridge fizzles out. “Enough already, I hate porridge!” You shout to get some peace…

“Ahem, excuse me”, a voice emerges from behind you. “If you hate porridge, you’ll love my anti-porridge porridge; join us in the stand against porridge.”

“What is it?” You ask curiously.

“Well”, they declare confidently…”it’s NOT porridge!”

Numbed By The AlgorithmThis is my biggest concern. Algorithms breed indifference and numbness through overexposure and productive commodification of everything. They’re training us to see social relations as transactional negotiations and sales pitches.

Algorithms make it hard because they overwhelm the senses with a compressed view of humanity. They deliver what they assume we want, taking us deeper into the Like Mind. But they can’t provide nuance, variety, or topics we have shown few previous references to or interest in. They are the complete opposite of an authentic social experience with strangers.

As someone who loves to connect dots and find unexpected creative corridors to explore, algorithms are a direct obstacle to creativity. They prevent the weird and wonderful combinations of disparate, unrelated forces from smushing together unexpectedly. They turn a beautifully diverse, contradictory, imperfect technicolour world full of collective potential into a monochromatic list of individuals trying to sell their services to people who sit in the same superficial boxes as us.

Maybe I’m hoping for the impossible, but I don’t want to live in a chamber that echoes with nothing but the sound of porridge.

Over to YouHave you found anywhere? I’d love to know!

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Much of the mess and chaos we see around us in contemporary discourse stems from our relationship with rules. And some of the frustrations we might experience when it comes to making meaningful changes in life are underpinned by how we hold the seen and unseen rules in our lives.

Humans love to know the rules. As a social species, it makes sense. They are a vital part of our deep biological operating system. They give us information and filters necessary for safety and survival. Many are unspoken, but you’ll soon know if you break them.

Our intrinsic desire for rules is also big business. Our bookshelves and social media feeds are full of them.

We want rules for life, advice on how to live, and commandments for success, creativity, and even punks.

Rules are (Not) Meant to Be BrokenThe creative human spirit flourishes through our relationship with rules. When we have a healthy relationship with them, rules become tangible boundaries to bend, play with, question, and push back on, if necessary, to find better options and possibilities following their purpose.

They become the points of friction we rub along with to discover who we are and what makes us tick.

Our Rules Concerning RulesIf we relate to them from a state of healthy connection, rules give us a license to grow in creative and innovative ways. We choose how to engage with them. We might accept them, push back against them, use and build on them, or find alternative ways to address the issue they are created for.

On the other hand, if we have an unhealthy relationship with rules, they become existential threats or unquestionable protectors. Commands to subvert or follow, no matter what. You probably know people who fall on one end of this or the other. Either they reject anything perceived as a higher authority telling them what to do, or they can’t function without knowing exactly how to act, what to wear, and who to judge for getting it wrong.

We might have inadvertently developed some rules when it comes to the rules:

1. Rules are bad – They are there to control us – break them to stay free
2. Rules are good – They are there for a reason, and even if we disagree with them, they should be followed because authority is authority

Both reflect a hierarchical way of structuring the social order in our mind. Viewing our status through comparative competition against others, we see people less as people and more as symbols of the position or identity they represent. Our self-concept depends on us knowing where we sit relative to others. We might think of this as an adaptive social survival mechanism.

This vertical (hierarchical) social perspective makes mindless rule-breaking or indiscriminate compliance a go-to defence pattern. Different sides of the same coin stemming from our biological imperative for safety. To fight or flee from authoritarian control (a threat to my freedom) or something to go along with to remain inconspicuous.

Contrarianism and ComplianceSometimes, a person might say they’re looking for rules to follow. But a pattern soon emerges, where they resist and reject anything resembling a “rule”. They are stuck in a loop, looking for rules to help them escape their current frustration, but unable to settle on a path for long before it becomes something against which to rebel. It feels like a looming authority figure backing them into a corner. They are often master self-saboteurs because they shut the door on progress at the slightest whiff of feeling told what to do, even if the person telling them what to do is themselves.

Other people might move in the opposite direction, looking for the correct way to do everything. Their creative muscles become stiff, and they might experience a conflict between what they want (to express and explore themselves and the world creatively) and what they seek (blueprints and instructions to avoid getting it wrong). Rules for writing? They can often become very successful but might give all their time and energy to things they don’t care about, believe in, or have any passion for.

Constructing, Deconstructing, and Reconstructing The Rule BookRules help us grow. Not because they’re correct. But because they give us scaffolding around which to build.

In a world without rules, we will create them.

• They provide tracks for momentum with a community’s vision, values, and needs.
• They give us a pathway to follow to achieve a specific outcome.
• They allow creativity to rise and reconnect with the progressive spirit in the foundations of orthodoxy (i.e. how current rules started as ideas that transcended old dogmas).

I wonder if we have entered another dogmatic chapter in history, where many people seek leaders, movements, and organisations to give us rules to follow. This could be interpreted as an explicit desire for certainty in an uncertain world. Or a need for moral guidance in a world where integrity and social conscience are lacking in leadership.

But our quest for rigid rules and someone or something to tell us how to live and what to think could also be understood as a quiet call from the creative spirit within. The part of us needs rules to connect with ourselves, one another, and the future more meaningfully and creatively. We want to move forward; for that to happen, we need rules to lean against, resist, and break.

Without rules, we become groundless. We lose the conditions for meaningful progress.

But it’s not all good news for those who love creating and enforcing rules they think people should follow. Your rules are helpful because we get to explore, bend, and break them. Some are timeless, others will work well, at least for now. And some provide a catalyst for innovation and change. Your rule book may become outdated very soon. That’s just the nature of the rules.

We All Need Something To Rail AgainstWhen they’re doing it healthily, formative authority figures understand their role in this process. For example, parents, teachers, community elders, and politicians ought to be willing to be disliked by those they are responsible for. They reinforce rules even if it makes them unpopular. They recognise their responsibility to raise the next generation of critical thinkers and well-functioning subjective individuals by presenting regulations and, without saying it out loud, encouraging room for them to be played with and perhaps even broken.

We can’t underestimate the importance of rebelliousness growing up. Holes in the system that allow us to bend and break specific rules. For healthy growth to occur, those in charge quietly want us to find these sites of transgression to find more of who we are.

Rules Provide Friction For GrowthIt’s not helpful to be told, “Do what you want” without limits. There are no points of friction that allow character and personality to be formed in a healthy way. This might transform into a quest for dogmatic moral frameworks to categorise the world and carve a sense of self-identity.

It’s not helpful to be told, “Do what I say, don’t question my authority, I’m correct no matter what”, without reason or explanation. Our self-concept is under the shadow of an authority that moulds us into (and reproduces through us) its likeness. We might subconsciously turn this on its head and fall into indiscriminate patterns of rebellion and cynicism, making us insufferable to others.

In some ways, coaching is about raising awareness about our relationship with rules. What are the patterns we follow without thought or question? Why do we reach a point where we can never break the resistance? What rules have we set about ourselves, our potential, and the pool of options we must limit ourselves to when crafting and carving the future?

Over to youWhat is your relationship like with rules? Do you tend to see rules and want to break them? Or do you tend to see rules to follow? Maybe it depends on the context.

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This week I want to share some notes I wrote to myself after reflecting on how my relationship with people pleasing and criticism has changed through ten years running The Haven.

2024 is The Haven’s tenth anniversary and I’ve been thinking about some of the lessons I’ve learned during that time. Join me on Instagram for more reflections. I’m also exploring Threads to see how it feels. If you’re on there, I’d love to connect – I’m here if you are.

If you want to create, lead, or build things involving other people, these notes might resonate…

On Letting Go and Ending WellSome people are after things you can’t or don’t want to provide. Have the courage to let go, even if it means losing them for now.

Point them to more appropriate and helpful solutions for their needs where possible.

If you end these relationships well, they will remember how you made them feel. That memory may prompt them to return down the line.

People naturally come and go. Don’t take it personally when they choose to move on. Don’t fight to cling on. Just think of it as the right time (even if you DON’T believe it’s the right time).

On Wanting To Be LikedNot everything you do will appeal to everyone. People have different needs, desires, and learning styles. If you try second-guessing and mitigating every potential response (and complaint) to every little thing, you risk watering things down and speaking to no one.

Marmite tastes great to the people who love it.

On Receiving Feedback (and Criticism)Be specific when asking for feedback. Know what you’re asking for and why. What do you want to improve or grow as a result? Is feedback going to help or hinder you?

Be aware when receiving unsolicited feedback.

Be clear about what you don’t need to hear right now (it might be helpful, but it may also derail progress at this stage).

On ListeningPay attention and express a genuine interest in people. Everyone has a story to tell. But not everyone (especially interesting people) is forthcoming in divulging everything unless you carve out meaningful time with them.

You can’t begin to understand unless you actively listen.

The community is a hive of wisdom. You don’t have all the answers and don’t need to.

You are facilitating space for people to explore, collaborate, and create.

On Rejecting Criticism (Without Rejecting People)Criticism can help you see blind spots, but it also allows you to recognise things you DON’T want to change, pursue, or build. Sometimes, core values only become apparent when someone says you should do things differently.

Identify internal resistance and ask yourself what it’s telling you.

If someone’s words spark a defensive reaction in you, leave as much time as possible between the stimulus and your response.

Sometimes, resistance is a doorway to truth. Other times, it’s telling you to ignore the loudest voices in the room. Practice listening and noticing.

And practice letting go of unhelpful criticism without rejecting and dehumanising the critic.

On CommunicationKeep the lines of communication open and facilitate a sense of safety so that people know it’s okay to make mistakes, get things wrong, and express their uncertainties.

Safety includes the freedom to leave at any time and knowing how to do that.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou

Over to YouDo any of these points speak to you? Any that you would add to your own list? I’d love to hear in the comments below or via social media.

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When setting out on a new endeavour or goal, the advice we often get is to start small and grow from there. It makes sense because we can naturally get ahead of ourselves. Either we are trying to run before we can walk, worrying about bridges further down the river, or frustratingly comparing ourselves with those who have more experience and skill.

But there’s an issue with the idea of starting small; it can sometimes trip us up. It holds an implicit assumption that we should always be aiming big.

We celebrate ambition for scaling up, expanding, and shooting for the stars.

A quick search reveals synonyms for “scale-up” like flourishing, thriving, prospering, succeeding, and soaring. Scaling down is replaced by depreciating, diminishing, devaluing, and limiting. Whether or not we mean it, there is a value judgement there. Aiming for bigger is a sign of strength, and aiming for smaller is shameful.

These are interesting things to consider when living a life of meaning and quality.

How often have we seen scaling up bring a depreciation of product and service quality, a downgrade of materials and care from artisanal craftsmanship to manufacturing, and a blandification of ideas when outsourcing to those who aren’t connected to it in any meaningful sense? And those who have experienced mainstream success pining to return to the essence and simplicity of their treasured craft. The lesson is be aware of what you’re wishing for and consider alternative definitions of success that give you what you actually want.

Lessons From Norma’s Double R DinerThis is one of the gentle threads in Twin Peaks: The Return, in which Norma Jennings, the owner of the iconic Double R Diner, has turned it into a franchise. There are now several branches of Norma’s Double R around Washington State, which are all more successful than the flagship diner (i.e. they make more money). Norma’s soon-to-be ex-business (and romantic) partner, Walter, tries convincing her to source cheaper ingredients and change the recipes for the pies in her original diner to make them easier to mass-produce. Much to Walter’s confusion and anger, Norma refuses to follow his advice and asks him to buy her out of the franchises so she can focus on running the core diner and spending time with the people she loves.

The Double R makes enough money, and Norma takes great pride in the food she creates and serves. It nourishes the stomachs and souls of all who pass through.

Although we don’t see it on screen, it’s easy to imagine the start of this journey. The Walter’s of the world say, “Start small with one diner, and then you can scale up from there”. But what if one diner is enough? Why would more diners make things better? What compromises would need to be made?

It’s a retelling of the fisherman and the banker where the logical fallacy at the heart of indiscriminate scaling leads us back to the start. The wisdom gained from growing big is the desire to return to smaller and simpler for a more meaningful life.

Growth Is Not LinearOf course, aiming high and scaling up isn’t innately bad. That’s not my point here. In fact, suggesting big is bad ends up with the same problem in reverse. But I would love to see the same appreciation for aiming deep and planning to keep things small. How would it look for aiming small to be a legitimate and respected choice?

Perpetual linear scale is unnatural. The laws of nature mean things don’t keep getting bigger indefinitely. But growth changes its complexion once it peaks. It might look like deeper wisdom, maturity, support, acceptance, and gentleness as the physical body wears, tears, and falls apart.

Big = Best is a Self-Limiting BeliefIn coaching conversations, I sometimes see this self-limiting belief. Except it’s rarely recognised as such. In fact, we often think of limiting beliefs as causing us to aim too small with our dreams.

Can we start small, aim small, and remain small without compromising the integrity of what we do? Can we aim small with profound freedom and ambition? Maybe growing something simple, small, and inconspicuously successful IS the big dream.

It sounds counter-intuitive to see aiming big as a limiting belief. Everything in the personal and business development world points in the other direction regarding allowing yourself to grow and prosper. But this is something worth examination and scrutiny. Is this kind of perpetual “up-and-to-the-right” mindset a belief that limits our ability to imagine a simpler, smaller, and more sustainable future?

Many conversations I’ve experienced suggest this could be true. There is often a desire beneath the noise of the culturally ingrained message of scaling up at all costs to keep things small, simple, and meaningful.

We’ve all seen scale, size, and growth ruin good things. It encourages organisations to skimp on important elements like customer service, quality ingredients, and maintaining deep knowledge and craftsmanship in employees. So, what if we had some different ways of measuring the value of our endeavours?

Maybe finding a way to do small sustainably is a more effective path for you. Perhaps you not only want to start small but to aim and remain small, too. This is not a flaw or failure. But it might require some fundamental rewiring when it comes to the normalised and naturalised cultural messages about the limits of aiming small.

Starting Small Case By CaseTo reiterate, it’s not that we shouldn’t want to scale up and make big things. But we should know why we want those things, and pursuing them should be our choice rather than our default.

For many of us, the idea of growing too big can actually stop us from starting. I’ve felt this tension in my music ambitions over the years and it’s been a question for me when it comes to running The Haven. I don’t want it to get so big that I don’t know every member who wants to be known by name. I don’t want it to get so big that I have no capacity to be present in the live happenings and forums.

So, what if “aiming small” could be our objective from the beginning? How would that change our relationship with our goals and projects? What could it make possible?

Here are some questions I’ve found helpful for considering the state of our ambition with particular goals and projects.

What does growth mean…* To you? * To your idea? * To the world?

The cost of growing too big…* To you? * To your idea? * To others? * To the wider world?

The cost of staying small…* To you? * To your idea? * To others? * To the wider world?

A payoff from aiming big…* To you? * To your idea? * To others? * To the wider world?

A payoff from aiming small…* To you? * To your idea? * To others? * To the wider world?

If any of this rings true and you’d like to spend time untangling it with me, you can book a Pick The Lock call. We will explore your relationship with growth and peel back layers around your ambition for a particular project/goal or in life more widely. Learn more here.

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James Clear, author of Atomic Habits, Tweeted, “Life is short. And if life is short, then moving quickly matters. Launch the product. Write the book. Ask the question. Take the chance. Be thoughtful, but get moving.”

It caught my attention because it floated into my feed during the Rapid Response art exhibition at the LTB Showrooms in Coventry. It resonated with the visual-sound collage I contributed to the collection, which explored nervous system responses to cultural ideas around time scarcity.

The Autonomic Nervous System and The Story That “Life is Short”If we’re in an autonomic state of connection, this message might feel like a positive invitation to take action on a meaningful thing. If we’re in a protective state, we might interpret it as an urgent threat requiring immediate action.

How does the current state of your nervous system respond to the essence of this message?

The story is instinctively familiar. We don’t need to be told that life is finite and time is short.

If we’re in a regulated autonomic state, we might feel a warm buzz of energy at the thought of making progress on meaningful pursuits. But telling ourselves “we must act because life is short and we’re running out of time” might not be the best way to access this state. In fact, it might send us into a spiral of anxiety and foggy restlesssness.

“Act now because life is short” can narrow our lens on the world and limit our ability to think creatively. It primes us for reactive, impulsive choices that promise us safety from the threat of time. It doesn’t matter which direction we go, just as long as we don’t stop moving. The need to “be thoughtful” is drowned out by the noise of existential urgency.

The Fuel of UrgencyMany of us have been trained to use the fuel of urgency to motivate action. But when we do, we can lose the ability to pause, check, and intentionally choose the best way to proceed. The pause to check is a core survival function of a highly sensitive nervous system. This trait has evolved with many species, including humans, to help co-regulate the collective nervous system and prioritise conditions for social safety, innovation, and creative exploration.

A well-regulated nervous system also sends biological cues of safety to others. This is contagious and spreads within a group. Acceptance and belonging allow us to connect with our senses and perceive the world within, around, and between us with openness and awareness.

It is from this state of co-regulated stillness where the parasympathetic nervous system permits the body to rest and digest.

We are creatures of rhythm. There is time for action and time for stillness. Time to move and time to pause. Time to react quickly and time to respond slowly.

“It’s Better To Be Wrong Than To Be Still”One response to James Clear’s tweet stood out above the rest. It read, “It’s better to be wrong than to be still.”

As you might imagine, these words left me scratching my head. What does it mean? “Don’t think, just do…something…anything”? “It doesn’t matter as long as you don’t pause”? To be honest, I’m still unsure. But, yikes!

It strikes me as the mantra of this world we’ve hurtled towards and find ourselves trying to make sense of today.

Perhaps it’s the reason we rarely pause to check in with what our sensory sensitivities and neurological perceptions are telling us. Other responses to the tweet seem to reinforce this. One person wrote, “A sense of urgency is a prerequisite to success”. That was another head scratcher. I would argue just as easily that a sense of urgency is also a prerequisite to failure. So definitely not a one-size-fits all philosophy for life.

Why are so many people afraid of slowing down and resting our urgent spirits?

When It Feels Safer To PanicMaybe it’s what Deb Dana describes as the draw to our “home away from home”, where we gravitate to the draining familiarity of a defensive autonomic state (sympathetic fight/flight or dorsal shutdown). When this happens, our nervous system might take some strange comfort from the world feeling urgent, hostile, and like a zero-sum competition.

In fact, some people appear relieved when they find permission to reside in this home away from home. For example, when gifted a celebrity scandal to be outraged by, a moral panic to buy into (or rail against), a trending rabbit hole of information to fall into, hoard, and become consumed by.

Perhaps we have become disconnected from our natural social instincts, leading us to perceive the world as urgent, hostile, and ultra-competitive. This story becomes ingrained to the extent that time itself feels like a monster to control and dominate. We view the brevity of life as an enemy to overcome with productivity hacks and indiscriminate efficiency targets.

In other words, we fall under the tyranny of scarcity, where we lose ourselves in an anxious pursuit of striving, grasping, and clinging to something that is forever slightly out of reach. Manufacturing, creating, and producing conditions that are fuelled and sustained by urgency.

The modern world can overwhelm us with noise and distractions, but we don’t have to let it. Gentle rebellion questions and pushes against stories of coercion, manipulation, and power over nature that disconnect us from ourselves.

More Stillness, Slowness, and Depth are a Good Approach Because Life is ShortTo pick out some of the responses that gave my nervous system some creatively mobilising energy, “Sure, life is short, so maybe we should slow down and experience it.”

“But also, since life is short, take it slower. Cherish the current moments in your life and know that things aren’t as serious as they seem.”

Life is short. Don’t rush it. Savour the flavours, colours, and textures when they arrive. Move towards but don’t force before its time. Begin with the knowledge that today is enough. If this is where it ends, we are already there. Complete. Maybe everything else from here on in is simply an unfolding adventure.

Be a place of stillness in the ebb and flow of the collective nervous system. Co-regulate. Create. Encourage. See this moment in the bigger picture. See the bigger picture within this moment. It’s all we have. Now.

Striving is a rupture in time. When we tear ourselves from where we are, we relocate beyond the reach of the perpetual present. Stillness brings connection. A seasoned through-line perimeter. Cyclical and linear. Straight and curved. A rhythm that moves, carries, and returns. Who we are, where we are, back to where we’re going.

Maybe today is the day to begin that project, send that message, write that book. Perhaps this is the perfect chance to take that chance. But only if you’re feeling the hum. The buzz. The creative energy of possibility. Otherwise, today might be the day to rest. To be still. To co-regulate together. No demands, pressures, or expectations.

Today doesn’t need to be productive. It doesn’t need to be remarkable or memorable.

That doesn’t mean it won’t be.

But we won’t know until we know. And by then, who knows…

Still TimeStill Time was inspired by responses to the question, “If tomorrow was your last day on earth, what would you choose to do (or not do)?“. Listen to the song here.

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If tomorrow was your last day on earth, what would you choose to do (or not do)?

I asked this question to attendees of a recent “Rapid Response” exhibition I was part of at the LTB Showrooms in Coventry. It spoke to the urgency of imminent change, inspired by the building’s limited lifespan as it faces its final days before demolition and redevelopment.

The situation inspired a song (Still Time). Attendees helped me write it. And the building itself performed the beats.

Scarcity, Clarity, and StillnessFor better or worse, facing a closing door brings home the gravity of our choices. It can help us see more clearly and recognise what matters most. The weight of things that feel important when time seems abundant is jettisoned as we consider their proper place when we see a looming change on the horizon.

The sound collage I created for the exhibition aimed to capture the state shifts our autonomic nervous system goes through under some prominent cultural messaging about time. We might feel the pressure to dominate time’s natural flow, tether time’s value to monetary measurements, and believe we must rinse a productive outcome from every waking moment.

But I wanted to get beneath some of these narratives and explore a more organic relationship with time (and what it makes possible). Universal points of connection that we share as humans when we allow ourselves to be human. It reminded me of Bronnie Ware’s ‘​Top Five Regrets of The Dying​‘, compiled from conversations she had with people in hospice care at the end of their lives.

The Top Five Regrets of The Dying1. “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.” 2. “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.” 3. “I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.” 4. “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.” 5. “I wish I had let myself be happier.

The responses certainly resonated with Bronnie’s observations.

I purposefully infused ambiguity into the core question. I wondered if people would make assumptions and fill in the blanks.

If tomorrow was your last day on Earth, what would you choose to do (or not do)?

I wanted to subvert any emphasis on regret and explore a day infused with gratitude.

How Did People Respond?Some refused to consider the question because it felt too depressing. Of those who did respond, some assumed that the last day on Earth meant death, while others took it to mean they were headed elsewhere on an interplanetary adventure. Some imagined they would deal with it alone, but it was seen as a collective challenge for others, with everyone in the same boat of existential demise.

I loved how different these underlying assumptions were. Seeing the common threads—the things we share- made it all the more poignant.

It turns out that some people would create things. Play music. Sing songs.

Some would hang out with loved ones in and around bodies of water. There would be picnics, drinks, and stories shared of days gone by. Challenging conversations, letters of love and regret, and putting right what’s currently dangling.

Many felt drawn home to familiar spots where they would enjoy the natural beauty in meaningful places around them.

The lack of novelty surprised me. There was a sense of peace. Bucket lists left at the door along with the drive to accomplish replaced by a desire to connect.

The Sound of One Door ClosingThe beat came from creaking floors and opening/closing doors around the LTB showrooms. I spent an afternoon collecting found sounds around the building to let the building speak before it is due to fall silent.

I discovered that the sound of a door closing is sometimes hard to distinguish from the sound of a door opening. Old doors can be creaky, squeaky, heavy, and slow.

There’s a metaphor in there. Of course, there is. Maybe it’s a reminder that there is still time. There are still things to explore. People to laugh with. Creative endeavours to “waste” time on. I loved that people would spend time creating things during their final day. Not for productive purposes but simply because it’s who we are as humans.

I would love to hear your response to that question. How do you feel about the idea of answering it?

Listen to Still Time now. You can support it by pre-saving it to your favourite streaming platform. That will give it a little nudge into more people’s ears on official release day.

Join me in The Haven Courtyard on Sunday, 17th December, when I will chat more about the story behind the song and explore some of the themes that came up in answers to the question that inspired it…Register here

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This post was inspired by my invitation to take part in the ​HSP Awakening Virtual Summit​ (October 2023). It contained a range of talks looking at different aspects of high sensitivity and its implications in our lives. My talk was called Rewriting Our Story Through The Lens of Sensitivity. You can watch the replay here.

It clicked when I read The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron. Maybe this was why I never seemed to fit neatly into psychometric categories and personality boxes (does anyone, really?)

Earlier this year, Jen Corcoran invited me to contribute to the summit, exploring how we can reframe our story through the lens of sensitivity. Reframing was a valuable part of my process of bringing awareness, understanding, and integration of the biological trait of sensory processing sensitivity.

I was naturally drawn to reframing as a way to learn more about the trait and reshape my relationship with experiences through life when I felt like I’d missed a meeting – or like I was an alien that landed on a world that didn’t make much sense.

The Five NecessitiesIn the book, Elaine Aron encourages highly sensitive people to do five things as we learn more about who we are in light of the trait…

1. Understand The Trait is RealSensory Processing Sensitivity is a biological trait that evolved and has been observed in over a hundred species. It’s not a personality type. It impacts how we perceive and process the environment and has obvious evolutionary benefits as an individual and collective survival strategy.

2. Reframe Your Childhood In Light of the TraitTake time alone or with someone else to contextualise childhood experiences within the sensitivity frame. Notice times when you felt alive and connected and when the world (and its expectations/demands/values) felt alien and overwhelming.

3. Heal Past WoundsGive yourself space and grace to process and heal from experiences you continue to hold in your body. The environment around us affects highly sensitive people positively and negatively (differential susceptibility). But the story is not written in stone. Things can change. Be patient, gentle with yourself, and curious about the possibilities.

4. Don’t Try To Fit InYou need time to absorb and process if you’re high in sensory sensitivity. The societal pace and rhythms are unlikely to support this because the noisy flow never ceases. Don’t try to live like the 80%. Instead, allow yourself space to explore your needs and design life (as much as possible) to allow your nervous system to stay regulated and connected in service of what matters to you.

5. Be With Other HSPsSpending time connecting with another highly sensitive person or group of HSPs can be beautiful. It isn’t easy to describe, but a calming and creatively generative energy arises when we have permission to be. That’s what happens whenever we gather in The Haven.

What’s The Point of Reframing Through The Lens of Sensitivity?Reframing gives us a way of reconnecting with who we are in the experiences and decisions we might have lost or neglected ourselves. It allows us to identify why we might have made particular choices and the autonomic nervous system context surrounding reactions in certain situations.

In essence, reframing is about healing the story we hold within. Allowing our sensitivity to rise and become part of the whole it belongs to. By reframing, rewriting, and reconciling, we invite the past into the present in a newly integrated way, so our many parts can work together.

How Can Reframing Help?Reframing helps us develop new and fresh perspectives on past experiences. We might remember times when something in us felt out of place. Maybe something was going well, and someone poured a cold bucket of water on it.

Reframing invites healing and forgiveness (of ourselves and others). Forgiveness can allow us to let go of the grip our unprocessed stories might have on our present freedom.

Reframing gives us a way to recognise, accept, and permit emotions that used to be prohibited. We can begin exploring ways to feel them again. This can give us a light to help recognise and navigate the needs beneath the feelings we have previously learned to ignore and bypass.

Reframing brings awareness to our cues of safety, connection, and danger. By recognising how high sensitivity and the nervous system interact, we can create conditions for more regulation in and around our lives.

Reframing also shows us feelings, responsibilities, and tasks we have taken on that aren’t ours to cling to.

As part of the summit, I gave away The Gentle Rebel book and a reframing sound anchor, which both contain my reframing reflections. In the book, I took a light-hearted journey through Elaine Aron’s HSP self-test and applied them to some of my life experiences.

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There’s part of me that wants to stay and part of me that wants to go.
Something in me loves to play, and something in me loves to work.
There’s an urge in me to run and an urge to hold my ground.
There’s part of me that feels at home and a part of me that doesn’t fit.
Part of me is calling for adventure, and part of me wants everything to stay the same.
Part of me is excited to perform in this space, and part of me is screaming, “No!”

Do you ever wonder why you put yourself through it?

The thing that feels deeply energising and invigorating one minute and downright terrifying the next.

Under the watchful eye of Lady Godiva (Daimler Powerhouse, Coventry) – Friday 15th September 2023 | Photos by Ezra Leese and @jonathanskirton_mediaWhat is IT for you?I played on Friday night at a fantastic Sofar Sounds event at the Daimler Powerhouse in Coventry.

During Luca FD’s beautiful set, before I was due on stage, I noticed my autonomic executive board working overtime to figure out what to do with this situation. The attention of a room focussed on the front. The most precious gift for any performer – a calm and silent audience, primed to be absorbed in the sound.

Transcript From The Autonomic Emergency Board Meeting“We feel a bit unsettled. What are we doing here? Are we preparing to run away?” The inner voices mutter anxiously. “No, I think he has chosen to put us through this”, another part adds.
“Why, what’s he got planned?” There’s silence for a moment before we turn and look at the stage where Luca is performing.
“Well, you see that guy playing songs with the lights and attention focused on him?”
“Yeah, Luca, I see him. Gorgeous songs, perfect sound for this environment, too.”
“Yes. Well, that.”
“What do you mean, ‘that’?”
“That’s what WE’RE going to do.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not being silly. We’re on in ten.”
“Oh no? That’s why we’re here? Again? Why does he do this to us?”
“Because I think he might enjoy it.”
“He doesn’t seem to enjoy it…listen to us, we’re making him think twice. He can’t enjoy it. He’s nervous! It makes him vulnerable being up there all on his own – it’s a ridiculous thing to do. It doesn’t make any sense! It’s so much safer here, at the back of the room. Oi, Andy, just stay here…What are you doing? Stop walking towards the stage…don’t you dare sit at that piano…get your fingers away from those keys!..oh no he’s about to sing…ooh actually, this is quite fun, mmmm listen to your voice in this space, it sounds nice. Oh yeah, I like these songs. Keep playing; this is great!”

Part of Me Is Searching For SafetyWe might notice the messages that flow through the nervous system and into our ability to connect with the moment. Within ourselves, the task at hand, and the people around us.

The messages may confuse our apparent contradictory desires. Part of us might dread the same thing that brings us great satisfaction and pleasure. In an autonomic defensive state, we perceive the task through the same filter as a genuine threat to our safety and survival.

At times, the defensive state might overpower our connection to what we’re doing. The nerves can get the better of us and lead us away from the stuff we wish we could do. Those things we choose to do when we’re thinking about them from a place of safety and regulation.

One Body, Different PartsAwareness of our nervous system’s role in responding to perceived threats along chosen paths is foundational to moving towards our creative pursuits and meaningful goals that otherwise get derailed by nerves.

Long-term transformation in calm connection is not about hacking the brain or short-circuiting our neural pathways to trick ourselves into doing scary things. It’s about entering awareness, embracing, and befriending those parts of ourselves that speak through a story of safety. Over time, we can gradually re-route the pathways and create new connections to do scary things a little more comfortably.

This doesn’t necessarily mean those things stop feeling scary. It means that we can navigate scary things with an increasingly anchored sense of connection and be confident in our processes for re-regulating after we’re done. It’s a combination of slowly rewriting the inner story (how we respond to stimulation) and reshaping the outer world (conditions to give our nervous systems the time and space needed for preparation and recovery).

Some things get easier and lose their terrifying sting with time and practice. Other things continue to cause discomfort because of their nature but get easier to navigate because we build conditions and processes around them to help with energy and neural-regulation.

Do you ever wonder why you put yourself through it? What is IT for you?

Is there something you wish you COULD put yourself through, but the nerves seem to get the better of you?

I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment below, drop me a message, or mention me if you share this episode on social media.

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This article was supposed to be about using creative practices for deep processing and high sensitivity, but my thoughts kept turning to the Barbie movie instead. The two are related, but I’ve not found a clear thread yet. I’ll try and find it as we go…

This may contain spoilers.

“Do you guys ever think about dying?”

– Barbie

There is an eerie silence when Barbie admits her thoughts about death. It felt similar to the silence in Oppenheimer, when the frantic rush climaxes, and the atom bomb is successfully tested in New Mexico.

It looks different but the silence in both cases is a confrontation with reality.

Confronted Through SilenceRobert J. Oppenheimer lost his influence once the Manhattan Project was completed and the bomb was successfully tested. He had what it took to create the bomb, but despite misgivings about its implications, the genie was too big for him to put back in the bottle. In this silence, we feel a confrontation with a contradiction. It speaks to us of the terrible things we have unleashed in pursuit of safety, truth, and progress.

On the other hand, Barbie discovers a messy sense of agency and influence when she and Gloria confront the contradictions in the heart of human existence. The silence is a sharp intake of breath at the moment when Barbie asks a question which has, until now, been successfully repressed in this fantasy realm.

Gloria, who returns to her childhood Barbie in the real world, expresses forbidden thoughts, fears, and regrets through the toy. As such, Barbie experiences a confrontation with reality and is forced to address it because it can’t be hidden here. Cellulite, flat feet, and bad breath mean she is not long for this fantasy world. She will soon find herself living in the mountains with Weird Barbie. Unless she finds the child playing with her and undo whatever is causing this existential rupture.

The silence in Barbie represents a universal contradiction that sets up Gloria’s monologue at the end. This quiet moment is a loud and violent whisper.

Never Good EnoughThis is the antagonism at the heart of Barbie and why it’s strange that the narrator intervenes to tell the filmmakers that the feelings Barbie is experiencing about not being good, intelligent, or pretty enough would be more believable if it wasn’t Margot Robbie saying it. Isn’t that the point? This lacking feeling is universal. Inescapable. Beyond any of us to overcome.

Every new iteration of Barbie is a reminder of the failure that comes from trying to represent humanity through symbolic forms of identity. We always fall short of what we are supposed to be.

True belonging emerges through the realisation that no one truly fits, because we are all subject to this nag of alienation. It comes to us all, even though some can run or hide from it more easily than others.

Gloria even points this out when she attempts to rally Barbie in this moment of existential despair, “It is impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.”

Barbie and True BelongingThe point at the heart of this movie isn’t that if we change how things are on the surface (add another Barbie to represent another group or swap women for men), we can fix the world. Or that if the world was ruled and run entirely by women, everything would be perfect.

The movie is a question about how we are expected and encouraged to engage with the irrepressible thoughts of death and desire that underpin human subjectivity. How do the external systems and internalised ideological stories try papering over the cracks of contradiction and lack in all of us…including Margot Robbie.

This applies to everything. Doubts creep in for everyone—fear, ageing, and falling apart. No one escapes it.

Falling From Fantasy Into Reality (and vice versa)The move between the real world and the dream world of Barbie Land takes you to a place without emotion, ageing, or contradiction. A fantasy without frailty, degradation, or need. Everyone is quenched, clean, and energised despite the lack of running water. Nothing grows, withers, or dies.

Gloria returns to her childhood Barbie as a way to comprehend her confrontation with lack in the real world. She draws new versions, like Cellulite Barbie and Irrepressible Thoughts of Death Barbie. Perhaps as a way to reconcile her relationship with her changing reality and the dawning sense that maybe you can’t be anything you dream of after all.

It doesn’t matter how many Barbie dolls you create, something will always be missing or unrepresented. Something within that takes you outside the symbolic perfection of the fantasy. Every new doll is another reminder that you’re not enough.

It’s a confrontation with how we are allowed to be lacking human subjects.

Filling The Lack in Different WaysHis exposure to the real world gave Ken a language for his sense of lack. And it provides a way to try filling it. Until this point, he has been defined by what he is missing. It’s Barbie and Ken, yet Barbie is distant and inaccessible. His subjectivity is dependent on the existence and presence of Barbie. But Barbie has rejected him. Kids playing don’t use him as more than an accessory to Barbie. She therefore doesn’t need him.

But this sense of alienation shifts shape when he reaches the real world and sees how things are there. He is impressed by the men riding horses and the fact that people like him are in positions of power and influence. He checks some books about “Patriarchy” from the library and returns home to turn Barbie Land into Kendom.

It is important that rather than realising his independent subjectivity and sparking an emancipatory revolution, he just embarks on a project to transfer power from Barbies to Kens. Barbie Land already operated on the same structure as patriarchy, so nothing changes beneath the surface of difference.

Ignoring the contradiction expressed through the verses of Push by Matchbox Twenty, the Kens paper over their sense of alienation by pushing people around and renaming the world in their image. As they sing the song’s chorus on the beach, their angst is underpinned by their own irrepressible thoughts of death (insignificance, rejection, not being needed), which are subsequently turned outwards onto the world around them and onto one another.

It’s not Barbie and Ken. It is Barbie, and it is Ken.There is a pleasant ambiguity when Barbie visits the gynaecologist at the end. We see someone ready to reveal the embarrassing hidden parts of herself (literally the parts that have been smoothed from existence) and confront something at the very core of what it means to be human. The desire, lack, and imperfection that drives the most powerful, terrifying, and beautiful expressions of human creativity. The part inaccessible to even our brightest machines and most knowledgeable artificial intelligence.

The ThreadDid you see the thread between creative processing and the Barbie movie? I think I’ve found one.

“Do you guys ever think about dying?” Maybe literally. Maybe not. How do you process your relationship with the real world? With the experience of life as a feeling, thinking, lacking subjective human being. Where do you go with your deep thoughts and feelings? How do you hold, process, and let them go?

We are often encouraged to paper over and ignore these cracks that confront us with life’s messy imperfections and contradictions. To distract and escape reality through consumption, “finding ourselves” in symbolic forms of identity, and following those who will tell us how to become pretty, spiritual, intelligent, strong, brave, witty, virtuous, wealthy, enough to belong to a tribe.

Developing a creative processing practice allows us to place these impossible fantasies back in their box. To ask the forbidden questions and ponder the unponderable thoughts. To play with what it does and doesn’t mean to be human. And to bring perspective to the sense of alienation, we ALL feel as lacking conscious beings.

Life is more fun and playful when we connect with ourselves, each other, and the world around us, as lacking subjects. When we allow ourselves to feel that stuff, think the things we’re not supposed to think and laugh/cry/get confused about it together.

Creativity Anchors Us In A Wonky WorldCreativity is not about the product. It’s a conversation about what it means to be human. To be imperfect, lacking beings, expected to be many contradictory things. Creativity anchors us in a wonky world that language cannot fully grasp. It allows us to explore the contradictions at the heart of our human subjectivity.

It’s why artificial intelligence will never fully replace human creativity…because human creativity isn’t a product, it’s the essence of who we are when we confront those contradictions.

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You’re not alone if you’ve ever felt like an impostor in your creative pursuits. So many people feel like they don’t measure up to the “real” artists or are afraid to put their work out for fear of being seen as outsiders.

When faced with self-doubt and impostor feelings that hinder our creative pursuits, how can we recognise and respond to them? How do these feelings sound to us? What causes them, and how can we continue to be creative in spite of them?

We are exploring these questions in The Haven this month.

Every creative act is a step into uncertainty—no guarantees about how it will be received, interpreted, and understood.

I experience impostor feelings almost whenever I put anything creative into the world. But I’m learning to converse with them, listen to what they tell me, and respond accordingly. I’m doing that this week with my first official ambient instrumental release. Not a style of music I’ve shared publicly before. Truth be told, I feel a little apprehensive.

The Difference Between Content and FormOne helpful distinction I’ve seen is the difference between the message and the medium we use to express it.

Medium and form are what we learn from the masters and mentors. They are where we hone our craft and deepen our competency. Learning how to write, paint, perform, play, weave, bake etc., and improving our relationship with the tradition(s) we are partaking in. There are always ways to grow, develop, and enhance our experience.

I am excited to learn more about and deepen my relationship with this new-to-me genre of music. Impostor (or inferiority feelings) are positive for me in this sense. They encourage me to grow in desirable and meaningful ways.

Message and content, on the other hand, are more like the essence of the song we sing. The spirit within and vision we bring to the table. It’s the unique cocktail of a life spent experiencing, observing, and feeling. It’s the creative voice only we can express because it’s contingent on who we are in our ordinary weirdness.

I remind myself that the most remarkable artists are one small part of a tradition they could never fully embody. When it comes to the pure identity of being (a writer, artist, musician etc.), no one can fully belong.

We are explorers, custodians, and borrowers. We hold the craft with reverence and respect and recognise that it’s bigger than all of us.

Impostor Feelings and Creative Form

“The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

Steven Pressfield

The drive for confidence (fitting in) at the medium and form level can alienate us from our creative spirit. However, we can be pretty confident that we are not an impostor if we’re worried about being one.

The quest for belonging to the established order to feel worthy and accepted is a road that takes us away from the site of authentic creative expression. In other words, the real impostors believe they are entitled to be here and speak on behalf of an undefinable entity.

Creative Spirit is a Question MarkWhat is creativity without vulnerability, uncertainty, and doubt?

Not much. Just more of the same. Replication. Mechanical productivity. Stuck pining for the past and dreaming of a future that will never emerge because a big padlock keeps the present behind bars. Stifled and unable to play.

This is at the heart of some questions about generative artificial intelligence. It’s an imitator of form. It looks the part. But it’s missing a crucial aspect of the creative spirit. Like Sartre’s waiter, it fits in TOO MUCH. Whereas creativity emerges through imperfection and contradiction.

Defence Against The Human ArtsIn Free Play, Stephen Nachmanovitch says, “It is easy to look around us and see innumerable factors that undermine the creative life. But I think every culture contains its own defences against creativity. It is sometimes tempting to idealise or romanticise some other time and place where the creative life seems to have been more integrated into the fabric of life as a whole.”

The creative spirit is a question of those defences. What stops us from being human? What does it mean to be human?

“Self-doubt can be an ally. This is because it serves as an indicator of aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing, and desire, desire to do it. If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are.”

Steven Pressfield

There is No There, ThereTo doubt is to be human. To desire, love, and dream is to embody life in all its messy chaos.

Creative spirit carries us forward as a beautiful contradiction. Where it is through the fact we don’t belong (we are all impostors) that creativity can find its place.

Creativity is courage despite doubt. Faith despite fear. It carves beauty from pain and expresses truth when all seems lost.

We might be waiting to feel safe before we create. It’s understandable. It’s human. We are wired to seek safety and belonging. But the other thing that makes us human is our creative spirit. While it is often fuelled by inspiration from the world around us, our creative flame flickers within, and only we can choose whether or not to let the light out to play.

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I don’t want to be tired of you. I want to be tired with you.

“Thus we sat—in my recollection always out of doors in the afternoon sun—savoring our common tiredness whether or not we were talking…A cloud of tiredness, an ethereal tiredness, held us together then”

– Peter Handke

This passage speaks to me. I feel it in my soul. It resonates with much of what feels present as I look at the world.

I’m also thinking about the danger of commodifying slowness and rest. Thingifying them. Turning them into more ways to judge and criticise ourselves beneath impossible standards.

Or glorifying them as lifestyle aspirations. Using them to symbolise how we want to be seen rather than what they might make possible.

We are good at packaging universal truths into products we can use to measure and categorise human value. It makes sense in a world that sees health and happiness as a matter for the individual.

But I don’t want to do that. When we feel alone in our efforts, our attempts to alleviate tiredness make us even more exhausted.

Solitary TirednessWe learn to see our tiredness in what Byung-Chul Han calls “achievement society” as solitary tiredness. It has a separating and isolating effect. Peter Handke calls it “divisive tiredness” (or “I-tiredness”), which is the tiredness of an exhausted ego.

I am intrigued by the universal experience of this kind of exhaustion. It seems to be rife and ever more present today. Driven by the demand to earn self-worth and acceptance by being more productive, efficient, and remarkable.

This feels like a lonely way to live. Isolated, atomised, and striving for something forever just out of reach.

In The Burnout Society, Han writes, “a purely hectic rush produces nothing new. It reproduces and accelerates what is already available.”

In other words, we embark on a futile quest believing (hoping) it serves some greater purpose. But really, we keep producing and reproducing more of the same – but faster and faster. It is underpinned by an illusory belief that “being more active means being freer”.

The Eradication of BetweensHan writes that the world has lost the gift of interruption. Acceleration abolishes intervals. “Betweens” and “between-times” are lacking.

So you might say we are successfully defeating boredom.

But what are we replacing it with?

The Inspiriting Power of Fundamental TirednessHandke describes another form of tiredness…

Fundamental tiredness inspires (allows our spirit to emerge) through the between.

In this between, “no one and nothing dominates or commands”. It involves “not-doing”. The inspiration of tiredness tells us not so much what we should, as what we need not be.”

It’s the tiredness we feel together whether or not we are talking.

Presence.

Communion.

This “we-tiredness” isn’t being tired of others but tired WITH others. It’s the connection in the face of exhaustion society and the demands of a world that doesn’t let up. This kind of Sabbath spirit is time free of all “in order to”. It’s a moment of “not-to”.

“Tiredness is disarming. In the long, slow gaze of the tired person, resolution yields to a state of calm.”

This “cloud of tiredness, an ethereal tiredness”, holds us together. Where tranquility sits alongside the “gift of listening” in the “community of listeners”. In this space, we find rest through the “ability to grant deep, contemplative attention—which remains inaccessible to the hyperactive ego”.

Do you ever feel lost in a wave of “I-tiredness”? Do you long for a deeper sense of “we-tiredness”?

In a world that demands more than we can ever give, I want to connect with people in a state of we-tiredness. It sits at the heart of my vision for The Haven and underpins my slow coaching philosophy.

Permission to be. Spaces of in-between. Gathering within the cloud of ethereal tiredness. A site of gentle rebellion and compassionate connection.

If this resonates with you, I encourage you to check out The Haven. It’s a virtual sanctuary for weary travellers and sensitive souls looking for calmer rhythms, a community of like spirits, and a deep breath of playful creativity.

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I was recently asked how I distinguish between slowness and procrastination. It got me thinking. While procrastinating can cause important stuff to stagnate, maybe slowing down is an antidote to procrastination too.

At its core, procrastination is an action that puts off, avoids, or delays our focus on a higher priority—it may be a desired outcome, an important task, or something we “should” do.

When we procrastinate, we might spread ourselves in a hundred directions. This can frustrate us when trying to start or build momentum on something essential. It might also slow us to the point of stagnation.

But if slowing down becomes our foundation, it can help us procrastinate much less. It gives us space and time to identify what matters most and move with more intention and awareness.

When we’re in a rush, we are more likely to make impulsive decisions.

The Difference Between Procrastination and GerminationHave you ever rushed into a decision, sped through something, and then wished you’d taken more time with it afterwards? Maybe you overlooked something important or didn’t give it time to grow properly.

The alternative to procrastination isn’t always to rush and “get it done”. Things need space to breathe at their own pace. In my experience, creative projects require germination periods when rather than taking overt action, I need to get out of the way so that dots can connect beneath the surface.

Sometimes the best thing to do is something else.

The Difference Between Procrastination and ExplorationNeed a good way to procrastinate? Go and research procrastination. There’s a winding (and somewhat confusing) rabbit warren down there (plenty to distract me from writing this post!)

But rabbit hole diving is not always procrastination. It can be vital to processing, developing, and connecting ideas and experiences. Of course, we can quickly judge ourselves as wasting time when the sleeve of our attention gets caught on the thorns around us, but exploration is a necessary beat in the rhythm of humanity. It opens our mind’s aperture, exposing us to new ways of seeing and thinking.

Sometimes the best thing to do is explore and see where we end up.

What Does Procrastinating Feel Like?Most of us know when we’re procrastinating. We might feel it within—a hint of guilt, tightness, and frustration. There’s often a pull of inner urgency, too, where relaxing feels impossible.

But in a world that loves to measure everything and sees growth through a lens of “up and to the right”, the same feelings we get when we procrastinate might kick in when we’re engaging in the best thing for the moment. Slowing down feels alien. Leaving space is difficult. Allowing a project, idea, or desire to take root in the soil takes tremendous courage.

Sometimes we procrastinate because we want things to happen quickly, knowing they won’t. We’ve been trained to attach growth to a feeling of usefulness and productivity. But change starts below the surface. A seed begins its journey in the dark, out of sight and beyond reach.

When you plant a seed in a pot and create conditions for the plant to grow, slowing down is not procrastination. The temptation is to keep checking, get over-involved, move it to a better spot, add more water, see if anything is happening, and add more seeds to the pot-just to hedge your bets.

Why Do We Procrastinate?There are many reasons we might procrastinate.

Maybe we are disconnected from the bigger picture (the “why” feels distant). On the contrary, we might have too MUCH of the big picture (the project feels overwhelming). We might lack clarity with too many “priorities”, a chaotic to-do list, and erratic organisation. Perhaps we’re afraid of committing, failing, or getting stuck. Maybe we are motivated by last-minute pressure and tight deadlines.

How Do We Procrastinate?When procrastination is a problem, it’s like an out-of-place beat in our rhythm. It trips up the groove and stops us from moving at our natural pace.

We often procrastinate by rushing towards something that isn’t important right now. But if we slow down and take inventory of the situation, we might be less likely to procrastinate.

We tend to choose the simplest thing to do at this moment. So what are you drawn towards when you don’t know what to do (or want to delay what you know you ought to do)?

Over-planningSome of us use planning as procrastination. It gives us the perception of usefulness when we de bogged down in vision setting, time management tools, and developing an intricate spreadsheet to keep track of things once we get started.

Stuck In The DetailWe might zone in on a tiny detail and open a rabbit hole. Maybe we decide that we’ve got to become an expert on a specific topic before we can get started.

Open To DistractionWe might look for passive distractions. Anything except for this! Plenty of scrolling on social and email checking without action because we remind ourselves that we should be doing the other thing.

In Search of a CrisisWe might scour our surroundings (and messages) for a fire to put out. A critical distraction gives us something we can’t ignore. We might leave our notifications open, ready to respond to anything in every direction. This project might become that once the deadline arrives.

Focused On ‘The Other One’Maybe we get drawn towards another vital task or project. Something we need to do but which isn’t planned for today. This might be a practical approach to work with ourselves to make desirable things happen.

What Do We Do With High Pace Procrastination Energy?Procrastination is frustrating when it accelerates us towards undesirable destinations and away from what matters most. When we speed up that way, the meaningful priority slows and stagnates. The tide starts turning when we make space for slowness at the start. To grow our awareness around what is needed (and what isn’t).

Maybe it’s not slowing down that causes procrastination, but rather the other way around. And the pace of procrastination, encouraged by a high-speed world, causes us to accelerate from the foundational depths of what matters most.

What could slowing down make possible for you today?

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A part of us is always there, regardless of our choices and circumstances. Call it awareness, presence, witness, observer, soul, spirit, truth etc. It’s the undefinable absence of concrete categories. A constant self flows beneath language and symbolic identity.

I often wonder what gives a piece of music its identity. Why is one piece not another? It sounds like a silly question. But I find it hard to answer. Is it the melody? Its title? The instruments? Maybe music is defined by its layers, tempo, tone, or how it’s played. Perhaps it’s a particular recording or performance. The “sound”?

A piece of music is often recognisable, even when elements are missing or changed.

This resonates with the image of our constant self. The thing that allows you to know who you are even when the metaphorical instruments, arrangement, and lyrics change on the surface.

Severance and The Constant SelfThe TV show Severance is set in a world where you can get a procedure to divide your brain in two. So you can separate your Work Self and Non-Work Self. In other words, when someone goes to work, they have no memory or understanding of what they do outside work, and when they go home, they have no idea what they do AT work.

But even though they have no access to the other self’s thoughts, beliefs, and desires, there are consistencies beyond physical appearance. There is a flow of constant self from one to the other, evident not in their choices but in something more challenging to define.

A True Self?People often talk about ‘finding your true self’. But that’s a project of language and structured thought. It can lead us in circles.

Likewise, you don’t find music’s “truth” or essence by talking about, analysing, and deconstructing it. If you strip it for parts, you might be able to reverse engineer the component aspects, but you won’t find its essence. By the time you finish, there will be nothing left.

And perhaps that’s part of the point. What makes us who we are and not someone else, what makes a piece of music, not another piece, is in the betweenness, the spaces, the emptiness around the edges.

Playing The Constant SelfOur understanding of the world is built on thoughts, constructs, and the drive to understand. But humans are more than the sum of those things.

We might come to this music question with a desperation to figure it out. But I’m not sure any answer will be adequate or enough. It’s a question that ultimately confronts us with an unanswerable mystery.

You find the truth in music when you allow it to play. You “get” it when you don’t try to understand it. But this sense of understanding is a glancing blow, a disturbance, a wave.

I’ve been playing with this question in my creative exploration this year. For example, I produced a piece of ambient instrumental music alongside a podcast episode about the characteristics of strength.

Loops, Patterns, and New FamiliarityI built the music on a series of loops (all different lengths), which dance and weave over the seventeen minutes. The sound changes and new ideas bleed in and out, but there’s a constant underpinning. A sea of sound that absorbs and reflects the dance as it hits the surface.

I recently heard someone say that a compelling book is both alien (providing new insights and challenging ideas) and a return home (a resonance with something we have been waiting to put into words).

Music is like that. When a piece of music resonates, it pulls us out of our comfortable space. As a result, it can feel alien and strange. But at the same time, it is like a call home. It gives us something we didn’t know we were waiting for but which, once heard, we cannot imagine having been without.

In music, we are surrounded by the ghosts of what has been and the dream of what could come. But this is the ocean beneath the surface. Impossible to describe.

Life is the same. We are always moving forwards, but the past lingers. We change, grow, and evolve, and yet something remains.

The Constant Self ripples in response to disturbances and resonances. This oceanic depth reflects the shimmers of light, casting it in a thousand directions into the world around it. The light refracts through the water, absorbed within the constant self.

This place holds life and keeps going. It’s the ever-present consciousness—the witness in between, everywhere and nowhere.

Outside of rigid certainty is the site of creativity. It’s where life grows, changes, and evolves, and from which we become who we appear to be.

Looking For More Creative Flow?I’d love to help you make space and time for more creative flow experiences. If you want to do more of that this year but are overwhelmed and confused about where to start, a conversation is often a great way to unblock what’s stopping you. Learn more and book a chat with me here: https://www.andymort.com/slow-coaching/

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Survivorship bias occurs when we only focus on successful outcomes and ignore those things that didn’t make it “to the other side“.

It can lead us to overestimate the relevance of particular strategies, approaches, and events and underestimate the risks of specific options and choices.

A classic example is dropping out of college if you want to be a tech billionaire.

Survivorship bias might also contribute to anxiety and loneliness. When outliers are hyped and featured as aspirational success stories, it can leave us feeling bad about ourselves for not having enough faith, courage, or tenacity to “beat the odds” and succeed in the same way.

We Create The OddsThe odds are a reminder that most of us are wonderfully average. Of course, positive surprises, shock opportunities, and unexpected wins happen from time to time. But we notice them because they’re unusual.

“A stupid decision that works out well becomes a brilliant decision in hindsight”

Daniel Kahneman.

Survivorship Bias In The Stories We TellHave you ever bought a book because the author promised to disclose a secret, formula, or blueprint for success?

Did it help?

These books often paint an incomplete picture. They can be exciting and inspiring, but they are usually infused with traces (or dollops) of survivorship bias.

Whenever we tell our own story, we struggle to divulge what sits in the blind spots around our self-awareness. We don’t know what we don’t know. And we don’t share what we don’t want to believe. As a result, our memory is likely to be pretty selective, and its ending also informs the way we tell the tale.

The success story is a myth we create to “explain” and understand the causes and effects of outcomes. Unfortunately, these often simplistically reduce complex contradictions to a person’s determination and perseverance in adversity. We might believe it’s BECAUSE of hardship that they found the strength to thrive. Their early failure was the reason for their later success. They were always destined to rise from rock bottom, thrive after dropping out, create a masterpiece after being rejected, or become wealthy after losing everything.

But these adverse “causes” are usually also found in failure stories, of which there are many more.

“If I can do it, so can you.”While this can sometimes be an encouraging thing to hear, it can also conceal survivorship bias. It might overlook differences between us, meaning I cannot do what you did.

We sometimes see this in multigenerational conversations where there is an assumption that the context hasn’t changed and what was true for me must still be true for you. This can lead to resentment and misunderstandings when we don’t entertain meaningful conversations considering contextual differences.

But this can also happen instantly, especially in a world where the flow of information is immediate and trends explode rapidly. So, for example, what do we learn from those who lost significant money in the 2022 Gamestop saga? Do we hear from ordinary people caught up in the excitement?

I imagine many downplayed their losses or kept them secret. But even if we had access to those stories, we probably don’t want to hear them anyway. They’re too “depressing” or “negative” – in other words, they’re just a bit too real.

We prefer to believe the story of a lone-wolf outlier (villain or hero) who beat the odds, convinced everyone to act in a certain way, and made millions. Maybe we want to believe that it is possible if we dare to be brave and take similar risks.

The Risk of Survivorship BiasIn The Antidote, Oliver Burkeman says Survival Bias can lead us to think in riskier ways. He quotes Richard Branson saying, “Being unafraid of failure is, I believe, one of the most important qualities of a champion.”

Burkeman points out that, while this might be true, “you don’t hear speeches or read autobiographies by people who were unafraid of failure and then did indeed simply fail.”

Failing is not the result of an unwillingness to take a significant risk. On the contrary, there is likely a correlation between a willingness to take enormous risks and remarkable success AND failure. “The definition of a ‘big risk’, after all, is that it carries a significant likelihood of things not working out”.

What Does Survivorship Bias Mean For Us?I sometimes explore the impact of survivorship bias with people I coach. Survivorship bias creeps in when we buy into the idea that the life someone else is living (often a leader/influencer who has projected an aspirational image) is because of a specific part of the story they tell. So get up at four in the morning, drink a particular beverage, take these supplements, go travelling, follow a specific diet, take a course, implement a strategy, use a methodology etc.

We want a simplistic story or process to follow. But the more helpful question is, what about that kind of life appeals to us? It’s usually possible to locate and uncover a value that matters beneath the surface.

Survivorship bias can leave us feeling disconnected from reality and bad about our inability to make things work like everyone else seems to. So how do we stop it from impacting our lives negatively and making us feel bad about ourselves?

How Do We Guard Against Survivorship Bias?Embrace AverageRather than taking inspiration from the outliers, we can connect with people in the middle. As a result, we can learn the most profound and helpful lessons from ordinary people in everyday life.

Follow People Doing it NowWe can seek out role models who are still on the same road as us. There’s something powerful and exciting about connecting with others for whom the “outcome” is still uncertain. We don’t know how it will turn out, and we will soon realise that it doesn’t matter. There’s something more valuable to be found along the way.

Ignore The OutliersWe can become less interested in the hyped-up stories of those on the fringes and more curious about average folk like us. When listening to someone sharing their success story, we might also notice their luck and fortune. Have THEY brushed past it? Have WE ignored it? Based on what we know about survivorship bias, what might be missing from this story?

Seek Out Failure StoriesFailure stories might not sound as appealing as success stories. But they are where the true insight comes from. Learn what you don’t want to do. This is a helpful prompt to identify other approaches and alternative options.

We read success stories in the hope they will tell us what TO do. But by the time it’s a well-known story, millions of others will be doing precisely the same.

While reading success stories, ask, “what would I do differently?” What would the story be if you were telling it? How would it be different?

Look out for survivorship bias in everyday life. Notice where you see and hear it. How does it feel when you encounter it? What story are you telling yourself about that other person or the situation? What story are you telling yourself about yourself?

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I imagine we have all felt disheartened, distracted, and even overwhelmed by the online world at times. On the one hand, there is the sheer volume of information. A never-ending flow of noise that swamps our thoughts and influences our feelings. But it’s not just the noise. It’s also the way we hold each other.

“Danger seems to lurk around every corner—with new grifts, scams, and hucksters sprouting up every minute.”

These words are by Rob Hardy in his article, The More Beautiful Internet Our Hearts Know is Possible. I caught up with him recently, and we talked about our experiences creating, building, and connecting online.

Naturally, there was a small dose of doom, gloom, and despair. But it didn’t all go that way. We also chatted about some of the things that give us hope, including alternative ways we are experimenting and playing as we build our creative practices and businesses in the online world.

Because of the shadows lurking around the corners, trust is in short supply for many of us. We spend excessive time on high alert in anticipation of another person trying to sell us something we don’t need in a way that forces us into the uncomfortable position of having to say no. Not a place many gentle rebels and sensitive souls would willingly choose.

So the topic of “choose your own price” coaching sessions came up. Rob has been doing this for a while, and it’s an approach I’ve used in other contexts (selling merchandise at gigs). I wanted to investigate the practicalities of moving to that kind of model. Is it useful? Could it work for me?

My intuition told me, yes, but I wanted to hear from Rob about his experiences.

The Psychological Impact of FreeWhile we are often drawn to free stuff, we’ve also learned to be deeply suspicious of it. It usually has a concealed cost. The internet has taught us to be wary of the underlying price we are paying.

The “choose your own price” approach immediately felt better than doing free “discovery sessions”. Free can sometimes feel like bait. A lure towards a trap. And when we are suspicious, on alert, and preparing to react to the hard sell, we are are not relaxed and calm – necessities for a valuable coaching conversation.

Replacing the psychological cost of “free” has had a more enriching impact on the session and allows everyone to relax. The other person clearly understands what’s expected from them, and I get to focus on the important thing…connection.

Contribution Creates MeaningSometimes an invitation to contribute can be a gift. When we feel able to give to a situation, relationship, or outcome, we feel more deeply connected to it. Contributing provides us with a sense of purpose and place. We are part of creating rather than simply consuming the world around us.

I wouldn’t say I like the idea of coaching being the preserve of certain people with the means to afford it. I’m aware that times are especially tough at the moment. Coaching can be a lifeline but isn’t a budgetary priority for many of us. I don’t want this to be a barrier for anyone who would value a conversation to get clear on the path they can take, through, and beyond their current situation.

Choose Your Own Price CoachingThese lines in Rob’s post speak to the kind of world I want to be part of creating through my work.

He writes, “when we suspect the worst, we end up co-authoring the future we most fear”. I would love to help co-author a future where we trust is gradually built again. If “our environments shape our behavior, our beliefs, our emotional life”, I want to focus on creating online environments that positively shape creative and playful behaviours, beliefs, and emotional engagement.

“An oasis is a small patch of fertile ground in an otherwise inhospitable environment.”

Maybe we can nurture such a place together.

Let me know if you have any questions, or if this sounds good, you can book a “Choose Your Own Price” session here.

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Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer is an invitation for inner and outer peace. It also demonstrates what I see as a difference between serenity and tranquility.

It’s a call for mindful presence in accepting that some things (however much we wish they could) can’t be changed. It’s a recognition that some things (however scary it is to confront them) CAN be altered. And that peace is nurtured as we distinguish between the two and respond accordingly.

It carries three elements: acceptance, courage, and wisdom. These are muscles we grow and sustain through rhythm and repetition.

What I love about this prayer is that it sees serenity not as a destination but as a process. It acknowledges serenity is not an absence of suffering, but rather it’s a recognition of our position WITHIN life’s disturbances.

This sometimes gets lost when we think of serenity as distancing from life’s struggles.

We might picture serenity as a harmonious life without conflict, suffering, and worry. But the prayer paints an opposite picture. It helps us locate ourselves WITHIN the struggles. And posits that serenity is a way of relating to, processing, and engaging with the everyday challenges of ordinary life and the shocks that hit us without warning.

The Difference Between Serenity and TranquilityAlthough they are often used interchangeably, it can be helpful to distinguish between Serenity and Tranquility. This is not a universal definition, just my way of separating two distinct concepts.

Serenity helps peace flow from the inside to the outside. Tranquility aims to invite peace from the outside to the inside.

This is why we examine the relationship with our inner world during our month of Serenity. And our month of Tranquility focuses on the conditions of our external world. Serenity is how we prepare to engage with the world around us in gentle ways. Tranquility is about designing our environments, routines, lifestyles, and relationships to be deep sources of energy.

This distinction matters because it allows us to focus on different sides of the coin. Above and below. Within and without. There is always something we can consider on one side of the equation, even when there’s nothing we can do about it on the other.

Outer NoiseWe sometimes find ourselves in noisy environments caused by an external disturbance we can’t control. This kind of noise is sensory. It enters through our eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and nerve endings.

Serenity is the best option if we are unable to stop the cause of the noise. Whether that’s our proximity to it or the source itself, serenity can accept that things are as they are and choose our response to the noise.

This can include acknowledging the feelings that have been provoked within us. We can recognise how the noise has caused disturbance for us. And we can then respond in a way that allows us to maintain as much composure and energy as possible.

Perhaps all we can do is tell ourselves a story that invites understanding and tolerance (seeing the situation from another perspective). Maybe we can remind ourselves that this is temporary and the discomfort will pass.

The option of tranquility helps us examine the conditions of the disturbance—both in terms of the cause of the noise and our relationship with it.

We might ask ourselves: is this a common disturbance for us? What would need to change for the cause of noise to diminish? Or if the cause can’t be altered, how can we shift our position to the noise? How might we implement a boundary, change expectations, or move away from the noise source?

Nurturing serenity from the inside out can also bring peace and gentleness to the world around us. For example, we can diffuse it instead of retaliating in an escalating situation. And rather than adding to the noise, we can model an alternative approach that might inspire others.

Inner NoiseSerenity is not always an easy option when internal feedback loops kick in. This kind of noise comes from our thoughts, feelings, and judgements.

We might draw instead on tranquility. We can take action to invite more calm and peace to our inner world. This sort of tranquility emerges via processes, practices, and behaviours. There are quick fixes we might find helpful (breathing exercises, stepping away etc.) and longer-term conditions for more peace. For example, creating positive boundaries, establishing energising habits, and engaging in meaningful creative practices.

Tranquility is a good option in the face of sudden change and loss. When our minds are understandably shaken, chaotic, and scattered, drawing on go-to tranquility practices can anchor us over time through concrete actions.

Serenity and Tranquility Work TogetherThe more we develop our awareness and understanding of the differences between serenity and tranquility, the more they fuse and dance together. Our inner world will become influenced by our outer world, and our external world will start reflecting the state of our inner world.

This is not to say that they become the same. We will always face unwanted noise and disturbance. Sometimes this will disrupt our tranquility, and other times it will destroy our serenity. But we can fill our toolbox with options to draw from that can help us ride out life’s storms, hang in there when things are tough, and come back to ourselves in time.

Do you recognise this difference between serenity and tranquility? Would you say one comes more easily to you than the other?

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