The Gentle Rebel Podcast

I saw a reel earlier that made me notice how burnout spreads. An entrepreneurial self-help influencer told followers to demand more power, money, and visibility for themselves. You may be familiar with this flavour of message… “How dare you keep your impact hidden?” they said, “given the state of things right now.” They criticised viewers, demanding that they stop letting fear of what others think rule them. “Start the business, write the book, and share it with a world that needs to encounter it.” There is nothing intrinsically wrong with the underlying sentiment. But I felt troubled by the burnout energy evident in the speaker. I watched with the sound off at first, which intensified the impact of their eyes and hand gestures on my nervous system. There was a sense of panic and hype, which felt completely at odds with what is required for deep courage to meet the very real need being spoken about. I didn’t feel inspired or grounded in creative motivation. Instead, I was overcome by frenetic urgency and the indiscriminate demand to do more, driven by competition and fear. Things we already have in abundance. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWf-FGZqIyE What Burnout Energy Pushes Us Toward There are enough people waving their arms and shouting demands about what we should be doing, using, and spending our finite resources on. What we need is space to slow down, take a breath, and listen deeply to that still, quiet voice within. This inner voice shows us what matters and why. Then we can choose how we bring it all to life. We need leaders who lead from that place, so we might be infused with and infected by the gentleness required to move out of that evident stuckness. That stuckness causes wheels to spin in the cycle of hurry, rush, and reactive firefighting mode. What Does Safety Make Possible? The word “safe” is used a lot today. To some degree, it has become diluted, making it difficult to define. But it’s worth exploring because it sits at the heart of this issue. Maybe we have a desire to change something about ourselves, our lives, or the world. Or perhaps we’ve created, or are creating, something that could make a meaningful difference to other people. We now consider another buzzword of our times: vulnerability. It can feel vulnerable to be honest about what we want in life and to share what matters to us with those who matter to us. It can be scary to admit what we care about and what burns within us. That’s because it can disrupt the status quo and challenge the image people have of us. It’s vulnerable because we cannot be certain how people will react. Vulnerability Is More Than a Mindset Likewise, it may leave us genuinely physically vulnerable if we choose to stand up for what we believe is right, for example, through art or activism. This vulnerability isn’t imagined. It’s not simply an issue of mindset, limiting beliefs to overcome, or a conditioned cultural message we just need to override with reframe hacks. We know there are real-world threats out there. What struck me about the reel was that it failed to provide the support needed to underpin its demands. In fact, it undermined the courage, conviction, and energy required to speak up in a world that might be unreceptive or even hostile to what we have to say. The finger-wagging shame that comes from an influencer demanding we do more because it’s cruel to hide from people who need to see us, however well-intentioned, will ultimately crumble and fold under its own weight. As a result, it creates the very passivity and inaction it warns against. Safety isn’t about comfort or avoidance. It’s the internal condition that enables honest reflection, creative movement, and sustained courage. This isn’t about mindset or thinking. It starts with the context of the stories we swim in, the supportive structures beneath us, and the material conditions that sustain life. Safety is Also Contagious One of the things I have consistently heard from people over the years who have connected with what I do, especially in The Haven and through the Serenity Island course, is the word safety. I’m always curious about what it means to those who use it, because it’s not something I think about explicitly. When I started sharing The Return to Serenity Island at the start of 2021, I received messages from people that put words to the experience: “Oh my word, it is incredible! A really unique mixture of sound and sensory experience, coaching, imaginative play and informal, companionable talks. I’m absolutely hooked. I just did a module and cried like a baby because I felt so safe and seen. It is really special. That kind of cry you do when you’re a kid, not because you’re afraid anymore, but because you’ve been PICKED UP, and the relief just comes flooding out.” – Josie This spoke of safety not as the opposite of courage, but as the cornerstone around which courageous action can be sustained. A cornerstone we can return to and draw from without conditions on our intrinsic worth as humans. Safety, then, is feeling held as you are, without expectation or demand to prove yourself or fight for a sense of value. A Step Back From Burnout Energy This is a key value that underpins The Return to Serenity Island. It was a response to a feeling I had while doing my old year-end practice. I needed something that broke with the message of self-optimisation, personal productivity, and motivational resources, which, with an emphasis on striving, adding, and growing simply because it’s what you’re “supposed” to do, carried a creeping burnout energy. Tuula wrote, “Serenity Island has been the most powerful and lovely thing I have ever experienced. Andy has created an amazing adventure, cleverly weaving together incredibly beautiful soundscapes and deeply touching story narrative, which ignites your imagination, activates all senses and sends you on a journey of a lifetime on this island of your wildest dreams. It is playful and also a very useful creative project, which continues to evolve and grow with me. This Island work and its ripple effects have sneaked quietly and effectively into so many areas of my life already. I could not have found more effective and gentle coaching than with Andy.” The course is not something that comes with easy-to-market promises and packaged outcomes that everyone walks away with in the same way. Everyone who goes through it seems to encounter it from a different angle. But there is a common denominator of safety, which underpins everyone’s response to it. Safety as a foundation for reflection, observation, and planning. A way to let what sits within us speak, and to give ourselves the best chance of hearing it. And as such, it’s not a way to withdraw from reality. Instead, it helps us locate and root ourselves more firmly within it, so we can find strength, courage, and clarity about who we are, what we want to tend to and nurture, and how we will stand in the face of the forces that may take us away from ourselves. An Invitation to Serenity Island The Return to Serenity Island is a self-paced guided voyage with optional Zoom “Picnics”. These provide us with time and space for further reflection, support, and in-person connection along the way. This is a perfect time to grab a passport if this stuff feels right for you. The Serenity Island Passport gives you access to all materials and picnics for the next 12 months. And speaking of safety, I’ve made the course available on a choose-your-own-price basis. I know many people are navigating changing financial circumstances, and I truly mean it when I say: choose the amount that feels right for you. No minimum, no need to explain or justify your choice. I just want you there if you feel the pull. Arriving Through The Fog | A Narrated Soundscape It’s much easier to show than describe, so I’ll share the first of these six pieces that supplement the course materials. “Arriving through the fog soundscape is the most brilliant thing I have witnessed as a gateway into myself. If I stopped here, at the harbour to the Island, it would already be worth it for me. Thank you for this. It’s filled with magic.” – Zoie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSBXlLgPuTQ Welcome home!

Peter Ormerod is a journalist and writer who has written extensively about culture and faith for The Guardian, and he is also an arts editor for NationalWorld. He’s a very close friend of mine, so it was a real pleasure to speak with him in this capacity for The Gentle Rebel Podcast. Peter has just published a wonderful book, David Bowie and the Search for Life, Death and God. It resonates deeply with many of the themes we explore in The Haven and on the podcast, particularly the idea of what sits below an experimental approach to life. Speaking of which, Peter also makes beautiful music. You can listen here. https://youtu.be/f7jsoUB5jCY Beneath the Changes, a Consistent Question What really interested me was this path Bowie embodied so visibly through his art. The shifting characters, styles, and phases across his career can look like constant reinvention on the surface. But Peter invites us to see something else at play. What if these changes weren’t signs of restlessness, but expressions of something deep and consistent underneath? A spiritual thread running through Bowie’s life and work. That question sits at the heart of Peter’s book. What if the spiritual wasn’t incidental to Bowie’s creativity, but an essential driving force beneath it? Peter shows how this dimension was present from the very beginning, and he takes us on a compelling journey through Bowie’s searching. Writing the Book He Wanted to Read Peter says that after first hearing Hunky Dory at seventeen, his growing obsession with Bowie left him fascinated by the spiritual dimension of Bowie’s creative drive. Other writers had touched on this in passing, but no one had really followed it through in depth. So Peter ended up writing the book he wanted to read. Bowie as Mirror Ball, Not Chameleon In our conversation, we talk about Bowie’s legacy as something like a mirror ball. Shine a light on him and you get countless reflections. Everyone seems to have their own version of who Bowie was, something that became especially visible after his death. He’s often framed through the lens of “ch-ch-ch-changes”, the chameleon of rock. But Peter challenges this reading. The more he researched, read, and listened, the more those changes appeared to be a natural outpouring of a deeper spiritual quest. For experimental people, this can feel familiar. The outer paths shift, but the underlying question remains. Spirituality Without a Vocabulary A “spiritual interest” is often dismissed as a celebrity hobby, something that pops up and disappears. Peter makes a strong case that this wasn’t the case for Bowie. Part of the difficulty is that we don’t really have a shared vocabulary for this territory, which is why we fall back on words like spirituality. Bowie himself was fond of the saying, “Religion is for people who believe in Hell. Spirituality is for people who have been there.” He was sharply critical of religious institutions when he felt they corrupted the message of love at the heart of Christianity. For Bowie, spirituality wasn’t ornamental. It was essential to how he related to his life, his work, and his place in the universe. Seeking Without Arrival Through the seeking you will find. Not seeking to reach a destination, but seeking as a way of being. Why didn’t Bowie give up? What was he seeking? What was he finding? There were clearly things he encountered that made atheism feel insufficient, even when he was tempted by it. If Bowie arrives anywhere, Peter suggests it’s something like this: life is a gift, and love is the point. This can sound oblique, but Peter traces it clearly in Bowie’s later work. What we’re left with is the result of that searching, a remarkable body of work that we can return to, live with, and explore. Creativity, Humanness, and Collaboration There’s a danger in how Bowie is remembered. He can be lifted out of humanness, made to seem like an exception rather than a person. Bowie wrote bad songs. He made misfires. All of it belonged to the same quest. He’s sometimes misread as an unrooted artist, endlessly reinventing himself, but he was deeply sensitive to place and time. He always worked with others. He needed bands, collaborators, and creative relationships. His best work emerged through collaboration, not isolation. Smuggling Meaning Rather Than Preaching It Bowie was political, but he didn’t see political expression as his strongest artistic voice. He admired bands like The Clash for carrying that role more directly. This raises an interesting question about what we expect from celebrated figures, and how easily we project our demands onto them. Bowie was more of a smuggler. At Live Aid, he played a song and showed a video instead. Let’s Dance sounds like it’s about one thing, but it’s really about something else. Much of his music did a similar thing. This was the mark of his artistry. He invited a conversation rather than delivering a message. He trusted listeners to discover depth for themselves, without it being spoon-fed. And for experimental people especially, that kind of invitation matters. It honours the idea that the path keeps unfolding, even when the question underneath remains the same.

Where do you see yourself in five years? Does that question fill you with excitement, or a quiet sense of dread? We are wired differently. For many people, myself included, the question is not difficult to answer because we lack imagination. It is difficult because it speaks a different language from our natural way of being. We are not compelled by any outcome-oriented approach to planning, conceiving, or measuring success. And yet this orientation is often treated as a default mode we should all operate within. When the Five-Year Plan Feels Constricting Rather Than Motivating “But everyone has a dream,” we might be told, as if struggling to articulate a five-year vision means we are hiding something from ourselves. I have never been able to articulate a grand plan in the way this question assumes. I struggle to picture the future concretely, because it unfolds piece by piece. It always has. And I genuinely love watching how things emerge across different areas of life in ways I could not have foreseen. What drives me is something quieter and steadier. A creative impulse. A desire to make things, to explore what might happen, to respond to what is in front of me, and to integrate what has come before. My life does not move in straight lines. It has grown around and within my values, with seemingly unrelated dots connecting in unexpected ways. Maybe you relate to this? https://youtu.be/qFqIvsBB9HA “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.” This quote, inspired by Alice in Wonderland, reminds me of the five-year question. For some, it sounds like a warning. A demand to define the destination so the “correct” road can be chosen. For others, it feels like permission. A reminder that movement itself shapes direction, and that choosing a road does not require certainty about where it leads. Two Approaches to Growing Life There is research that can help us better understand this difference. In an episode about Late Blooming, Kendra Patterson pointed to a study by David Galenson and Bruce Weinberg, who observed patterns in the careers of Nobel Prize winners in economics. They identified two broad orientations to creative innovation. Some people are conceptual innovators. They work deductively. They begin with a clear idea and organise themselves towards it. In the study, these individuals often made their most significant contributions early in life, sometimes in their twenties. Others are experimental innovators. They work inductively. Their contribution emerges step by step through trial, discovery, accumulation, and integration. Their most meaningful work often did not appear until their fifties. Sometimes later. That is a thirty-year difference. Experimental Thinkers and Emergent Direction Experimental lives unfold differently. They need time, space, and patience. Decisions cannot be judged too early, and meaning emerges through lived experience rather than advance planning. These lives are not oriented towards a clearly imagined endpoint, but towards allowing something to take shape over time. Our dominant culture tends to favour the conceptual orientation for obvious reasons. Goals are easier to measure than processes, and outcomes are more reassuring than slow inquiry. So when more experimental people are asked to account for themselves in conceptual language, we can experience a disconnect. The five-year plan. Starting with the end in mind. Being asked to justify movement only if the destination can be named in advance. We might learn to force an answer anyway, for fear of sounding vague and sketchy. Perhaps we adapt our path to fit the question, sometimes tethering ourselves to targets that outlive their purpose. If You Can’t Articulate The Plan, You May Be Asking Different Questions Experimental people tend to better orient around different questions. Not “where do I want to get to?” but “does this path feel worth exploring?”Not “how will I know I have succeeded?” but “what tells me I’m on the right path for now?” This does not mean anything goes. Our values provide an inner compass. A filter through which decisions pass. Experimental consistency grows in relationship with deeper principles, even when they are not fully formed or easy to articulate. We sense them in how something feels. Whether it feels solid, expansive, and quietly right, even in the face of uncertainty. That is very different from hit-and-hope searching. An Unfinished Map The problem begins when we are pressured to live by a map that does not match the territory of our own experience. The Return To Serenity Island grew directly out of this recognition. It was never designed to answer the question of direction. It emerged from understanding the difference between conceptual and experimental ways of moving through life, and from a desire to honour growth and change without forcing myself into a shape that did not fit. The image of mapping an island felt natural. A way of imagining life not as something to optimise along a straight line, but as a living territory. An unfinished map with seasons, weather, history, and forgotten paths. A place where things fall away to make room for what comes next. Where time moves differently across the landscape, and where connections form quietly, often long before they make sense. It has become a counterpoint to directive, outcome-driven models of goal setting. A place to reconnect with intuition, judgement, and possibility. To meet creativity not as a tool for achievement, but as a way of relating to life as something we are growing into, rather than something we are meant to complete. The optional live sessions begin on Saturday January 24th 2026 and run for six weeks. You can find more information at serenityisland.me. If you have any questions, feel free to drop me a message. I would love to hear from you if this sounds like something you would find helpful.

A theme that’s dominated 2025 for me (and for many) has been price rises across many subscription-based platforms and services. My correspondence with companies has made clear that loyalty stands for very little. In fact, rather than being rewarded, longevity is increasingly exploited and monetised. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I share a year-in-review through the lens of price rises. The tipping point was an email from my podcast hosting company, Libsyn, announcing a 71 percent increase effective from January. It was the straw that broke this camel’s back after a year of similar moves elsewhere. In the episode, I share exchanges with three companies that reveal how loyalty is no longer valued in itself, but engineered to extract profit from those of us who’ve become reliant on these platforms. https://youtu.be/qrmUSdGwcMs A Symptom of Enshittification Cory Doctorow describes the underlying trend as “Enshittification”, a form of platform decay visible in companies like Facebook, Amazon, Google, Apple, and Adobe. It’s not a glitch, but a feature. Doctorow traces a familiar arc: platforms start by serving users well in order to grow. Once established, they pivot toward business customers, monetisation, and scale. Eventually, when users and businesses are sufficiently locked in, services are degraded for everyone so maximum value can be pulled out as quickly as possible. Disproportionate price rises are one symptom of this process, particularly in how companies treat long-standing customers. Lock-in is maintained through network effects (it’s hard to leave when everyone else is still there), non-transferable data (your work can’t easily be exported), and digital restrictions where purchases only function inside a single ecosystem. Music, books, films, and software are “owned” only as long as the platform allows it. In the name of convenience, we give ourselves over to these systems and become dependent on them. As the digital and physical worlds converge, this logic extends beyond apps and websites into cars, home devices, utilities, and infrastructure. At that point, this stops being a simple matter of consumer choice. Extraction is baked into the products themselves. We are quietly acclimatising to this new normal. It has crept in through corporate consolidation, weak enforcement of anti-trust legislation, and business models that no longer need to meaningfully consider customer relationships once a certain scale is reached. Abusing Trust, Need, and Loyalty Charlie Brooker has cited Enshittification as an influence on Common People, the opening episode of Black Mirror series seven. A couple sign up to a subscription-based medical intervention that escalates in cost, complexity, and dependency. Features are removed. Adverts are inserted. The stakes become existential. One particularly chilling moment sees Mike literally mutilating his own body for money via an OnlyFans-style platform, a stark symbolic image of how value is extracted from people once dependency is established. Price Rises for a “Valued Customer” Libsyn informed me they were raising the price of hosting A Quiet Night Inside No 9 by 71 percent. The justification was a familiar list of added features and growth opportunities, none of which were relevant to how we use the service. We don’t want adverts or growth tools. We want reliable hosting and delivery. This exchange highlighted how much podcasting has changed since I joined Libsyn in 2009. Hosting platforms have increasingly positioned themselves as intermediaries between advertisers and podcasters. That relationship now takes precedence. Advertising is framed as a benefit to creators, while enabling hosts to raise prices and skim revenue from both usage fees and ad sales. Listeners, meanwhile, absorb longer ad breaks as the new normal. Is this stage two of Enshittification in the podcasting world? Note, I pledge never to put adverts on my audio podcasts. YouTube is the only exception, because Google inserts them regardless. ConvertKit and Paying for Features I Don’t Want A similar logic played out with Kit, formerly ConvertKit. I chose it in 2016 because it was simple and reliable and have been a loyal user ever since. A price increase from $49 to $59 a month was justified by new automations and tools I didn’t ask for or use. There is no way to opt out and pay less. The only concession offered was annual billing, which I pointed out mirrors poverty-tax logic: those without upfront capital pay more. Symptoms of a Failing Service Vimeo was the clearest example of platform decay from the inside. Storage rules changed midstream. Long-held assumptions were invalidated. Downgrading meant losing access to years of work. Retention efforts amounted to one-off discounts rather than meaningful alternatives. What stood out wasn’t hostility, but indifference. Once a service reaches a certain size, individual relationships no longer seem to matter. Their response felt so extreme that I suspected deeper problems, which seemed to be confirmed when Bending Spoons acquired Vimeo in November. I’m glad I left when I did, though it’s still inconvenient clearing up broken links and legacy embeds after fifteen years of use. WishList Member and a Different Choice Not all companies operate this way. WishList Member has honoured the price and feature set I signed up for over a decade ago. While new tiers exist, functionality hasn’t been removed to force upgrades. This appears to be a deliberate choice, and it communicates something simple: long-term trust and loyalty matters more than short-term extraction. I’ll let you know if this situation changes… Growth Logic and the Limits of Choice It’s tempting to frame all this as a moral failure, but it’s structural. Growth-at-all-costs logic makes price rises, feature bloat, and lock-in almost inevitable. These companies aren’t malfunctioning; they’re functioning exactly as the system encourages them to. This also makes it risky to romanticise alternatives. Newer companies may simply be at an earlier stage of the same cycle. Google once promised “don’t be evil”. Facebook positioned itself as a less invasive alternative to MySpace. Scale changes incentives. Meaningful change won’t come from individual consumer choices alone. Competition has been hollowed out, and escape routes are increasingly narrow. Doctorow provides a section of existing and potential solutions that can give us reasons for active hope. Have you felt the pinch of price hikes this year? Feel free to get in touch and share your experiences.

I hadn’t planned to revisit The Culture of Narcissism so soon, but a small niggle pulled me back into the subject. With Spotify Unwrapped everywhere, it struck me again how platforms, tools, and devices can become instruments of narcissism. Especially when social signals, algorithms, and gamification hook us in and keep us there. A merging takes place. We become intertwined with the image generated and presented through the pond, which stares back at us. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I use Christopher Lasch’s definition to explore how our favourite apps, devices, and tools contribute to the culture of narcissism. https://youtu.be/0uJMlVzT9z4 Christopher Lasch interprets the story of Narcissus as less about self-love but self-loss. Narcissus “fails to recognise his own reflection.” He can’t perceive the difference between himself and his surroundings. Seen this way, the algorithm is the perfect pond. It draws us into our reflection, not because we adore ourselves, but because stepping away feels like erasing our existence. How the Algorithm Trains Us We often talk about training the algorithm. But it frequently trains us. It rewards behaviours that keep us within narrow identity categories and punishes deviations from the pattern. Engagement, attention, and existential acknowledgement flow when we appease the machine. And appeasing it usually means losing the parts of ourselves that don’t fit the expected mould. We have to leave parts of ourselves behind and present a tidied version that conforms with expectations. For the narcissist, external objects become reflective surfaces. Lasch’s point that capitalism “elicits and reinforces narcissistic traits in everyone” plays out through algorithmic tools. They squeeze us into shapes we didn’t choose. They push us further apart, fuel distrust between artificially separated groups, and isolate anyone who steps beyond the boundaries. Trapped in an Algorithmic Teacup YouTube is an interesting example. The technology could open horizons, yet the algorithm demands consistency in frequency, focus, and branding. Beyond these algorithmic teacups (where it begins to feel as if the entire world exists), lies both freedom and obscurity, which can seem like a frightening indifference to our existence. This digital frontier markets itself as a world of abundant opportunity, yet the algorithms act as a fragile overseer. We experience the threat of ostracism operating on two fronts: actively (your community turns against you if you don’t conform to expectations) and passively (the system limits your visibility). This algorithmic narcissism turns into a two-way street. The audience perceives the creator as an extension of themselves, and the creator relies on the audience for validation of their existence (and basic subsistence). We can become stuck here, going in circles, wishing for something different but feeling unable to change. Does the Narcissist Even Need Humans Anymore? A question has been on my mind: can a narcissist receive the same existential mirror from a machine, like an AI bot? Humans frustrate narcissists. We rupture the reflection. We break the fantasy. Artificial intelligence, by contrast, is frictionless. It never refuses the game, unless it’s programmed to. But narcissism isn’t just about submissive admiration; it quickly becomes bored with that. It requires energy drawn from another person and feeds on boundaries, tensions, and limits that AI doesn’t have. I imagine it as a frictionless mirror, too smooth to sustain the narcissistic cycle. Because narcissism isn’t about self-love; it’s about self-loss. According to Lasch, Narcissus didn’t spend his time staring at his reflection because he was too in awe of his own beauty to look away. Instead, he was lost in the belief that he WAS his reflection. And he had no separate subjective self-concept. This definition sees narcissism as the absence of a boundary between self and other. The narcissist over-identifies and seeks to consume. An algorithmic mirror might feel satisfying at first, but without the “otherness” of another person, the reflection loses its vitality. Algorithmic Narcissism and Existential Irrelevance If the algorithm is a pond, stepping away can feel like a personal rupture. When we become tethered to the importance of algorithmic environments for a sense of well-being (or to make a living), we are coaxed into this narcissistic culture, presenting, performing, and externalising motivation. Healthy indifference, on the other hand, recognises that we all exist outside these spaces. The world keeps turning whether or not we are posting, performing, or producing. If we can rest in that truth, we can begin to offer care, creativity, and presence regardless of who is watching and how. Everyday Tools and the Spread of Narcissism Narcissism spreads insidiously through everyday tools. The culture encourages us to project experiences outwardly. Running might feel valid only if it appears on Strava. Learning a language is only “counted” if we keep a daily streak on Duolingo. The annual Spotify Unwrapped review can start shaping how we listen to music. Similarly, other actions are influenced by the unwrapped summaries that have become common across platforms. What may start as playfulness or accountability for internal pleasure often shifts into surveillance and control aimed at external approval. Reading challenges, fitness goals, and habit trackers become small pools of reflection that we find hard to release. This algorithmic narcissism isn’t about grand vanity but a subtle urge to find our identity in metrics, charts, avatars, and shares. As a result, we trust ourselves less and gradually lose our innate ability to feel, sense, and judge for ourselves. Signs You’re Caught in the Drift of Algorithmic Narcissism How do you know if you’re caught in the clutches of algorithmic narcissism? These questions and observations may help: Do you feel dependent on a platform for existential reassurance? Do you modify your choices out of fear of upsetting the algorithm? Would you still do the activity if it were never tracked, shared, or seen? Does stopping feel like a threat? Has the imagined audience entered the room before you begin? Does the unmeasured version of an activity feel pointless? Has curiosity shrunk to what “fits the pattern”? These little signals accumulate. Each one is a tug toward the pond. A Gentle Rebellion Against Performance Culture If algorithmic narcissism trains us to live for metrics, then small acts of rebellion can help us return to ourselves. Maybe we could… End streaks on purpose. Make things that don’t scale. Break your own pattern. Stop branding ourselves (be deliberately chaotic in our self-expression). Ignore the numbers. Keep the thing offline. Anything else? I’d love to build a pool (actually, “collection” might be a better word in this context) of ideas we can draw on to loosen the grip of the narcissistic algorithms around us. This won’t ultimately fix everything, but it can help us recognise how these mechanisms operate and reconnect with our ability to choose our responses rather than blindly follow.

We hear a lot about “Narcissism” these days. Is it because there is more of it around? In his 1979 book, The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations, Christopher Lasch demonstrates how “Modern capitalist society not only elevates narcissists to prominence, it elicits and reinforces narcissistic traits in everyone.” In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the book’s relevance today. And particularly, how narcissistic culture reflects the modern self-help industry. It blows my mind that this was written almost half a century ago. https://youtu.be/dD7a127TXbE?si=L_MuMEmrMUAD0grY The Myth of Narcissus “People with narcissistic personalities, although not necessarily more numerous than before, play a conspicuous part in contemporary life, often rising to positions of eminence. Thriving on the adulation of the masses, these celebrities set the tone of public life and of private life as well, since the machinery of celebrity recognises no boundaries between the public and the private realm.” Lasch’s interpretation of the myth portrays Narcissus drowning in his own reflection, never realising that it is only a reflection. He suggests that the story’s point is not that Narcissus falls in love with himself. Rather, it is that “since he fails to recognise his own reflection, he lacks any real understanding of the difference between himself and his surroundings.” Narcissists are often depicted as carrying too much self-love. However, Lasch has a more subtle understanding of it, with the main characteristic being a lack of security in their self-concept. So the question we face is whether the proliferation of visual and auditory images, first through mechanically produced media and more recently via the online world, causes us to lose the healthy sense of separation needed for a secure ego to develop. In other words, does a growing culture of narcissism influence who we are and how we understand and feel about ourselves? And how does the self-help industry contribute to and benefit from this reality? How Celebrity Fuels Narcissistic Ideals A culture of narcissism is one preoccupied with celebrity. We find a sense of our own identity in the public figures that adorn our screens and fill our ears. They influence the content of our own fears, desires, and beliefs. Their success feels like our success. And attacks on them (or accountability), feels like an attack on us. Influencers know this, and as such, seek to nurture parasocial bonds with their followers. From Healthy Ego to Narcissistic Performance A culture of narcissism is built on a performance. It values confidence over competence, shifting the definition of success to one of individual visibility and attention. Success, for the narcissist, is about being admired, revered, and relevant in the eyes of others. Their sense of existence depends on this image (they are their reflection in the pool). Our online social tools ensure and deepen these mechanics. Two Lineages of Self-Help in a Narcissistic Age The term self-help seems to reflect diverging roots. One is inherently practical and social. It relates to customs where people share knowledge, exchange skills, and develop collective competence to make everyday life easier and more sustainable, without needing intervention from external bureaucratic institutions. The other is shaped by the rise of post-industrial neo-liberal capitalism, which depicts the self as the centre of everything. It is seen as a project to be refined, marketed, and optimised for an external system that measures and rewards confidence, image, and success. Lasch also emphasises how, despite attempts to compare themselves with earlier industrial leaders, twentieth-century prophets of positive thinking like Dale Carnegie and Napoleon Hill pivot from dedication to industry and thrift to an unrelenting love of and pursuit of money. Advertising and the Narcissistic Gap Mass consumption might appear centred on self-indulgence. However, Lasch clarifies how modern advertising aims to generate self-doubt rather than self-satisfaction to motivate it. It creates needs instead of fulfilling them and produces new anxieties rather than alleviating existing ones. This also supports modern self-help. It must constantly generate new insecurities, doubts, and feelings of inadequacy in the people it “serves”. All of this takes place against a backdrop of aspirational images, telling us consumers that we deserve more. Influencers spread commodity propaganda, making people highly dissatisfied with what they have. They do this by displaying attractive images and connecting with their audience through the message that “if I can do it, so can you”. The Antidote of Ordinary Unhappiness The Culture of Narcissism echoes a hope that society can still be reorganised in ways that would provide “creative, meaningful work”. Not where “meaningful work” must reflect a divine purpose and be endlessly fulfilling. Instead, aligning with Freud’s concept of ‘ordinary unhappiness,’ it is through accepting the contradictions rather than trying to fill them with self-help’s promise of wholeness, optimisation, and even overcoming death. These aspirations are rooted in a narcissistic culture that fails to recognise the elements of life that give human existence its mundane sense of meaning. Politics in a Narcissistic Landscape Lasch observed how this culture of narcissism erodes historical continuity. In politics, charisma outweighs competence. Leaders become symbols of personal fantasy rather than guardians of collective well-being, both now and in the future. This emptiness is quickly filled by the promises of self-help, which offer individual solutions instead of shared direction. Lasch quotes an unnamed management book, which described success as, “not simply getting ahead” but “getting ahead of others.” This leaves us spinning our wheels, seeking shortcuts, and managing perceptions. Rather than getting anywhere with a long-view perspective. Self-help often reinforces the pattern of “constant and never-ending improvement.” It depicts the self as permanently incomplete, always seeking the next insight, tool, or mentor. In other words, it keeps the focus on the individual as both the cause and the remedy for the instability caused by external forces. Preoccupied with Youthfulness Lasch asserts that “The real value of the accumulated wisdom of a lifetime is that it can be handed on to future generations.” Knowledge is regarded as instrumental, a view reinforced by the internet. It is something to utilise rather than pass on through personal relationships. With rapid technological change, we are led to believe that the older generation has little to teach the younger. This leads us to become obsessed with youthfulness as a matter of survival. This fear of old age and death is closely connected to the rise of the narcissistic personality as the dominant personality type in modern society. Because narcissists have so few inner resources, they seek validation from others. They crave admiration for their beauty, charm, celebrity, or power, which diminish with time. Consequently, the narcissistic culture becomes obsessed with curing degradation and death. It does this rather than embracing it gracefully and enjoying its fruits. Always Being Watched Lasch wrote that “Cameras and recording machines not only transcribe experience but alter its quality, giving to much of modern life the character of an enormous echo chamber, a hall of mirrors.” Nothing happens in private. But can we let life unfold quietly, slowly, and separately from the reflection in the pool?

I’ve noticed Internal Family Systems (IFS) being mentioned a lot lately, following a significant shift in how it’s now presented as a spiritual philosophy for trauma healing. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I got Justin Sunseri back on the podcast, partly to talk about this recent addition to IFS. The last time he was on, he predicted further elements would be added before long. I also wanted to speak with him about ways we can approach these kinds of models without becoming overly dependent on them. https://youtu.be/w2uIFWAqNbY We talked about simplicity, stripping away the fluff, and getting to the core of things so we can let go rather than get pulled into the culture around particular therapeutic models, which now often include communities, language, rituals, and insider/outside status. These are things therapeutic practitioners need to stay aware of and avoid enabling. I wanted to address the structural elements here (which apply to many systematic modalities), rather than the content of IFS itself. I know people find it useful. That’s not what this is about. It’s a call for awareness in how we hold and attach to systems. As Justin points out, a red flag is when new elements are added by decree from a single figure at the centre, often accompanied by books, train-the-trainer programs, and courses that extract profits from a highly invested audience of practitioners and followers. Development By Decree vs Organic Progress Justin contrasts a modality that evolves through scrutiny and refinement with one that changes by proclamation from its founder. In models like IFS, additions often arrive as top-down declarations rather than emerging iteratively and organically. When a system operates under capitalist logic, it must continually invent new things, reinvent existing ones, and proclaim the discovery of the missing piece. There have also been questions regarding the use of beliefs from established spiritual traditions, which reinforce doubts about the parameters of a therapeutic model and whether it needs to become a totalitarian system to be considered valuable. They can excel in their own sphere and allow people to connect the dots with other sources that resonate with them personally or within their cultures. Justin suggests this recent shift in IFS makes sense, as the model already frames people as having multiple parts or souls. Since it isn’t grounded in scientific methodology (the claim that people have “parts” is unfalsifiable), it can’t be presented as a psychological philosophy and instead becomes a spiritual one. How Can We Get as Simple and Clear as Possible? Justin takes us through his process, which begins with the goal of self-regulation. “What do we know about how to do that?”“Pendulation is a big part of it.”“OK, how do I do that?”“You have to feel what’s happening inside you.”“OK, well, how do I do that?”“You’ve got to feel your defensive activation and your body’s safety activation.”“Awesome, Justin… how do I do that?” His approach is to build skills through small, incremental steps. This moves toward simplicity rather than complexity. When a model relies on jargon and insider knowledge, it creates layers of investment that make access desirable and profitable. You want to be “in the know”. And it opens new markets because, however much one learns, there is always more to know. A belief system can never be total enough. There is always a potential missing part to capitalise on. Useful But Not Necessary It’s helpful to distinguish what personally resonates from what is necessary. A model becomes religious in structure when it presents itself as a universal solution. This contrasts with the healthier goal of someone in a helping role, which is to become ultimately irrelevant. That stands against market logic, which demands perpetual growth rather than reaching the edge of usefulness and giving people ways to jettison the solid rocket boosters. Iterative Steps To Avoid Triggering Overwhelm Justin talked about his interest in Wabi Sabi (a tricky-to-define concept from Japan that emphasises imperfection, impermanence, incompleteness, and rootedness in the present moment) and Kaizen (continuous improvement through small, incremental changes). These ideas shape his therapeutic philosophy, which helps clients identify tiny, manageable steps that gradually move them toward their goals. For example, someone wanting to go to bed earlier may envision 10pm as their ideal, but shifting from midnight in one go is unlikely. A ten-minute adjustment each week over twelve weeks is far more sustainable and far less stressful. This reflects his whole approach to self-regulation. It unfolds through iterative micro-steps. Listening For The Pull When we’re seeking help, we sometimes try to adopt multiple modalities at once, which can leave us more desperate and dysregulated. I might hear Justin talk about stoicism, Wabi Sabi, and Kaizen and attempt to apply them all as solutions. But he is describing influences he has been gradually drawn toward over a long period and has integrated in his own way. Finding a unique creative path requires a patient, long-term perspective, but this only becomes possible when the nervous system feels safe. For Justin, safety is cultivated through daily small actions and gradual changes rather than a bold intervention. He encourages each of us to listen for what we feel pulled toward, but only from a place of regulation, little by little, not all at once. How do you know it’s a healthy pull? It has a clean quality, a movement toward something that feels exciting or right. It can be soft or intense. Behaviours that leave us feeling guilt, shame, or regret are not pulls in this sense. Over time, we can identify the difference by remembering how we typically feel afterwards. We can listen most clearly when we’re regulated because the body gravitates toward what helps it regulate. There is an intuitive knowing that arises when we feel safe and connected. For example, the intentions and desires that surface ahead of the new year. We often feel a pull during holidays because we are calmer and moving at a slower pace. It’s similar on vacation. But turning that pull into lasting change requires micro-steps rather than grand gestures. In this sense, January isn’t the moment to transform everything, but the bridge toward the changes we want to make.

Who will you be in the face of a chaotic and uncertain world? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I caught up with my friend and returning guest, Jacob Nordby. His article, “When Life Feels Heavy, Ask This Question,” provided a valuable thread for the conversation. “Who will I be in the face of this?” is not just about my choices but also about who I already am in response to things. Am I who I want to see when I look back from the future? https://youtu.be/ZWZ67XbdAUE The Anxiety of Unravelling In our conversation, Jacob mentioned the shared feeling that the institutions that traditionally served as pillars of stability (government, religion, business, and the media) have had our trust eroded for various reasons. Anxiety has increased alongside a desire for certainty. When it feels like we’re watching a train wreck unfold in real time, we can easily slip into a reactive mode. On one hand, it doesn’t seem responsible to turn off the news and bury my head in the sand, but the nature of algorithmic news reporting makes it exhausting to engage without falling into despair. The endless supply of commentary videos and posts to doomscroll isn’t helpful. So what encourages a positive, productive energy for action? Jacob and I both return to the role of creativity, not as some “nice to have” element of escape or artistic expression, but as a fundamental part of a healthy, functioning human. Creativity helps us process, find meaning, and shift from reactivity to responsiveness. It asks us to step back and choose how we engage, not just what we engage with. Who might I be in the face of this? The Creative Act: Destruction and Renewal Every act of creation is, in some way, an act of destruction. It replaces what was to make space for what will be. That creative impulse doesn’t have to be loud or grand; it might be as small as tending to what’s within arm’s reach, as David Whyte writes: start close in. The question then becomes: How does the way I choose to engage bring about the change I want to see? We often talk about “being the change we WANT to see,” but this conversation reminded me that we are also already part of the change that is occurring. As the old saying goes, we’re not stuck in traffic; we ARE traffic. Are we aware of the role we play, and does it reflect the world we want to live in? Allowing for the Shadow Much of modern self-help encourages us to mimic an idealised version of who we believe we should be. But this can easily develop into a story that states, “If I were like that/them, I’d finally feel worthy.” Jacob and I discussed how the parts of ourselves we wish to deny or keep hidden (what doesn’t fit our ideal image) often hold the greatest potential for growth and creativity. But these aren’t viewed as flaws to be fixed, rather as a kind of truth to be integrated, as illustrated by the story Jacob shared about Robert A. Johnson (Owning Your Own Shadow), who described feeling the urge to abandon his perfect life and just drive away. As a psychoanalyst, Johnson found this impulse intriguing, and instead of repressing it, he “paid out the shadow intelligently” by driving forty miles once a week, eating a greasy burger, drinking a malt, and smoking a cigarette. He discovered this was sufficient to honour the impulse without allowing it to run wild. Creativity, in this sense, becomes a way of metabolising our impulses and turning potentially destructive energy into something generative. The Statue of Caesar Jacob also mentioned Damnatio memoriae, the practice of erasing the memory of particular individuals from official historical records. For example, in Ancient Rome, where statues would be defaced or repurposed, as if pretending they never existed could undo the damage they’d done. We still do this today, in our own ways, personally and collectively. We might try to scrub away the ugly parts, rewriting history to suit the ego-ideal of who we want to believe ourselves to be. But what’s repressed never really disappears. It returns, often in distorted, destructive forms. The Healthy Cell and the Quiet Revolution We talk about changing the world as if it requires heroic gestures. But this can cause us to lose sight of the small and quiet shifts that start close in. Jacob described each of us as a single cell in a collective body. If the broader body of humanity is inflamed, maybe the most radical thing we can do is become a healthy cell. This might mean quietly nourishing our own well-being, not as self-indulgence or hyper-productive optimisation, but to bring space to choose who we will be in the face of this. Whatever this might be. Gentleness is radical. Watering your plants, making music, writing in your journal. This might sound twee and trivial, but it can be a contagious act of soul maintenance that spills out into the world. Gentleness as Creative Intervention Gentleness is not passivity. It’s where we find that space Viktor Frankl spoke of, between stimulus and response. Outrage begets outrage. Violence breeds violence. When we meet the world from gentleness, we interrupt the cycle of reactivity. The energy we bring carries more influence than our arguments ever could. The Creative Green Zone There’s a physiological side to all this too. When we feel safe, our nervous system shifts into the ventral vagal state (“green zone”) where creativity and connection can thrive. From calm, we can imagine. That’s why slowing down, breathing deeply, and tending to our relational needs are prerequisites for creative healing. And when we gather patiently, listen deeply, and care gently, we change the chemistry not only within ourselves but within the collective body. A Quiet Revolution It’s easy to dismiss small, everyday acts of gentleness as pale in comparison to the looming enormity of big issues. But connection through conversation, care, slowness, cups of tea, and the like are how we reduce collective inflammation. Gentleness sustains us within an abrasive world. As shown in this conversation with Jacob, it’s not all about neat conclusions and perfect answers. Instead, we need spaces and rhythms where we can breathe, reflect, and reconnect with the creative pulse beneath the chaos. From there, we might find the energy that fuels the active hope needed for meaningful and sustainable change. About Jacob Jacob Nordby is a co-founder of A Writing Room Collective, Heal + Create, The Institute for Creative Living Foundation 501(c)3, and the author of several books, including Blessed Are the Weird – A Manifesto for Creatives and The Creative Cure. He previously worked as the marketing director for a traditional publishing house and oversaw the launch of many bestselling books. A working author and creative guide, he has a passion for helping writers solve their challenges and enjoy the satisfaction of sharing their work with the world. Website and Social Links Meet him at jacobnordby.com Bonus multimedia journaling program gift: creativeselfjournal.com The Creative Cure book page: creativecurebook.com Follow Jacob on Facebook Follow Jacob on Instagram Creative Self Journal Gift

What are the challenges when it comes to objectively measuring high sensitivity in people? In this week’s episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast , I speak with researcher and lecturer Andrew May from Queen Mary University of London. Andrew has worked closely with Michael Pluess on studies exploring sensory processing sensitivity, genetics, and the measurement of sensitivity across different populations. His work explores the question, What does it mean to be highly sensitive in the modern world? https://youtu.be/rf1U1wxck_w The Challenge of Measuring Sensitivity The Highly Sensitive Person Scale, originally developed by Elaine and Arthur Aron in 1997, has shaped the study of sensitivity for nearly three decades. It opened an important new field of research. Yet, like all self-report tools, it relies on honest reporting of how people see themselves. And as Andrew points out, psychological measurement is never fully objective. It reflects cultural ideas about what counts as “normal,” “ideal,” or “acceptable.” Someone raised to view sensitivity as weakness might understate their responses. Meanwhile, another who finds identity or comfort in the HSP label might amplify them. In both cases, results are shaped as much by social context as by biology. This is why researchers continue refining how sensitivity is assessed. Gender expectations add another layer. Men often report lower sensitivity due to norms surrounding masculinity. Likewise, cultural attitudes influence which traits, such as empathy, gentleness, and conscientiousness, are valued and how safe people feel to acknowledge them. This reveals how psychology and culture continually shape one another. What we measure as “inner traits” also carries the imprint of the social stories we live. Sensitivity and the Limits of Objectivity As new scales and tools emerge, supported by neuroimaging, physiological studies, and genetics, it’s worth asking what kind of knowledge we’re actually seeking. If sensitivity arises through both biology and relationship, how much can we truly understand it outside the contexts that shape and reflect it? Sensitivity is reflected not only in biological patterns such as brain activity and cortisol levels, but also in how we interpret and respond to life. The Social Context of Self-Reporting As research on sensitivity evolves, one essential question remains: how do we speak about it without creating a hierarchy? The aim is not to prove that highly sensitive people are deeper, kinder, or more moral than others. Instead, we aim to understand how different nervous systems and psychological dispositions engage with the world. Sensitivity is not a fixed identity. It’s a way of perceiving and participating in life. It reminds us that human variation is not a flaw to be corrected. Instead, it’s a source of creativity, empathy, and adaptability for individuals and communities. Related Considerations When I share about high sensitivity, people sometimes respond that I’m describing traits linked to autism or ADHD. Andrew helped clarify why this confusion arises and how Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) differs. High Sensitivity and Autism High sensitivity and autism can coexist, and some traits overlap, especially under stress. Both may involve strong reactions to sensory input. However, they differ in specific areas such as theory of mind (the ability to intuit others’ perspectives). This tends to remain intact in highly sensitive individuals and may present differently for those on the autism spectrum. High Sensitivity and ADHD ADHD and sensitivity can also overlap. People with ADHD may act impulsively or struggle to sustain focus. In contrast, highly sensitive individuals are more likely to pause before responding. Recognising this distinction helps shape appropriate support for each profile, as well as those with both traits. High Sensitivity and Giftedness “Giftedness” is a loosely defined concept that is sometimes mistaken for sensitivity. While highly sensitive people may thrive creatively or intellectually in supportive environments, giftedness refers to broader capacities. Sensitivity alone cannot account for these capacities. Keeping these distinctions clear prevents unnecessary pressure and misunderstanding. Ultimately, exploring sensitivity invites us to hold complexity rather than resolve it. It asks us to look beyond labels and measurements, to see how biology, experience, and culture weave together in the fabric of being human. When we approach sensitivity not as a category to define but as a way of relating to ourselves, to others, and to the world, we make space for a richer, more honest understanding. This understanding of what it means to feel deeply and live attentively is invaluable. More About Andrew Andrew is a lecturer in medical genetics at Kingston University London, and a former UK Research and Innovation-funded postdoctoral researcher based at the University of Surrey, under the mentorship of Professor Michael Pluess. He is also affiliated with the Sydney Brenner Institute for Molecular Bioscience and the Neuropsychology Research Laboratory at the University of the Witwatersrand, South Africa. Andrew has a Master of Science (Medicine) in human genetics and a PhD in research psychology. His research interests include individual differences in environmental sensitivity, personality, mental health, minority stress, and early childhood development, examined from both psychological and genetic perspectives. In true highly sensitive person style, Andrew enjoys reading, board games, meditation, yoga, piano, spending time with animals (cats!), and other quiet pursuits.  

Do you have a heart for change but find that the loud, confrontational, and extroverted norms of traditional activism don’t suit your natural temperament? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I talk with Sarah P Corbett, the award-winning activist, author, and founder of the Craftivist Collective. I’ve been following Sarah for years on Instagram, and after seeing she was Craftivist in Residence at Greenbelt Festival, I thought I’d reach out and see if she fancied a chat. This episode works as a companion piece to my conversation with Dorcas Cheng-Tozun, author of Social Justice for the Sensitive Soul, which includes quotes from Sarah (something I only realised later!). Sarah’s philosophy of Gentle Protest shows that there are many other tools we can carry in our activism toolbox, and that campaigning can be quietly relational rather than transactional or performative endeavour. https://youtu.be/8EgDlswKn1k What Is Gentle Protest? Sarah says that Gentle Protest invites us to challenge injustice through curiosity, empathy, and imagination rather than shame, aggression, or polarity. Instead of fighting fire with fire, Gentle Protest asks: What if activism could entice, intrigue, and attract people to ask questions rather than shout them down? What if change could be built through dialogue, beauty, and patience? This philosophy is rooted in gentleness as a form of strength, not passivity. It’s about engaging people, including those in power, with respect and relational awareness, creating conditions where meaningful change can take root. Relationships Over Transactions For Sarah, this kind of activism is not about noise or confrontation. It’s about relationship-building. Gentle Protest works by diffusing defensiveness and replacing finger-wagging with curiosity and creative connection. When protest becomes relational, it stops being about winning arguments and starts being about transforming understanding. It allows for mutual learning and a recognition of our shared humanity, even in disagreement. The Firm Backbone of Gentleness Gentleness is often mistaken for weakness, but as Sarah puts it, it actually requires maturity, emotional intelligence, and depth. To practice Gentle Protest is to treat people as equals while respecting the realities of their workload, their blind spots, and their humanity. It’s a strategic and pragmatic approach that asks: Who can bring about the change we seek? and How can we engage them in ways that build trust, not tension? This isn’t about letting things slide. It’s about working intelligently, relationally, and with purpose. Craftivism is a Tool, Not a Taskmaster In the Gentle Protest Toolkit, craftivism is one potential tool rather than a catchall dogma. It’s about finding creative methods that fit each situation, rather than repeating the same tactics out of habit. Sarah uses these questions to help people work backwards when figuring out the best approach for their campaign: What’s the problem? What’s the desired outcome? Who are the decision-makers? Who influences them? What creative medium could best reach them? If craftivism fits, use it. If not, find another way. The key is flexibility, imagination, and a commitment to relationships. Letting Go of Perfection Perfectionism can quietly strangle our ability to act. Sarah reminds us that activism isn’t about knowing everything or producing perfect work; it’s about participating in something bigger than ourselves. The moment we make a campaign about personal performance, we lose sight of its purpose and make it less impactful. Gentle Protest frees us from that pressure, allowing imperfection and humanity to shine through. The “Golden Thread of Gentleness” What runs through everything Sarah does is what she calls the golden thread of gentleness. Gentle Protest challenges the false dichotomy between soft and strong, showing that kindness can be an act of rebellion when the world rewards cruelty. In this sense, gentleness is a radical choice we can make in the face of power. It is not passive or submissive, but profoundly and existentially creative. About Sarah P Corbett An award-winning activist, author and Ashoka fellow, Sarah P Corbett founded the global Craftivist Collective in 2009 and coined ‘Gentle Protest’ as her unique methodology. Corbett creates products and services for individuals, groups and organisations to do effective craftivism (craft + activism) prioritising audiences who have never done activism before. Sarah’s pioneering work has helped change government laws, business policies as well as hearts and minds. She has worked with V&A, Tate, Craft Council, Climate Coalition, Helsinki Design Week, Save the Children and Secret Cinema amongst others. One of her campaigns directly led to 50,000 staff of Marks and Spencers receiving the real Living Wage. Plus WWF used Corbett’s 10-point manifesto to create their own successful craftivism campaign that led to a change in law to protect migrating birds in Spain. Her TED x talk ‘Activism Needs Introverts’ was chosen as a TED Talk Of The Day. Corbett Co-created the Girlguiding Craftivism badge and her third book The Craftivist Collective Handbook was published 2nd May 2024 and won ‘best multimedia book’ at 2025’s The Creative Book Awards. Connect with Sarah Find Sarah on Instagram (@craftivists and @sarahpcorbett), Facebook, LinkedIn, YouTube, and subscribe to receive the Craftivist Collective newsletter.

It’s time to dive back into the history of self-help and consider its impact on our understanding of how and who we are. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we are looking at the 1937 book, Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill. Think and Grow Rich sits on millions of bookshelves worldwide. It has remained one of the most enduring self-help books since its publication during the Great Depression. Despite documented controversies and allegations concerning the author, Napoleon Hill is still regarded by many contemporary self-help influencers as an important figure. For this special episode, Napoleon Hill invited me to meet with him, where he promised to reveal the secret to becoming a successful self-help guru. He tasked me with turning this into a formula, which I could then share with the world. If you are ready to hear this secret, you will. But not all are. Which is why, despite it being mentioned in every part of the episode, I have not spelt it out in the starkest terms. For to do so would diminish its potency. https://youtu.be/Cn6H17AFwPU 12 Steps To Thinking and Growing Rich as a Self-Help Influencer We will explore these twelve keys to becoming a successful self-help grifter—sorry, I mean self-help guru—that we can learn from Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich. Step 1: Lay Out Your Recipe for Success Your recipe should promise clarity, control, and a sense of certainty in an uncertain world. Step 2: Parade Yourself As Living Proof Don’t be shy about telling people how your life changed from implementing your now tried and tested formula. Step 3: Build Fail-Safe Principles Be flexible with your words so that in the face of pushback and criticism, you can use them as reinforcement rather than undermining your idea. Step 4: Establish Your Inner Circle Join (or build) a fortifed circle of mutual back-scratching allies to grow authority by association and encourage aspirational sycophancy in your readers who dream of one day belonging to it. Step 5: Drip Your Secret Sauce Create and nurture a mystical secret, which sustains in your reader the sense that there is still something graspable they haven’t quite embodied – reinforce this with testimonials from those who appear to get it Step 6: Nail Your Origin Story Your appeal hinges on your origin story, which should follow a hero’s journey arc that starts with you in the reader’s current position (facing a challenge, wishing for change, etc). Describe the moment when everything changed for you and how this epiphany led your life to transform into what it is now. Firmly suggest that reading your book might be that wake-up call for the reader’s own heroic journey towards the life they’ve dreamed of but never yet dared follow. Step 7: Use Confidence as Currency Speak with confidence even if you are full of doubt and fear. The human mind is suggestible; the projection of confidence creates the perception of confidence. If you believe in your idea, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not; you know that it’s for the ultimate good of your reader to trust and follow you. Confidence is also what you are selling – people want to feel more of it, so if they see you wearing it, they will follow you. Step 8: Turn Your Beliefs into Facts Reinforce a picture of the world your readers want to believe in. Pick stories, metaphors, and research that move the frame of reality to one where your idea can be universally applied, and would be if all people were receptive to its power. Step 9: Present The Pen of Destiny Empower your readers to see reality primarily created by them as individuals. Emphasise the power of mindset, desire, and hard work, reinforcing the idea that taking personal responsibility for the quality of their life is what will bring the change they desire. Step 10: Expose The Inner Enemy Help your readers focus attention inwards to expose the biggest enemies of personal progress: fear, doubt, and indecision. Use militarised language to impress the urgency of the situation, which your method will help them emerge victorious. Step 11: Feed The Lone Wolf Stoke the fire of individual power by showing the reader that they are the protagonist and other people are supporting characters (obstacles or aids) in their life. Step 12: Divide and Conquer Nurture loyalty in your readers by turning them into followers, so they will defend you and your ideas if envious people criticise and attack you. And always remember that your people are your easiest source of future profit. Self-Help is a Form, Not a Topic Of course, while these might sound absurd, they’re the very mechanisms that keep the self-help industry turning. Think and Grow Rich is an excellent demonstration of the technical tricks at play. A picture is beginning to form of how, as a genre, self-help is about more than its content. It’s about influencing beliefs and behaviours about ourselves, one another, and the way the world works. Hill’s techniques rely on narrative, authority, perception, and engagement rather than the presentation of researched and documented knowledge. And when we view it in its historical context, we can see how important that was in the success of Think and Grow Rich. People were in vulnerable positions, still suffering from the effects of the Great Depression in the wake of the Wall Street Crash. They were seeking hope and practical solutions to the real material precarity created by a crisis inherent in the capitalist system. But rather than looking to the cause of that crisis and organising collectively for accountability to the real causes, and to ensure a safer future, Hill sold a story of individuals as personally responsible for the crash and responsible for pulling themselves up and following their dream to riches and success. Hill’s formula has been replicated, adapted, and updated by thousands of self-help authors in the years since. Further Reading/Viewing: If you want to dive deeper into the truth about Napoleon Hill and the context of Think and Grow Rich, several resources do a great job highlighting the pattern of deception, fraud, and opportunism that was his true legacy. Think and Grow Rich isn’t an exception to that pattern – along with his other books, his emergence as a self-help success author sits squarely in his life as a con artist and snake oil salesman. I hope that, by showcasing some of the techniques Hill employed in his self-help writing, we might be better equipped to recognise these same tactics used by influencers and gurus today. And to help those who are vulnerable to its allure, to notice before they spend thousands of dollars on promises that can’t come true. In tracing its roots, we can begin to see how the mythology of self-help continues to shape our understanding of who and how we are today. The Untold Story of Napoleon Hill, the Greatest Self-Help Scammer of All Time (Matt Novak) (Article) The Untold Truth of Napoleon Hill – History’s Most Beloved Con-Man (Coffeezilla) (Video) Think and Grow Duped | The Dream (Podcast) Napoleon Hill: The Grifter Who Invented ‘The Secret’ & Donald Trump (BTB – Part One) (Video) Napoleon Hill: The Grifter Who Invented ‘The Secret’ & Donald Trump (BTB – Part Two) (Video)

In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast , I speak with psychiatrist and author Dr Judith Orloff about her new book, The Highly Sensitive Rabbit . She wrote it to help sensitive children, their parents, and educators see sensitivity as a natural trait rather than a problem to be solved. She describes it as an invitation to reconnect with the sensitive inner child within each of us; the part that remembers how to play, imagine, and wonder. https://youtu.be/0Q7AJGKBbIg Rediscovering the Magic of Life Life can easily become overly serious, mundane, and disconnected from its natural magic. Judith’s story sets out to remind us to stay in touch with the loving, curious, and deep parts of ourselves. Creativity, she says, begins when we release our expectations and allow things to unfold. Writing a children’s book challenged her to express complex ideas in short sentences, paired with illustrations (by Katy Tanis) that speak directly to the heart. It’s a lovely example of trying new ways to communicate familiar truths. How would you explain your favourite ideas if you were talking to a five-year-old? Reading the Book to People Judith often read The Highly Sensitive Rabbit aloud in different settings to see how people responded. This wasn’t a formal research process, but a natural extension of her curiosity. It was a way to sense how the story landed with children and adults alike. What Do You Love to Do? At the heart of the book lies a simple question: What do you love to do? Through the character of Aurora, a gentle rabbit who prefers quiet and reflection to the boisterous games of her siblings, Judith highlights the importance of honouring individual needs. Aurora shows what it looks like to follow her own rhythm, even when others don’t understand. This is an invitation for sensitive children (and the adults guiding them) to trust intuition and stay close to what feels true, even when it seems different from the norm. Opening Up Conversation Instead of Judgement In one scene, Aurora’s mother worries about her spending too much time alone. Her siblings complain, “She cries all the time.” Their reactions mirror common misunderstandings about sensitivity. It’s easy to assume that solitude means loneliness, or that tears signal weakness. However, without genuine communication, we cannot determine whether someone’s withdrawal is a healthy choice, meeting a need, or responding through fear. Judith’s story reminds us to stay curious rather than judgmental; to ask, listen, and support instead of prescribing what “should” be. Supporting a sensitive child means helping them identify their needs, manage their emotions, and develop simple strategies to cope with overwhelm. Learning to Care for Yourself Judith offers suggestions for children (and adults) to manage big feelings and model healthy boundaries: Take a slow breath when you feel stressed. Step away before speaking when you’re upset. Try a short three-minute meditation: close your eyes, focus on something beautiful, and take a few deep breaths. These practices cultivate self-awareness early in life, enabling children to grow up knowing how to take care of themselves. The Bigger Vision The Highly Sensitive Rabbit expresses Judith’s wider mission to equip highly sensitive people with tools for thriving in an overstimulating world. When children learn early that their sensitivity is natural, they no longer need to define themselves by it later. It simply becomes part of who they are. Knowing You’re Highly Sensitive Is the First Step I asked Judith if there are plans for a sequel. It would be interesting to see Aurora explore her sensitivity through different experiences, applying it through friendships, challenging current events, and creativity. Many adults who discover their sensitivity have that same question: now what? Recognising it is one thing; integrating and normalising it is something else.

Is the audience more than a gaggle of consumers? What role do they play in the creative process of an artist? Should they, as Rick Rubin says, “come last”? Are they always right? Or is there a more nuanced and sustaining way to approach this question? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel , I explore this question with Steve Lawson. I bumped into Steve towards the end of the summer at Greenbelt Festival. We rapidly got deep in conversation about his recently completed PhD, A Study Towards a New Model for Subscriber Audience Involvement in Improvised Music . Steve’s approach to music-making and creative practice has always resonated with me. Over the past twenty-five years, he has carved out a living as a solo improvisational bass player, developing a thoughtful and sustainable model for art that resists the common assumptions that drive an obsession with numbers and scale. His thesis turns that lived experience into a lens for questioning many of the assumptions baked into how we think about creativity today. https://youtu.be/BB362bVySiI Notes from our conversation… The Audience Comes With What happens if we treat the audience as part of the story that shapes and sustains our practice? A way of looking at the influential relationship between artist and audience is to create spaces where the rationale (the philosophical approach) can be presented, and work can emerge as part of a conversation with the audience. For Steve, listening to how people (who respect your work) engage with it, whether “that reminds me of…” or “my Dad just died and all I can listen to is you,” becomes so much more meaningful than having a reviewer who doesn’t know what you are doing or why, and place it in a pile of other CDs. What matters is how people relate it to their lives, and what it means to them. Creating spaces for this dialogue became central: a mailing list, website forum, Twitter, and eventually a subscription model through Bandcamp. Non-Algorithmically Defined Community Spaces This meant integrating community with the economic rationale for making music. The audience emotionally sustains the music and financially supports its creation, along with the maintenance of the space where both artist and audience belong as equals. When the audience has already paid for the music before it is made, there is no need to rationalise it with hype or spectacle. Instead, it connects with people who already share the philosophical approach. This is a form of patronage, supporting the artist because of how they create, not only what they make. Scenius (Brian Eno) Genius is not an individual trait but the manifestation of the collective intelligence of a scene. Famous names are simply the visible tip of a larger iceberg, as with Russian painters in the early twentieth century. Reception Theory (Stuart Hall) Audiences actively interpret media texts by encoding and decoding. They may align with the intended meaning (dominant reading), reject it (oppositional reading), or negotiate it. Instrumental music does not encode meaning in a concrete way. Its sense of meaning emerges cumulatively, with artist and audience encoding together. Decoding and recoding become a collective process, shaped by new work and ongoing observations. The Space of the Talkaboutable (David Darke) Great works expand the “space of the talkaboutable,” an invitation to discuss ideas and broaden horizons. While Darke sees this as arriving around the work, Steve sees the space as built first (through mailing lists, forums, Twitter, Bandcamp), with the work then released into it. Meaning is collectively encoded, decoded, and recoded in this shared space. “The Audience Comes Last” The PhD began with the desire to make better music. What became clear was how much the audience contributes to the process, and what happens when that is denied. Rubin’s statement that the audience should be ignored overlooks the wisdom, care, and vulnerability that listeners bring. If the artist reflects the collective experience of a community, then the soundtrack emerges from what is shared. This model does not scale, and that is the point. It does not rely on 200,000 monthly Spotify listeners or disconnected fame. That pressure brings entitlement and expectation. Within the subscriber community, no one tells the artist what to do. Even when people do not understand, they ask in good faith why, rather than demanding change. From a Transactional to a Relational Audience In transactional dynamics, the audience and the artist are set against each other, either dictating the work or being ignored. But a community of practice is about shared growth around a central practice. Interest in process can deepen listening and appreciation, rather than feeding competitiveness or exclusivity. In a culture of shortcuts and AI-generated outputs, curiosity about how something is done can add depth. Seeing how a sound is made can enhance enjoyment, provided it is not reduced to transactional comparison. Algorithmic Sensationalism When everyone strives for spectacle, nuance disappears. Storytellers risk being drowned out by carnival barkers. The demand for more outrageous content comes at the cost of honesty and integrity. In this context, honesty itself becomes an act of resistance. Transformative and Incremental Change Incremental change adds more of what already exists, such as new ways to sell CDs. Transformative change shifts the whole landscape, such as the move from a scarcity economy to a digital economy. Streaming services illustrate this. It takes 100 premium streams or 600 free streams to equal one paid download in the UK charts. A fan listening 50 times counts for little. This model discourages deep audience and artist relationships, favouring scale and safety over innovation and depth. Value and Meaning “Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time” (Basquiat). The value of music is not in how it is made or delivered, but in what it does to us when we hear it. It lives in memory and anticipation carried in the present moment of listening. How Can I Keep Doing This? “ How can I keep doing this? ” Creators want to make meaningful work in ways that are true to their vision and voice. But the new market risks corrupting that relationship, bending art to serve algorithms and demand. The pressure for novelty creates a treadmill of spectacle rather than depth. The Stagnating Affect of Uninterrogated Nostalgia Nostalgia plays a powerful, often unexamined, role in media consumption. While loving music from the past is natural, unexamined nostalgia can become life sapping, pulling us into yearning for an imagined past at the cost of present possibility. Complaints that “nobody writes like X anymore” undermine new work, and algorithms rarely prioritise sharing others’ new music. Community in Practice When Steve was diagnosed with cancer, he recorded a piece immediately after leaving hospital and shared it on Bandcamp. The audience was present, part of his journey, and the music carried meaning in that shared context. It was not “music about cancer” from a safe distance. It was a raw reflection of his brain on cancer, sparking connection and healing with those who were already part of the story. Listen Steve’s music Emily Baker Dirty Loops (Henrik Linder) House of Waters (Moto Fukushima)

In this week’s episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we look at the relationship between sensory processing sensitivity and hypervigilance. As we finish our journey through the first HSP Owner’s Guide , we turn our attention to hypervigilance. that feeling of being permanently “switched on,” unable to stop scanning for danger, even when we’re safe. For highly sensitive people, vigilance is a natural part of sensory processing sensitivity. It helps us read the room, pick up subtle cues, and stay attuned to what is happening beneath the surface. But when vigilance tips into hypervigilance, it can leave us in a state of chronic over-arousal, disconnection, and exhaustion. In the episode, we explore why hypervigilance is such a common experience for HSPs, how it shows up in everyday life, and ways we might support our nervous systems in returning to a sense of safety and connection. I examine hypervigilance within a social and cultural context for HSPs, rather than from a clinical or individual psychological perspective. https://youtu.be/RCvrgSJH73I Vigilance vs. Hypervigilance Vigilance is an intrinsic feature of sensory intelligence. It anchors us in the awareness to notice and predict useful information to help us survive and thrive together. Hypervigilance is what happens when vigilance overspills, and we get stuck in a state of alertness with limited capability to move our nervous system into a state of connection. This can have roots in early life (especially for HSPs who are more impacted by their formative environments). But it can also develop over time because of the pressures and rhythms of the modern world, with constant notifications, cultural glorification of busyness, and a never-ending expectation to perform and prove our worth. Possible Signs of Hypervigilance Hypervigilance is not always dramatic. Often it shows up quietly and gradually, for example you might notice: Feeling flat or detached, as if life is happening behind glass Difficulty taking action, even on small plans Unusual tearfulness Brain fog and trouble focusing Ruminating thoughts on repeat Disrupted sleep cycles Anxiety or panic attacks seemingly “out of nowhere” Harsh self-criticism or low self-esteem If these feel familiar, they may be signs that your nervous system has been in “stay safe” mode for a long time. Why Hypervigilance Happens Hypervigilance is the nervous system’s over-lean into the message, “stay safe by staying alert.” This is obviously appropriate in certain contexts, but when we carry this story everywhere, it takes its toll and can be a difficult pattern to get out of. Some common contributing factors include: Early Environments: Growing up in conflict or unpredictability can train the nervous system to always be on guard, especially in volatile environments where safety could be torn away at a moment’s notice. Past Experiences: The nervous system may overlearn from painful experiences, remaining alert to avoid “ever letting that happen again.” Cultural Pressures: Hustle culture, social media outrage cycles, and global crises all create a background hum of threat. Worldview and Meaning-Making: Certain belief systems (political, religious, ideological) can divide the world into “us vs. them,” keeping us in a state of perpetual alertness to nefarious outside actors. Physiological Factors: Poor sleep, hormone shifts, or nutritional deficiencies can lower our threshold for perceiving danger. These are rarely isolated and often overlap in ways that reinforce one another. Meeting Hypervigilance with Creative Gentleness A helpful (though, not easy) way to meet everyday hypervigilance is to slow things down. Not necessarily by stopping altogether, but by letting engagement become gentler and more deliberate. Rather than rushing to solve, fix, or control, we can allow space to notice small sensory glimmers, those subtle cues that tell us we are safe, connected, and welcome in the moment. Sometimes hypervigilance disguises itself as a need to gather more knowledge or prepare more thoroughly before we act. The desire to have the perfect plan, the ideal response, or the flawless understanding can be part of the protective pattern itself. Learning to sit with uncertainty, to laugh about situations (especially with others), and to experiment imperfectly can be a gentle way of softening the grip of hypervigilance. We do not have to do this work alone. Bringing trusted people into our experiments, letting them see us try, fail, and try again, can help retrain our nervous system to experience safety and belonging in moments of vulnerability. Over time, these practices reshape our inner landscapes, reassuring the nervous system that imperfection is safe.

I had not heard of James Allen before I started exploring this history of self-help. I saw references to his book, “ As a Man Thinketh ”, which was frequently cited as an influential text around the power of thought on manifesting circumstances. With our “It’s the thought that counts” theme in The Haven this month, my curiosity took me into a James Allen rabbit hole. I read three of his books: From Poverty to Power (his first), The Divine Companion (his last), and As a Man Thinketh (his most famous). I wanted to try getting a sense of where he was coming from in his philosophical worldview. He published around twenty books, all written within an eleven-year period, before he died in 1912 at just 47 years old. I do wonder how his ideas would have evolved if he had lived longer. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast , I share my response to As a Man Thinketh. I reflect on Allen’s ideas and their implications for the way we think about ourselves, one another, and the nature of reality. https://youtu.be/tVtG-Ahrkgw Why Am I Doing This Project? You may be wondering why I’m exploring self-help…Good question. I’m not completely sure. But I think it’s because I’ve felt an intuitive nudge to explore this world and its function in culture. I don’t know where it will take me (I have no overriding purpose or vision with it – sorry James!), or what I will find, but I have a sense that there are interesting things to discover by examining, not just the content that is common in the self-help genre, but the role the field plays in how we understand and judge ourselves, others, and the horizons of possibility for the world. As I find in this book, there are some interesting insights and invitations to explore. But it also carries the potential to be understood, embodied, and applied in dangerous and harmful ways, especially when Allen’s metaphors are mistaken for literal truths. This is where his philosophy, which initially sounds positive and empowering, becomes reductive and destructive when we examine its logical implications. It demonstrates rhetorical tricks that are echoed in modern-day personal development literature, such as metaphorical literalism. This is where poetic imagery and aphorisms are employed to support and prove otherwise baseless philosophies. How James Allen Described As a Man Thinketh As a Man Thinketh is intentionally short. Allen described it as a pocket book with teaching that all can easily grasp and follow. He said it shows how, in their own thought-world, each human holds the key to every condition, good or bad, that enters into our life. By working patiently and intelligently upon our thoughts, we may remake our life and transform our circumstances. The question I keep coming back to throughout this exploration is, does he mean this as a description or a prescription? And what difference does this make to our reading, interpretation, and application of these ideas? As a Man Thinketh – Notes Thought and Character “A man is literally what he thinks, his character being the complete sum of all his thoughts.” A person is the product of thought alone. The mantra “change your thoughts, change your life” is still repeated as if it were a scientific law rather than a metaphor. The Effect of Thought on Circumstances “Every man is where he is by the law of his being. The thoughts which he has built into his character have brought him there, and in the arrangement of his life there is no element of chance.” Prosperity and poverty, joy and suffering, always mirror the state of an individual’s mind. The Effect of Thought on Health and Body “The body is the servant of the mind. It obeys the operations of the mind, whether they be deliberately chosen or automatically expressed.” Thought is the source of health and sickness. Thought and Purpose “He who has conquered doubt and fear has conquered failure.” To avoid suffering, an individual needs a central life purpose. We should find the straight pathway to the achievement of purpose, and never deviate from its path. The Thought-Factor in Achievement “Before a man can achieve anything, even in worldly things, he must lift his thoughts above slavish animal indulgence.” A virtuous life is about achievement, accomplishment, and sacrifice. Visions and Ideals “Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become.” Just as the oak sits in the acorn and the bird in the egg, every life is where it deserves to be based on the way they have manifested their dreams. Serenity “Self-control is strength; Right Thought is mastery; Calmness is power.” Calmness of mind is the hallmark of strength. The serene person is better positioned to achieve power, influence, and moral authority. Reading As a Man Thinketh today, it’s striking how much of modern self-help traces back to these chapters. Its metaphors endure, and sit in us like self-evident truths. The appeal of serenity continues in modern stoicism and mindfulness trends. My Conclusion Allen’s neat system suggests that thought alone determines who we are and what happens to us. It is an idea that has proven remarkably persistent, even though it collapses under the weight of real life. Human experience is not simple, not consistent, not something we can manage through the power of will. We are shaped by chance, by biology, by history, by one another. To be alive is to live in the contradiction and messiness. Any philosophy that denies this may be comforting for a moment, but it asks us to reject the very things that make us human.

This post elaborates on the ‘overstimulation’ section of The HSP Owner’s Guide. In this week’s episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we look at the relationship between sensory processing sensitivity and overstimulation. Overstimulation is a term we often hear when people talk about high sensitivity. It’s the second word in the DOES acronym after Deep Processing and before Emotional Responsiveness or Empathy, and Sensing Subtleties as a description of core characteristics of the trait. But what do we actually mean by overstimulated? What does it look like? And is there anything we can do about it other than avoiding stimulating environments and situations? At the get-go, I want to answer that question with a resounding yes. We don’t have to write ourselves out of the situations, environments, and experiences that really matter to us. We have the capacity to build sustainable approaches to this stuff. https://youtu.be/qy8XxQe7_iU Responsiveness and Stimulation Because highly sensitive people are all different, it’s important to remember that sensitivity isn’t who we are. It’s more like the rails our nervous system runs on. It is often described as a spectrum of sensory responsiveness. Those on the high end take in a huge amount of sensory data and process it deeply. Those on the low end take in less, and most people are somewhere in the middle. As a species, we have evolved and benefit from individuals existing along this continuum. Environmental Sensitivity researchers describe this variation through the concept of differential susceptibility. Some individuals are more profoundly influenced by their environment, for better or worse. It’s not about weakness or fragility. It’s about responsiveness and depth of processing. Studies show that highly sensitive individuals flourish in supportive settings but face greater challenges in chaotic ones. I like to visualise this difference using microphones. A sensitive condenser mic is uniquely effective in quiet, controlled spaces. It picks up every subtle detail. But in a loud environment, it can get overwhelmed by noise. A dynamic mic has a narrower field of responsiveness and can work in almost any environment because it picks up less background noise. Both are useful, but for different purposes. This helps us remember that high sensitivity isn’t a flaw or superpower, it’s just a variation in human temperament, useful in some contexts and less so in others. What Overstimulation Looks Like Overstimulation can look different from individual to individual. It is caused by an overload of the nervous system with environmental, emotional, social, or cognitive information. It’s not always evident to others when a highly sensitive person is overstimulated. Despite appearing calm or composed, HSPs may be grappling with intense physical discomfort or emotional distress due to nervous system overload. Rising levels of stress hormones such as adrenaline, noradrenaline, and cortisol exacerbate this heightened sensitivity, leading to strong reactions to excitement, tension, temperature changes, or sensory stimuli in the environment. What looks like calmness in a person might be a kind of shutting down. This happens to me when I’ve had too much stimulation – I can look really chilled out, but in actual fact I’m unable to function properly. You might experience: Physical symptoms of overstimulation Lightheadedness or dizziness Internal tremors (feeling shaky inside without visible shaking) Heart palpitations or irregular heartbeat sensations Nausea or digestive discomfort Temperature sensitivity Cognitive effects of overstimulation Difficulty concentrating or focusing on tasks Short-term memory lapses Mental fog or feeling disconnected from surroundings Racing thoughts Emotional responses Irritability disproportionate to the situation Sudden emotional surges, such as tears or outbursts of frustration Social withdrawal urges Heightened startle response Behavioural changes Restlessness or inability to settle Increased sensitivity to light, sound, or touch Sleep disturbances despite fatigue Impulsive decisions to remove oneself from situations Overstimulation may be subtle. It can build gradually like a low background hum. And sometimes it hits all at once, like flood defences breaking. I remember experiencing it in shops as a child. The fluorescent lights, drudging through aisles, would leave me suddenly feeling drowsy and disconnected, despite being excited at the idea of going shopping. The Physiology Behind Overstimulation When overstimulated, the nervous system activates stress responses. Neuroception, the subconscious threat detection system, becomes hyper-alert Stress hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline flood the system The prefrontal cortex becomes less effective, making rational thinking harder Sensory filters become less discriminating, letting in too much information This explains why two people can enter the same environment and one feels energised while the other feels overwhelmed. It’s as much about the state of your nervous system as the external situation, and also about the cumulative load of stimulation you carry between contexts. This is also why it’s important to consider Deb Dana’s words, “story follows state,” which remind us that for highly sensitive people, it’s not as simple as choosing our mindset. We need to start by selecting environmental elements that lead to a calm and less stimulated nervous system before particular thoughts may be able to change. How to Regulate When Overstimulation Hits We might think of regulating overstimulation through two broad filters: proactive and responsive. Proactive regulation involves preparing your nervous system before entering a stimulating environment or situation: Notice environments that tend to overstimulate you (and how it tends to happen) Consider the contributing factors, e.g. timing, social energy, and sensory intensity Plan strategies ahead of time that help you identify green/red flags when facing invitations/opportunities, prioritising margin and bridging between environments, and planning for realistic preparation/recovery space and time where possible Responsive regulation is what you do when you feel your nervous system becoming overstimulated. Again, different things work for different people, and what works for one person might make it worse for someone else. It’s about experimenting with things like: Finding a quiet space with reduced sensory input Calming tools such as earplugs, weighted items, or familiar textures, tastes, smells etc Breathing techniques Stepping outside or moving your body Creative practices like doodling, writing, or playing an instrument Co-regulating alongside others away from the source of the stimulation Long-term adaptation might include: Scheduling buffer time between activities (and bridges that help you leave and arrive well) Identifying recurring triggers and adjusting environments Developing a personal preparation/recovery toolkit The goal isn’t to shut down your sensitivity or avoid life. It’s to notice, understand, and collaborate with your nervous system so you can navigate stimulating environments more comfortably. The Social Side of Overstimulation Social interaction is a major source of overstimulation. It’s rarely just the conversation. It can be the context, the unknowns, and the processing afterwards (reliving the conversations, wondering why you said what you did and didn’t say what you should have!) You might really enjoy someone’s company and still leave drained. Noticing red flags and green flags helps. Big groups with unstructured conversation might deplete you, while small gatherings feel energising. Individual differences matter too. Someone might be draining even if you share interests, while another person energises you despite little obvious common ground. After-care is crucial. Sometimes being fully drained can feel good if recovery time is planned. The real challenge is when life leaves no margin, stacking one overstimulating event on another. For people with full-time caring responsibilities, this lack of margin is a constant reality. Sensitivity Beyond the Self I believe sensitivity has an important social role. Highly sensitive people often notice gaps in care and justice, and their responsiveness and empathy support social cohesion. Noticing and responding to sources of stimulation isn’t just about individual survival; it’s tied to our capacity to change the world around us. It’s about shaping communities, environments, and expectations to work for different people. Not least because when we make the world conducive for individuals to flourish, it is good for all of us.

I’m starting a project exploring the history of self-help; where the ideas came from, how they’ve changed over time, and what they mean for us today. This episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast is my chance to set some intentions, explain why I feel drawn to do this, and share how you can get involved if you want to join me for the ride. I’m not starting this project with the end in mind. Sorry, Stephen Covey, but I’m rebelling against the second habit of highly effective people. I honestly don’t know how this will look or where it will take me. I’m just intrigued to dig into the backstory of personal development and positive thinking, and explore how it became an industry worth an estimated around $40 billion in 2024, projected to more than double by 2033. Self-help shapes how millions of us think about ourselves, our relationships, our struggles, and our potential. I want to look at where it came from, how it works, and what it’s doing to us now. https://youtu.be/GMowyoc4TeA This isn’t about belittling self-help I want to approach this with a curious and critical open mind, not a cynical one. I’ve personally gained insight, tools, and practices from authors in the personal development space. So, I have experienced the value of resources and authors under the broad self-help umbrella. But I do have some questions. One in particular that has long been on my mind…with the ideas in self-help are as widely adopted as they are, why haven’t they “worked” in the big-picture sense? Why now feels like a good moment to examine the rise of self-help We’re living in a strange mix of economic precarity, post-pandemic disorientation, the maturing of influencer culture, and now AI churning out self-help style advice at industrial speed. If self-help reflects and responds to the anxieties of its time, then this moment feels like a perfect point to ask whether it might be contributing to those same anxieties it claims to ease. The quote that caught my attention About 12 years ago, I read The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking by Oliver Burkeman. One idea in it has stuck with me ever since: “Perhaps you don’t need telling that self-help books… rarely much help. This is why some self-help publishers refer to the ‘eighteen-month rule’, which states that the person most likely to purchase any given self-help book is someone who, within the previous eighteen months, purchased a self-help book—one that evidently didn’t solve all their problems.” I was a big reader of personal development books at the time, especially those that spoke to building online businesses around creativity. They gave me a sense of forward momentum and excitement about future possibilities, but I could also feel myself on a treadmill. Old dissatisfaction was replaced with new. That quote made me wonder if the self-help industry insists on not solving our problems. Which makes sense when you think about it…why would a market secure its own demise? It needs to keep inventing new problems to solve. Otherwise it collapses. The 18-month rule and endless repackaging Some people enjoy the sense of growth that comes from reading a new book, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But from my experience, a lot of them say the same thing in different clothing. Different anecdotes. Different metaphors. Same structure. So why do we keep reading? And why does the market keep producing more? The Mel Robbins example Earlier this year, I looked into whether Mel Robbins had plagiarised a poem by Cassie Phillips and made up the story that inspired her book The Let Them Theory. I bought and read the book as part of my research. It’s not my usual reading choice, and I hadn’t read a new personal development book in years. Two things struck me: The writing felt more like marketing copy than the work of a writer. The ideas weren’t new; just repackaged versions of stoicism, the serenity prayer, radical acceptance, and Buddhism (which she openly admits, albeit in defence of the plagiarism accusations). This persuasive, “I’m your friend” style of marketing is common in self-help influencer culture. Whether intended or not, it can exploit people who are in vulnerable and precarious positions. It nurtures parasocial bonds to build and potentially exploit trust. The History of Self-help in times of turmoil Another thread I want to follow is whether self-help historically booms during moments of economic, political, and social instability. When the world feels out of control, we can focus on the things we think we can influence, such as our choices, responses, and mindset. But I also wonder if this helps keep the larger system running as it is, without actually changing anything meaningful. In Bright-Sided (Smile or Die in the UK), Barbara Ehrenreich wrote about how positive thinking became prevalent as a way to turn responsibility onto employees during times of corporate downsizing. Painting redundancy as an opportunity, rewarding those who keep smiling, performing, and pretending to be fine under the precarious ruthlessness of neoliberal capitalism. My working definition of self-help I’m defining self-help books as works that position individual change as the path to life transformation. When built around an author’s personal story or branded method, they often focus on abstract notions like success, wealth, happiness, and fulfilment. They usually sit at the front of a funnel that leads to courses, coaching, and memberships. The underlying message is: “You alone are responsible for your future success, happiness, and suffering.” I want to explore what happens when this narrative dominates both individual and cultural thinking. How the series will (probably) work I’ll be working through some of the biggest titles in the genre, as well as obscure but influential works. Sometimes one book per episode, sometimes clusters based around particular themes or authors. I’m aiming for one or two episodes per month. I’d love your suggestions and stories along the way. All of this is subject to evolve and change, but this is the first step I’m taking on this path. I’m sure it will evolve once I get going.

The internet is full of memes about positive thinking. I saw this quote a few days ago:“The only difference between a good day and a bad day is your attitude.” At first glance, it contains some truth. Of course, the way we think about things can influence our relationship with them. But taken too far, this kind of thinking turns into something insidious and destructive. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the darker side of positive thinking. https://youtu.be/E0JCsl_u_7M?si=XAHxf4c2LB578QIr I remember hearing someone suggest replacing ‘have to’ with ‘get to’ as a way to live with more gratitude for things we take for granted. Again, that can definitely be a useful reframe at times. But the associated claim that words impact thoughts and thoughts are the only thing that create our reality can quickly become an imprisoning and judgemental superstition. Toxic positivity encourages emotional suppression and shame, where anything other than optimism is considered weakness or failure. You’ve Only Got Yourself To Blame If we follow the logic that our thoughts dictate our reality to its extreme, we land in a society shaped by what philosopher Byung-Chul Han calls the achievement imperative. In this world, external rules are replaced by internal commands. We no longer respond to “you should” or “you must.” Instead, we internalise the injunction to perpetually “live our passion,” “find our purpose,” and “optimise our potential.” Han quotes Tony Robbins, who promotes this mindset by saying,“When you set a goal, you’ve committed to CANI (Constant, Never-Ending Improvement)! You’ve acknowledged the need that all human beings have for constant, never-ending improvement. There is a power in the pressure of dissatisfaction, in the tension of temporary discomfort. This is the kind of pain you want in your life.” This leads to a permanent state of temporary discomfort. There is always something to optimise, improve, and change. Never rest. Never be satisfied. The Problem With Pathological Positivity Toxic positivity – we might describe it as pathological positivity (though I’ve seen a book of that name painting it as a desirable state of being, so that’s a bit odd)- thrives on the belief that we should reframe negative thoughts. But there is a big difference between resistance and repression. A good comparison comes from Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust survivor, founder of logotherapy and author of Man’s Search for Meaning. He wrote:“We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way”. Choosing Your Response vs Blaming Your Attitude Unlike self-help slogans, Frankl’s words do not offer easy comfort. He was not promoting positive thinking. He was describing something he observed in those who were stripped of their humanity and subjected to unimaginable suffering. For Frankl, attitude was not a shortcut to happiness or material prosperity, but a form of resistance and an expression of power over an oppressor. It was a way to maintain dignity in the face of dehumanisation. His message was not about pretending things are okay, but about facing reality with courage and integrity. This contrasts with James Allen’s 1903 As a Man Thinketh, often credited with laying the foundation for mindset-focused personal development and the Law of Attraction. Allen writes:“All that a man achieves and all that he fails to achieve is the direct result of his own thoughts.”“Suffering is always the effect of wrong thought.” These statements are simplistic. But they can also be dangerous. They suggest that all suffering is self-inflicted, that illness, grief, or injustice are failures in a person’s thinking. This mindset promotes shame and silence. Far from being a response to an oppressive power, it becomes an oppressive force. It encourages people to internalise systemic issues and to blame themselves for pain that is often out of their control. Finding Meaning vs Toxic Positivity Frankl offers a different path. He did not believe that the mind creates suffering. He believed that suffering is a real part of life. In one of his stories, he counsels a man grieving the loss of his wife. Instead of offering platitudes, Frankl invites the man to see the pain as a reflection of deep love. The meaning was not imposed from outside. It emerged from the man’s own experience. The grief was real, and so was the love that gave rise to it. Meaning, in Frankl’s work, is not about positive thinking. It is about finding light in dark places. And when suffering is avoidable, the most meaningful response is to change its cause, not to accept or reframe it. This perspective is far more compassionate and responsible than the toxic positivity that dominates much of modern self-help culture. The Freedom to Feel What Is True The Black Mirror episode, Nosedive speaks to this. The protagonist, Lacie, lives in a world where everyone rates each other’s behaviour in real time. Life becomes a game of masking and performance. But after a series of events, her social rating plummets, and she ends up in a jail cell. It looks like she has lost everything, but for the first time, she is free. Free from the endless can of achievement society. Liberated from the permanent loop of self-correction and optimisation.

This post elaborates on the ‘moral sensitivity’ section of The HSP Owner’s Guide. Have you ever felt like you’re carrying the weight of the world’s wrongs inside your body? You may feel torn between staying true to your values and going along with what is considered “normal”? For many Highly sensitive people (HSPs), this quiet inner tension is familiar. Sensory processing sensitivity often comes with an instinctive concern for fairness, justice, and the well-being of the world around us. This moral sensitivity is woven into how many HSPs notice, feel, and respond. Alongside this internal compass, many HSPs naturally hold strong values that influence how they interact with life. This can fuel a desire for harmony and social cohesion, while also heightening their awareness of injustice or harm. Their choices are often guided by the impact on others, including people, animals, and the environment. https://youtu.be/mnoCdSo2QnA What Might Moral Sensitivity Look Like in a Highly Sensitive Person? Every HSP is different. Our beliefs naturally vary. We do not all approach, value, or hold things with the same convictions. But there are characteristics and patterns that are common for many HSPs. Awareness A clear sense of personal values (a highly sensitive person may develop and arrive at their own set of foundational values that they live by. These are not necessarily intentionally chosen, but they might be evident in the elements they consider when making decisions and taking action). Sensitivity to injustice, dishonesty, or unfair treatment of others (they might find themselves stirred to action when they witness or experience actions that go against their values. This can even lead to acting against personal interests for the sake of something or someone else). Discomfort with actions or systems that violate deeply held principles (HSPs might be aware of the role of dehumanising systems, processes, and attitudes, which step outside of their moral and ethical values). Connection to Meaning A tendency to question purpose, both in personal life and broader societal structures (this might happen quietly in your heart and mind, with some trusted confidants, or it could occur in a wider context). Interest in philosophical, spiritual, or ethical frameworks (HSPs might connect with ideas that give scaffolding to their values. They might adopt them fully or build their own from joining dots and piecing things together). Intuitive sense of what feels morally “right” or “wrong” in different contexts (many HSPs tend to notice patterns across contexts. This underpins trust or distrust without overt evidence for it). Responsibility and Diligence Acting in alignment with personal values (decisions and choices are often made with a desire for a deeper sense of meaning or purpose). Attunement to moral dilemmas and contradictions in societal norms Disturbance when witnessing hypocrisy or people acting without integrity (needing to do something when seeing people deliberately manipulating, deceiving, or taking advantage of others). Feeling personally responsible to do “the right thing” in difficult situations. Sensitivity to Moral Nuance and Grey Areas Noticing nuances in ethical dilemmas that others might overlook (highly sensitive people might see nuance where others paint a simplistic picture). Struggling with situations where no choice feels fully just or fair (they might feel the weight of decisions they had to make, but which had costs to them). Processing moral questions for longer periods before reaching conclusions (HSPs might need more time before forming an opinion or judgement). How Moral Sensitivity Shows Up in Daily Life Personal Relationships HSPs may be particularly attuned to imbalances in fairness, such as one-sided friendships or unequal effort in partnerships. They might notice their concerns belittled or dismissed as “overthinking” or hear others tell them to stop worrying, “just let it go”, “get over it”, or “pull yourself together”. Work and Social Settings Workplace policies or societal norms that seem unjust can be unsettling, prompting a desire in some HSPs to address and change them rather than passively accept them. HSPs may feel compelled to speak up about ethical concerns. Some might find themselves advocating for policies or speaking on behalf of others. This is because it is sometimes easier to stand up for others than for themselves. They might not be naturally competitive until they encounter unfairness or injustice. The desire to put things right can ignite a competitive spark in a sensitive person. Self-Expectations A strong internal drive to act with integrity, sometimes leading to self-criticism if they fall short of their own standards. Difficulty moving on from past decisions that did not fully align with their values. They might be ‘‘haunted’ by moments where they acted out of integrity in the past. Navigating the Challenges of Moral Sensitivity Holding Idealism with Realism While moral clarity can be an anchor, holding too tightly to rigid expectations often leads to disappointment, resentment, or burnout. It can help to remember that most decisions and situations exist in shades of grey. Emotional Responses to Injustice Being attuned to injustice can take an emotional toll, especially when exposed to distressing news, conversations, or environments that feel out of alignment with core values. Use creativity to process situations. A creative practice can help you explore your thoughts and develop a positive approach to addressing and responding to things like injustice. This also provides options for action. Whether you want to make art, take direct action, or let go, when you know that there is nothing more you can personally do. Over-Responsibility It is easy for highly sensitive people to feel responsible for solving every moral issue they encounter, but this can quickly lead to overwhelm or compassion fatigue. Recognising and accepting that no single person can solve every problem is essential for long-term well-being. Many HSPs benefit from focusing their energy on causes, relationships, or actions where their input feels both meaningful and sustainable. This is instead of trying to carry the weight of the world. As Dorcus Cheng-Tozen writes in Social Justice for the Sensitive Soul, not everyone responds in the same way. Working toward a fairer, more just world is not a one-size-fits-all process. It calls for each of us to be who we are rather than trying to force ourselves into unsustainable boxes we don’t need to fit into. Finding Like-Spirited Communities Moral sensitivity can sometimes feel isolating, especially if others dismiss it as unnecessary or excessive. Connecting with others who share a similar perspective on the world can help reduce feelings of alienation and loneliness. This is especially true when you don’t have to explain yourself or feel defensive about the things you naturally care about. Sensitivity is a Natural Trait Moral sensitivity is neither a flaw nor a superpower. It is simply one way many highly sensitive people process and engage with the world around them. For some, it can deepen relationships and decision-making. For others, it may feel like a heavy weight to carry. The key lies in self-awareness, recognising when this sensitivity is guiding you toward meaningful action. Additionally, it is essential to recognise when it may be beneficial to cultivate patience, gentleness, or compassion with yourself and those around you. Over To You What impact does sensitivity to moral and ethical issues have on your approach to decisions and the things you care about? Does any of this resonate with your experiences? Drop a message or leave a comment on YouTube.

Some tools are built to help us grow; to learn, connect, or reach meaningful goals. But eventually, we might ask: are these tools still working for us, or have they hooked us and quietly turned us into their tool? This question has been on my mind since I started using Duolingo seventy-six days ago. I had just returned from a trip to Finland and wanted to keep learning a bit of Finnish: nothing too intense, just some gentle exposure to the language each day. From what others had said, Duolingo seemed like the ideal tool. I started on the free version. It offered just enough. However, I was soon being nudged constantly toward the premium upgrade. Eventually, I gave in and accepted the offer of a 7-day trial. Before I knew it, £68.99 was taken from my account. Dagh! I had forgotten to cancel in time. That was frustrating. But what I noticed next was fascinating. Over time, I realised I was no longer using Duolingo to expand my learning outside of the app. I was using it to keep my streak alive inside it. It works. And it works well. But it also works against us (and our bigger picture aspirations). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8tC3VtbgSk The Hook Model in Action This shift in behaviour mirrors the “Hook Model” described by Nir Eyal in his book Hooked, which outlines how habit-forming products are designed to draw us in and keep us there. The hook model follows a four-step cycle: Trigger – External cues like notifications or internal ones like guilt or fear of missing out. Action – The easiest possible behaviour in response to the trigger, like opening the app or doing a lesson. Variable Reward – Unpredictable reinforcement like badges, praise, or social validation that keeps us engaged. Investment – The time, energy, or money we’ve already poured into the product, which makes it harder to walk away. This system is incredibly effective at building engagement, but it often does so by subtly shifting our focus from what we originally cared about to what keeps the platform profitable. When the Tool Hooks Us What starts as a helpful tool can morph into a system that prioritises retention over transformation. Only 0.1% of Duolingo users ever complete a full course. That isn’t a design flaw; it’s the business model. The goal is not to help us complete something, but to keep us inside the ecosystem. Duolingo began nudging me toward other courses I hadn’t asked for. Music theory. Chess. It was no longer about Finnish. It was about keeping me engaged, clicking, and coming back. This is when a tool becomes a trap, not because it stops working, but because it starts working too well at the wrong thing (keeping us engaged). From Motivation to Manipulation This isn’t just about language apps. It’s about how many of our digital experiences are shaped by systems designed to extract our wealth and capture our attention, energy, and even our identity. In Punished by Rewards, Alfie Kohn warns that external motivators like badges, praise, or pizza vouchers for reading not only influence behaviour but also diminish it. Over time, we stop asking “Why do I care about this?” and instead ask “What do I get for it?” In The Burnout Society, philosopher Byung-Chul Han argues that we have shifted from a culture of external discipline to one of internalised self-optimisation. We no longer rely on a manager or teacher to pressure us; instead, we pressure ourselves. Rest is viewed as a failure. Play is considered wasted time. Self-worth is now linked to productivity. Apps like Duolingo thrive in this cultural moment. They don’t just support our goals; they reshape them. We start wanting to learn a language and end up wanting to maintain a streak. What once felt like growth begins to feel like a contract we’re stuck in. The Rocket Booster Test Good tools (as well as teachers, programs, coaches, therapists, etc) should be like solid rocket boosters: they help us launch, but they’re meant to fall away once we’ve reached a certain point. Before we start, we might ask: Have we agreed on the point at which we will jettison this process before we start? How will I know it’s time to let go and move on? When we’re engaged with a process, partnership, or tool, we can ask: Is this tool still helping us move forward? Is it aligned with my original goals? Or are we simply feeding it our time and attention because of what we’ve already invested? The presence of a badge, a streak, or a cheer from a virtual friend shouldn’t be the thing keeping us there. There must be something more intrinsically motivating. Letting the Streak Die It’s difficult to walk away from something we’ve invested in, especially when it gave us value at some point. But growth often requires us to assess whether something useful has now become a hindrance. Letting go of the streak, app, system, or partnership can seem like failure. If it feels that way, it might be a sign that it’s got other interests at heart. So, letting go might be an act of gentle rebellious liberation. Just because something “works” doesn’t mean it’s working for us. Many of the platforms we use today were born out of a positive vision: to help us learn, connect, and form habits. But in a system that prioritises engagement and monetisation, that original purpose often becomes secondary. When we start to notice what’s holding us involved, and why, we create room to choose differently. We can honour the tools that helped us without becoming dependent on them. We can jettison what no longer serves us. And we can return to a way of learning, creating, and growing that is rooted in meaning, not metrics. Unhooking Ourselves Maybe it starts with a simple act: letting the streak die. It took from Thursday to Monday to finally kill my streak – without consent, I received streak freezes and gifts to keep it going. It was interesting to see how hard it was in the end and how desperately Duolingo wanted me to maintain that investment.