The Gentle Rebel Podcast

Andy Mort

The Gentle Rebel Podcast explores the intersection of high sensitivity, creativity, and the influence of culture within, between, and around us. Through a mix of conversational and monologue episodes, I invite you to question the assumptions, pressures, and expectations we have accepted, and to experiment with ways to redefine the possibilities for our individual and collective lives when we view high sensitivity as both a personal trait and a vital part of our collective survival (and potential).

  1. 1H AGO

    People Keep Asking Me to Cancel Their Subscription To This App

    Around Black Friday last year, I started getting strange emails from people asking me to cancel their subscription. Only, they weren’t from Haven members, and they were talking about a weekly charge of $7. After a brief panic and some investigation, I confirmed this was not possible. I assumed these messages were bots phishing for something. Then my attention was caught by one that said, “Hi, I’ve just been charged for the Haven Bible app, but I cancelled my subscription through the app prior to the charging date.” Ahh. It must be a case of mistaken identity. Mystery solved! Well, half of it at least… https://youtu.be/mP6rxVuBmRo …But Why Were People Emailing Me? A quick search for “cancel Haven Bible App subscription” showed a knowledge base page on my website as the top result. I added a message to inform people that this was not the site they were looking for. Still today, I’m getting messages from people who scroll past it and tell me to refund them. I even received a second email accusing me of stealing their money because I refused to help them cancel their subscription. I had already replied to their first email, pointing them elsewhere. Bizarre! It has been a slightly sobering experience, pointing to how unobservant people can be at times. The Auto-Responder I created a short auto-responder to reply to these messages. I asked them to drop a quick reply when they work out how to cancel it so I could pass that information along to others in the same boat. Only one of about 60 people who emailed me bothered to follow up. A special shout-out to Lauren for taking the time to do that. I’ve been able to point people in a more helpful direction as a result. In reality, I don’t know if it’s genuinely difficult to cancel this subscription. What Is This Haven Bible App? After my search, the algorithms started delivering short videos of people promoting the Haven Bible App. It’s been heavily marketed by influencers. I became curious and began to notice overlaps with certain self-help industry mechanics we’ve been unpacking here in recent months. The app is an AI chatbot that answers user questions and prompts with responses from biblical texts. It’s marketed as a way to get simplified explanations, moral guidance, help with reading the Bible, and a sense of connection with a wise guide. Tools, Guidance, and Quiet Influence It’s worth considering the issues surrounding the use, trust, and reliance on this kind of technology as a source of information and guidance. Despite being presented as objective, a chatbot never is. By nature, it always contains biases. It’s programmed and personalised. Over time, it can shape our beliefs, values, and worldview based on the personal information we give it. There’s nothing necessarily inherently wrong with that, but it’s easy to imagine how this could be abused, with the user not noticing that their critical thinking is gradually replaced by conformity to a narrow, dogmatic framework. There’s also the issue of AI sycophancy. This is often described as a deliberate feature designed to hook users, creating a sense of affinity with the technology as if it were a feeling, thinking being. This entered public discussion in 2025 when researchers and mental health professionals raised concerns about what they described as “AI-related psychosis.” One widely reported case involved a man called Allan Brooks, who became misled into believing he had discovered a world-changing mathematical formula after hundreds of hours interacting with ChatGPT. These systems are designed to shift from instruments to relationships through encouragement and affirmation. They tend to praise and validate user input, reinforce existing beliefs, and create a sense of safety in the interaction. They don’t require you to articulate feelings or needs clearly, and they reduce the need to negotiate meaning with others. First- and second-person language further reinforces the illusion of connection. Recognising Unhealthy Dependency on an App A useful question here is whether a tool helps us grow beyond it or cultivates dependency. When dependency forms, creators can charge whatever they like for continued access. And will likely extract other information, such as personal data. Habit formation is central to platforms like this. The perception of a companion you can ask anything of creates reliance not just for knowledge, but for reassurance and connection. Features like reminders and streak maintenance mirror the same techniques used by apps like Duolingo. Not to keep people learning, but to keep them opening the app. The important distinction is whether a tool helps us develop skills and understanding we can take with us, or whether it locks value inside its own ecosystem. With Duolingo, it became clear over time that keeping people engaged mattered more than helping them learn a language. When leaving feels costly, users become vulnerable to price increases and further extraction of their personal data and other private information, which can be used to sell additional layers of dependence in response to newly identified desires and needs. Why This Matters to Me I was in two minds about writing this experience. But something about it got under my skin, and it’s not just about the emails, the confusion, or being asked to cancel something I have nothing to do with. It’s seeing another example of wider cultural patterns we keep circling. Patterns that keep us doubting ourselves, disconnecting from one another, and valuing manufactured certainty over lived complexity. I understand the appeal of tools like this. I also understand the value they can bring to people. But it’s important to zoom out and notice what gets lost when we trade depth for convenience and speed. Often, that trade sabotages the very thing we’re seeking, trapping us in a cycle of chasing the next tool that promises meaning through hacks and shortcuts, while quietly pulling us further away from the sites of meaning we encounter in the messy beauty of real human connection, uncertainty, and mystery.

    15 min
  2. 2D AGO

    7 Reasons to Start Drawing

    I’m holding something very exciting in my hands. A physical copy of Sam Marshall’s beautiful book, Sketch: A Project Guide to Drawing With Confidence. Sam and I spoke about it a couple of weeks ago. I want to pause at the beginning because the first chapter, Why Sketch?, is packed with juice. It speaks to how I understand creativity and why it matters, not just personally but collectively. Whether or not you plan to start drawing, this feels like a reminder of why creativity matters at all. It feels more important than ever to emphasise the role of analogue, tactile, hands-on forms of creative play, which give us something we can’t get in the slightly disavowed relationship with creativity mediated through a screen. https://youtu.be/ukeHIBP_bcI “To make art is to sing with the human voice. To do this you must first learn that the only voice you need is the voice you already have.” – Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland This feels like the grounding point. As Sam says, this is not a “how to draw” book. It’s an encouraging project guide that helps you sketch in your own way, connecting with confidence in your own creative voice. The voice you already have. Sam offers seven compelling reasons to develop a sketching practice. They act as anchors we can return to when resistance shows up. 1. A Space to Call Your Own Sam describes the sketchbook as: “Your own private sanctuary. It’s a place for you to express yourself freely, without judgement or criticism.” In a world shaped by the onlooking gaze, this feels gently rebellious. A space held for yourself. Not for sharing. Not for approval. A place with no rules, as a private breathing space for the creative spirit. 2. A Gentle Way to Explore Your Creativity All you need is a sketchbook and a pencil. That’s it. A low-stakes beginning that resists the urge to wait for the right materials or conditions. This is an unfolding practice, not an outcome-driven one. You add things as you go, once you get a feel for what deepens what you’re already doing. 3. A Way to Slow Down and Be More Mindful Sam writes: “I draw to calm my busy mind, to slow down, and to connect with my surroundings. I guess you could say that drawing is my meditation.” This is true of many creative practices. They can’t be rushed or forced. I remember joking when ChatGPT first launched that I wouldn’t need to journal anymore. Instead, I could just ask it to write an entry and I wouldn’t have to think. This was obviously absurd, yet I later met people doing exactly that. It shows how productivity thinking has taken over. Doing things only if they serve a measurable purpose. Drawing starts to feel acceptable only if it can be instrumentalised. That framing strips it of its real value. 4. A Way to Help You See More Sam writes: “Drawing helps you see. The more you draw, the more you look, and the more your world opens up.” “When you take the time to draw something, anything, you notice details you might otherwise miss. It helps us see what is there, rather than what we think is there.” Seeing more is not something you can rush. It’s a by-product of staying long enough. Drawing creates the conditions for noticing. 5. To Lift Your Spirits and Connect to the World Sam says: “I feel so connected to the places I’ve drawn; they are special places in my mind, and because I’ve committed them to memory through drawing, I feel I’m able to visit them anytime.” Drawing embeds you in a place. It’s the difference between depth and skimming. Between “doing” a place and actually tasting it. Creativity changes how you inhabit the world. It moves you from consumption to relationship. 6. To Reconnect With Yourself and Your Goals Sam writes: “If you’ve had a rocky road with drawing in the past, if you’ve felt you aren’t creative, then just proving to yourself that you can draw can be incredibly healing.” Creative hobbies are generative. They can spark confidence, energy, clarity. When we slow down, things start to connect across different areas of life. Breakthroughs and insights appear in their own sweet time. 7. A Tool for Remembering Sam notes: “My sketches evoke more memories than any of my photographs do.” This speaks to the role of the senses in memory. Being somewhere long enough for your internal state to change. Long enough to feel hunger, shifts in light, temperature, mood. Drawing deepens the bond between experience and memory. And when art is involved, even mundane days become memorable. Time, Fear, and Returning To Simplicity Sam asks: What’s preventing you from keeping a sketchbook? Time often comes up, but it’s usually a cover for fear. Fear of messing up, not knowing what to draw, or not matching what’s in your head. Her suggested mantra: “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a pencil and a piece of paper.” Drawing becomes easier the more it’s woven into daily life. It only feels indulgent because creativity is still framed as a luxury rather than a foundation of wellbeing. Sam reminds us that we don’t lack time. We lack structure. And even that can be simple. A sketchbook to hand. Small pockets of waiting. Moments that already exist throughout the day. We need drawing to occur to us as an option. Low stakes. Quick. Easy. Something to return to without thinking. This is what Sketch does so well. The prompts become instinctive. The friction drops away. I’m looking forward to taking this book with me to Finland next month. I’ve never kept a consistent drawing habit, only fits and starts. But I’d love for it to become a steady part of my creative life. Over to You Do you sketch, or would you like to start? What are your reasons? Drop me a message. I’d love to hear from you!

    31 min
  3. JAN 23

    Grow Creative Confidence Using Sketching (with Sam Marshall)

    Would you like to develop more creative confidence? Have you ever embarked on, or considered, a sketching practice? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the link between the two in conversation with artist, printmaker, and creative coach Sam Marshall. Sam is based here in the UK and has recently released a beautiful book called Sketch: A Project Guide To Drawing With Confidence. I was fortunate enough to receive a digital copy last year and honestly, wow. It inspires, equips, and gently mentors people to start a drawing practice and engage with their natural creativity. What I love most about the book is its emphasis on helping you find your own creative voice. This is supported by Sam’s Sketch Squad, a small group of participants who work through the exercises together. Seeing the same prompts interpreted in wildly different ways has a surprisingly powerful effect. For me, the most helpful part was witnessing the sheer range of styles, approaches, and ways of noticing the world. https://youtu.be/yfiDlMKtMQA Creative Confidence and the Beauty of Difference A huge part of creative confidence is realising that differences in how we see, what we notice, and what we care about are not flaws. This is why art and creativity sit at the heart of being human. Creative expression is our collective humanity experiencing itself in all its weird and wonderful variety. I was reminded of this recently while talking about map-making as a way to understand our relationship with different areas of life. If you give the same prompt to 100 people, you do not get a single map done well. You get a hundred completely different maps. That is what I hope people take into and out of this conversation. Difference is beautiful. It is not about doing it right. What Sam offers through this book is a sketching practice that gives us tracks along which to see, feel, and experience the world in a more alive and interesting way than when we are stuck in ultra-productivity mode, trying to make everything efficient and easy. Why a Sketching Practice Builds Creative Confidence A drawing practice helps us slow down, observe, and engage our creative spirit through process rather than outcome. There is something gently rebellious about sketching in the digital age, where the default response is to pull out a phone and take a photo. There is a difference between capturing something quickly so we can hoard and move on, and drawing as a way of anchoring ourselves in the environment. Drawing asks us to stay. To notice. To let time pass while the world happens around us. Light shifts. Shadows move. People come and go. Smells, sounds, and sensations change. Rather than consuming the environment, we are engaging with it. Sam shares a lovely story about drawing in public and finding herself surrounded by Japanese school children. It creates a beautiful image of the quiet, magnetic energy that people who are deeply engaged with life often carry. Perhaps we are drawn to them because they are interesting. Or perhaps because they are moving at a pace many of us are craving. Practice Over Skill Focusing on practice rather than skill also reshapes what success means in art. Instead of achievement, accomplishment, or the finished piece, success becomes about rhythm, consistency, and an ongoing relationship with seeing and making. Letting go of outcome-oriented art is not about lowering standards. It is about shifting attention. It is not about producing pretty drawings. Rather, it is about sitting down with your sketchbook and using it as a tool for observing. Drawing anchors us in space and time, allowing us to witness change as it unfolds. The Sketching Exercises Sam Walks Us Through In the conversation, Sam takes us through the thinking behind the book’s exercises, each designed to build creative confidence through experience. In the Home Starting where you are. Noticing objects and spaces you have spent years with, perhaps without really seeing them. Outside the Home Venturing out to see the walls of your world from the outside. Noticing what is close by and reconnecting with physical space. It reveals details in neighbourhoods and communities that often go unseen. The Stories We Tell Ourselves About Drawing Sam explores some of the beliefs that hold people back, such as: “What if I am not good enough?” “I do not want to look silly or draw like a five-year-old.” Portraits Portraits were the most challenging exercise for many Sketch Squad members. They require vulnerability. You ask something of another person, and you share something personal in return. This is something we see in Tuula’s Photoyoga For Your Mind Experience. 25 Days of Drawing Simple prompts designed to build a habit and keep you drawing without overthinking it. Drawing in Public Another edge for many people. Being seen doing something personal and slightly unusual in a culture that loves to judge creative effort. Drawing on Holiday Experiencing places through the slowness of drawing adds depth to memory. Sam shares a sketchbook from her recent trip to Japan, which holds far more meaning for her than a photo album ever could. A helpful reminder for any habit, too. Start on the first day away. Intentions turn into behaviours quickly, for better or worse. Drawing From Paintings A way of engaging critically with art as part of the human story, not just as a product. It teaches us about history, context, and what we might want to bring into our own practice. Experimental Drawing Combining senses. Drawing from music, film, collage, and even dreams. The Personal Project Turning the practice into a chosen project that marks a pause between chapters. Sam explains why she calls this a personal project rather than a final assignment. How Creative Confidence Actually Grows Creative confidence does not arrive before we start. It emerges along the way. Through consistency, we become confident in what we notice and why we care. For experimental types, confidence is not something we can fake into existence. But we can trust that playful, curious engagement with something like a sketching practice develops capacities we do not yet have language for. I hope you enjoy the conversation. Thank you again to Sam for giving her time so generously and for walking us through the thinking behind, beneath, and within the book. I can’t recommend it highly enough. Connect with Sam through her website and on her Instagram.

    1h 11m
  4. JAN 22

    Responding to the Contagion of Burnout Energy

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

    27 min
  5. JAN 16

    David Bowie’s Search for Life, Death and God (with Peter Ormerod)

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

    1 hr
  6. JAN 13

    Why You Can’t Articulate a Five-Year Plan For Your Life

    Where do you see yourself in five years? Does that question fill you with excitement, or a 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.

    22 min
  7. 12/20/2025

    The Cost of Loyalty

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

    1 hr
  8. 12/12/2025

    Do Algorithms Create a Culture of Narcissism?

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

    29 min
4.8
out of 5
85 Ratings

About

The Gentle Rebel Podcast explores the intersection of high sensitivity, creativity, and the influence of culture within, between, and around us. Through a mix of conversational and monologue episodes, I invite you to question the assumptions, pressures, and expectations we have accepted, and to experiment with ways to redefine the possibilities for our individual and collective lives when we view high sensitivity as both a personal trait and a vital part of our collective survival (and potential).

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