The Gentle Rebel Podcast

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.

“Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves with your name and something interesting about you”. Does that icebreaker moment fill you with joy? If not, you’re not alone. But is it simply a matter of preferences, or are there deeper processes at play when it comes to disliking icebreaker activities? That’s what we explore in this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast. https://youtu.be/GCkwfYppGNM What Does “Highly Sensitive” Mean? High sensitivity is a term used to describe the scientifically recognised trait known as sensory processing sensitivity. It’s not a disorder, but a biological trait found in around 20-30% of the population. Highly sensitive people have more finely tuned nervous systems that absorb and process sensory and emotional input more deeply. More sensitive nervous systems naturally absorb larger volumes of environmental data and process it deeply. This means HSPs (those who score higher for sensitivity along a universal continuum), are more sensitive to social nuances and more susceptible to the effects of social stimulation. They may need time to pause and calibrate when entering unfamiliar environments and meeting new people. Icebreaking or Ice-Melting? This episode builds on the previous one about “social sensitivity“. I use the metaphor of making, breaking, and melting ice to frame what happens in social settings: Making Ice: The natural protective barrier that forms as we orient ourselves in new environments. Breaking Ice: Attempts to force through that barrier, often too fast and without consent. Melting Ice: A gradual, relational process where connection develops at a sustainable pace. Icebreaker: What’s the most horrific icebreaker you’ve ever had to do? (I would love to know!) Icebreaker activities are intended to reduce tension and help people connect quickly. But there may be times when, for HSPs, they have the opposite effect. Instead of inviting a sense of warm welcome, they can put the nervous system on the defence, unnecessarily using up energy and inner resources. This is especially true when we’re asked to perform, share personal details, or think on the spot. In the episode, I share a few stories (including one from my time as an undertaker) that highlight this tension, and explore how the expectation to “come out of our shell” can become a subtle form of social pressure. Why Icebreakers Often Backfire Many highly sensitive people need time to pause and check before jumping into social interaction. This isn’t about fear or social anxiety — it’s a natural regulation strategy that helps us process our surroundings and determine if it’s safe to engage. When that pause is misinterpreted as shyness or resistance, we can feel judged or pushed to open up before we’re ready. Over time, this can reinforce feelings of shame or self-doubt in social settings. There is a difference between disclosure and trust. Jumping into “fun facts” can leave us feeling exposed rather than connected. This may linger in the nervous system through regret and shame. What Helps Highly Sensitive People Connect? We’re not just here to dunk on icebreakers though. I also offer some reflections on what helps melt the ice more gently for HSPs, including: Setting clear expectations and permissions (e.g. “It’s OK not to speak”) Creating space for people to arrive in their own time Modelling honesty, humour, or gentle vulnerability Avoiding performative tasks or forced introductions Recognising the value of awkwardness and letting it be These insights are especially useful if you’re designing group sessions, facilitating meetings, or simply want to understand how to support the sensitive people in your life. Over To You What helps you melt the ice in social situations? Have you ever felt misjudged for taking time to settle in a group? What’s the worst icebreaker you’ve ever experienced? (We can laugh now!) Join the conversation inside The Haven, our community of highly sensitive people, deep thinkers, and other gentle rebels. Or drop me a message.

Have you ever been in a room and sensed social dynamics beneath the surface before a word was spoken? Perhaps you’ve noticed (consciously or unconsciously) a subtle glance, a shift in posture, or a hint of tension between the lines. If so, you’re not alone. This kind of social sensitivity is part of being a highly sensitive person (HSP). This episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast is the first in a series that will explore the social dimensions of sensory processing sensitivity, the biological trait underlying high sensitivity. I’ll be drawing on ideas from The HSP Owner’s Guide, a mini-zine resource I created with Tuula, which is designed to help HSPs explore and discuss sensitivity as a normal aspect of being human. https://youtu.be/DFiJHxI9Qko What is Social Sensitivity? Social sensitivity refers to how highly sensitive individuals perceive and respond to emotional cues, interpersonal dynamics, and the tone of their environment. It’s not a learned skill or a conscious choice; it’s a normal variation in biological traits. More sensitive nervous systems naturally absorb larger volumes of environmental data and process it deeply. This means HSPs (those who score higher for sensitivity along a universal continuum), are more sensitive to social nuances and more susceptible to the effects of social stimulation. What is Sensory Processing Sensitivity? SPS is a trait found in 20–30% of the population (not just humans). It means that some are biologically wired to process more sensory input around us (environment), within us (internal), and between us (social). This trait can make someone more emotionally responsive, detail-aware, and easily overstimulated. Despite stereotypes and associations with the term, it’s not often easy to tell a highly sensitive person by looking at them. You might even look calm and collected on the outside when your system is working overtime beneath the surface. Social Sensitivity and Early Learning The nervous system informs thoughts and feelings in response to a perception of safety or danger from cues and triggers. The way we interpret social data isn’t always “objectively true”, particularly if we grew up in unpredictable or critical environments. This pattern recognition can shape how we experience social settings well into adulthood. That’s why intuition can be both a strength and a vulnerability for sensitive people. It’s wise to ask: Is this gut feeling rooted in the present, or the past? Key Elements of Social Sensitivity in HSPs Heightened Awareness of Social Nuance More sensitive individuals might be attuned to micro-expressions, body language, tone changes, and subtle group dynamics. This can give them a natural ability to “read the room,” but it can also lead to emotional absorption and a tendency to take responsibility for others’ discomfort. Not every HSP reacts the same way. Some feel compelled to help, others want to escape the weight of unspoken tensions. Personality, personal history, and social roles all play a part. Deep Emotional Responsiveness Many highly sensitive people feel others’ emotions deeply. This allows for strong empathy and attunement, but also risks emotional contagion—carrying other people’s emotional weight without realising it. Brain studies suggest that those on the more sensitive end exhibit increased activity in areas associated with emotional processing. But this doesn’t mean you’re doomed to feel overwhelmed by uncontrollable sources of emotion. With awareness and practice, it’s possible to separate your emotions from those of others and develop healthy emotional boundaries. Rejection Sensitivity and the Need to Belong HSPs might be particularly attuned to signs of rejection or disapproval, whether real or imagined. Some develop habits of withdrawing or masking to avoid being perceived as “too much” or “too sensitive.” I’ve noticed a few people suddenly and unexpectedly leave the Haven community after becoming more deeply involved socially. I wonder if this arises from the uncertainty of finding people who “get” and accept them. This sense of safety can feel jarring to a nervous system that has developed patterns of protection to remain hidden in the background. This response often starts early, especially if sensitivity was criticised or misunderstood. However, the good news is that it can change. When HSPs are met with consistent emotional safety and acceptance, those old protective patterns can start to soften. That’s one reason I hope places like The Haven can feel like safe homes people can return to, even after a sudden exit (or several). Strong Desire for Harmony HSPs might seek to avoid conflict, not because they’re passive, but because their nervous system registers relational tension as a source of danger. This can lead to withdrawing or over-accommodating, but it can also lead to creative problem-solving that helps groups navigate conflict with care and compassion. Understanding these nuances is key. We don’t all respond the same way. Some step in to soothe, while others step back to protect themselves. The Shaping Power of Environment Sensitivity is not static. It’s a relational trait that’s shaped by context. The same person who feels shut down in one group can feel vibrant and confident in another. In critical or chaotic environments, HSPs might shrink. In a nurturing one, they can flourish. That’s why sensitivity is best understood as a dynamic interaction between biology and the environment, rather than a deterministic trait or fixed limitation. Everyday Signs of Social Sensitivity Social sensitivity shapes how your nervous system responds to people and environments. You might: Quickly sense the “emotional temperature” of a room. Mirror others’ posture, expressions, or energy without realising it. Struggle to focus in emotionally charged spaces. Replay conversations in your head (often at night!) Crave deep connection, but need time alone to recover. Appear flat or disengaged while internally processing a lot. None of this is wrong—it’s simply how your system interacts with the world. For example, I often need a day to recover from a socially stimulating event, especially if I didn’t sleep well afterwards from all the internal replaying. Sensitivity is Not a Flaw or a Superpower Sensitivity is often framed as either a weakness or a gift. But the reality is more nuanced. It’s a neutral trait that belongs to a spectrum we are all on. In cultures that value pace and emotional restraint, sensitivity can be perceived as a liability. But in communities that value presence and nuance, it becomes a strength. This concept lies at the heart of the differential susceptibility theory, which posits that the more sensitive a person is, the greater the impact the environment has on them, for better or worse. A More Grounded Way to Relate to Sensitivity So, how do we move forward with social sensitivity as highly sensitive people? We might begin by stepping away from extremes. You don’t need to deny your sensitivity—or make it your entire identity. Instead, build a gentler relationship with it. Explore how your system responds to various settings. Notice which relationships feel nourishing and which ones leave you depleted. Sensitivity isn’t a performance. Embracing sensitivity is not about being the most empathic or insightful person in the room. It’s about allowing it to rise up in each of us so it becomes a collective strength we can make the most of and enjoy together. Over to You I’d love to hear what this episode brings up for you. Are any of the elements I discuss familiar to you?

It has been said that “Creativity is the art of concealing your sources.” But what does that mean? Is it about passing off other people’s work as your own? Or is it less about copying influences and more about concealing them like seeds in the soil? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore what this looks like and consider the impact on our natural creative spirit when we do (or don’t) conceal our sources in healthy ways. https://youtu.be/jgNccDK_MH0?si=5CQCaXnvHZWbaEoP The randomiser prompt wheel selected this phrase for me on Tuesday ahead of our Serenity Island Picnic. I’ll be honest, when I first saw “Creativity is the art of concealing your sources”, I was tempted to spin again. But, I gave it a go and found a few interesting threads to pull at. Concealing Our Sources Like Seeds Concealing our sources about misleading or deceiving. It’s about letting inspiration settle deep enough that it becomes more than it is. Like planting a seed. We don’t bury seeds to hide them; we bury them so they can grow. Our influences need space, time, and darkness to take root and become unique to us. This applies not just to creative work, but to life itself. When Sources Weigh Us Down Sometimes, a source casts a heavy shadow. I remember when I started writing songs and held everything up to my Thom Yorke-ometer. I compared what I created with what I believed Radiohead would produce, ignoring the other sounds and voices that wanted to be involved. This had an impact on my creative freedom until I let go of the desire to emulate the music I loved, capturing instead what truly inspired me about the band. The Subtle Power of Concealment The word “conceal” can sound suspicious, like trickery or withholding. But it can also be a positive source of protection and consent. Sometimes we need to conceal our sources from those who want to steal, exploit, or imitate without effort. Or those who want more information than we are comfortable or willing to share. We also sometimes need to conceal our sources from ourselves, especially when they become yardsticks for comparison and judgement. When a parent, mentor, or idol takes up too much space in our heads, our actions can become reactions. Instead of creating from a place of freedom, we’re trying to impress, appease, or prove something. Our Creative Lineage At the beginning of Meditations, Marcus Aurelius devotes an entire section to acknowledging how family members, teachers, and the gods (both directly and indirectly) shaped his character, values, and worldview. For example, honesty from his father, humility from his mentor, resilience from hardship, etc. This collection starts on a platform that essentially rejects the romaticised idea we often hear about today with people described as “self-made”. I thought about the deep processing a highly sensitive person does and the impact of SO many things on influencing who and how we become. Each of us has a creative lineage/heritage. We are shaped by countless sources—people, experiences, stories, relationships, and chance encounters. Some sources give us strength, others weigh us down with expectations and demands. Some we learn directly from (we receive wisdom from the example they set). Others we learn indirectly from (we are invited to grow in response to the example they set). We are all a messy mix. And while we are infused by them, we are not defined by them. Here are some reflection questions we used in our Serenity Island picnic earlier this week. Who or what would you consider part of your creative lineage? What part of that lineage feels overgrown, overweight, or overbearing right now? What might shift if you pared that influence back, cut it out, or intentionally replanted it as a new seed again? Which elements of your lineage would you like to feature more of and amplify in your life? These are the questions we explored together at the Serenity Island Picnic. Learn more about the course here. Creativity isn’t about pretending we’re original. It’s about transformation. It’s about letting sources become part of our soil, rather than dragging them around like monuments we have to live up to. Let them settle, shape, and grow. Join The Conversation If this stirred something in you and you want to explore ideas like this more deeply, you’re welcome to join us inside The Haven community. Already a member? Read what others are saying here.

What do you think of when you hear the words A Still Life? A bowl of fruit? A serene person, undisturbed by the world’s noise. Stagnation and stuckness. The quiet, hope-filled whisper that reminds you that no matter how it feels or where you are right now, you still have life within you. Another chapter waiting to be written. We’ve been reading Josie George’s memoir, A Still Life, in The Haven book club. After Josie joined us at last weekend’s discussion, I’ve been reflecting on the meaning of stillness and its many forms and flavours. It’s a fascinating word to think about! In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the layers of stillness in the book. From the stifling slowness imposed by illness or circumstance, to the deep, peaceful resilience that absorbs life’s ripples without breaking. Stillness can be a captured moment in art, a book, or a song. It’s a framed snapshot in time. https://youtu.be/dTHv2AhDDpI The Noise of Shallow Rivers vs. the Depth of Still Waters There’s an old proverb: “Shallow rivers are noisy. Deep lakes are silent.” I recently heard a deep lake that was anything but silent but 🤫, I’ll try not to undermine the metapho!) Here’s that noisy lake if you’re interested. https://soundcloud.com/andymort/the-ice-speaks-sounds-from-a-frozen-lake?si=e0700c22185544feb88c55e301a994ec&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing A noisy life might be shallow, and a shallow life can be noisy. Distractions bombard us. A flow of news to react to, unexpected notifications, and endless demands sweep us downriver without control. But stillness isn’t just about silence. It can also be unwanted: feeling stuck in the reeds, thrashing against stagnation, longing to move but unable to for various reasons. Josie’s memoir sits at this intersection. Her “still life” is informed by a chronic, mysterious illness that requires daily rest to stay near “any kind of wellness.” Yet her story isn’t about overcoming this adversity. The obstacle isn’t the way. The obstacle is an obstacle. And yet, Josie finds ways to live despite it. A Memoir Without a Blueprint Most personal development books follow a formula: I faced a challenge. I conquered it. Here’s how you can too. Josie’s book gently subverts that framework. There’s no cure, no tidy resolution or subversive workaround. Instead, it is a poetic, honest snapshot of a life filled with pain, joy, and quiet connection. It doesn’t tell readers how to feel or what to think. Instead, it invites us to rest in her perspective, to witness her seasons and spirals. “A book can sit on your shelf, unread, underestimated for years, and when you finally pick it up, you find it changes you. It was always going to, one day. You can live with yourself in much the same way.” This idea resonates deeply. How many unread books (proverbial or otherwise) await the right moment to transform us? We can’t force them, but we can wait. Truth, Visibility, and the Courage to Be Seen One passage from the book struck a bunch of us in the book club: “Either I believe that illness, pain, and our naturally chaotic minds are something undesirable and shameful—and so hide myself—or I don’t. And oh God, I don’t. If I don’t, then I have to start being braver with my visibility and my truth. Truth, in this sense, doesn’t stay still. It shifts as we grow, and so do the stories we tell about ourselves. Not because the stories change, but because we do. Stillness as Rebellion “Being someone who rests in a world that glorifies work above all else, is to be an alien among your own kind.” Josie’s stillness is a gentle rebellion. Despite many systemic barriers, it’s a commitment to joy, curiosity, and creativity. She doesn’t spin pain into a “gift” or preach toxic positivity. Instead, she offers this metaphor: “I am not the weather. I am the wide and open sky, and so I can let pain move through me and out of me.” We are not our struggles, our successes, or our failures. We are the sky. The witness behind and beneath those thoughts, feelings, and events that move through us. Creativity as a Tool for Healing A Still Life is a beautiful example of how creativity helps us re-enter our stories. Writing, art, or music allows us to look at the past with new eyes, to prepare the soil for new growth. Healing past wounds isn’t a linear process to be forced or rushed; it’s seasonal, cyclical. As Josie shows, a creative practice gives us room to: Experiment without pressure to get heavy and meaningful. Let truths emerge when they’re ready. Rebel against stories that shrink our spirit. A Still Life isn’t a guidebook or blueprint to follow. It’s an invitation to see differently. To gently rebel against a world that prizes motion, hustle, productivity, and restless action over wellbeing. Josie’s stillness is both a necessity and a choice, a way to “leave a gap” for attention, love, and possibility. The task is simple… “Pay attention, be brave, see the truth, write it down. That will always be enough.” Follow Josie Down The Rabbit Hole: https://linktr.ee/wonderlandletters If you’re a member, you can join the conversation about the book in the forum.

This post elaborates on the sensitivity research section of The HSP Owner’s Guide. Differential susceptibility is a key concept in high-sensitivity research. In simple terms, it means that the more sensitive you are, the more your environment impacts you. As a highly sensitive person (HSP), you might notice that some people thrive in situations where you feel discombobulated. Conversely, when conditions feel right, you may experience more intense joy, connection, and growth than others. It’s the idea that some people are more responsive to their environment—for better or worse. For HSPs, this heightened responsiveness is a defining trait linked to their depth of processing, shaping how they experience life. However, it’s important to remember that not all HSPs are the same. Sensitivity is just one part of who we are, and how we respond to our environments can vary widely. https://youtu.be/GIIKRuy5TOw What is Differential Susceptibility? Differential susceptibility means that the more sensitive someone is, the more influence their environment has on them. We might think of it like a spectrum of responsiveness. On one end, some people are like sturdy structures, able to adapt to a wide range of conditions without much change. On the other hand, many HSPs are finely tuned instruments that process their environment in depth. This can allow them to thrive in supportive settings but may also make them more vulnerable in harsh ones. For many HSPs, this means they are deeply affected by their upbringing, current environment, and the people around them. In favourable conditions, they may flourish more intensely than others, finding creative flow, experiencing strong empathy, and having deep insights. In unfavourable conditions, they might struggle more than others, feeling overstimulated or drained, unable to utilise the and share the fruits of their high sensitivity. This heightened responsiveness isn’t a weakness—it’s a unique way of engaging with the world that comes with challenges and strengths. That said, again to reiterate, not all HSPs will respond the same way. Sensitivity interacts with other aspects of personality, life experiences, and individual differences. How Does Differential Susceptibility Shape Our Lives? Differential susceptibility shows up in tangible ways for many HSPs. Here’s how it might play out: maybe you recognise your own experiences in these examples: Growing Up: The Impact of Early Environments Supportive Upbringing: If an HSP grows up in a nurturing environment (where their sensitivity is understood and valued) they are more likely to develop strong emotional intelligence, creativity, and resilience. Challenging Upbringing: If an HSP grows up in a less supportive environment (where their sensitivity was dismissed or criticised), they might have learned to hide their true self, leading to feelings of disconnection or self-doubt. For example, imagine an HSP who grew up in a chaotic and unpredictable household. If there is constant noise or tension, that person’s nervous system is more likely to be dysregulated, overstimulated and seeking safety from unsafe sources. They may assume the “tiny adult” role, feeling responsible for trying to keep the environment ‘in balance’ by fawning, people pleasing, monitoring moods (over empathy). But if that same HSP had grown up in a calm, supportive home, they might have thrived, using their sensitivity to connect deeply with others and appreciate life’s beauty. Adulthood: Creating Nurturing Environments Favourable Conditions: When HSPs are in environments that honour their sensitivity, such as a peaceful home, a supportive workplace, or a close-knit community, they often bring incredible strengths. They may notice what others miss, create spaces of warmth and connection, and approach challenges creatively and empathetically. Unfavourable Conditions: In overwhelming or unsupportive environments, like a stressful job, a toxic family, or a sensory-heavy space, HSPs may struggle. They might feel drained, overstimulated, or unable to express themselves fully. This can lead to burnout. For example, picture an HSP working in a fast-paced, noisy office. The constant buzz that others overlook might leave them exhausted and unable to focus. However, if the same HSP performs the same job in a calm, flexible environment, they may shine, bringing thoughtful ideas and a deep sense of care to their work. The Strengths HSPs Bring When They Feel Safe When HSPs are in environments that support their sensitivity, they often bring unique gifts: Deep Empathy: Many HSPs are highly attuned to the emotions of others, making them compassionate friends, partners, and colleagues. Creativity and Insight: Their ability to notice subtleties and make connections can lead to innovative ideas and solutions. Thoughtful Leadership: HSPs often approach challenges with care and consideration, creating spaces where others feel heard and valued. Appreciation for Beauty: Whether it’s art, nature, or human connection, many HSPs have a unique ability to find and create beauty in the world. In Unfavourable Conditions What happens when HSPs are in environments that don’t support their sensitivity? Empathy:HSPs might feel overwhelmed by others’ emotions, absorbing stress or negativity. This can lead to emotional exhaustion or withdrawal.Example: In a toxic workplace or social situations, an HSP might avoid interacting with others to cope with constant conflict. Overthinking or Paralysis:Their ability to notice subtleties can turn into overanalysing, making decisions or taking action difficult.Example: An HSP on a high-pressure project might procrastinate, worried about mistakes or others’ opinions. People-Pleasing or Avoidance:Their desire to create harmony can lead to prioritising others’ needs over their own or avoiding leadership roles to escape stress.Example: An HSP leader might say yes to every request, risking burnout to avoid disappointing others. Sensitivity to Chaos:Their appreciation for beauty can make them deeply unsettled by clutter, noise, or negativity, disrupting focus and peace.Example: An HSP in a noisy, cluttered space might feel on edge, struggling to relax or concentrate. General Responses: Physical Symptoms: Stress may show up as headaches, fatigue, or digestive issues. Emotional Sensitivity: They might react strongly to criticism or conflict, taking things personally. Binging on Solitude: Craving alone time, they might hoard or overindulge in isolation when overwhelmed. How to Nurture Your Sensitivity (No Matter Your Past) If you’re an HSP who grew up in less favourable conditions, it’s never too late to create an environment that honours your sensitivity. This isn’t about adding more to your plate or forcing yourself to change. It’s about gently exploring what helps you feel safe, seen, and supported. Here are some ways to begin: Create a Safe Space: Imagine having a little corner of the world that feels like a sanctuary—a place where you can breathe deeply and feel at ease. This might mean adding soft lighting, calming colours, or items that bring you comfort and joy. Honour Your Boundaries: It’s okay to say no to situations or people that drain your energy. Start small—maybe it’s turning down an invitation when you’re feeling overwhelmed or setting aside quiet time for yourself each day. Seek Supportive Connections: Surround yourself with people who understand and appreciate your sensitivity. This might mean working with a professional therapist/coach/mentor, joining a community, or building friendships with other HSPs. Be Kind to Yourself: Your sensitivity is not a flaw—it’s a unique way of experiencing the world. Treat yourself with the same compassion you’d offer a dear friend. Advocate for Your Needs: Speaking up for yourself can be challenging, especially if you’ve been conditioned to prioritise the needs of others at the expense of your own. Begin by envisioning yourself advocating for someone you genuinely care about, such as another HSP or someone whose needs are frequently overlooked at home, work, or social settings. Embracing Your Sensitivity Despite Differential Susceptibility Differential susceptibility isn’t about being “too sensitive”; it’s about the relationship we share with the world within, around, and between us. It offers a unique opportunity to enhance our experience of life and thrive in ways that others might not. Naturally, the flipside of this is that difficult environments can leave us struggling. However, with a bit of awareness to recognise our needs and the people around us who understand us, we can create lives that truly support and sustain us. Over to You What about you? Have you noticed how your environment affects you? Can you think of an environment or aspect of life where your sensitivity feels like a hindrance at the moment?

May the road rise to meet you. My note from a slow coach this week reflects on Baltic endorphins, some internal torment due to a decision made by my past self that my present self didn’t appreciate, and a poem contemplating whether adventure is always just around the corner. It’s an excerpt from a journal entry a couple of weeks ago when I was in Finland. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_VzkTNi53E I’m still feeling invigorated from last night’s dip in the Baltic Sea. I don’t know if it’s the exhilaration of spending 90 seconds in 4-degree (Celsius) water or the satisfaction I feel from following through on my intention. Something caught me when I looked across the water a few days ago—a pull I couldn’t ignore. The idea of getting in the water was great. Until it was time to do it. What was I thinking? The two hours leading up to my plunge were filled with antsy-pantsy pacing and flip-flopping. I was not amused by my decision. Still, I knew that if I didn’t go through with it, the regret of missing this opportunity would far outweigh the momentary despair of doing something I knew would be wildly rewarding (once I resurfaced and was safely ensconced in the sauna—my happy place). This morning’s inner calm is a blend of satisfaction and physical aliveness. The sauna not only offered a delightful reward for completing my challenge but also enhanced the experience. The contrast of fire and ice creates a unique sensation. Forever on the horizon This morning, I am returning to the list of phrases and ideas we developed at the start of our month of “Adventure” in The Haven. I had intended to use one each morning in my journal practice, but it hasn’t happened yet. No problem, I am up for it today. Now. I spin the wheel, and it throws “Adventure is waiting just beyond view” onto the screen. I don’t think it’s a saying, but it feels familiar. Similar to the idea that adventure (or growth) lies on the other side of your comfort zone. I’ve always had a complex relationship with these platitudinal sayings. They carry kernels of truth for particular situations but are often espoused as universal, all-encompassing statements of fact. May the branch rise to meet them My eyes are drawn through the window. My first coffee of the day is on the cabinet beside me. Adventure is waiting just beyond view. Those words feel coarse to me here. Itchy. Like an irritant on my skin. I can see a squirrel moving effortlessly through the trees and a crow perched on a breeze-flexed branch above, and I wonder if they ever wonder about these things. It’s tempting to get caught up in the assumption that everything good is just beyond view. It’s the engine of consumer culture, the ideology of endless striving. Like a perpetual mirage, we see the reward, but it moves further as we get closer. “Just a little further” becomes a mantra in the meditation of hustle. Advice is cheap and contradictory. I am interested in how we can develop a more nuanced and healthy relationship with growth, purpose, and flow in life. If adventure is forever around the corner, what am I overlooking right here? To feel settled without settling and expectant without expecting. Isn’t this moment the adventure that was just around the corner from that previous one? I think of the old blessing: “May the road rise to meet you.” Maybe that’s the real adventure—the road meeting us where we are. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjJXAL40MC4 May the flow rise to meet you From the edge of this perch,I strain my neck to watch a squirreldart, weightless, certain of the branchesthat will reach out and catch herwith every flight, twist, and descent. Is it true that I can find anAdventure waiting just beyond view? If I round the corner.If I push the button.If I make the call.If I am patient.If I lead.If I trust the process.If I take a step.If I listen.If I dare.If I follow.If I let this grow.If I am brave.If I am gentle.If I put it out there.If I stop forcing it.If I let go.If I pick up.If I let come.If I go forth. A blackbird offers its weightto a quietly accommodating branch.I notice nowmy body perched on this old horizon. I will rest here a while,inside this adventure,once beyond view.The next one takes care of itself. The sauna’s heat and the sea’s shock—slow out-breath against sudden gasp. My nerves crackled right up to the edge, then dissolved into the oldest rhythm: stillness after motion, motion after stillness—no need to choose. Just take the step and let the flow rise to meet you.

In a world obsessed with productivity, competition, and the “hero’s journey,” Natsu Miyashita’s The Forest of Wool and Steel shines a quietly revolutionary light on something altogether different. This book is a balm for those who’ve felt out of step with society’s narrow definitions of success or crave a deeper, slower, more meaningful way of living. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I explore what I took as its key themes and why they feel so radical in today’s hustle culture. Beyond “Finding Your Purpose” Society often frames purpose as something we discover “out there” – a preordained destiny waiting to be unlocked. But The Forest of Wool and Steel shows us something subtler: purpose isn’t discovered in that way; it’s woven through our responses to chance encounters. The protagonist, Tomura, stumbles into piano tuning after a random school errand. What captivates him isn’t some grand mission but a moment of sensory awe: “His whole body trembled. It was like hearing colour.” This moment isn’t about the piano giving him purpose; it’s about how the piano helps reveal what was ready to resonate within him. The novel suggests that any object, experience, or moment can become a doorway to the forest if we’re listening. High Sensitivity as an Ordinary Feature of Humanity Unlike narratives that treat sensitivity as a flaw or a superpower, Miyashita normalises it as simply part of being human. Tomura and his mentors experience the world with a depth of processing. One tuner feels exhausted by public telephones, billboards, and the dirt on the road. He has learned to recover through a metronome’s rhythm. Tomura often needs time to process decisions, rejecting opportunities before slowly embracing them – a familiar experience for many HSPs. The book’s quiet power lies in its refusal to pathologise or glorify sensitivity. Instead, it shows how deep attunement – to sound, environment, and subtlety, is the source of growth and meaning. The Question of Success Tomura’s apprenticeship defies every expectation of the “hero’s journey.” There are no villains, no competitions, no triumphant climax. Instead, his growth is slow, iterative, and deeply personal: How long until I can make that sound I heard on that first day? The novel suggests that true mastery isn’t about conquering a craft but collaborating with it and understanding with more than the mind. In a culture obsessed with optimisation and “levelling up,” the seasonal, non-linear approach we witness here feels quietly radical. Outgrowing Hustle Culture The book gently critiques society’s obsession with measurable success. When Tomura’s brother mocks his belief that a piano’s sound contains “the whole world,” it mirrors how modern culture dismisses wonder in favour of utility. Yet the novel celebrates the “useless”, the wasteful, and the ordinary: Knowing the names of trees The taste of olive oil-drizzled eggs The way light glistens at dawn These moments aren’t “productive,” but they’re where meaning lives. As Tomura reflects: “It felt to me as though nothing was a waste, but at the same time, everything was on some level a colossal waste.” This paradox is the heart of the book’s rebellion: what if the “small” things are the big things? Why We Resist Slowness (And How to Stop) Critics call the book “slow” or “uneventful”, but that’s the point. Our discomfort with its pace reveals a deeper truth: we’ve been programmed to equate speed with value. Tomura’s mentors teach him that people assume “brightness” is a synonym for better. But it’s not that simple. Similarly, the novel invites us to reflect on our relationship with depth and darkness: Are we afraid of stillness because it confronts us with ourselves? Do we mistake urgency for purpose? What if the “forest of wool and steel” (the unseen, sensory world) is where real creativity lives? The answer isn’t to “do more” but to tune in. Entrances to our Forest of Wool and Steel The Forest of Wool and Steel isn’t a manifesto. It’s an invitation to notice, trust, and follow the intuitive sensitivities that take us beneath the noise and towards our sound. As Tomura learns, there are entrances to the forest everywhere. The question is: can we slow down enough to notice them? Over To You Have you read the book? I’d love to hear your thoughts through the form below. Any responses to what I spoke about in this episode? Drop a comment or send me a message. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.

When you receive help, do you perceive it as a transactional burden or as a gift? How do you support the people, ideas, and art you admire? Do you feel disappointed when they go against your views, or do you willingly allow them the freedom to grow and evolve into whatever they might become, despite potential disagreements? https://youtu.be/Ueyw7nSI6jc Last year, during a Haven Phrase Maze exploration around the prompt “The Money Changed Everything,” we discussed what makes a gift a gift. We asked whether, once given, the giver of a true gift can have any justifiable feelings about what is done with it. Or if a hope or expectation turns a gift into a conditional transaction. For example, when we give someone a present, we might expect them to use it in a particular way (and not to sell it on, exchange it, or give it to someone else, for an acceptable time at least). What impact does this obligation have on the receiver? How does this relate to our engagement with artists, public figures, and one another? Conditional vs Unconditional Support Are we conditional patrons, offering support only when we agree with the other person? Or are we unconditional patrons, standing by them because we believe in their how and why, even when we disagree with the substance of their particular “what”? This is on my mind because of a comment I received on a recent YouTube video. Someone explained why they disagreed with something I had said, which is fair enough. But I was struck by the intended sucker punch at the end of the comment… “Unsubscribed.” That word was like a weapon; it felt like an attempt at punishment and behaviour modification. It focused on the surface rather than the source. I know that subscribing isn’t a gift, but I couldn’t help but wonder if a similar mechanism exists in the distinction between conditional and unconditional gift-giving. This is why I don’t tend to ask people directly to subscribe to my podcast, videos, or social media. I want it to be a choice, not a favour or transaction. I leave it for people to come and go as they like, with no pressure either way. If the time comes for us to go separate ways, that’s fine. It happens. We don’t owe one another anything. We’ve just had a nice ride along together for a bit. Unconditional Patronage and Disagreement Do we tie our support for people to WHAT they think or HOW and WHY they reach their conclusions? Think about the creators, artists, or figures you follow and admire. Do you find yourself withdrawing support when they say or do something you disagree with? What would it look like to support them unconditionally, focusing on their how and why rather than a particular what? Over the years, I have come to support people whose WAY of thinking I respect and value. Most people I follow express views I disagree with occasionally (in some cases, a lot), but I sincerely appreciate the how and why behind their ideas. The process inspires me as much as, if not more than, the outcome. It’s only if their values (the drive of their why) change that I tend to consider whether or not I want to continue supporting them. It can happen. There is a flip-side to this coin… “Subscribed” It can feel validating when someone agrees with something I say and tells me they are subscribing or following me because of it. However, there is a subtle pull that can occur here. The connection between the statement they agreed with and their choice to subscribe creates a conditional presence. I might feel the pressure: “To keep them happy, I better keep saying similar things.” This can lead to a slippery slope toward mediocrity, self-censorship, and audience capture – forces we see in abundance today. When we engage like this with people, we subtly encourage them to appeal to the crowd, avoid risks, and conform to expectations (to appease followers and provoke adversaries) rather than exploring new possibilities and navigating the nuanced space between our desire for a simplistic understanding and life’s complexities. This pattern also applies to our interpersonal relationships. We seek safety in our social bonds, and when we recognise that something pleases another person, we are more inclined to continue that behaviour. Have you ever held back from expressing an opinion or taking a creative risk because you feared losing support or approval? How might unconditional support change that? Unconditional Patronage and Accountability Unconditional patronage isn’t about unquestioningly supporting someone. It’s about making our support broader than agreement and focusing on a person’s character and approach rather than the particular conclusions they reach with any given topic, project, or situation. What I admire in artists is how they dance with their creative spirit, allowing it to guide them to potentially unexpected places. It might lead them to create works that I don’t enjoy or take directions that miss the mark for me. But that’s great – if I trust how and why they do what they do, I’m not overly invested and demanding about the outcome. I may very well come to appreciate it over time. After all, just because I don’t “get it” now doesn’t mean I won’t understand it later. That’s par for the course when engaging with artists, visionaries, and prophets. Unconditional patronage involves creating conditions that allow individuals to be themselves and grow from that space instead of casting a shadow over them and instilling fear about the consequences of making mistakes. It does not mean granting unrestricted freedom to act or speak as they wish, with the promise of our unwavering support regardless of their actions. Instead, it provides them a secure foundation to explore, create, and develop their ideas. Do you follow anyone whose approach you admire, even if you don’t agree with everything they say? Or have you received unconditional patronage from someone else? What difference did it make to you? “So that You Know…I’m Unsubscribing” While unsubscribing, unfollowing, and walking away are always valid options, announcing it raises questions about motivation. It is often a performative act. This puppetry is a way to assert control or signal disapproval, sometimes saying more about us than others. Are we punishing them for not meeting our expectations and saying what we want them to say (or reproducing the TV show, album, or book we already have a love for)? How do you choose to do it when you need to step away? What do you value when it comes to leaving well, and how might your approach reflect those values? The Space For Creativity When people create out of fear of losing support (or hoping to gain it), we risk stifling creativity. This dynamic doesn’t just limit individuals; it dampens the rich pool of creative potential within us as a species. This pressure often shows up in subtle ways. For example, imagine receiving praise, a gift, or help from someone who makes it clear they’re supporting you because they liked something particular. While their intention might be positive, it can leave you feeling indebted, pulling you away from your creative voice and into a people-pleasing cycle. Can you think of a time when you felt pressured to reciprocate something you didn’t ask for or when you felt obligated to meet someone else’s expectations? How did it make you feel, and how did it shape your choices? I’d love to hear your response to this post. Drop a comment or send me a message if you have anything to share.