The Gentle Rebel Podcast

The randomiser wheel picked “It was uncomfortable”. I’m currently using a tool to select phrases for my daily journal practice. They are all associated with the theme of Strength. Discomfort helps me know I’m alive. It’s more concerning when I no longer feel it. Uncomfortable even. No, wait, that doesn’t make sense. If I feel uncomfortable when I don’t feel uncomfortable, I still feel uncomfortable. Weird. Perhaps it’s more of a sensitisation thing. It ought to be concerning if I don’t notice discomfort. Or if I shrug my shoulders in the face of it. When I’m withdrawn, numbed out, and disconnected. Going through the motions, letting it happen, passive, indifferent and cynical. I’ve noticed lots of things I wish I felt more uncomfortable about. I want to feel uncomfortable because it’s a barometer of my engagement—an indicator of whether or not my nervous system is connected. There are many discomforts. Some open doors to better places and others invite me to be a better person. Certain discomforts ignite a fire that is hard to extinguish. Others persist and endure. Some never go away. Some create possibilities that were inaccessible until now. Others will be strongly felt right now, but in time, they will fade and be forgotten. Discomfort can be a sign of, and a catalyst for change, a question that pokes and prods, tickling and shaking me awake, even when I’d much rather still be asleep. It was uncomfortable… When I didn’t know what I was doing. When my legs felt wobbly, and I still had a mile to go. To hear those words, “We need to talk”. When I asked for what I wanted. When you addressed the elephant in the room. When we all knew, but he didn’t think we did. When I started here. When I told you off. In that cold building. When you told me to stop. When I heard your story. Whenever I walked. To carry you. To imagine a different future. When I had to tell them what I had done. When I admitted to myself. When it suddenly stopped working, and we had to devise a new plan. When I realised I was lost. When I couldn’t afford it. When they used those words. When I couldn’t think my way to a solution. When you put me on the spot. When I realised I was wrong. When you assumed. To remember. When I forgot. When no one laughed. When you cried. When I had to choose. When you asked for what I didn’t have. When you pushed me. When I pushed you. To ask you to stop. To let go of all those other possibilities. In the silence. When it turned out I was right. When I looked you in the eye. When we didn’t know what to say. When the words came out wrong. When they wouldn’t stop talking. When it dawned on me. How do I react to discomfort? Do I want to eliminate it at the source, hide, adapt, and learn from it? It depends on the situation, who is impacted, and the potential impact of enduring it. There are uncomfortable things that, when endured, lead to positive outcomes. Some uncomfortable things, when endured, lead to lower horizons. There are uncomfortable things that, when endured, can build inner strength and resilience, which can be used in the future and passed on to others. Replacing and Reframing Something interesting happens when you invert those phrases and replace the discomfort with safety, maybe as a desire (“I want to feel safe”) or a reframe (“I felt safe”). This can show us the kind of world we want to create and paint a picture of what safety and connection look, feel, and sound like for us. What would need to be true for me to be able to say…? I felt safe, though I didn’t know what I was doing. I felt safe even when my legs felt wobbly, and I still had a mile to go. It felt safe to hear those words, “We need to talk”. I felt safe when I asked for what I wanted. I felt safe when you addressed the elephant in the room. I felt safe when we all knew, but he was unaware we did. I felt safe when I started here. I felt safe when I told you off. I felt safe in that cold building. I felt safe when you told me to stop. I felt safe when I heard your story. I felt safe when I walked. It felt safe to imagine a different future. I felt safe when I had to tell them what I had done. I felt safe when I admitted to myself. I felt safe when it suddenly stopped working, and we devised a new plan. I felt safe when I realised I was lost. I felt safe when I couldn’t afford it. I felt safe when they used those words. I felt safe when I couldn’t think my way to the solution. I felt safe when you put me on the spot. I felt safe when I realised I was wrong. I felt safe when you assumed. I felt safe to remember. I felt safe when I forgot. It felt safe because no one laughed. I felt safe when you cried. I felt safe when I had to choose. I felt safe when you asked for what I didn’t have. I felt safe when you pushed me. I felt safe when I pushed you. I felt safe to ask you to stop. I felt safe to let go of all those other possibilities. I felt safe in the silence. I felt safe when it turned out I was right. I felt safe when I looked you in the eye. I felt safe when we didn’t know what to say. I felt safe when the words came out wrong. I felt safe when they wouldn’t stop talking. I felt safe when it dawned on me. What would need to change or happen for these to be true? Does any of this resonate with you? I’d love to hear from you. Drop me a message. What would you write about in response to the prompt “it was uncomfortable…”? https://youtu.be/kL3PepDyCiw

The randomiser wheel picked “Power Through”. I’m currently using a tool to select phrases for my daily journal practice. They are all associated with the theme of Strength. At first, these words brought to mind experiences when I had no choice but to keep going. A looming deadline, the chockful calendar, a stag do, a festival, and the final push with the finish line in sight. Powering through requires a special kind of energy. Dipping in and drawing from the storeroom where I keep my deep reserves. This can feel glorious. It can feel rewarding. It can feel like a relief and something I wish never to repeat. To collapse in a heap at the end. The moment when Farmer Hoggett’s words echo in my soul; “that’ll do, pig. That’ll do.” I can pack up, curl up, and rest. Letting The Body Prepare For as long as I can remember, I have experienced a kind of lethargy on the day of a gig. I often feel like I won’t have the energy to perform. I seem to yawn through the afternoon, wondering how I will ever summon the inner resources to do what I need to do. “OK”, I would tell myself, “you’ve just got to power through”. As soon as I hit the road, I could feel the flow returning, and by the time I hit the stage, I was in the zone. I’ve come to accept this part of the process in all its frustrating mystery, trusting that the energy will come, however much it feels like there is no way I could not fall asleep at the piano. Over time, I’ve come to see that this is not about “powering through”; it’s about letting things be. To power through turns it into a battle or fight. Like I’m in a constant wrestle with myself. And that takes a different kind of energy. On the other hand, letting things be is about surrendering to what I know is true, recognising that I won’t feel up to performing in the lead-up to a gig, and remembering that my body is preparing and readying me for the performance. I don’t need to fix that; I need to simply let it be. If I jump to my “power-through” reserves, believing I must intervene to feel up to it, I will derail my natural processes, hit the bottom of the barrel more quickly and need much more time to recover afterwards. Powering Through as The Exception, Not The Rule Humans are rhythmic, seasonal, and cyclical. Our bodies are remarkable and can power through when the situation demands it as the exception, not the rule. But when we are stuck in that mode, which is how we have designed many aspects of modern life, many people perpetually power through on the fumes of those reserves. It’s no wonder we are burning out. If we are expected to be “on” constantly, we might perpetually wrestle with ourselves. Berating our inability to maintain the energy required to stay productive in what Byung Chul-Han calls achievement society. Excessive “can” positivity and self-optimisation paradoxically lead to burnout and fatigue because there are no natural stopping points. Even in rest and play, we have become trained in self-exploitative productivity in choosing and approaching leisure time. If it can’t be measured, it’s meaningless. If it’s not helping us advance, then it’s pointless. And when we reach the inevitable tipping point, we consume to help us escape, retreat, and numb ourselves. This often goes against our creative nature – the quiet voice inside telling us to slow down and sense the world around, within, and between us. All Power and No Play When considering creativity and nurturing a sensitive nervous system, we must unite and break free from these chains of toxic productivity. We can embrace and enjoy the times of blossoming and fruition. We can accept and attune ourselves to periods of fallowness and the in-between. Without silence, we cannot hear the music. Without margins, we cannot see the shape of things. Despite what some people want us to believe, we are not labouring machines. We can’t keep pushing ourselves without paying a serious price. We have much more potential when we stop focusing on the universal application of personal productivity and optimisation. It’s a tool for specific contexts. More importantly, we should consider ways to foster unproductive avenues of human creativity, celebrate beauty, and explore collective possibilities. Just because. Do you put pressure on yourself to “power through” things? https://youtu.be/-j1cbbFA3qs

The randomiser wheel picked “Stay strong and carry on”. This month, I’m using a tool to select phrases for my daily journal practice. They are all associated with the theme of Strength. There is a difference between giving up and quitting. I’ve written about this before. To quit is usually an intentional decision. It is informed and considered. It requires courage to let go when something no longer serves its purpose, or you are no longer the person for the task. On the other hand, giving up happens when you no longer have the physical, mental, or emotional capacity to carry on, even if the task is meaningful and important to you. When You Can’t Stay Strong Alone The willingness to continue might be physically destroyed when the body cannot function. Our opponent might have outplayed us to the point of exhaustion. Or it might give into someone who has relentlessly pressured us to comply with their demands. What does it mean to stay strong and carry on? What sort of strength do we need to maintain? Where does it come from? What does it look like? How can you stay strong when the body or spirit is broken and you are limited by more than your mindset? Strength Beyond Power Strength isn’t about force and for humans, it is not the preserve of a single individual. It’s not about domination and control. Instead, it’s about resourcefulness, knowing what matters and why, and letting go of a drive for top-down compliance in favour of unity amidst disagreement. It’s about rejecting the dominant narrative when it works to divide and conquer. The whole is more than the sum of its parts. We are better equipped to stay strong and carry on when we zoom out and do it together. This is why we need to embrace high sensitivity, not only as individuals, but as a species. It makes us stronger. Emperor Penguins insulate themselves from the harsh Antarctic conditions by huddling together to create and radiate heat through the collective. The strength of one penguin is dependent on the behaviour of the whole. And likewise, the survival of the whole is dependent on individuals huddling together. I find this a powerful image of collective strength, not as a source of domination and mastery over the weather but as a way to maintain their presence despite those conditions. We sometimes have a warped view of strength, often associated with the individual. But when this underpins our understanding of what it means to be human, we live life on a knife-edge. We are in a state of dysregulation, alert and unsafe, making decisions based not on what is best in the long run or big picture but on the here and now. Often at the expense of longer term prosperity and s An Empty Promise We are encouraged to hoard, steal, envy, and destroy in the name of strength. Even those who possess this kind of power are never at peace. They always look over their shoulder and wonder who is plotting their demise. Second guessing, pre-eminently striking, and causing a cascading wave to the bottom and lowering horizons rather than raising them and limiting potential rather than smashing down boundaries for all of us to explore. We stay strong and carry on when we build around a solid foundation together. When we know what matters, where we are going, and the abundant reasons, we all have a place here. This strength is grounded in the belief that we are creative and playful beings with the potential for unimaginable things. When mixed with a lust for domination, power, and control, these unimaginable things are barbaric. But when combined with a curious openness to love and care about ourselves, one another, and the future of this incredible planet, those unimaginable things are majestic. https://youtu.be/uqY0wma4xDY

Are you an armchair creative? You are great at learning, preparing, and researching a field, yet something often stops you from taking action. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we consider some things that stop us from acting and explore how to get out of the armchair in 2025. Armchair Certainty “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?” is a common question in coaching. While intended to free us from debilitating fear, it misses an important point. Knowing we can’t fail leaves us feeling hollow. In The Twilight Zone episode “A Nice Place to Visit,” freshly deceased Rocky Valentine thinks he’s in Heaven because he wins every bet and has every desire met. After a while, he tells his host, Pip that he doesn’t belong in Heaven and wants to go to the other place. “Whatever gave you the idea that this is Heaven?” Pip responds. This is a depiction of Hell being an eternity without the possibility of failure. “What would you do if you knew you COULD fail?” I like this reframe because it accepts failure as a natural, even necessary, part of a meaningful life. Certainty, while comforting, stifles creativity because it deprives us of the friction required for meaningful action. Creativity In The Armchair As armchair experts, we might have accumulated lots of knowledge. We may have devoured books, taken courses, and watched hours of footage. But this knowledge is an arms-length understanding and doesn’t give us the sensory or practical knowledge that can only come through stepping into the arena. In creativity, this can manifest as over-preparation: planning every detail, waiting for the “perfect” idea, or endlessly theorising without taking the leap. This intellectualisation offers a false sense of progress. As Mark Manson put it, “People get hooked on endlessly intellectualising their emotional patterns as a way to avoid doing anything about them.” Similarly, intellectualising creativity can mask avoidance. Deep growth begins when we leave the armchair and step into the arena, embracing the messy, unpredictable nature of creating. Action Breeds Clarity Songwriter Aaron Espe captures this beautifully: “The best way to have more happy accidents is to do more things. Simply thinking about doing things doesn’t produce happy accidents. You gotta take action.” Whether it’s songwriting, swimming, or starting a business, the act of doing reveals insights that theory cannot. The Paralysis of Armchair Analysis Overthinking often disguises itself as preparation. We might tell ourselves we’re “just being thorough,” but in reality, we’re avoiding vulnerability. The fear of failure, judgment, or even our inner critic can keep us stuck. One of my favourite expressions from Haven meetings in recent years is, “Playing is preparing.” Creativity isn’t about perfect execution; it’s about feeling, practice, and exploration. We can do this in low-stakes ways. Happy accidents happen when we engage with the task before us, not when we think about engaging with it. It’s impossible to think our way to a happy accident. The Courage to Be Misunderstood A typical creative block is the fear of being misunderstood. We worry our work will be misinterpreted, criticised, or fail to resonate. But this fear can suffocate creativity. As Brené Brown reminds us, true courage lies in stepping into the arena, risking failure, and embracing imperfection. One way to develop this courage is to experiment with letting ambiguity be ambiguous. It’s in those gaps that the light gets in. Art that heals does so, not because it intends to but because it is free to land in a billion different ways. Embracing the Messy Joy of Creativity So, as we step into 2025, consider this our invitation to be intentional about our place in the armchair. If this feels alive for you right now, consider booking a “Pick The Lock” call with me. We can explore how to turn your creative urges into actionable, manageable, meaningful plans.

Have you ever seen homes lit up at night and wondered what the lights in the windows say about the people inside? Just me? OK then! A recent neighbourhood walk left me thinking about three broad tendencies or archetypes that we might embody in our creative energy: The Host, The Artisan, and The Entertainer. The Host You know that warm, glowing light you see in the window of a house at night? Unless you’re in a horror movie, there’s something comforting about it. It’s welcoming and can signal a sense of safety, telling us we’re expected, or if we’re lost, that there’s a refuge waiting. Some people are like this. They have a beacon quality—inviting us in to rest, explore, and be ourselves. Their creative energy is collaborative and open. They make it feel safe to try new things, fail, and to discover surprising possibilities. Can you think of someone like this? The Artisan There are other houses where the lights are carefully strung—beautiful, intentional, and inspiring. These displays have been thoughtfully crafted. The result of care, skill, and attention to detail. People can’t help but stop to notice and admire the display. Some people are like this. Artisans care deeply about the creative process. They put deep effort and dedication into exploring techniques, learning skills, and achieving excellence. Their creative energy pours through their love of the craft and appreciation of quality and they believe the work speaks for itself. Can you think of someone like this? The Entertainer Other houses have dynamic projected images on walls, trees, and lawns. These displays are intended to draw and focus the attention of onlookers, encouraging them to look at the surface on which the light is cast. Some people are like this. Entertainers shine with an audience to communicate with. Their creative energy flows when people pay attention and react to them. Can you think of someone like this? When the Environment Doesn’t Align The world is beautiful because of the diverse flow of creative energy that comes through hosts, artisans, and entertainers. But what happens when our natural tendency doesn’t match the environment we’re in? It’s not difficult to imagine how strong ego judgements about how people ought to be, could make someone who doesn’t naturally fit the mould feel out of shape and alone. The Host in an Artisan World Imagine the a Host in a world that values polished results and technical mastery. Hosts who create collaborative spaces for exploration may feel inadequate or invisible. They might undervalue the importance of what they bring to the collective. The story they might adopt: “I’m not talented or valuable because I don’t produce anything remarkable.” The Artisan in an Entertainer World What about the Artisan in an Entertainer world that only celebrates and rewards those who are front and centre? Artisans who find joy in the quality of the work they do might become drained by the pressure to self-promote and feelings of self-consciousness as peoples’ attention is focused on them rather than their work. The story they might adopt: “I can’t get the opportunities I deserve in a world that rewards style and confidence over substance and competence.” The Entertainer in a Host World Then there is the Entertainer in a space that only values quiet and subtle connection? Entertainers who love to feel the creative flow through social connection might feel like their energy is too much and may be painted as a narcissistic attention seeker. The story they might adopt: “I take up too much space and annoy people.” Archetype Potential Story Impact Supportive Shift The Host “You’re not talented enough.” Feels undervalued; doubts their role. Recognise that holding space is valuable. The Artisan “You need to put yourself out there.” Feels pressured to perform or promote. Let their work speak for itself; advocate for them. The Entertainer “You’re too big for your boots.” Suppresses their natural energy and light. Celebrate their presence as a gift, not a flaw. We Contain Multitudes We might lean toward one dominant archetype, but that’s not the whole story, and we’re not defined by it. Different seasons, relationships, and projects can bring out other elements in us. A Host might tap into their Artisan energy for a specific creative project. An Artisan might enter the spotlight to showcase their work. An Entertainer might host a collaborative space for people to rest, play, and grow. The point isn’t to box ourselves in but to recognise where our energy feels most alive (and those spaces where our natural tendency is unable to breathe like we need it to). We might struggle in environments that don’t align with our creative energy, but we can also fail to appreciate how others shine their light. If you’re a Host, you might not understand why an Artisan focuses so much on tiny details. If you’re an Artisan, you might find an Entertainer’s desire for attention baffling. And if you’re an Entertainer, you might not get why a Host is happy to let others take the applause. The Host, the Artisan, and the Entertainer each bring something beautiful to the world. So, do you see yourself in any of these descriptions? Are you more of a Host, an Artisan, or an Entertainer? Have you ever found yourself in an environment that didn’t match your natural energy? Watch The Video Version https://youtu.be/wVZRSCKNMmQ

In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I sit down with returning guest and friend of the show, Leah Burkhart, founder of The Healthy Sensitive, to discuss a challenge many highly sensitive people face: defining boundaries when you’re genuinely excited about everything. This might be especially true for the multipotentialites among us, who have many creative projects and interests in life. It’s not about saying no to things we don’t want to do—it’s about creating space to understand the energy beneath the excitement. The Excitement Paradox: “Death by Opportunity” Leah and I explored the notion of “death by opportunity“—a burnout that stems not from external demands but from an abundance of internal excitement and possibility. It’s the paradox of having no external limits on particular aspects of life: “The good news is, nothing is stopping us. The bad news is, nothing is stopping us.” Highly sensitive people often feel driven by curiosity, connecting dots and imagining what’s possible. However, this expansive way of engaging with the world can become unsustainable when we lack filters to process invitations, opportunities, and excitations. Boundaries as a Conversation, Not a Wall When we hear “boundaries,” we might think of barriers preventing access. But what if boundaries were framed as an invitation to listen to what is happening beneath the surface? A helpful perspective distinguishes between “not now” and “not yet.” Some ideas need more time to incubate (“not yet”), while others aren’t priorities during this season (“not now”). Boundaries are not prohibitions; they bring openness and space to slow down, pause, and let enthusiasm flow without rushing into action. Tools for Sustainable Engagement There are practical ways to define boundaries as the space between the urge to act and the decision to commit: Journaling: Use writing as a space to explore ideas without prematurely committing to them. Community Support: Surround yourself with people who can hold space for your ideas without pushing you to act on them immediately. Faith in the Pause: Urgency is often a red flag. If something still excites you after a day or two, it might be worth exploring. The Minimalists have their 30/30 rule: “If it costs more than $30, wait 30 hours before deciding.” This works well for all kinds of things – immediate excitement might settle down after time. Even if the idea still compels us, we can start seeing it through a more realistic lens that fits our capacity and ability in the current season. Testing Ideas Gently: Engage with possibilities without turning them into sacred proposals. For instance, dedicate time to dream and explore wild ideas, then step back and recommit to what’s already on your plate. What Does a “Hell Yes!” Feel Like? One of the central questions of our conversation was: How do we sustainably maintain authentic excitement? We talked about recognising the signs of overcommitment and embracing a slower, steadier form of enthusiasm. Instead of chasing every “Hell yes!” moment, we can look for the slow burn of “mmm yeah”—a quieter, more sustainable motivation that doesn’t depend on perfect conditions to thrive. This notion of “Hell yes!” might look and feel very different to a highly sensitive person. A great way to consider this is whether or not “hell yes!” comes from a particular state in our nervous system. Would need to feel excited and enthusiastic to take action in the future? This is usually a sign of a project being unsustainable. Creativity, Community, and Boundaries Another key theme was the importance of trusted people and processes for sharing and developing ideas. We considered how prematurely sharing an idea with the wrong audience can lead to defensiveness or even shutting it down altogether. This weak back, defensive front, is the opposite of the gentleness (firm back, soft front) required to stand our ground and stay strong in the face of unwanted judgement and criticism. Instead, we might seek people who understand our vision and values so they can provide constructive support without pressuring us to act immediately. The Boundaries of Success – How Do YOU Measure It? For highly sensitive people, it’s essential to define and understand our personal measures of success: What truly matters to you? Would you still pursue this if external rewards didn’t come? What do you do despite the threats associated with success (increased expectation, judgement, pressure to repeat, etc)? Authenticity shines when we create from a place of intrinsic motivation. If we let external pressures, like algorithms or audience expectations, dictate our path, we risk losing connection to the heart of things. Slowing Down to Speed Up This conversation was a powerful reminder that slowing down and creating intentional space isn’t about doing less; it’s about doing what matters most. Boundaries, as a conversation with ourselves, allow us to understand our energy, desires, and what’s truly sustainable. This approach enables us to explore the world’s possibilities without burning out. Links Connect with Leah: https://thehealthysensitive.com/ Watch The Video Version on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alA-XvkE2-c

In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the theme of nostalgia and “going back to basics”. This was inspired by a recent community discussion. What are the basics and what does it mean to go back when time moves forward? In this episode, we consider our relationship with nostalgia and the subtle pull it can have on our beliefs about ourselves, others, and the world around us. Topics Covered in This Episode The Allure of Nostalgia Why the past often feels simpler, safer, and more appealing. The potential dangers of believing this story. How nostalgia shapes our perception of the present and influences decision-making. Nostalgia as Utopia in Reverse The traps of idealising a perfect past or future. How can these narratives create antagonism, self-defeating mindsets, and resistance to sustainable growth? The Basics in Action A look at Vince Lombardi’s famous “This is a football” story. What the “football” might be for each of us. What does this teach us about unlearning, re-learning, and preparing for uncertainty? Isomorphic Learning Insights from Lucy Easthope’s work on disaster recovery. The temptation to fight the last war and prepare for the previous crisis. How building strong foundations equips us to face unpredictable challenges. Creative Freedom and Letting Go Why returning to basics can free us from the constraints of past success and external expectations. How letting go creates space for new ideas and growth. The Evolution of Traditions Exploring how rituals and ceremonies can help us find shared values across time and space. How ceremonial and sacred rituals often evolve from practical necessity. Core Reflections From the Episode How does nostalgia show up in your life? Are there ways it helps or hinders your present perspective? What ” basics ” ground you when life feels overwhelming or uncertain? How might simplifying your approach create space for new dots to connect? What did this episode bring up for you? https://youtu.be/E1Y1CBPj3EY

In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the Uncanny Valley. This was inspired by a video I published about Apple’s marketing campaign for Apple Intelligence. It turns out I’m not the only one unsettled by their approach. It’s interesting to contrast these Apple commercials with those for Google Gemini. Apple presents its AI technology as a tool for masking personal flaws and promoting insincerity. Conversely, Google has framed AI as a social companion that enhances self-expression. It gives advice, and makes suggestions to help its users work on their goals. In other words, they frame Gemini as a support to enhance people’s competence, confidence, and knowledge where Apple helps people deceive and pretend to be more skilled and knowledgeable than they really are. A Voice From The Uncanny Valley The Gemini adverts got me thinking about The Uncanny Valley. There is something eerie about the way they demonstrate the technology. Not least, seeing users glued to the phone, on the other end of which is a friendly disembodied humanoid. They have anthropomorphised this technology, giving it an uncanny human voice and the platform of a constant companion. It is a friend, teacher, mentor, cheerleader, and coach—the ultimate human! Or, perhaps not quite human. The Uncanny Valley hypothesis, coined by robotics professor Masahiro Mori in 1970, describes the discomfort humans feel toward entities that are almost but not fully human. The valley exists when something moves from anthropomorphised traits, as seen in animations of talking animals, cuddly toys with facial features, and the projected thoughts and feelings we give to our pets, to unnervingly realistic human characteristics. These nearly humans freak many of us out. But why do some of us seem more impacted than others? High Sensitivity and The Uncanny Valley Those who score higher on the sensitivity scale (Highly Sensitive People) may experience the uncanny valley more intensely due to their deeper sensory processing and emotional attunement. HSPs may be unsettled by artificiality, preferring clear distinctions between what is and isn’t “real”. It’s interesting to consider this a foundational biological survival instinct rather than one of ethics or morality. In other words, highly sensory people unconsciously scan the world around, within, and between us, looking for signs of safety and danger. When we encounter something that seems real but doesn’t feel right, it might leave us unsettled, prompting us to investigate further to see if an impostorous threat lurks within. HSPs process information deeply and are attuned to subtle sensory cues. We might detect unnatural contradictions, such as mismatched tone or body language, at a subconscious level. This attuned sensitivity can lead to unease during interactions with AI chatbots and humanoids, where inconsistencies may create discomfort even if not immediately apparent. As AI technology advances, the line between human and machine becomes more blurred, making it harder for HSPs to discern artificiality. Why Do We Make Machines in Our Image? The tendency to anthropomorphise technology—creating machines that mimic human behaviour—raises questions about our desire to replicate human characteristics in machines. It’s strange! Why do we do this? Maybe it’s some “god complex”, or we are simply trying to figure out what it means to be human by considering what is still missing from creatures that look and sound like us. But we don’t need to do this, and the uncanny valley hypothesis indicates that we would be more successful at trusting technology if we didn’t try to make them in our image. Think about fictional droids, like R2-D2 and BB-8 in Star Wars. They are loveable despite, nay, because of their non-human forms. Yet they have distinct personalities and a range of emotional expressions. On the other hand, more humanoid machines like C-3PO can be profoundly irritating despite having more human-like features. The “Uncanny Valley” Is a Lonely Place This article in Psychology Today (The “Uncanny Valley” Is a Lonely Place) by David Krauss gives an interesting perspective on autism, masking, and the uncanny valley. Masking happens when individuals suppress and hide natural behaviours to fit in. It is suggested that this can create a sense of inauthenticity that unsettles others, similar to the uncanny valley. This is why it’s so important to nurture our environments, expectations, and judgements so that masking is unnecessary for acceptance and belonging. People might notice when we’re hiding parts of ourselves and acting in personally unnatural ways to try to appear “normal”. Ultimately, the uncanny valley highlights the discomfort when faced with something that feels “off,” whether in a person’s behaviour or an artificial entity. This might include us when we’re pretending to be someone else in order to fit. And when we pay close attention to detail and emulate the correct way to do things, that might ironically highlight our presence in the uncanny valley. When we scan for signs of safety and threat, we might look for whether something is too perfect. The uncanny valley, the eerie quality of an airbrushed photo, pitch-corrected singing, and artificial flavouring can reflect this. Real life is naturally slightly off (wonky, blemished, stained, bloated, shrivelled, off-pitch, swirly), and that often tells us it’s safe to proceed. As they say, there are no straight lines in nature.

Would you say you have fire in your belly? What does it burn for? I love exploring this question with highly sensitive people, many of whom have a deep, smouldering fire within. This fire is often linked to our values, beliefs, and personally compelling principles. I love helping people explore and (re)connect with this inner fire, supporting them to figure out how to harness it in unapologetic ways. In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we will consider what this fire looks, feels, and sounds like. We’ll also explore how it can sometimes get extinguished, hidden, or even escalate beyond control. We think about how to fuel, harness, and express our inner fire in ways that resonate with us as individuals. What does it mean to have a fire in your belly, and how can we express it without conforming to others’ expectations? As Dorcas Cheng-Tozun said about social justice for the sensitive soul, we don’t have to fit into anyone else’s boxes when it comes to expressing ourselves. The fire in everyone’s belly burns differently, and how we process and turn it outwards is equally unique What is The Fire in Your Belly? It’s usually a compliment when we say someone has fire in their belly. It speaks to a visible energy, enthusiasm, and sense of purpose that radiates from within. But this phrase doesn’t always account for those whose fire burns deeply and quietly and isn’t as immediately apparent as the big, bright flames we might associate with explicit passion. For highly sensitive people, that inner fire is often potent. Fire In The Belly of Sensitivity If you search for definitions of “fire in the belly,” you’ll often find it described as a strong determination to succeed, emotional stamina, and an intense drive to achieve or accomplish something. These definitions highlight a particular kind of fire, focused on personal goals, winning, or attaining power and glory. They don’t tell the whole story, especially for those driven by values and principles (how and why) more than outcomes (what) For many sensitive people, the fire in their belly is not about achieving for the sake of achieving. It’s not the pursuit of bigger, better, faster, or stronger in a conventional sense. Personal achievements matter, but they are often most compelling when they resonate with a broader purpose or have a meaningful impact on the world around them. Dampening The Belly Fire The fire in our belly can go missing when we seek safe, predictable, and comfortable ways to navigate life. For example, the desire to avoid conflict can cause that fire to dim or even disappear over time. Feeling Too Much For highly sensitive individuals, the inconvenience their passions might cause others can feel too jarring, especially when there’s a perceived incompatibility with others’ views, values, or beliefs. The fear of judgment, criticism, or rejection can be a powerful motivator to keep that fire hidden. Standing up for something we care deeply about can feel risky when it threatens to create friction with those around us. This fear can lead to the suppression of our inner fire, keeping it tucked away where it feels safer but also less alive. The Role of Perfectionism Perfectionism is another factor that can dampen the fire in our belly. When we express our passions, we open ourselves up to the uncertainty and unpredictability of creativity. There’s a vulnerability in allowing our fire to rise, in letting it breathe and take form, because we can never be sure what might come from it. The desire for perfection can keep us from taking those risks, leading us to stifle our fire rather than face the unknown. The Impact of Cold Buckets of Water And when others throw cold buckets of water—through criticism or dismissive comments—it can make us hesitant to let our fire show again. Caroline McGraw’s shared how an offhand remark snuffed out her passion as a child. It’s a reminder that the wrong words at a vulnerable moment can lead us to shrink back and hide ourselves. Why HSPs Should Embrace Their Inner Fire Expressing the fire in our belly can indeed feel risky, especially for highly sensitive people. Yet, keeping that fire locked behind glass can pose an even greater risk. By allowing our inner fire to smoulder unexpressed, we risk dampening the vitality that makes life meaningful and rich. The challenge, then, is to acknowledge the fire within and find ways to let it burn in a way that feels good. Finding the Right Environment to Fuel Your Fire To keep this fire alive, HSPs can surround themselves with people and places that spark, support, and fuel their passions. Just as a fire needs oxygen to thrive, our inner fire needs the right environment—spaces where our ideas are encouraged, and we feel safe to explore and express ourselves without fear of judgment. We can’t expect this everywhere, but we can find it somewhere. These environments and connections act as the breath of life to our inner flame, helping it grow stronger and more defined. Whether it’s a supportive community, a trusted friend, or a creative space, these sources of oxygen fan the flames of who we are. Giving Form to the Fire However, for it to be sustainable, the fire must be appropriately contained and maintained. This doesn’t mean stifling or suppressing it but giving it the structure it needs to thrive without causing harm. Like the flame on a stove or a campfire, our inner fire needs boundaries to serve its purpose without burning out of control. This requires us to be mindful of how we channel our passions, ensuring they are expressed in empowering and manageable ways so that our fire continues to fuel our lives without overwhelming us. Coming To Our Senses At the end of the episode, I shared a clip from Coming To Our Senses, issue two (Inspiration). I revisited our conversation about sad songs and rainy days in relation to Bittersweet Melancholy. Listen to the latest edition of the zine. https://youtu.be/6bx-_NryLGg

Each of us has a unique sense of adventure. What does yours feel like? In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I speak with Sarah Lister, who runs About The Adventure, a career and life coaching business that helps people connect with what brings them to life as they navigate change. I love Sarah’s approach to this topic and how she holds each person’s needs within their unique spirit of adventure. The deer that delightfully derailed Sarah’s sunset photographing quest one evening A Sense of Adventure Use this episode as an opportunity to reflect on the distinct elements that make up your personal sense of adventure. We explored the potential characteristics of adventure. For Sarah, it involves nature, spontaneity, a sense of challenge, and being somewhere out of the ordinary. But it also carries the openness to pause and breathe, to have the courage to stop walking and respond to the invitation of a particular moment. Whether it’s stopping for a cup of tea with strangers or delaying a trek to photograph an unexpected deer on the hillside. There are a lot of juicy metaphors for life in this conversation and stuff worth reflecting on if you want to live a meaningful life. Recognising Our Sense of Adventure We might think of the “sense of adventure” as we think about a “sense of humour“. While it’s not a direct physical sense like touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing, it’s something personal that keeps us in touch with what it means to feel alive and be ourselves. Adventure is not simply about the thrill of the unknown but also about our relationship with perceived possibilities, obstacles, and the creative potential we see in the path ahead. It’s a key ingredient in living with a compelling sense of meaning. In our conversation, Sarah and I talk about: How to find adventure in the landscapes and environments around us Sarah’s relationship with adventure and times in her life when her adventurous spirit shrunk The threads between imagination, daydreaming, and adventure When Sarah thought she was having fun but really was lost, and how she found her sense of self again Why adventure doesn’t need an end goal, destination, or quest attached to it The role of safety in a successful adventure (and how we can increase confidence amid uncertainty by carrying the right resources with us) How to keep the adventure going even when the particular journey ends And more… Over to You What would you include in your list of adventure elements? Let me know by leaving a comment, sending a message, or contacting me via social media. Links About The Adventure (Sarah’s Website) Sarah’s Instagram A Blimp from the Blue: Using The Kishōtenketsu Story Structure as an Antidote to the Hero’s Journey (watch the workshop replay) Atlum Schema – Year 0 Watch The Conversation https://youtu.be/jmA25xe8Aso