The Gentle Rebel Podcast

I’ve always been moved by music, literature, and film that some people dismiss as “depressing”. But bittersweet art brings the world to life – and if we allow it to speak to us it can be a source of comfort. If you’re drawn to “sad” music you’re not alone. In this week’s podcast, I unpack what Susan Cain describes as bittersweet melancholy, and ask what is it about “sad songs and rainy days” that moves so many people. It’s no accident that human beings have always found ways to navigate life’s bittersweet edges through our creativity. But why? Even as a child, I enjoyed revisiting art that had previously made me cry. I knew the risk, but was drawn to the yearning ache I felt so deeply. It’s a fascination that has always been there for me. As a maker and consumer of the arts. To be moved is to feel alive. It’s to become aware of the weight – and significance – of life as a fleeting gift. Episode contents Bittersweet Longing What Does Yearning Feel Like? Fleeting Moments of Bittersweet Beauty The Snowman Will Melt Why We Love “Sad” Music Bittersweet Art Doesn’t Create Emotion Are You Homesick and Yearning For A Place That Doesn’t Exist? Anemoia, Vellichor, and Mono No Aware We Don’t Want What We Think We Want The Inconsolable Longing For We Know Not What Our Life’s Work and Creative Offering “The Sunset” at Wilpena Pound in South Australia Bittersweet Longing Longing is a beautiful word that fills the space in between life’s lines. It keeps us moving and yearning with grief for the world around us. We long for the things we have but can’t fully grasp. We long for the things we don’t yet have but dream to possess. And we long for the things we once had but lost. Art is an expression of such longing. It comes from that place within its creator. A painting, song, or poem, is always an attempt to express the ungraspable. We can dance with such things, but we can never fully conjure or define the object we long for. We might get close but we will never quite articulate what we long to say. There is always something missing. It’s this gap that brings us back. Creating, listening, watching. Observing and honing our craft. It’s a liberating frustration or perhaps a frustrating liberation. What Does Yearning Feel Like? Yearning is a particular type of longing. I like to think of it as a beautiful ache to hold something that is impossible to fully grasp. To yearn is to be aware that we can never acquire the missing thing even if the thing is in our hands. I remember yearning – during the experience – for a sunset. I was in the Australian outback and it blew my mind. But while I was able to deeply appreciate what I saw, I could also feel something unusual happening inside me. An emotion I can only describe as yearning, that was underpinned by the fleeting nature of the moment. I wanted to capture, consume, bottle, have this experience. But it wasn’t mine to possess. And what’s more, its value CAME from its scarcity. I wonder if yearning happens when we connect to things – memories, people, art – we want to possess but can’t. Fleeting Moments of Bittersweet Beauty Have you ever witnessed something so beautiful it was painful? Do you recognise what it means to yearn in this way? This is the “bittersweet” that Susan Cain talks about. It’s inside the bitter that the sweet belongs. They are not two sides of a coin. They are an interweaving web that cannot be seperated. The things that matter are not precious despite their fragility. They are important BECAUSE they are fragile. The Snowman Will Melt I was five or six when I first watched The Snowman. In case you don’t know, it is a notoriously heartwrenching short animated film that is shown every Christmas in the UK. When it finished I didn’t know what had hit me. And my parents wondered about the damage they had done. But the following Christmas I wanted to watch it again. Despite THEIR protestations I convinced them to pop it on. Remember last time? Yes. What if the same happens again this year? I remembered how it felt. I hadn’t forgotten the pain and the tears. And yet something in me wanted to re-live the experience. The same did happen. Of course it did. And I was relieved. It hurt so good. Why We Love “Sad” Music Susan Cain describes “bittersweet” as longing, poignancy, and joyful sorrow. It’s not just a feeling. It’s wrapped in the awareness of time passing. . The English language fails to capture the essential emotions that music creates. We describe songs as “happy” and “sad”. We don’t mean it but that’s all we have. I think terms like bittersweet, yearning, melancholic, longing, poignant, and moving, are better. But there’s still a way to go. Bittersweet Art Doesn’t Create Emotion Everybody Hurts by REM was voted “the saddest song of all time” in a 2022 survey of music lovers conducted by OnePoll. When your day is longAnd the night, the night is yours aloneWhen you’re sure you’ve had enoughOf this life, well hang onDon’t let yourself go‘Cause everybody criesEverybody hurts sometimesSometimes everything is wrong – Everybody Hurts (REM) It’s a reassuring, comforting, and compassionate lullaby. The lyrics speak a simple and universal truth that we can all identify with. It’s moving, it’s emotional, and it might jerks tears. Not because it’s sad, but rather because it’s safe. It speaks to the human condition and the experience of life. EVERYBODY hurts sometimes, regardless of who you are, where you’re from, or what you have. It’s an emotionally cleansing experience. Art is moving when it gives expression to something inside us. If you’ve ever felt stirred by music you’ll know how it gives our feelings somewhere to find form. What if “sad” songs don’t really MAKE us feel sad, but rather they ALLOW us to feel the messy mix of emotions that need to be processed? Are You Homesick and Yearning For A Place That Doesn’t Exist? A lot of people have felt a homesickness for somewhere they’ve never been. Perhaps even a place or time that doesn’t exist. Many philosophical and religious traditions talk about the pain of separation. This underpins human subjectivity, where we experience a feeling of exile and a deep desire to get home. This drive has given rise to the most wonderful human accomplishments, discoveries, and artistic creations. As well as some of the more dreadful, violent, and destructive projects. At its worst, we seek to overcome the pain of separation with utopian scapegoating (things will be pure when we eradicate a group or idea). At its best, we embrace and channel our homesickness into creative endeavours that speak of our shared yearning as a species. Anemoia, Vellichor, and Mono No Aware Anemoia, Vellichor, and Mono no aware are all familiar. Like art, they are words that help connect with something we feel but maybe struggle to articulate. We Don’t Want What We Think We Want Toxic positivity is a problem in modern culture. It’s a symptom of what Susan Cain calls our fear of the dark. We think we want to eradicate the pain, but what we need is to accept and integrate it. Our favourite stories show us how pain, longing, joy, and meaning are all intimately connected. And our deep yearning is often “the reason we play moonlight sonatas and build rockets to Mars”. The Magic Happens In The Gap Waiting is not just good for us. It is necessary for true enjoyment to occur. It’s the space between the notes that give music meaning. It’s the space around the page that give words their definition. When Twin Peaks: The Return was released in 2017, it was the most painfully beautiful experience for me. With one episode per week between May and September, it went against the new norm of binge consumption that had developed over the previous five or six years. There was a beautiful pain in longing to know what happened next. A yearning for completion alongside the joy of not knowing. It’s the same pain as not yet knowing who the killer is in a murder mystery. And not knowing how a magic trick is done. It gives rise to a painful yearning. A desperate desire to know. But the discovery never truly fills the hole. It never makes us whole. Because the joy is in not knowing. And that kind of joy is impossible to bottle. The Inconsolable Longing For We Know Not What The object we desire might give a moment’s satisfaction but it won’t complete us. And that’s OK. Because life is all about making peace with the gap between the lines, the silence between the notes, and the space between the brush strokes. Our Life’s Work and Creative Offering We often use objects, people, labels, events, relationships, and other peoples’ creative work as surrogates for our own question of longing. Our life’s work begins to grow once we identify where we have offset our personal longing into external things. “Whatever pain you can’t get rid of, make it your creative offering” What if “we transcend grief only when we realize how connected we are with all the other humans who struggle to transcend theirs?” The creative offering that emerges not despite the pain, but THROUGH it.

I don’t see gentleness as flimsy and weak. Lots of people do. They say it’s a lost cause and waste of time in a harsh world that only responds to violence. But what if it’s not? What if the way things are is linked to our collective relationship with gentleness itself? I wonder if we are quick to reject gentleness because gentleness is a threat to the world we say we don’t want but are afraid of changing in any meaningful way. That’s what I explore in this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast. What IS Gentleness? Gentleness absorbs the shocks from life’s unavoidable collisions. It slows down, observes, and plugs in. It’s always alive to the need of the moment; a choice for right now. Never resting on its laurels or assuming that the right response for today is the right one for tomorrow. I feel it as an ever-present question. It invites us to see the part we play in creating the world with our words and actions. A Firm Back With a Soft Front I think gentleness is a force between worlds. Between lines. Between everything. Like glue on the one hand, and like a soft supportive pillow on the other. It is unknowable yet familiar. We recognise it when we see it in action but it seems impossible to truly define. People say it’s caring, kind, trustworthy, safe, respectful, backbone, wholehearted, holding account, and calm. It’s a firm back with a soft front. Both strong and able to flex. It holds us to account while accepting our mistakes. It makes room for humanity. For failure. For truth. Gentleness is Strength “Most of us, I believe, admire strength. It’s something we tend to respect in others, desire for ourselves, and wish for our children. Sometimes, though, I wonder if we confuse strength and other words–like aggression and even violence. Real strength is neither male nor female; but is, quite simply, one of the finest characteristics that any human being can possess.” – Mr Rogers Gentleness is Rebellion Gentle Rebel is my favourite way to describe introverted, sensitive people who quietly move against the grain of the world’s noise. But I don’t want to confuse gentleness with a personality trait. I don’t want to atomise the world any further with yet another identity that can be commodified and sold back to us in blueprints and merchandise. Gentleness is not like that. It’s not the preserve of a particular type of person. It’s deep and universal; a series of choices we make as we question and refuse to indulge in cycles of violence that destroy the world. Gentleness is Compassion Compassion means to suffer together. It reminds us that we are seen, heard, and not alone. We have a chronic lack right now because we rarely see people as people. We use boxes, labels, and generalisations instead. They’re quicker, simpler, and easy to transport. We don’t need to look with any depth at any individual. We know who they are by what they look like and how they sound. Compassion is gentle because it probes deeper than our artificial surfaces and conditioned exteriors. It is truly radical and revolutionary. Gentleness is Rhythm Water gets heavy use as a metaphor but I’m going to use it anyway. It not only tells us something about the characteristic of gentleness but it embodies gentleness in practice. The persistent flow over time that gives life to the earth, carves through mountains, and defines who we are. It is both a powerful force for change and a simple substance for sustaining life. Without it we wither and die. I love watching ocean waves lapping at the shore. I love to try imagining the billions of years that went into setting the scene for this moment. But my brain is too small to comprehend it. It’s impossible to grasp the power of water on the landscape when looking at one wave in one moment. Rhythmic repetition carves the world over time. It’s the same with gentleness. The gentle choice might seem powerless and small when we look at it in isolation. It’s not. Gentleness is Joy We often think of joy as a destination we will reach at the end of the struggle. But many of my most joyful memories contain bittersweet elements. Joy is underpinned by connection and a sense of aliveness. For me it occurs when I’m not on autopilot. When I’m not drifting but am aware and awake. Gentleness is about how we hold one another and ourselves. Joy is a spark of connection, within and between us. And it emerges not despite, but as part of some of life’s most heartbreaking and painful situations. At least that’s what I’ve found. Gentleness is Big Enough To Hold All of Us Susan Cain says, “the world is scared of the dark. Modern culture says smile, get over it, move on. Normative sunshine can distract you from your rightful heritage.” Much of the violence that threatens to take over the human spirit stems from a belief in conditional belonging. We are told what we must be, do, and have if we want to be loved. And that we must bury, hide, or change the bits of ourselves that don’t fit. Gentleness is not interested in that. It allows us to be who we are. Not simply as isolated individuals but as part of a beautiful whole. Gentleness is Awareness When I’m alert I’m in a state of stress. I see everything as a potential danger and something to fear. But when I’m aware I am plugged in at a deeper level. I can observe and filter information with intuition and wisdom. I can let things go. The world benefits from us being in a state of alertness. It fuels a scarcity mindset and a state of urgency. I don’t know about you, but I’m more likely to spend money when I feel afraid. Gentleness is Playful Play is an expression of curiosity and wonder. It encourages us to let go of our pride, counter the hardened heart of cynicism, and release any fear about what others might think of us. This is gentleness. What Does Gentleness Make Possible? Universalising Connection Gentleness holds space for everyone. It doesn’t discriminate when it comes to upholding core universal values. Safety Gentleness is a reassuring voice that tells us it’s OK to be who we are, where we are, as we are. Creativity Gentleness provides the conditions for us to keep trying, learning and growing. It is a voice of encouragement, which says it’s fine to make mistakes and fail. Not only that, but it actively cheers us on as we do so. Helping us to share who we truly are with the world. Culture Gentleness holds space for the world to emerge from the values we collectively decide matter most to us. It helps society unite and grow, intentionally sowing seeds for the future together. How to Create The Conditions for Gentleness Gentleness looks different for everyone. It shows up differently depending on the situation. And it calls each of us to focus on different things. It’s dynamic and expansive. But one thing is always true. It starts with how we are held, and how we hold. Holding On If you pick up an animal and hold it in a way it doesn’t like, you will soon know about it. It’s the same with people. We can hold things (and one another) very ungently. Too tightly, possessively, or personally. But what happens when we hold on like this? We force people into corners, causing them to act out of character in order to save face. We reinforce the story we want to believe about them by treating them in a certain way. They may resist, struggle, and fight back. But another person’s resistance doesn’t necessarily prove our point about them. It might be an opportunity to think about the role we are playing. Likewise, what happens when it feels like WE are being held too tightly? Under those circumstances, we too might instinctively recoil, lash out, and fight back. Letting Go There is another side to this, however. Because when we are held gently we relax, we feel safe, and we let go of needing to prove anything or fight. Under those circumstances, we stop feeling so tense and worked up. We can start working in partnership with, rather than in opposition against the world around us. We can begin creating the conditions for more gentleness when we start to recognise the impact of this stuff. Where we might be trying to wriggle free or hit out. And where we are holding things so tightly that we are squeezing the life out of them. So how can we hold the world with more gentleness? Conclusion Gentleness supports and nurtures us with its firm back and a soft front. When we hold and are held with gentleness, we are allowed to become what we really are. So gentle IS the path of rebellion in a hostile world. And it’s always an option.

The Gentle Rebel Podcast explores the intersection of high sensitivity, creativity, and the culture around us. We consider ways to invite more joy and creative purpose in everyday life. By working out how to slow down in a fast-paced world. We all carry a natural rhythm that underpins who we are. And if we want to live healthy and effective lives, it can really help to be aware of how these inner tracks look and feel. Be a Gentle Rebel in a Hostile World The world is increasingly quick-tempered, hostile, and frantic. It can feel overwhelming at times. When we experience insensitivity, un-gentleness, and aggressive selfishness, it is tempting to hide from life, retaliate in kind, or give up hope altogether. Especially when we feel and care about things deeply. This is one of the reasons I love creating The Gentle Rebel Podcast. It gives me a source of meaningful connection with ideas, guests, and listeners. It makes a difference when we know we’re not alone. And there are still reasons to be hopeful even when hope feels lost. I want to encourage more people to locate, nurture, and enjoy their inner gentleness and playful rebellion in the face of such violence to the spirit. Deep Roots Take Time To Grow I’m a songwriter and professionally qualified coach. Over the years I’ve particularly enjoyed working to support introverted and sensitive types in learning more about their natural preferences. I love seeing people figure out how THEY want to approach life in order to make space for what makes life feel good and meaningful to THEM. The smallest shifts can make the biggest difference. And it often starts when we allow ourselves to see the ways we’ve tried squeezing ourselves like square pegs in round holes. Because this allows us to understand what we need instead. It’s Never Too Late For a Change The Gentle Rebel Podcast reflects a premise I carry into all of my work; that it’s never too late to write the next chapter in our story of becoming. It doesn’t matter how old you are or what’s happened so far, there is always the possibility of a shift. And we always have at least the smallest speck of power in how we position ourselves in relation to the next chapter. It can start with a simple question…what sort of world do I want to be part of creating? We think about how gentleness becomes rebellious in a world that wants to keep us divided and afraid. And we focus on bringing more gentleness to becoming more of who we are through nine core themes: change, belonging, serenity, strength, confidence, adventure, creativity, tranquility, and inspiration. Are you up for conducting experiments in gentleness, sensory awareness, personal growth, compassion, creativity, and play? You’re in the right place.