There are two ways of building confidence.

We generally only focus on one.

Success. The assumption is that the more you succeed, the more confident you become. And to a point that’s true. But that confidence is fragile. It’s extrinsic - it depends on the things around you going right.

And here’s the downside: every time you succeed you up the stakes on your success. The consequences of failure start to feel bigger. And as a result, despite your success, you start to play it safe. You avoid risk because that creates the potential for failure. And successful people like you don’t fail. What would others think? (If you read my last post, you could say, “what would they think?”)

But there’s another way to build confidence. And that’s through failure. Trying something, landing on your face, and getting back up. The confidence comes not from things going right, but from watching yourself survive when things go wrong. Knowing that you can navigate your way out of a situation when things go sideways. The self-trust that you build in yourself is resilient. It’s intrinsic - it comes from an internal knowing that you can handle whatever comes your way.

Confidence built through failure encourages risk - because there’s no downside to failure once you know you can handle it. It just becomes information. Data points that convert to insight that keep you moving down your path.

Confidence built through success is like refined sugar - it pumps you up quickly but if you don’t keep feeding it, you crash hard.

Confidence built through failure is like protein - it builds slowly over time, but ultimately makes you stronger. And we’re all looking to get more protein in our diets these days.

[Side note: Shout out to protein’s PR team for working overtime this past year]

Ok great, so failure is important, tastes like protein, but so what - it still sucks.

This is true. But it’s all about how you frame it.

Here are some ways to use failure to build your confidence:

• Reframe failure as information. Seeing something as a failure creates shame. Seeing it as information creates insight. Pretend you’re a scientist, all of your projects are experiments, your assumptions are hypotheses, and your outcomes are information helping to guide what you experiment with next. You’re not messing up, you’re becoming a better scientist.

• Rewrite your story to turn failure into experience. We all have an ongoing narrative about ourselves running through our heads. It’s easy to let that story be overcome by the narrative that you’re not as good as others because things don’t always work out the way you expect. But if you let that become your narrative you’re missing an opportunity. The most classic storytelling device in writing is the hero’s journey. It requires the protagonist (you) to step into the unknown (whatever it is you’re trying to do), experience challenges and obstacles (fails) and emerge transformed (learned something). Embrace that narrative and see yourself as the hero you are for trying something new.

• Remember that not all failures are created equally. That’s because not all decisions are created equally. Some decisions are high stakes - once you make them, you can’t go back. Having kids is a good example of that. But the vast majority decisions are relatively low stakes - if you make them and realize you made the wrong decision you can go back and try over. You’ll experience discomfort or inconvenience, but nothing insurmountable. Taking a job you don’t like, starting a degree and realizing you don’t want to study that, starting a business and then winding it down - these feel like high stakes decisions but they’re actually pretty manageable, so take the time to think them through but then just go for it, knowing you can handle whatever comes next.

• Plan to fail. Fear of failure gets its strength from avoidance and imagination. You don’t want to think about what happens and if you do you imagine worst case scenarios. But the potential for failure isn’t imaginary, it’s possible, and the best thing to do when something is possible is come up with a plan. Convert your fears to risks. Here’s the difference: “what if x happens?” is a fear. “What are the consequences of x happening and how can I manage them?” is a risk. Stop asking rhetorical questions and start coming up with answers. Nine times out of ten you will realize that you can handle even the worst case scenarios.

Building confidence through failure is not for the faint of heart, but will build the muscle you need to be strong enough to try. And that’s where the magic happens.

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Most adults still talk to imaginary friends.

Maybe friends is the wrong word. “Companions” is probably more accurate. A small and steady roster of people - real and imagined - that live inside their heads and provide unprompted opinions regularly.

Ex-bosses, ex-boyfriends, current colleagues, that lady that gave you cut eye for no reason at the store when you were just minding your business. Sometimes they’re not even specific people, just an amalgamation of voices and characters from social media (thanks LinkedIn) that have blended together into an amorphous panel of critics you refer to as “they”.

My “they” show up whenever I’m thinking about doing something bold. I’ve got a new idea for a project I want to pitch at work and they show up. I’m thinking about writing something opinionated and taking a stand, they show up. I’m imagining a future version of myself where I realize a big vision beyond my current dreams and, like clockwork, there they are.

They’re not here to be my friends. They’re here to judge. They’re here to make me second guess, hold myself back and ask, “but what will they think”.

But what will they think.

I talk to mine in the bathroom, in the mirror, out loud. Well, more of a whisper now after my husband overheard me once and that was super embarrassing.

So now I get into my imaginary arguments with my imaginary panel of evaluators in a low whisper so my family doesn’t hear, and wow I didn’t think I would be a highly accomplished 43 year old woman typing out that sentence but here we are.

The only reason why I’m admitting this out loud to you is because I know you have these people too. You have a “they”. And I’m guessing you even catch yourself talking to them. It’s either the bathroom or the car, right?

They show up when you’re on the cusp of something to second guess your ideas, suppress your vision, and shrink your confidence. You’re ready to run and its like an imaginary hand on your chest saying slow down, you’re not good enough.

No one else needs to cut down a tall poppy when you’re the one walking around with a backpack full of scissors.

So what are we going to do about this? Because a bunch of highly accomplished midlife people walking around with voices inside their heads holding them back ain’t it. We’ve all got too much to do to be spending our energy on this. And more than anything, the world right now needs people who aren’t afraid to be bold and it’s on us to figure out how to deliver.

Here’s some good news: I have been running an imaginary friend exorcism for the past few years focused on silencing the critics. And it’s been working. No one thing works all the time, I need to switch it up - some voices are stickier than others - but these are a few tactics I’ve tried that you can deploy.

How to get rid of the critics inside your head:

• Notice when you’re doing it. That’s the first thing. To be conscious of the fact that you’re letting other people’s opinions in to second guess you. When I was beginning the process of trying to get rid of these voices, I was so used to them showing up that I didn’t even notice it was happening - it was like a natural step in my process. I’ll say that having your husband overhear you talking to yourself is one way to make you so self-conscious that you’ll never not notice you’re doing it again, but it’s not recommended.

• Say out loud “Your opinion isn’t needed”. Or say it in a low whisper. But either way, start talking back. Don’t argue, just shut the voice down when it shows up. Dismiss it with a clear “your opinion isn’t needed” and repeat until it’s gone.

• Take action. Do the thing. This is an imaginary voice and it’s only power exists because you give it power. So just do the thing you want to do. “They” are a manifestation of your insecurity, which creates anxiety. And the antidote to anxiety is action. The more you take action, the more it works out and the less insecure you feel. Take a deep breath, tell the voices to fuck off, and take the leap.

• Replace the voices with better ones. You’ve probably got a bunch of people in your life who are cheering for you, or even just examples of times you did something and got positive feedback on it. Channel those voices and memories. When the critics show up, actively think about your supporters and conjure their voices. It’s good to have a few examples handy in your mind to turn to frequently.

• Name your shame. This is less about getting rid of the voices and more about getting the courage to take action. As I said, the voices just represent something you’re insecure about, something making you feel vulnerable. It’s ok to tell people you’re feeling vulnerable about something as you’re doing it.

For me, the biggest new thing I’ve done in the last few years is start writing - it was a hugely vulnerable practice. Especially when I was writing my memoir stories, it was so personal and so outside of my comfort zone. I remember that when I went to publish the second one, and share it on LinkedIn, which was the practice I committed to doing, I felt overwhelmed by doubt and internal criticism.

So when I posted it on LinkedIn, I said so.

I was like, I’m feeling super vulnerable posting this, this is an awkward experience and I don’t love it but I’m doing it anyway. And the support I got back was tremendous.

But most importantly, I didn’t hide what was going on. I didn’t mask up and perform security. I just named where I was at and it freed me from feeling like anything less than that was inadequate.

Drop a comment and tell me about your “they”. Where do you talk to them? Was I right about the bathroom or car? Tell me I’m not alone.

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I’ve got a couple new things I’m working on. After a year of taking a bit of a break on creative projects and startups, the urge to create and start things is coming in hot.

Everything I’m working on right now is stretching me. Taking a bit of what I’m good at and comfortable with and asking me to push it into an area that’s new. New markets, new tech, new products, new new new.

People always say push yourself outside of your comfort zone, but what they don’t say is being uncomfortable sucks. In my experience, people who are most successful aren’t those with the best ideas, but those who have figured out how to endure discomfort and can stay in it the longest.

The thing that is making me uncomfortable right now is how much I don’t know about all these new things I’m trying to stretch into.

Self-doubt. Insecurity. Confusion.

This is my discomfort zone.

My first instinct is always to get out of it and focus on what I do know. The dopamine comes faster and the doubt comes slower that way. But this isn’t my first rodeo and one of the things I’ve learned over the years of finding myself in this moment is that the secret trick to getting a handle on the fear of the unknown is to focus on it.

Not to wallow in it or become overwhelmed by it, but to look it in the eye, catalogue it, and name it. Getting a handle on the known unknowns is how I regain a sense of control over a situation.

Avoiding it gives it power. You gotta stare it in the face.

Here’s my process - it’s not complicated: Make a list.

God I love a good list. Is there anything that makes you feel more in control of your life than a list? Maybe an overflowing bank account. But while I wait on that one, for now I make a list.

Steps for making the “things I don’t know but need to learn” list

1. Make a list of everything you don’t know or need to learn. All of it. Big, small, strategic, technical, research, relationships - the goal here is to capture it. Try not to pay attention to how long it gets.

2. Segment the list. Some of the things are research that you can bang out with a google search or youtube video. Some of the things are stuff you need to talk to someone with expertise in. Usually I break my lists into three segments - Skill (something I need to learn how to do like build a website); Research (information I need to gather that I can find on my own); Expert (something that will require talking to someone with experience or relationships to help me).

3. If one of your segments is Expert, go back through it and write a name of someone you know that you can reach out to for help. If no one in your network is an expert, think about who you know who might know someone they can intro you to. LinkedIn might be helpful here.

4. Start working through the list. I like to start with something small I can make quick progress on. Research is usually an easy place to knock a couple unknowns off the list first. If you want to break it down with a different way to segment it, go for it - this is your list, do you.

It feels so obvious, but it’s easy to avoid dealing with the unknown. Staying under the covers is a comfortable place to be. Making a list of the things you need to know and then starting the process of working through it makes the discomfort zone a little easier to manage.

And then one day, before you know it, you’ll know things.

When it comes to putting yourself out there - whether its sharing something on social, pitching a project, or acting on a creative idea - the stress of getting it right in front of others can be paralyzing.

We freeze up, hold back and watch the moment of opportunity pass.

The worst part is, you know you’re doing it. You know you’re overthinking. You’re watching yourself twist into knots trying to de-risk, refine, and perfect. There’s a piece of you observing yourself falling into this pattern yelling “just do it already!” but you can’t break yourself out of it.

“Stop overthinking” can be absurd advice to give and even more frustrating to receive. When you’re overthinking you rationalize it as being responsible. I mean, what’s the alternative - underthinking?

Well, yes actually. Kind of.

A better term would be “contained thinking”.

Putting limits around how much you can think about doing something before you act and move on. An icon for what this looks like in practice is Doechii.

I’ll let her explain:

@jfuentes.gOn her writing process… #doechii @Doechii @GRAMMY Museum

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What jumps out for me in her process is that she is overcoming thoughts and feelings not by trying to replace them with other thoughts and feelings (“this isn’t good enough”, “yes, it is”) but by changing the structure of the process in which she is experiencing those thoughts. She isn’t telling herself to stop overthinking. She’s saying you have one hour to think about this thing as much as you want and then you need to act and move on.

And she’s giving herself permission within that hour to think and feel whatever she wants. Doubt, fear, vulnerability, insecurity. She’s reminding herself that she’s allowed to think and feel those things instead of judging herself for it.

So what does that look like for you in practice? Pretty simple really.

1. Pick the thing you want to do. Write something, create something, decide something, email someone, whatever. Pick something that has a definitive action at the end of it - hitting send, hitting share, or just emailing your progress to a friend who can hold you accountable.

2. Set a timer. Somewhere between 20-60 minutes.

3. Pour it out. Whatever it is that is inside, get it out onto the page or screen.

4. With 5 minutes left, wherever you’re at, start your final edit because you’ve got 300 seconds until its going out.

5. Timer goes, pens down, hit send.

Scary right? But also so liberating. It takes the question of “enough” off your shoulders and places it into the process.

Give yourself permission to be bad at new things. Doing new stuff is hard and it only gets harder as you get older. You’d think it should get easier because you have more experience but I find that often works against you. While you might know more, you also have built up a reputation, personal expectations, other peoples expectations, and an internal narrative that’s hard to break out of.

Don’t think your way through it. Run your way out of it.

[NOTE: For those of you following me, you’ll know this is my first new post in over a year. I sat on restarting this newsletter for months trying to figure out what to do with it. I thought about repurposing it, renaming it, I even rebranded it twice thinking that would be the way to go. I fully fell into the trap I describe here. It was coming across this advice in Kel Rakowski’s article in her Popular newsletter that helped me snap out of it. Her framing of Doechii’s process was a lightbulb moment for me. I set a timer for 20 minutes, drafted a “relaunch” note to readers, read it over once for typos, and hit send.]

Hi friends -

Remember this newsletter? It’s been a while since you’ve gotten one of these in your inbox - I hope you missed me as much as I missed you.

It’s been a little over a year since I launched The Midpoint Review as a podcast and after taking a hiatus, it’s time to get back on it. For now, I’m focusing on writing. We’ll see if that turns back into a pod in the future.

A year ago, I started this because it felt like us millennials were hitting an inflection point in life, ready to question everything, start blowing some stuff up, and generally take stock of what we wanted in the future.

This generation hasn’t seen a stable moment in our entire lives, so why start now.

And yet, since I started writing about this, things seem to be somehow getting even more uncertain.

Layoffs have got you feeling scared.

AI has got you feeling targeted.

Return to work has got you feeling like you’d rather claw your eyes out than commute 45 minutes to go sit on zoom calls in the office.

Here’s the good news: you’re not alone.

That feeling like you need to blow up your life, question every decision you’ve made, quit your job and leave it all behind? We’re all feeling it.

That feeling that there’s gotta be more than this, that you’re capable of more than this, that you’re leaving potential on the table and if you don’t grab it now you’ll miss your chance - yeah, I know that feeling. A lot of us do.

But you’ve got a mortgage or rent. Maybe you have kids. You’ve got to get serious about saving for retirement.

Your life needs a surgical strike, not a nuclear bomb.

You might not be fully at midlife, but you’re definitely at a midpoint - an inflection period in your life and if you’re going to make a change, now is the time.

This newsletter is a place where we’re gonna figure out how to pull it off together.

Whether its changing careers, starting that business or project you’ve been thinking about, or stepping up into a leadership position in a way you haven’t before.

In each newsletter, I’ll break down some of the questions or challenges that come with a midpoint pivot. I’ll share other articles, tools or resources that can help you work through it.

I’m going to send these out biweekly, so I can take my time to make them as helpful as possible.

If this message resonates with you, drop me a note and let me know. And if you’ve got someone in your life going through a moment like this, share this with them and tell them to subscribe.

Thanks for your support.

-AJ

In this conversation, AJ speaks with Sumi Shanmuganathan, entrepreneur, politico and communications guru about her journey through various career transitions. They talk about the role community plays in overcoming imposter syndrome and finding the courage to take unconventional paths, the importance of mentorship in following your intuition, and moving with intentionality when navigating life's challenges.

She reflects on her current midpoint in life, experiences of burnout, work-life balance, and looking critically at the role work plays in life - both the role it’s played in her past and the role she wants it to play in the future.

Sumi encourages all of us to embrace our individuality, to be true to ourselves and to not be afraid to follow your own path into the future.

This is the last podcast for Season 1 of The Midpoint Review. We’ll be back in the Fall with Season 2. Thanks for listening!

For Kate Julien, some of those answers became clearer in her late 30s. In this episode, AJ speaks with Kate about her journey of self-discovery as she approaches her 40th birthday, revealing her recent diagnoses of ADHD and autism.

She discusses the challenges and insights that come with understanding her neurodiversity, including sensory experiences, social dynamics, and the impact on her relationships. Kate emphasizes the importance of recognizing neurodiversity in parenting and society, advocating for a more inclusive understanding of disability.

She reflects on her strengths and aspirations for the future, encouraging open conversations about mental health and neurodiversity.

It’s a powerful conversation and a reminder that the millennial generation’s openness to mental health conversations is not just groundbreaking, but cycle breaking.

It’s a powerful mantra that this week’s guest, Lina Khatib, has learned to embrace as she follows her own path in life and career.

Lina speaks with AJ about her journey as a “career triathlete”, navigating non-profit work, policy, private sector - and motherhood - and how she tries to integrate all of it. It’s more about seasons than balance.

We talk about the need for women in particular to embrace their unique journeys, set boundaries, and redefine their roles in the workforce. The discussion also touches on generational perspectives on work, the impact of maternity leave, and the significance of creativity and lifelong learning.

In this episode I talk to Jared Walker, political advisor, advocate, activist and hip hop head, about this moment of life in this period of history and how he’s navigating it.

We touch on intergenerational relationships, the challenges of navigating adulthood, and the importance of community. And we talk a lot about how to be the elders the next generation needs - how to show up, provide mentorship, and give them grace to move through their stages of life while remembering our own journey’s and how challenging each stage can be.

And we lament and embrace the fact that time is a flat circle, mid-aught style is coming back hard, and there’s not much to do but ride the wave and get back into those wide leg jeans.

We talk about the financial trauma of the Great Recession and how that impacted our generation. How value isn’t just about money but also about time, and both need to be spent wisely. And she talks about how time heals all financial wounds - unless you find yourself in a ponzi scheme, like one of her clients.

Picking a favourite episode is like picking a favourite child, I love them all - but this one is in the top ten for sure.

In our conversation, he shares his journey of personal growth, emphasizing the importance of saying yes to new experiences. He reflects on his move from Brazil to Canada, the challenges of cultural adjustment, and the joy found in everyday moments. Like a lot of people talk about finding joy in little things, but he really does. (Like watching packages arrive). It’s an inspiring reminder that you can find beauty in anything with the right perspective.

We talk about the value of community and the balance between adventure and stability. Rodrigo reminds us of the significance of interconnection between people and leaves me with a lot to think about. He’ll leave you with a lot to think about too.

Enjoy the show :)

In this conversation, we explore the complexities of parenting in a chaotic world, the intersection of personal and political life, and the importance of community engagement. We go full wonk on this episode, getting into geopolitics, economics, history and everything in between. This one is for the social science kids out there.

We get heavy and serious in some places, and keep it fun and light in others. At the end of the day we end up where so many of these conversations do - at the recognition that we all have personal agency and this is a moment calling out for us to use it.

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They discuss the importance of personal reflection, overcoming imposter syndrome, and the challenges of navigating corporate culture.

Rachel shares her journey of self-discovery, the significance of community, and the opportunities for change in today's society. The conversation emphasizes the need for authenticity and the courage to challenge the status quo while building a life that reflects one's true values.

If you're at a crossroads, feeling like your work and your purpose aren't aligned, this episode is for you.

Ali shares some inside stories about his experiences coming up in tech, working at Blackberry in the early days (and what it was like to invent a game that got Barack Obama addicted), the importance of craftsmanship and taking money off the table to stay focused on building, and how he sees the world changing and the role of entrepreneurs in that change.

If you're at the midpoint of life reflecting on values, or at the beginning of a startup journey looking for guidance on how to build your life, this episode is for you.

Patience, intention and defining success for yourself are key themes that come up again and again.

Shout out to our sponsor Habit Coffee Club and check them out at www.habitcoffeeclub.com and use MIDPOINT in the promo code for 20% off your first purchase.

So many people reached out to me after I published to talk about their own midpoint journeys and what this stage of life is all about. And I could see that a lot of us were going through the same experiences

And asking ourselves a lot of the same questions, even if we weren't talking to each other about it. And for many of the folks that I talked to, the irony was not lost on them that our generation is hitting a major life moment at the same time the world is dipping into crisis again.

So there's a lot going on with us right now, and we should talk about that.

Also, podcasts are so hot right now, and you know I love a good bandwagon.

So here we go.

I'm excited to announce my new podcast, which I'm calling The Midpoint Review. In weekly episodes, I'll be interviewing people in their mid-30s to mid-40s to talk about what life is like for them at this stage. what major realizations they're having about how they want to live, what they want the next half of life to look like, and how we can use this moment of personal and global crisis to chart a new path for the future.

We'll be hearing from people across the board, working in tech, politics, media, entrepreneurs, creatives, and everyone in between on how they're handling this midpoint transition.

What are they holding on to?

What are they letting go of?

What opportunities do they see for this generation at this moment in time?

And how can we make the most of it?

I don't know, but I'm hoping some of these folks might. So smash that subscribe button and join me at The Midpoint Review.

And let's figure out where we go from here together.

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Hi friends,

I know you haven’t heard from me for a while but that’s about to change. I’m excited to relaunch this newsletter under a new name, a new look and yes, a podcast too.

I’ve spent the past year reflecting on my own life as I enter my early 40s and feel a shift in my priorities and energy. And I’ve watched as the world has continued to change dramatically. It seems we’re all going through a crisis of some sort right now. But in crisis lies opportunity.

When nothing is certain, anything is possible. This is a moment for excitement and intention.

There is a generational cohort of us somewhere between mid-30s and mid-40s who have experienced nothing but the world falling apart our whole lives. As we enter another cycle of chaos, this time it’s different. We’re no longer watching as other people react to these challenges - now we’re the adults in the room. This time we have power. It’s time to use it to reshape things and leave the world better than we found it.

This newsletter will be a space to share the conversations I’m having with other folks in my generation going through a period of reflection to helps us all feel a little less alone and a little more courageous as we enter this next chapter. It’ll be a mix of stories, conversation summaries, and prompts to reflect on your own life and the role you want to play in the next half of it.

I’ll be aiming to post weekly, and hopefully start some community conversations while I’m at it. Thanks for coming along with me once again on this ride.

- AJ

It’s all just a little much. It’s giving drinking from a fire hose filled with toxic sludge and needs to chill.

But nothing good comes from burying our heads, and that’s not what we’re being called to do.

I take solace in the fact that when nothing is certain, anything is possible. While this is a moment of chaos, its also a moment of opportunity if we stay focused. Stay intentional. Stay courageous.

I’m not much of a fan of Sam Harris for lots of reasons, but I found myself reading this post the other day on some of his reflections on the LA fires. I try to stay open to the fact that even people I don’t like can have interesting and reflective takes on things, and I found his post thoughtful.

I’m mentioning it because there’s a line that stuck out to me and made me pause. He was talking about the accumulation of wealth with billionaires and how it’s time for billionaires to start giving huge swaths of wealth to rebuild the city and rethink the amount of money they accumulated.

I’m butchering his point, and there’s all kinds of critiques to be made about using philanthropy over basic, you know, tax structures, but this isn’t a Sam Harris thought piece, it’s a piece about something Sam Harris said about capitalism that got me thinking. (Although I will say, when Sam Harris starts to find class consciousness, you know something is starting to shift).

Here’s the thing he said:

And there is nothing wrong with capitalism that an ethical relationship to wealth can’t fix.

And my first reaction was to agree - ethical behaviour is deficient in capitalism and part of the acceleration of wealth inequity. We need to have a more ethical and moral relationship to labour, wealth, value creation, productivity, time - all of it. I want to believe capitalism can be fixed with individuals doing better. That we can find the better angels of our soul, be called to a higher purpose, evolve our sense of humanity and through that more ethical and purposeful relationship to money and self, create a better economy for everyone.

But then I look at history.

And I look at humans.

Not the ones I want to believe are possible in my imagination, but the ones that exist. Today. In power. Sitting on a dais, lined up behind the president, wearing gold chains and disassociating on ketamine.

And I ask myself, is it possible to have an ethical relationship to wealth in a capitalist economy?

I think we each individually can develop unique relationships with wealth, some of which can be ethical and responsible. But capitalism as a system, as a set of rules and incentives, does not incentivize an ethical relationship with wealth. It incentivizes and rewards exploitation and greed.

Effective forms of capitalism are those that create strong guardrails through regulation, taxation and penalization that channel those incentives in productive ways, limit their power, remove certain areas of the economy from capitalist conquest, and effectively punish those who operate outside of the rules.

That’s not judgement of capitalism, it’s just a statement of fact. Capitalism is powerful, dangerous and will consume everything it can. It’s desire is to expand to it’s very limits. It also creates huge amounts of energy to power creative, valuable and beneficial endeavours.

Much like fire.

Fire can be a tremendous source of good in a society. It’s been a driving force of evolution of human society - it brought us out of the caves and gave us warmth and light. It provides energy and power. It’s not a stretch to say humanity wouldn’t be where it is today without fire.

But it is only useful if it is controlled. And you don’t control it by making friends with it. You don’t control it by asking it nicely to stay within a certain area, only burning these trees and not those ones. You don’t build trust with fire. You build fire lines.

Capitalism won’t be fixed by people changing how they feel about money. Capitalism will be fixed by completely rethinking how we create guardrails and rules that restrict all of it’s harmful components and incentives it’s benefits.

If there is an effective way to rethink capitalism (which is a huge if), it will result in a form of capitalism that looks completely different that what exists today. Capitalism, much like large swaths of LA, needs to be rebuilt entirely.

I missed last week’s newsletter because of the crush of life getting busy in December. And I thought about skipping this week too. But the whole point of this exercise for me is to write consistently, even when I don’t want to, so here I am.

My mind this week, like so many others, has been consumed by following the saga of the CEO shooter in New York. There are so many takes out there, I’m not sure I really want to add more. Those who know me can guess where I stand.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of violence and how we conceptualize it in our minds. The difference between fast violence and slow violence. About visibility.

I’ve been thinking about my neighbour. When we moved into our place a few years ago I got to know him well. I live in a hundred+ year old row house in Toronto where you practically live on top of your neighbours, so it’s in your best interest to get to know them.

This guy was salt of the earth. The house had been in his wife’s family for over a hundred years, and he took pride in working on it where he could. His backyard garden was exquisite and he was generous with his landscaping tips for me, who was just getting started.

He was generous with everything. If he was mowing his lawn, he was mowing our lawn. If he was shovelling the snow from his front, he was shovelling our front too. Cards for the kids on their birthdays and Christmas were always left at our door, with bills shoved in that felt too big to accept.

He was a simple guy, rough around the edges with a big heart. He had been a hockey player in his younger days, then a coach, and now drove a short haul truck for a living. Every morning he would be out of the house at 3am to get his day started. He would talk to me about looking forward to retirement, which was only a few years away.

He liked his work, but wanted to leave. Despite working for the same company for over a decade, they took advantage of him. They knew he was reliable and had a hard time saying no, and exploited that to pull unpaid work from him. He’d complain how they regularly gave him loads to drive around that were bigger than the capacity of the truck, requiring him to keep the back open, filling the cab with exhaust fumes. The smaller trucks were cheaper to run and better on gas, even when loaded down. He’d complain to them, but nothing changed. And he couldn’t afford to leave.

When the coughing started, you could tell it was bad. I could hear it from inside my house. The cancer diagnosis came quickly and moved through his body at a pace that shocked even the doctor. It was only six weeks between the diagnosis and his passing. The doctor said without a doubt it was caused by the exhaust fumes. Workers comp is still disputing it. No one will be charged with manslaughter.

We live in a system that can be violent and deadly, the only difference is what violence we choose to see. It’s easy to see the fast violence of individual actions. It’s harder to see the slow violence of our economic conditions - conditions nonetheless created by the individual actions of people with power.

None of this violence, fast or slow, is an acceptable or necessary condition of our existence.

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Role Model of the Week

A weekly instalment where I highlight people I’m looking up to this week who are using the power they have to do cool, impactful, disruptive stuff to shift the status quo.

I’m not sure that he’s a role model so much as a thinker I’m seeing show up a lot this week. Friedrich Engels, a German philosopher from the 1800’s who was a political scientist and friend of Karl Marx, wrote a lot of economic and social theory about working conditions, inequality and the impact on ones life.

I remember studying him in school two decades ago and haven’t really thought about him much since.

This week he seems to be everywhere. His concept of “social murder” has been showing up in my feeds as people search for a way to articulate the needless deaths that occur in a system that often prioritizes profit over life. Here’s how he describes it:

“When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live – forces them, through the strong arm of the law, to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence – knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual; disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offence is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains.” - Friedrich Engels

The systems we’ve built modern society on aren’t working for so many people in the world right now. I wrote about this earlier in the year. We need to imagine new systems for our society, starting with one where murder - of every kind - is unacceptable.

It was the pop of violet under the faded fallen leaves that first caught my eye. The fast side of my brain clocked it as a piece of garbage before my slow brain had the time to process it. Once my mind caught up, I could see it was alive. It was a flower. It was a crocus.

A crocus in November.

November, when the snow is supposed to start to fall. When the frost is supposed to creep in each night. When my kids are supposed to delight in seeing their breath in the frozen air - the early days of winter when it’s still a novelty, unlike late March when it feels like an endless curse.

This year has been different. This year in Toronto, like in so many places, has been unseasonably warm. It’s been both uncanny and beautiful.

The leaves took their sweet time changing colour and put on a show unlike any Fall I can remember. The lack of frost left the leaves on the trees far longer than usual, and it felt like all of October and much of November was spent walking through canopies of golden yellow oaks and electric red maples, jewel tone shades you’re so used to only seeing through a screen that you forget they come from nature.

It was all fun and games until the flowers started to rebloom. Marigolds I had left for dead in my garden suddenly came alive and popped open. An unsettling gift of beauty I was grateful for yet wanted to return to sender. Purple daisies took over a neighbours yard. The juxtaposition of a woman trimming rose bushes in a tshirt while her husband was on a ladder stringing up Christmas lights.

As a Canadian, snow is a part of my identity. Loving it, hating it, playing in it, shovelling it, cursing it, embracing it. For better or worse, its a core part of life, a ticking clock that keeps you grounded to time.

Last year it barely snowed. We had a few days of flurries, but it only stayed on the ground long enough to go tobogganing twice - as I was regularly reminded by my kids. I told them it was a fluke. Some years we get less snow than others. That has always been the case.

But now, a crocus. This was new.

I stared at it, this little purple anarchist defying all the rules. I was struck by the weight of the symbolism. Frozen in place by the internal conflict of emotions.

The world is collapsing in so many ways and yet there is still beauty all around us. It felt like a bad omen and a sign maybe it would be ok, wrapped together.

I genuinely didn’t know how to feel about it. I thought about how others might feel about it. How this symbol might be interpreted by different generations.

Boomers might look at this and say “we failed”. We had the opportunity to turn the climate clock around, we were in charge when the world started to tip, and we didn’t act.

Gen X might look at this and say “we tried”. We recycled, we went electric, we cut down on plastic, we did what we were told so let’s see what comes next.

Gen Z might look at this and say “we lived”.  We were given ruins, subpar conditions and failing systems, and we made a life for ourselves and found beauty anyway. 

What might millennials say? 

I wasn’t sure. I came across this incredible essay by Rosie Spinks, “How I became ‘collapse aware’” that helped me think through my perspective.

It’s a nagging sense that has hung over modern life since 2020, or 2016, or 2008, or 2001 — pick your start date — that things are not working anymore. And that waiting for them to get better after the next Most Important Election of Our Lives, or another war to end, or a new economic recovery cycle doesn’t seem to be having the desired effects. 

Millennials have experienced all of our adulthood under this specter. Most people I know feel it to some extent, we even joke about it, but it’s admittedly hard to confront what comes next. Making space for the idea that the progress we were raised on is not guaranteed requires a lot of time and space. It requires grieving, uncertainty, and sitting with difficult feelings. These are things, in western culture at least, we studiously avoid.

Which is why the idea of collapse — which you may have seen referred to by the more palatable terms metacrisis or perma-crisis — has interested me. To be collapse aware is to live with the sense that something about the way we live is coming to an end. And then to ask the next obvious question head on: If the incrementalist approach of our existing political and economic structures is not up to the task of improving things — climate, society, inequality, injustice — what comes next?

What comes next?

Perhaps millennials would look at that crocus and say, “we dreamed”. When the world was changing and the old version was coming to an end, we dreamt of what a better version could look like in its place.

Perhaps we would say, “we built”. We knew the only way to take a dream into reality is to do the work to create it so we rolled up our sleeves.

Perhaps we will say “we believed”. We believed better was possible. And because of that, we acted.

I’m not sure yet what we will say, but I know the story is still being written.

Role Model of the Week

A weekly instalment where I highlight people I’m looking up to this week who are using the power they have to do cool, impactful, disruptive stuff to shift the status quo.

Given the topic of this week’s post, I’m recognizing the amazing work done by Autumn Peltier, an Anishinaabe Indigenous rights advocate from the Wiikwemkong First Nation on Manitoulin Island, Ontario. She is an activist for water protection and the universal right to clean drinking water. Despite Canada being a nation filled with fresh water, there are 29 Indigenous communities with long term water advisories in place, where people can’t drink water unless it is first boiled.

Autumn rose to prominence when she was 12 as an outspoken advocate and water protector, speaking to the UN, WEF and other major international spaces alongside other climate activists like Greta Thunberg. She has openly criticized the Trudeau government for their pipeline decisions and the impact they will have on the environment. She is the embodiment of speaking truth to power with courage.

In my culture, my people believe that water is one of the most sacred elements. It's something we honour. It is a living organism. My people believe that when we're in the womb, we live in water for nine months and our mother carries us in the water. As a fetus, we learn our first two teachings: how to love the water and how to love our mother. As women, we're really connected to the water in a spiritual way. We believe that we're in ceremony for nine months when we carry a baby. Another way to look at it is that water is the lifeblood of Mother Earth, and Mother Earth is female.

Autumn Peltier