In the last post, I revealed a major shift in my perspective. In this post, I dig into the psychology of that shift.
There’s a strange contradiction I’ve lived with most of my adult life:
I am both deeply capable of commitment, and secretly terrified of it.
I’ve run 100-mile ultramarathons. I’ve trained in jiu jitsu for over a decade. I’ve stayed married for 21 years. I’ve written books, fought in a cage, and rebuilt myself more times than I can count.
But when it comes to launching something like The Tribe, something communal, mythic, and deeply personal, I hesitate.
Not because I doubt the vision.
Not because I fear failure.
But because I fear abandoning it once I succeed.
I’ve noticed a pattern in myself:
I immerse fully into a new world, whether it be barefoot running, fighting, magic, writing, even entire careers. I go deep, fast. I master it quickly. And then, eventually, I see through it. I start to notice the flaws, the cracks in the foundation, the political underbelly, the limits. And once I see those things, it becomes easy to walk away.
I rationalize the exit.
I tell myself, “I outgrew it.” Or, “Staying in this world is bad for me.”
And sometimes that’s true.
But sometimes, I think I just didn’t build a structure that could grow with me.
Recently, I came face-to-face with the deeper truth:
I didn’t walk away because I changed. I walked away because the thing couldn’t.
And that’s what I’ve feared about launching The Tribe.
Not that it would fail.
But that I would one day outgrow it, feel trapped inside it, and leave people behind in the fallout.
Because that would be a betrayal, not just of the others, but of myself.
But here’s the revelation:
What if I could build The Tribe to evolve with me?
What if commitment didn’t mean freezing myself in time, but designing something alive enough to shed skins with me?
What Burns Me Out
When I look back at the times I’ve walked away, I see three common threads:
- Obligation without renewal: When I’m doing it because I have to, not because it’s still making me.
- Lack of creative agency: When I feel like a manager instead of a creator.
- Misalignment: When the thing no longer reflects who I am, and there’s no way to change it without blowing it up.
It’s not that I can’t stay.
It’s that I can’t stay in something that won’t evolve.
So What Does Sustainable Commitment Look Like?
It doesn’t look like forever.
It doesn’t look like obligation.
It doesn’t look like being trapped by my own creation.
It looks like ritualized renewal.
Here’s what I’m building into The Tribe:
Seasonal Presence: I lead in seasons. Intensity followed by retreat. Like a warrior returning to the mountain.
Creative Sovereignty: I have the power to reshape the structure. The Tribe isn’t special because it never changes. It’s special because it knows how to change.
The Council: A circle of trusted co-leaders who can carry the mission when I step back. Not as replacements, but as reflections.
Mythic Evolution: The Tribe will have its own life cycle. Every few years, it will enter a new age. We will mark it. Shed skins. Tell new stories.
The Drift Signal: A way for me (and others) to name misalignment before it becomes resentment. To say, "I feel something shifting," without shame.
I no longer want to be afraid of commitment.
I want to live inside a commitment designed for someone like me (and maybe you): someone who evolves, questions, shifts, pauses, returns.
The man who used to build beautiful things and walk away?
He wasn’t broken.
He was scouting for a place worthy of staying.
I think I’ve finally built it.
Not a system. Not a brand. Not a platform.
Something living.
One that sheds skins.
One that welcomes the man I’ll become.
One that creates a real community for others to do the same.
This is how I stay.
Not forever.
But for as long as it remains true.
And this time, I’m designing it so it always can be.
~Jason
###
No comments:
Post a Comment