So I make it really simple. I’d say art is: “That which you have no choice but to do, because your soul demands it”.
Yes, it’s a fairly flawed definition. But it illustrates something that most people don’t get about artists or entrepreneurs. We do it, because if we don’t, life feels empty. The downside being, it doesn’t exactly come with an easy life.
I’ve found it very difficult to distinguish, “I started this thing therefore I must finish this thing, and I must do it well,” from, “I must finish this thing, and I must do it well.” Notice the missing, “I started this thing therefore…” I have a lot of ideas, several of which I often believe are totally not utter crap. So I start on them.
But once I’ve begun, it gets very hard to tell why I am continuing. What exactly indicates when my soul demands I should continue?
I think about whatever thing I’m currently working on all the time. So I can’t simply use, “does it hold my attention?” It sure feels like I absolutely must continue this thing! Meanwhile, I’ve a long list of things that consumed my attention and energy at one point, but which today are lost from sight in the rearview mirror.
Lately I’ve been experimenting with taking holidays by trying to set something down. This requires immense effort in the beginning; I usally have to cold-turkey-quit to get away from my passion project du jour. Sometimes, day by day, the urge to pick it back up fades and I feel like maybe that project should be left in the rear view mirror. I suppose that my soul doesn’t actually demand it because I hope that my soul wouldn’t just give up after a few days.
Freedom is the capacity to pause in the face of stimuli from many directions at once and, in this pause, to throw one’s weight toward this response rather than that one.
The pause is especially important for the freedom of being, what I have called essential freedom. For it is in the pause that we experience the context out of which freedom comes. In the pause we wonder, reflect, sense awe, and conceive of eternity. The pause is when we open ourselves for the moment to the concepts of both freedom and destiny.
…and my favorite season is here! I love the cool evenings, and how the knowledge that Daylight Savings is about to kick in makes me pay extra attention to my time outdoors in the evening. One thing I love doing is walking while listening to podcasts where I often find inspiring gems.
I had a great mentor of mine, early on in my carrer, say, you should have a running list of three people — you can but you don’t need to share it with them or the world — that you’re always watching: Someone senior to you that you want to emulate; A peer who you think is better at the job than you, and you respect; And someone subordinate who is doing the job that you did a year or two or three years ago better than you did it. If you just have those three individuals that you’re constantly measuring yourself off of, and who you’re constantly learning from, you’re going to be exponentially better.
Aside: DST should be abolished. It no longer saves us energy (it’s original purpose), but it does cause a statistically significant rise in traffic accidents:
We think we’re working 70 or 80 hours a week, but we’re not. We think we’re not getting enough sleep, but often we are. We misjudge our own time use constantly, and it can lead us to misidentify problems and remain stuck and frustrated.
This is a perennial struggle for me. My ability to imagine things that I’d like to create, vastly and consistently exceeds my ability to actually create.
The standard advice is to narrow one’s focus. Choose one thing to focus on— especially if we’re talking about charging for a product. But even more generally, in podcasting, the standard advice is to choose one thing… one show… one format…
I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not that sort of creative. A while back I stood up a new “home” for myself on the Web at craigconstantine.com and as I was deciding what to put there, this occurred to me:
I create a ton of free, public stuff. Each of my current projects is its own rabbit hole to explore.
After decades of struggle against my own nature, I’ve given up trying to focus on just one thing. Instead, I’ve learned to relax—or at least, to be slightly more relaxed. When the creative energy is flowing, I channel it. And sometimes I simply pause.
That’s how I keep my podcasting sustainable. I create processes and move things along when I feel engaged and motivated. And sometimes I pause.
Many podcasters burn out. What’s a pace that actually works for you? How would your show change if you prioritized sustainability over growth?
There’s no correct answer to this question. The only important thing is that each of us takes the time to find our own answer. This is not a “set it and forget it” situation: You have to reconsider this question periodically too.
Yesterday I was talking with a podcaster who is in the middle of a significant pivot of their show. Why the pivot? It wasn’t working for them any more.
I’ve pivoted shows, started new shows, intentionally stopped publishing episodes of a show, and completely deleted shows from existence. Each time because there was a clear sign (often a sign I’d been in denial about) that the show was no longer working for me.
That’s what you have to figure out for yourself.
I did 1,400 episodes of Little Box of Quotes as a daily show. I had specific things I was practicing. When creating new episodes became a thing I started avoiding, I stopped. A year later, I’m thinking of resuming publishing the show, but my reasons for publishing it are now completely different.
I’ve tried two different show-formats for the Open + Curious podcast. Now in 2025, I’m scheduling guests for its 3rd season which will be in my signature style of conversation.
The Movers Mindset podcast hasn’t been the same format since day one. There’s been a bunch of experiments within that show. As I have new ideas, and new questions about what can a recorded conversation be, that’s where I’ve done most of my experimentation.
Even Podtalk has changed over time. What began as “the companion podcast to the Podcaster Community” (conversations with the community’s members) expanded to conversations with any independent podcast creator.
As I said: There’s no one, correct answer for everyone. There isn’t even one, correct answer for each of us!
No one gets everything right in their first few episodes (or even after 100 episodes). Looking back, what’s something you used to do—or believe—that you’ve completely changed your mind about?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
By far my biggest mistake was chasing perfection.
It’s subtle when simply improving as one does more work, tips over into chasing perfection. Improvement is fine, but it’s not the reason why I’m making podcasts. I first had to figure out my reasons for podcasting, then it became easier to see when an improvement was fine, and when an improvement was an unnecessary detour. (Perfection, after all, can be hiding from the actual work.)
For me, an example of chasing perfection went like this…
In my initial recorded conversations, I first paid-per-minute for a human-done transcription. (It was 2017.) Then I printed the entire transcript. Then I reviewed the audio with the transcript as a guide, enabling me to keep track of the larger themes and story-arc in each conversation. Then I was annotating the transcript for various editing possibilities. Finally, I passed the editing off to another person (a paid, team member) that I was working with to create the show. Today, of course, this can all be done much quicker and with little (if any) actual cost.
Eventually, I realized that for what I’m trying to accomplish there’s no need to edit. So all that getting better editing, or doing it for less cost, turns out to be the wrong thing for me to be doing. Chasing improvement was hiding. Chasing perfection was an error.
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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
With everything you’ve learned from running multiple shows, what are the biggest mistakes or inefficiencies you’d avoid if you were launching a new podcast from scratch? Would you approach production, audience growth, or personal mindset differently?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
Picture me smiling and chuckling nervously because, for more than a year, I have been trying to restart one of my shows. Certainly a big part of my 2024 was reallocated for health reasons, but my attempted restart of the Open + Curious podcast has had many months available to me before, and since. Still, there’s no new show. It’s all about the mindset, for me. I have a too-grand vision of what it should be. I can’t stop seeing all the things it could possibly become, and fixating on getting everything right (my vision of what it should be) from launch day.
However, the best wisdom that I have here for others, is just a repackaging of Heraclitus’s “no one steps in the same river twice” (the flowing water implies the river is different, and the person is also different.)
If someone is actually starting their first show: Once you understand how to do a podcast (it takes perhaps 10 minutes to learn that?) then do not spend more time asking people about starting. That’s hiding from the work. Rather, start. The experience of the doing is what you are actually seeking.
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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
In your post Having a Clear Why, you highlight the importance of having a reason for podcasting that goes beyond just releasing episodes. Looking back, has your core motivation for podcasting changed over time? Were there moments when your ‘why’ felt unclear, and how did you navigate that?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
It turns out that my core motivation has never wavered. What has changed drastically over the years is why I thought I was doing it.
My “Why” is that I’m curious. I have always been entirely motivated by simple, selfish reasons: I love conversations— in fact I love listening to people. The people and conversations energize me. Podcasting scratches my curiosity itch. (The cure for boredom is curiosity. There’s no cure for curiosity.)
It turns out that when I’m intentional about how I podcast—who I choose to give a platform to, what I steer us towards discussing, how I craft episode notes, titles, and all the countless details—I end up creating pieces of work that other people really enjoy and learn from. Godin’s phrasing, “make the world better by making better things,” nails it.
What’s changed over the years is that I was confused about my “Why”—not that my “Why” actually changed. At various times in the past I used to think, “people like what I’m creating, maybe I can generate some revenue.” But I’m not in podcasting to generate revenue, and if I wanted to do that I’d need to shift from “what do I want” to being clear about what problem I’m trying to solve for others.
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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
Life is rich and colorful but to justify the habit you tell yourself that your phone will somehow be more interesting. This is an excuse. If you’re bored by the situation you’re in it’s your own damn fault.
Yes, absolutely. There are levels to this art of being switched on. First is to be come self-aware enough to notice that you are generally off. Second, being able to notice in the moment when you are off. Third, being on. Fourth—and this makes the first three seem easy—being truly happy when others around you are switched off.
People find your show because they are looking for something, or someone, very specific.
People are not just sitting around thinking, “I feel like a need a new podcast to listen to… maybe something that inspires me to move more…” And then they search for “movement inspiration” . . . and then they land on my Movers Mindset show. No that’s not at all how it works. People do not find our show.
People find ONE, SPECIFIC episode. That’s what Kleon did above.
Think of a guest, or a topic, which you did about a year ago…
Now search for that person or topic in your podcast player, or in a web search engine…
Did you find that one episode you were thinking of?
Because people do that. And only then does our show description, show title, show art, episode art, episode notes, and all our hard work gives them the chance to pick us.
Be as open as possible to the person in front of you. Listen and observe so closely that you can follow up on a sigh, a shake of the head, a change in tone of voice. Take a chance on reflecting your observations back to them without judgment: “You looked amused just now. What’s that about?” Ask the question about feelings that occurs to you, the one you might normally suppress.
Allow silence.
And see what happens. I think you may be astonished at the result.
As is often the case, Godin asks really good rhetorical questions. Me? In recent weeks I’ve been challenging myself to shift my focus to longer timeframes. I’ve reached a level of sophistication where—give or take—what I do on any given day does not matter; I don’t go off the rails. What I do, is get anxious about “all the things” when I get lost thinking about too many things.
Instead of hyper-focusing on the right-now, I need to zoom out. What I just accomplished moves me towards a goal. Yes, even if I just blew off some scheduled thing to go play outside; That moves my health forward energizing me for another day. And each day making some progress is just exactly the right thing to be doing.
How can you effectively and gracefully end a conversation while maintaining its value and mutual appreciation?
Understand the balance between leaving a conversation fulfilled and seeking more.
Craig and Jesse discuss the complexities of ending conversations, beginning with the idea that most conversations naturally conclude due to external factors like time constraints. Craig notes that in many casual interactions, such as those at events or in public spaces, the end is often dictated by circumstances rather than a conscious decision.
I know I didn’t even try to get everything [from a conversation] because I know I can’t get everything. So it’s somehow finding a balance between: “Okay, my cup is full. I should really move away and just revel in what I have.” Finding a balance between that, and just going to the well until the cup comes up empty. I think that’s probably the compass for how to find a good ending.
~ Craig Constantine (4:25)
They explore the notion that it can be beneficial to end conversations while they are still engaging, rather than waiting until all topics are exhausted. Craig shares his experiences from recording podcasts, where he finds it challenging to end on a high note, emphasizing the importance of planning and strategies for graceful conclusions.
We’re here looking for ways to make conversation more alive […]. I’ve adopted this strategy of, stop eating when I want to eat a little bit more. stop talking when I want to talk a little bit more. Stop training, moving around and exercising when I want to move a little bit more. So that I’m actually left in the wanting of it […]
~ Jesse Danger (5:13)
They also touch on the distinction between enjoyable and uncomfortable conversations. Jesse brings up the idea of stopping activities, such as talking or training, while still wanting more, to maintain a sense of aliveness and enthusiasm. The conversation shifts to practical strategies for ending conversations, including honesty about one’s need to leave and expressing appreciation for the interaction.
Jesse references Peter Block’s concept from the book “Community,” suggesting that when ending a conversation, participants can share what they gained from the interaction, fostering a sense of closure and mutual respect. This approach, they agree, can enhance the quality and impact of the conversation.
Takeaways
Ending conversations naturally — External factors often dictate the conclusion of casual interactions.
Ending on a high note — Beneficial to conclude conversations while they are still engaging.
Challenges in planned endings — Strategies and planning are crucial for graceful podcast conclusions.
Distinction between conversation types — Different approaches are needed for enjoyable and uncomfortable conversations.
Maintaining enthusiasm — Stopping activities while still wanting more helps preserve a sense of aliveness.
Practical strategies — Honesty about the need to leave and expressing appreciation can aid in ending conversations.
Concept of shared appreciation — Participants can share what they gained from the interaction to foster closure.
Spontaneity in conversation exits — Creative and spontaneous actions can make leaving a conversation smoother.
Balancing conversation engagement — Finding a balance between getting enough out of a conversation and not exhausting all topics.
Resources
Community by Peter Block — Discusses the importance of commitment and shared appreciation in group settings.
The concept of “single-serving friends” from the movie Fight Club — Refers to brief, context-specific interactions that end naturally.
Was the project worthy of us? Was it ours alone, in the sense that we were writing from our own gift … and in the face of our own fears? Did we live up to the goddess’s expectations of us? Did we live up to our own? Did we give it all we had?
There are no spotlights in the writer’s life. There’s no moment of acclamation as we tap in a putt on the 72nd green. Our moment is private. When I wrap a book, a lot of times I won’t even tell anybody.
This is self-evaluation. Self-reinforcement. Self-validation.
As usual, Pressfield is talking about writing and writers. But it made me think about how I finish with an episode…
It occurs to me that the very last things I do, are social media posts, and usual a final “hey thanks, it’s published” to the guest. I’m left [after reading pressfield’s post] wondering if I could re-imagine being done to be something I enjoy… some way to put a positive “done!” on the end.
What might that be? …maybe I print a copy of the episode notes and put it on a pile, or in a binder. …or some other way to create a visible “there’s the stuff that’s done!”
A while back I found this large essay about questions. I’ve been reading it repeatedly and found a number of interesting points (which will go on to become seeds for posts to Open + Curious.)
And questions are a tool you can use for that, as long as you’re able to hold them without immediately asking them (which shifts your focus onto answers). Leave the question in your mind as a thing to be figured out by your mind’s further interactions with the world.
It struck me that the sense of wonder that I sometimes experience in a conversation may actually be exactly the same sense of wonder from childhood. Everything is possibility. Everywhere there is opportunity for learning. Everyone brings perspectives. All of which invites further interactions.
What is the purpose and impact of the Moving Rasa initiative, particularly in fostering personal transformation, collective identity, and community resilience?
Andrew Suseno joins Craig to describe how Moving Rasa transforms trauma into collective healing and empowerment through movement, redefining personal boundaries and identity in profound ways.
Andrew Suseno describes the transformative work of Moving Rasa, a continuation from his earlier focus on Parcon Resilience. Andrew and Craig begin with an introduction to two upcoming retreats designed for Asian American Pacific Islanders and BIPOC communities, emphasizing rest, recuperation, and abolition. These retreats aim to support community organizers by reconnecting them with their bodies and helping restore their life rhythms. The events serve as a platform for individuals from marginalized communities to engage in healing practices, fostering a sense of empowerment and collective well-being.
Rasa means taste in Indonesian, and it also means discernment of feeling with the heart. It isn’t just about what our relationship to food is, but it’s what our relationship to anything is— whether it’s a picture on the wall, a book that we read, a friend, a value that we might have. And just like we might have a sensory understanding of what something tastes like, we have a sensory understanding of our rasa for anything. And that sensory understanding can be moved into and explored and improvised with and moved with others.
~ Andrew Suseno, 5:25
Andrew elucidates the concept of “Rasa,” explaining its multifaceted meanings that encompass taste, discernment of feeling with the heart, and essence in various languages, including Indonesian and Sanskrit. This concept underpins the ethos of Moving Rasa, encouraging participants to explore and connect with their essence through movement improvisation.
The conversation further explores the transformative potential of acknowledging and moving through trauma in community settings. Through the lens of Moving Rasa, Andrew shares insights into creating spaces where individuals can engage in self-discovery and collective healing. The dialogue highlights the importance of patience, love, and community in navigating personal and collective liberation journeys, offering a nuanced perspective on time, self-love, and the construction of communal identities.
What if we started with ourselves? What if we forgave ourselves for punishing ourselves? What does that open up in our relationships with others, with ourselves, with objects, with ideas? What movements are possible there? …both literally—physically—movements, but also what movements are possible in the world? …what you can create?
~ Andrew Suseno, 31:01
Takeaways
The concept of Rasa — a multifaceted term signifying taste, discernment of feeling, and essence, guiding participants towards connecting with their cultural and personal essence.
Community healing and empowerment — Moving Rasa retreats aimed at Asian American Pacific Islanders and BIPOC, focusing on creating spaces for individuals to restore rhythms and engage with their bodies in a healing manner.
Creating brave spaces — as a method to support trauma recovery and collective healing.
The importance of collective identity — a way of sharing burdens and expanding the definition of identities within community spaces, fostering self-determination and expansive identity construction.
Abolition as a personal and collective journey — introduced as a theme for contemplation and practice, encouraging self-forgiveness and the cessation of self-punishment to unlock new possibilities in relationships and movements.
The role of patience, love, and community — as foundational elements in the practice, with a call to reevaluate our relationship with time, cultivate self-love through community support, and actively engage in co-creating a shared future.
https://movingrasa.com/ — Moving Rasa is an improvisational movement form and contemplative practice that may be practiced anywhere. Movers connect their inner world to their outer movement AND how it is organized in relation to others, objects, and the environment. In particular, movers are supported to connect to their Rasa.
Gotong-royong — An Indonesian philosophy mentioned as influencing the Moving Rasa process, emphasizing collective burden-sharing and expansive, self-determined identity construction.
I recently had a conversation with someone while recording an episode of Podtalk. They mentioned the importance of naming our audience in the early moments of a podcast episode. An example they gave is: “Do you feel like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole? This podcast is for you.” (If you’re curious about this idea in the context of podcasting see, Naming our audiences.)
This idea was a quake moment for me. Because in order to name my audience—to literally say it, briefly, in a way that someone identifies with… Well, first I have to know who my audience is. I’m well aware one should know “who’s it for?” (If I just want to fiddle in my workshop, whatever-it-is can certainly just be, “it’s for me.”) It’s easy to know “who it’s for?” and to be able to talk about that when asked. It is vastly harder to name the audience, succinctly, in way a that connects with people.
Connection is precious. We can, and must, find ways to be so clear, and so vivid, that people literally feel a reaction when we name our audience. It’d be better if you heard me say this, but what happens when you read…
Are you the curious sort who leans in to find joy in learning and self-awareness? Terrific. You’re in the right place. Know anyone else who should be here too?
I value writing because it forces me to winnow my thinking. (And I hear you snarking: If this is the winnowed thinking…) I appreciate that writing begs me to review and rethink. I appreciate that writing slows me down and that hand writing is glacial in pace.
Likewise, they say, handwriting is going the way of the dodo. I don’t think that’s precisely true—it sounds like one of those lazy assumptions about technology, that it exists to flatten, to eliminate anything that brings a tactile, objective permanence. It may be, rather, that the objective has changed. Now we handwrite because we want to, not because we have to.
It feels odd to me that “handwriting” is mostly just a noun. Maybe I’m lost in pedantry here, but I’m intrigued by the interplay and overlap of the following simple sentences and fragments, and their multiple meanings. I write. My writing. My handwriting. My hand writing.
“I wonder what would happen if I created a daily podcast, and did nothing else— if I didn’t tell anyone, didn’t share on social media, nothing. Just publish the thing every day.” So I went and made it happen, over 1,300 times. The answer to “what if?” is: I would receive a cornucopia of benefits simply from doing the work, even if no one heard a single one of them. I received: practice speaking extemporaneously, lessons in dramatic reading, countless tiny lessons of microphone technique, countless nuanced insights of physiology, and much much more.
Unfortunately, over the years, I became fixated on the least-important part of my original question: Daily.
I think this dynamic, to one degree or another, impacts anyone who has been fortunate enough to experience some success in their field. Doing important work matters and sometimes this requires sacrifices. But there’s also a deep part of our humanity that responds to these successes — and the positive feedback they generate — by pushing us to seek this high at ever-increasing frequencies.
It’s become clear that maintaining the pace is a problem, and so I’ve changed the pace. And in a blink, I feel I’m again focused on that still-overflowing cornucopia of benefits.
Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest. If you’re going to while away the years, it’s far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive than in a fog, and I believe running helps you do that. Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: That’s the essence of running, and a metaphor for life—and for me, for writing as well. I believe many runners would agree.