Platforms getting bought.

Algorithms shifting.

Gatekeepers reshuffling chairs like it’s a new game.

Same game. New logos.

And every time this happens, artists do the same thing:

They wait.

They watch.

They hope it works out in their favour.

It rarely does.

The Truth No One Wants to Say

The system was never built to make you dangerous.

It was built to make you:

- consistent

- digestible

- easy to place

🤮

Stay in your lane.

Pick your genre.

Build your niche.

🤮🤮

Be predictable.

That’s how it scales.

🤮🤮🤮

That’s also how it dies.

Meanwhile…

I’ve learned that the artists out here changing the game have a few things in common. I call them “killers”.

They take action.

They break rules.

They collide with other killers.

Hip hop with folk.

Neo soul with punk.

Indie with something that shouldn’t work on paper—but somehow does.

That’s where the edge lives.

It’s less about talent…

Calgary is full of talent.

What’s missing is:

the right room

A room where:

- you’re surrounded by killers

- you have to make quick decisions

- you have to adapt or get exposed

A room where:

you leave better than you walked in

So We Built One

Not a community.

A league.

Where artists:

- train

- collaborate

- compete under pressure

No comfort zones.

No rehearsals.

No safety net.

Certainly no “you did great” for the sake of not wanting to rock the boat and hurt anyone’s feelings. F*ck that. If you want a participation trophy you can exit stage left… ✌🏻

You get thrown in.

You figure it out.

You perform.

Why This Matters Right Now

Because while everyone else is:

- chasing platforms

- waiting for opportunities

- trying to “break through”

We’re doing something simpler.

We’re getting better.

Together.

Fast.

This Isn’t For Everyone

If you want:

- control

- comfort

- perfection

You’ll hate this.

If you want:

- growth

- challenge

- to find out what you’re actually capable of

You’ll feel it immediately.

April 26

We’re putting 10 artists in a room. Total strangers. All killers.

New groups.

One hour.

One song.

Then they perform it.

That’s how this starts.

The Invitation

We’re keeping this small and intentional.

We’re just watching.

Seeing who leans in.

Who’s curious.

Who’s ready.

Final Thought…

The scene didn’t die.

It just got comfortable.

And comfort doesn’t create killers.

🎤 If this hit…

Reply.

Better yet, apply. Artist-Athlete Registration

The pilot is happening in Calgary April 26 with the intent to tour the world and build an underground network of straight up killers. LFG.

Reach out if that’s you.

Or just stay close if that feels better right now.

We’ll see you in the room.

- m

Laptop open.
Instrument within reach.
Time carved out like you promised yourself you would.

And then… nothing.

Your body tightens.
Your chest gets a little heavier.
Your brain starts negotiating exits.

Check your phone.
Tidy your space.
Scroll for “inspiration” that somehow never turns into anything.

You tell yourself:
“I’m blocked.”

You’re not.

You’re protected.

The moment before the work

Most people think the hardest part of creating is the work itself.

It’s not.

It’s the moment before the work…
when your system quietly says, “this doesn’t feel safe.”

We call that resistance.
We label it procrastination.
We try to out-discipline it.

But what if that moment isn’t weakness?

What if it’s intelligence?

I’ve been thinking about this through the lens of creative sustainability since I dropped the Kasador episode on MusicFit Radio…📻
We talk about load vs capacity in the body…
what we rarely talk about is emotional load vs creative capacity.

Creative sustainability organizes your output.
Protected Creative patterns shape your access to expression.

Here’s what I mean…

What’s actually happening

What most artists call “creative block” is often something else entirely:

Protected Creative Syndrome
A nervous system response designed to keep you from re-experiencing a past emotional hit.

At some point—recently or years ago—you felt something while creating:

• rejection

• embarrassment

• pressure

• not being good enough

• being seen too clearly

Your system took note.

And like any good bodyguard, it made a decision:

“Let’s avoid that happening again.”

So now, every time you approach that same edge—
publishing, writing, recording, sharing—
it steps in.

Not to stop you.

To protect you.

You already understand this… in your body

Touch your toes.

If your system doesn’t trust the range, what happens?

It tightens.

Not because your hamstrings are lazy.
Because your body doesn’t feel safe going there.

So it restricts.

Creative work follows the same pattern.

• Emotional tension → creative restriction

• Unprocessed story → avoided expression

• Internal threat → external distraction

The body and the art speak the same language.

This isn’t a discipline problem

Most advice for creatives sounds like this:

“Just show up.”
“Be consistent.”
“Push through.”

And sometimes that works… temporarily.

But you don’t solve protection with pressure.

You override it.

And whatever gets overridden… comes back louder. Spicier. Like hot peppers… 🌶️

They go down hot… 🥵

And come out even hotter the longer they stay inside. 🥵 🥵 🥵

The different ways protection shows up

Not all artists freeze the same way.

Protection has patterns.

Here are a few you might recognize:

The Looper
Feels everything. Finishes nothing.
Gets caught in cycles of thinking, revisiting, refining… never releasing.

The Suppressor
Understands it. Never expresses it.
Intellectualizes emotions instead of moving them.

The Escapist
Busy doing everything except the work.
Scrolls, plans, consumes—anything to avoid the edge.

The Performer
Can only create when the stakes are high.
Relies on pressure or deadlines to bypass the block.

And then there’s the shift:

The Transmuter
Feels → processes → expresses.
Turns emotion into output instead of avoidance.

None of these are personality types.

They’re strategies.

Ways your system learned to keep you safe.

The real cost

Here’s the part that stings a little.

The energy it takes to avoid the work…
is often heavier than the work itself.

Because you’re not just avoiding the task.

You’re holding the emotional charge underneath it in place.

Unfinished.

Looping.

Waiting.

The reframe

You’re not blocked.

You’re not broken.

You’re simply in a loop your system has failed to close.

And until that loop is finished…
your body will keep trying to protect you from stepping into it again.

What comes next

Before you can move through this,
you need to see how it shows up for you.

Because it’s not random.

It’s patterned.

In the next piece, we’ll map exactly what type of creative you are
when it’s time to do the work—
and how to spot it in real time.

Because once you can see the pattern…

you can finally change it.

Not from the amps—those are off.
From the bodies.

That low electrical buzz that lingers after a band leaves everything out there.

Kasador just stepped off “stage”. Shirts damp. Hands raw. There’s talk of blood blisters like it’s part of the setlist.

No one’s complaining.
That’s the thing.

This is the job.

Before this all starts… We find a corner. Not quiet—just quieter.

Someone cracks a drink. Someone else leans back like they’ve been holding tension in their spine for 90 minutes and just got permission to release it.

I ask them about sport.

Not music.

Sport.

Because there’s something in the way they carry themselves that feels trained.
Conditioned.
Like this isn’t just expression—it’s endurance.

Cam smiles.

“It’ll be a slog.”

He’s talking about the UK run. Ten dates. Two days off. Across the pond where crowds still pack rooms like it means something.

No irony. No apathy. Just energy.

Stephen jumps in—he’s seen both sides now. The early grind and the more structured push.

“Europe culture still loves live music.”

You can feel it when he says it.
Not as nostalgia. As fuel.

Here’s what sits underneath all of it:

They’ve figured out how to keep going.

Not perfectly.
Not effortlessly.

Just… consistently.

Most artists chase more shows.

More cities.
More streams.
More noise.

Kasador feels like they’re chasing something else entirely.

Capacity.

We start talking about what that actually looks like on the road.

Sleep that comes in fragments.
Food that exists somewhere between gas stations and green rooms.
Bodies that tighten, adapt, compensate.

Night after night.

There’s no off-season in this game.

And still—they show up.

High energy. Locked in. Present.

That’s not accidental.

That’s training.

Somewhere between Scottish football references and stories about hands torn open mid-set, the parallel becomes obvious:

Touring is a sport.

Just no one’s coaching it that way.

Touring As Sport

Athletes taper.

They build toward performance.
They manage load.
They respect recovery as part of the process.

Artists?

They’re handed a calendar and told to survive it.

And here’s the quiet truth sitting backstage:

The system rewards output.

The ones who last the longest get seen as the strongest.

But lasting… and thriving… aren’t the same thing.

Kasador knows this.

You can hear it in the way they talk.
You can see it in how they pace themselves.
You can feel it in the intention behind their set.

They’re not just trying to make it through the tour.

They’re trying to still be a band at the end of it.

That’s the difference.

This conversation sticks with me long after the room clears.

Because it hints at something bigger than one band on one tour.

It points to a different lane.

One where:

• Sleep becomes strategy

• Food becomes fuel

• Recovery becomes part of the art

• And longevity becomes the goal

Creative sustainability isn’t a nice idea.

It’s a requirement for anyone who plans to stay in this game long enough to matter.

Kasador’s still in the thick of it.

That’s right… the Kingston 4-piece’s high-energy live show is merely the byproduct of reps on reps on reps. Self admitted, there’s “no touring secrets”.

They’re

Still learning.
Still pushing.
Still feeling the weight of the road.

And still choosing to approach it like something worth training for.

The room’s quiet now.

Cables wrapped.
Lights off.
Energy settled.

But that buzz is still there.

Something’s shifting.

You can feel it.

And if you listen carefully, you’ll hear more than just the music.

Follow kasador on Instagram @kasadorband and make sure you get on the list at www.kasadorband.com so you know when they’re coming to your city.

Please take 10 seconds to subscribe and rate/review the show where you like to do the podcast thing —> https://musicfitradio.riverside.com/

If you are a part of a band, or maybe you’re a brand or a fan who believes there’s another way to help build a better, more sustainable path for artist-athletes like Kasador to succeed in music, please consider sharing this out and/or pledging to the underground. You can become a founding force in our mission to build a new, sustainable music economy. One where artists can thrive and let their music do the music thing even better.

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About the Author

Mike Schwartz stays close to the parts most people miss.

Backstage. After hours. Between the sets.

He studies how artists break… and how some of them don’t.

Blending performance, recovery, and story, his work cuts through the noise of an industry that rewards burnout and calls it dedication.

MusicFit Underground is where he keeps the record.

If you’re building something that lasts, you’ll recognize it.

I’m standing in my kitchen, barefoot, coffee going cold.

I see the notification:

“___ followed you.”

Nice.

Something I said… or played… or posted… landed.

I follow them back.

Ten seconds later—

ding 🛎️

“Hey! Thanks for the follow! Check out my latest track!”

And just like that…

the feeling changes.

Unfollowed.

Was that too harsh? Let me know what you would have done… ⬇️

Comment

It’s subtle.

No one throws their phone across the room.

No one writes a complaint.

They just… lean back.

A little less interested.

A little less curious.

A little more guarded.

Because that moment?

Was the opposite of that connection you say you’re all about…

It was a transaction in disguise.

And here’s the part most people miss—

This has nothing to do with music.

This is how people lose anyone.

Clients.

Fans.

Dates.

Opportunities.

You skip the human part…

and jump straight to the ask.

You didn’t do anything “wrong.”

You just moved too fast.

Like walking up to someone at a party, shaking their hand, and immediately saying:

“Cool—here’s what I do, here’s how you can support me, here’s the link.”

No curiosity.

No space.

No reason for them to choose you.

And when people don’t get to choose…

they don’t commit.

They comply at best.

They ignore you at worst.

Or they’re ice cold like me and unfollow. 😂

That’s why it feels like no one’s paying attention.

That’s why it feels like you have to push harder… post more… say more… send more links…

Because deep down—

you’re trying to force a connection that never got built.

The shift is simple.

And brutally uncomfortable for people who are used to promoting:

Pause.

Someone follows you?

Resist the sell.

Insist they tell…

Give them the opportunity to tell you something…

Who are they?

What pulled them in?

What did they see?

Because the artists—and honestly, the humans—who win long term…

Stop chasing attention.

They create moments where people can lean into their world.

Where someone thinks:

“Hold up… there’s something here.”

And when that happens?

You don’t need to send the link.

They’ll ask for it.

And that moment…

That’s the difference between being tolerated…

and being chosen.

👊 🎤

If you’re building something that people can actually feel—not just scroll past—stick around.

I write about music, mindset, and the art of creating connection that lasts. And for heavens sake, ask more questions before you sell me your music like a greasy used car salesmen in a plaid sport coat, jonesing for his next fix. lol

Let people ask for your music. That’s where the real connection starts.

If this hit, I invite you to subscribe so you get the next one right to your inbox. 👇🏼

Subscribe

This week has been super productive for me. I’m ten days ahead on my financial goals for the month, I’ve been in a creative supercycle and it’s gorgeous outside here in Calgary, Alberta.

A thought came to me this week about how the music scene is structured.

You see, I believe there’s a quiet truth most artists feel…
and almost nobody says out loud.

You can be working hard, showing up, saying yes, doing the gigs, posting the content—

…and still feel like you’re spinning in place.

Not quite “stuck”.
Just… circling… y’know?

And while the gurus out there would say the problem is effort.

Just not working hard enough. Just don’t want it bad enough…

That’s not the problem.
Clarity is.

The system runs on language

“Exposure.”
“Opportunity.”
“Industry standard.”
“Great chance for you.”

These words sound normal.

They get passed around so often they start to feel true.

Until you slow down and ask:

What does that actually mean?
Who does it benefit?
What am I actually trading here?

Most artists never get taught how to ask those questions.
They just get handed the script.

So we’re building a new one

Not louder.
Just…Clearer.

The MusicFit Underground is shaping a shared language—
so artists, fans, and the creators making things happen behind the scenes (photogs, video wizards and all the — as we coined ‘em — “amplifiers” and “room keepers”) who care about independent art can actually understand the game they’re in.

Words that mean something.

Definitions that reflect reality.

A way to look at a situation and know, in your gut:

this is aligned
this is noise
this is worth my time
this isn’t

No gatekeeping.
No pretending.

Just… clarity.

Proof of concept: this week

On St. Paddy’s, we ran a secret house show with Kasador.

No bar chaos.
No late-night burnout cycle.
No watered-down connection.

Just a room full of people who actually wanted to be there.

You could feel it:

• artists present in their craft

• audience locked in

• conversations that carried weight

That’s what happens when the environment supports the work.

That’s what we’re building more of.

This is where you come in

Before we scale anything, we’re listening.

To artists. To fans.
To photographers.
To videographers.
To the people actually in it.

What’s working.
What’s draining.
What’s worth it.
What isn’t.

We’re mapping the real terrain—
and turning it into something usable.

If you want in early

I’m running short interviews and a quick form.

Nothing heavy.
Just real conversation.

In return, you’ll get:

→ first access to the MusicFit Underground Dictionary (e-book)
→ early insight into how this whole thing is shaping up
→ a say in what gets built next

If you’ve ever thought:

“there has to be a better way to do this”…

This is that moment.

Fill out the form or reach out for a quick call.
I’ll send the link your way.

Book Your Chat w/ Mike

Take the Survey

We’re building this in the open.

One room at a time.

In reality, most of the time the opposite is true.

Artists burn out because they care deeply about what they’re creating… but they’re trying to sustain that creative output without systems that support the work.

The music industry talks endlessly about hustle, exposure, and strategy.

Almost nobody talks about sustainability.

What happens to the nervous system of a performer who spends years living in fight-or-flight?

What happens to the body when touring, rehearsing, and late nights become normal?

What happens to the story artists start telling themselves when the work they love becomes the thing that drains them?

Over the years working with musicians, athletes, and high performers, I kept seeing the same pattern.

The artists who last the longest treat creativity like a performance discipline.

They take care of three systems:

Sound – regulating the nervous system and creative energy
Strength – building physical resilience and recovery
Story – clarifying identity and purpose

Together those form the foundation of the MusicFit Method.

In this video I break down why so many artists burn out and how a simple shift in perspective can help creatives stay in the game for the long run.

Watch the video and drop your thoughts below.

For the past year I’ve been quietly documenting the local music scene… shows, artists, venues, conversations happening after midnight and before soundcheck.

Some of it became interviews.

Some of it became photos.

Some of it turned into a zine.

Now it has a home.

MusicFit Underground.

An independent Calgary publication dedicated to the people building music culture from the ground up.

Not the industry headlines.

Not the algorithms.

The real scene. Fan-fuelled.

Built for this city’s artists by this city’s artists.

Inside the Underground you’ll find:

• artist features and interviews

• live show photo dumps

• scene dispatches from around the city

• playlists and conversations with musicians

• stories about the reality of building a creative life — both on and off the stage

And occasionally…

some weird stuff. 🤪

The Underground runs on a simple rhythm:

Weekly Dispatches from the scene

Afterhours live events

Quarterly zine drops

(Spring ‘26 submissions are open!) 👇🏼

Submit here!

and a growing community of artists and fans who actually care about Calgary music.

If you’re a musician, venue owner, photographer, or fan of local music…

You’re already part of the scene.

You’re welcome underground. 👇🏼

Subscribe

Subscribe to follow the dispatches.

See you out there.

⚡️ 🫡

The harmonica sang with just enough reverb to make the local shoegazers all jelly-fish... I felt my whole body fill up with electricity. The lights came up and that kick drum pounded my chest, awakening my ancestors in the process.

I laid witness to that gritty, “stomp-clap-hey” style the Aussies were notorious for and this room was going bonkers for it.

That moment was all the way back in 2018. I had just celebrated my birthday the week prior, and that intro to “Canopy” was the most anticipated part of my 31st trip around the sun. It slaps.
Canopy is written in Kim’s classic emotional refuge meets nature’s beauty lyrical style. A gritty take on life where it’s clear that instead of seeking an escape, it’s about finding a place — in nature, in love, or inside yourself — where the storm above you becomes manageable. What a bop.

The reason I write this is because that awesome looking photo up there was one of the first times it clicked for me.

That was one of the first Mickey Madness* moments I’ve always been a Rockumentarian — preserving music culture and spotlighting those who bring their A-game, each and every time they hit the stage.

Kim and I have grown close over the years (I pretty much fangirled for 15 years until he noticed me…lol) and he’d be the first to tell you how important life offline and in nature is to handle the stressors of the music industry. You gotta recharge the batteries.

So I put two and two together and came to the quick realization that I am in a place in my life where I feel ready to embrace all of the things that make me uniquely me. Everyone is going to have their opinions. I’m unable to affect that. Let them, I say.

Over the past year this newsletter has been evolving into something bigger than a blog or updates from Miketopia.

Between Sets is now becoming MusicFit Underground, a magazine and community exploring sustainable creative lives. (Rest assured… I’m keeping my column. It’ll be called Between Sets.)

Welcome to the Underground

Here you’ll find:

• artist interviews and show reviews

• conversations with scenesters, hosts, music fans… anyone passionate about helping build a sustainable music ecosystem

• stories of grit, leadership and overcoming adversity from the lens of rock n’ roll

• live performance/conversation hybrid events known as MusicFit Afterhours, our signature series)

• reflections on the creative life

If you care about creativity, culture, and the realities of sustaining artistic work, you’re in the right place. And sure, it’s starting in Calgary, and with your help soon enough who knows… maybe we’ll be worldwide…

More soon.

— Michael

*Mickey Madness is an alter-ego I use when I need to find the “Fight-Club-meets-Conor-McGregor” strength & energy to do hard things. Mickey’s my scene gremlin avatar. lol

P.S. Here’s “Canopy” performed by Kim on Mahogany:

If you’re anything like me, what follows the question, “what if” is traditionally something all doom and gloom like…

• “I forget the words”

• “Nobody cares”

• “I screw up”

• “They all make fun of me”

• “They don’t like/accept/love me…”

That last one hits. That’s what I realized was keeping me from the one thing I could be — myself. You may even have haunting memories of something similar. (I suspect if you have a soul, you have.)

It’s natural. Our subconscious mind is running the playbook afterall, and once I discovered that for myself after two decades of staying stuck in the same loop.. I decided to dedicate the rest of my life to helping others get out of their loops and rewrite the stories that had been keeping them from being the one thing they could be — themselves.

Today I ran into it again. Felt the body shut down. Slept through my alarm and missed my first appointment today… and instead of shaming myself I decided to take a curious look at what was going on under the hood.

Here’s what came up.

The Deeper Issue

What I’ve discovered this past (exhausting) week, I’m trying to fit in as a perfect solution to whatever perceived problems exist in the world. Sounds like a good thing on the surface, right? Well… if you’re anything like me, who can and has worn almost any hat and proven to be good enough to get by, that becomes a big distraction. Everything looks like a lane and constant switching becomes the habit your mind believes is your path. My last week has been a lot of minor tweaks to the overall plan, typically when something or someone new presents their problems. It’s exhausting. And my body just straight up told me no more when I woke up. Groggy. Fuzzy. Slight headache.

Heard. Loud and clear.

The Solution

After I wrote solution just now, I felt some resistance… “path forward” feels better in my soul. The trouble with solutions is that part of the way I operate best is through living and learning and passing it on, so a solution is actually more about me failing and learning from the take aways. As you can imagine, that takes some time…

Quick note* If you would like more information on how you best move through life, message me and I’ll connect you with my Human Design mentors. I’ve found HD incredibly helpful in navigating the day to day challenges and accepting the ways I am best received and I would be happy to help you feel more ease in your life too.

Here’s the thing… Today marks one week out of the cozy, yet draining commercial gym job that I took on for 6 months. While I had all the intention of hammering out ten conversations per day, I accumulated a measly five in total. That’s because I’m operating against my natural design. I’m not a hustler, not a pusher, certainly not a cold caller. I’ve learned all these skills as part of a decorated 25 year career in the people business across multiple industries, but holy moly does it ever wear me down.

I’m a lighthouse. I need an invitation into the lives of others in order to offer my gifts and if you’re a Splenic Projector too, you’ll feel this next line hard.

When I push upstream against the current, people tune me out. I might be pisces, but I’m not a strong swimmer. I do better guiding the ships to where they need to go. I hope you like the metaphor. It connects a lot of dots for me.

That said, I did one of my favourite exercises I’ve ever learned (and now teach) for how to get out of the loop, “What if…”.

Instead of what iffing all the worst-case scenarios, I think about what if it all works out? What if in an ideal situation, my crazy idea actually works? This is just one of the powers of language and how our mind processes information.

Anyway, I wrote what came to mind after those two words today and I’ve shared it below. Turns out, freewriting exposes what’s actually going on under the surface. That ocean of mine is deep and I’m starting to wonder if I had it all backwards this past week. Like, what would it look like if I was just me… doing and being the things that only I can be…? Here I am in the act:

Would love to hear what you would do next if you were in my shoes. Please comment your thoughts if you’re open to it below. Thanks for reading.

Leave a comment

Lately I’ve been sitting with a simple question:

What would happen if I did more things simply because I loved doing them?

No expectation.
No revenue target.
No strategy attached.

Just… the joy of doing the thing.

For a long time I’ve treated almost every idea like it needed to become something productive. A program. A workshop. A business model. A tour. Something that had to justify itself with results.

That mindset is useful in business.

It’s terrible for creativity.

And it’s even worse for culture.

If you’re an export-ready artist who would like support with building a sustainable creative career in the music industry, please subscribe to our newsletter below.

MusicFit Underground

MusicFit Underground is an artist-powered ecosystem built by artists for artists. We connect independent musicians with the people, tools, and structure needed to build sustainable careers in music with care, clarity, and integrity.

By Michael Schwartz

Because the truth is that most of the things we admire in music and art didn’t start as revenue strategies. They started as people gathering because it felt good to make something together.

Think about the scenes that changed culture:

Seattle grunge.
’90s skate punk.
Early hip-hop.
Indie folk collectives.
Jam bands.

None of those began as carefully engineered business plans.

They began with people saying:

“Let’s do cool stuff together.”

Basements.
Garages.
Warehouses.
Backyards.

Music first.
Money later.

The culture came before the commerce.

And once the culture was alive, the economy naturally formed around it.

That realization changed something for me.

Right now I’m building things that matter to me: coaching work, leadership programs, musician wellness, and a gathering of artists here in Calgary. Those things need structure. They need planning. They need to support themselves financially.

But they can’t be the only thing in my life.

Because if every creative impulse has to justify itself with a price tag, something important dies. The curiosity disappears. The play disappears. The weird ideas that might become something amazing never get the chance to breathe.

So I’m making a quiet shift.

Some things in my life will exist purely because they bring joy.

Music circles.
Jam sessions.
Creative experiments.
Small gatherings of artists.
Late-night ideas that don’t need a business plan.

No pressure.

Just people creating together.

Ironically, those are often the places where the best opportunities appear. Not because anyone was chasing them, but because real connection was happening.

Scenes grow around people who are clearly enjoying themselves.

And culture grows where pressure is low enough for creativity to move freely.

So this is a reminder for myself as much as it is for anyone reading this:

Not everything you do needs to become a product.

Some things exist simply because they make life richer.

And sometimes those are the very things that change everything.

Let me know what you are creating just for the joy of creating.

And if sh*t like this excites you, be sure to follow me and join the underground —> www.substack.musicfitunderground.com

Peace,

M

MusicFit Underground

MusicFit Underground is an artist-powered ecosystem built by artists for artists. We connect independent musicians with the people, tools, and structure needed to build sustainable careers in music with care, clarity, and integrity.

By Michael Schwartz

A lot of creative people are quietly carrying pain.

Not dramatic, not “emergency room” pain — the kind that just keeps taking little bites out of your work, your life and your soul 💀 :

• you sit down to create and your back lights up

• you hit flow… then your neck tightens and you stop

• your wrists/shoulders start shouting halfway through

It’s not that you’re broken.

It’s that your body has learned a pattern… and your creative life reinforces it every day.

So I’m opening 5 premium spots for an April start.

What we’ll do (simple, not mystical)

Over 6 weeks, we’ll build:

• a tiny daily reset you can do even on deadline weeks

• 3 weekly sessions that make you more resilient

• a feedback loop so you stop guessing what helps and what hurts

This isn’t “just stretch more.”

It’s a system. Like your creative practice.

Who I want in this

People who:

• will actually do the daily 8 minutes

• can be honest about constraints

• want to create more without paying for it later

Who I don’t want in this

If you’re looking for:

• a magic fix

• a plan you’ll ignore

• medical diagnosis/treatment
  this won’t be a fit.

Why I’m opening it now (even though we start in April)

Because I want the cohort set early… and I want to onboard you well.

And also… I’m turned 39 today… a few minutes ago at 12:24. Part of my commitment to myself is choosing how I walk through life.
This is me choosing the work I want to do: fewer people, better results, more care.

If you’re accepted, you start immediately (even before April)

You’ll get:

• onboarding + baseline

• a Week 0 setup plan

• your first “creator reset” protocol
  So April feels like momentum instead of a starting line.

Want one of the 5?

Reply to this email with CREATIVE and I’ll send the application + details.

5 spots. That’s it. Once they’re gone. They’re gone.

-Mike

P.S. Try it for 14 days — if you don’t feel clearer and better, you don’t pay. Reply CREATIVE to apply.

P.S.S. If you’re still on the fence (or just curious…) I made a video for my new website to explain how my process works… you can watch it here and get the jist… 👇

It came after I was sitting down with one of my most favourite humans in the whole world, a young man named Cam. I had the unpleasant responsibility to let him know that I would be unable to fulfill my part of the agreement we set out… I would be moving on from the role as his Personal Trainer at the end of the month… I had been dreading this conversation all week.

And something inside me also knew it was going to be okay… Cam’s cool. 😎

Here I was, expecting to crush a young man and dear friend’s feelings, lose their trust and have them hate me forever, when really, I was acting in integrity to everything I taught him for the past 6 months. Funny how I was so quick to “worst-case” things in my head.

Of course he handled it like a champ and expressed how he’ll miss our training… and went on to tell me how happy he was for me to be able to do what I really wanted to do, and we bumped fists and got into the session like usual.

I was so relieved. Clearly, I still hate feeling like I let someone down… a little story of mine that I get to explore more of…

Two things came to mind on the drive home that night…

1. Genuine people genuinely want the best for you… and

2. Why does everybody think their insecurity is unique?

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Artists think they’re broken and fragile.

Athletes think they’re under pressure.

Founders think they’re alone at the top.

Different stages. Same mindset.

Same internal friction:

Fear of exposure…

Fear of not being enough…

Fear of being seen without armour…

The costume changes.

A microphone.

A jersey.

A boardroom table.

Remove the costume and you’ll find the same thing:

A human operating under immense load.

This is where most leadership conversations miss the mark.

They try to build confidence.

Confidence is volatile.

Capacity is structural.

Creativity training matters because it teaches you to operate under constraint.

To collaborate under tension.

To make decisions without certainty.

To express clearly when pressure rises.

That builds something deeper than confidence.

It builds capacity.

And capacity scales.

The next time you walk into a situation where you’re uncertain about the outcome, even worried it’ll go south… I implore you to embrace that feeling.

The world is going to be much more harsh to you if you continually avoid the things that make you most vulnerable and insecure.

Might as well get some reps in. Do the hard thing. And stop waiting for someone else’s permission. More on that later…

Thanks Cam. You’re wise beyond your years.

Right behind me, there was this lovely family from Sydney who were visiting Canada for the Rockies (classic! 🏔️ ). Two rows behind them, a mom and her young child. The kid was miserable. Ugly crying. No, that’s far too understated. This child was screaming like a banshee in the middle of the night. It was simply stunning the pitch this kid was hitting. I thought to myself “holy f… this is gonna be a long, long flight…”

I earned a lot from that experience. Of course as a disclaimer, check all this stuff out with your trusted healthcare practitioner…

• Melatonin can knock your socks off...

• Avoid drinking wine on long flights (headaches, air pressure… emotions elevated by screaming kids… and maybe the most important,

• How irritable I was because of something so silly; lack of sleep.

I’ve been on teams where I’ve seen this too:

The coach loses his sh**t in the dressing room.

The manager rips a new one in an employee for missing a deadline…

The bassist quits the band… just ‘cause… (bass players…)

I got to thinking…

Leadership runs on capacity.

Capacity is built in recovery.

Sleep is the primary recovery lever.

This is physiology. It is measurable. It is structural.

Leadership Is Neurological Work

Leaders manage:

• Strategic decisions

• Emotional tone

• Conflict resolution

• Risk calibration

• Long-range planning

All of these functions rely heavily on the prefrontal cortex.

Research from Harvard Medical School and the University of Pennsylvania shows that sleep restriction impairs executive function, working memory, and cognitive flexibility after even one night of reduced sleep.

A study published in Sleep found that participants limited to 6 hours of sleep for two weeks performed at cognitive levels comparable to being legally intoxicated.

Executive function governs:

• Impulse control

• Emotional restraint

• Complex reasoning

• Decision speed

Sleep restores executive capacity.

Sleep and Emotional Regulation

A landmark study from UC Berkeley demonstrated that sleep deprivation increases amygdala reactivity by up to 60%.

The amygdala governs emotional threat detection.

In leadership terms, this translates to:

• Increased irritability

• Heightened defensiveness

• Reduced tolerance for ambiguity

• Faster escalation during conflict

Teams mirror the nervous system of the leader. (I imagine this had at least something to do with the airplane kid and his mom…)

Emotional tone is contagious.

Recovery stabilizes tone.

Decision Velocity and Sleep

A 2016 RAND Corporation report estimated that sleep deprivation costs the U.S. economy up to $411 billion annually in lost productivity.

At the individual level, insufficient sleep is associated with:

• Slower decision-making

• Increased error rates

• Reduced problem-solving accuracy

• Higher workplace accidents

In performance environments — sport, music, business — error density compounds under fatigue.

Sleep protects decision velocity.

Immune Function and Absenteeism

Research from Carnegie Mellon University found that individuals sleeping fewer than 6 hours per night were over four times more likely to develop a cold when exposed to a virus compared to those sleeping 7+ hours.

Sleep supports:

• Immune regulation

• Hormonal balance

• Inflammation control

Reduced immune resilience influences sick days.

Sick days influence operational continuity.

Recovery influences reliability.

The Capacity Loop

High performance follows a repeatable cycle:

Regulate → Recover → Load → Integrate → Repeat

Sleep anchors recovery.

Recovery expands cognitive and emotional capacity.

Expanded capacity increases load tolerance.

Integrated load becomes growth.

This loop applies equally to:

• Founders

• Athletes

• Musicians

• Executive teams

Different roles. Same biology.

Structural Audit for Leaders

Before adjusting strategy, review:

1. Average nightly sleep duration

2. Sleep consistency across the week

3. Evening cognitive stimulation

4. Weekly decision density

The National Sleep Foundation recommends 7–9 hours for adults. Performance studies consistently show cognitive decline below 7 hours.

I know. I’m living proof. This is what my WHOOP (my performance tracking wearable) data shows me. Sleep is simply non-negotiable.

Over the last two months, my best leadership days have a very specific physiological fingerprint. On those mornings, my WHOOP Recovery is in the green (typically 80–90%), my overnight HRV sits around 110–130 ms, and my resting heart rate drops into the mid‑40s. Those are the days my calendar is stacked with what I’d call “leadership work”: four to six hours of coaching and strategy calls, long-form writing, and extended journaling blocks. In my journal on those days I routinely tag “flow state,” log high energy, and note that I felt socially fulfilled. Same job, same calendar… and a very different nervous system running it.

Good Sleep = Information

A single high-quality night of sleep reliably shows up in my data as a “leadership day” the next day. For example, on January 4th I slept 8 hours and 41 minutes out of 8 hours and 48 minutes needed, with 95% sleep efficiency and almost no physiological stress during sleep. WHOOP scored that night’s Sleep Performance at 92% and my Recovery at 89%, with an HRV of 110 ms and a resting heart rate of 48 bpm. That same day I did 65 minutes of deep journaling, hit my Zone 2 aerobic work, and still had the bandwidth for meaningful social time and spiritual practice. I had more patience, more nuance, and more “coach brain” available.

Bad Sleep = Information

The contrast is just as clear on the bad nights. On December 30th, I slept 5 hours and 34 minutes when my body needed about 9 hours and 23 minutes. Sleep Performance was only 60%, and WHOOP flagged 54 minutes of high physiological stress during that sleep. The next morning my Recovery dropped to 14%, my HRV fell to 49 ms, and my resting heart rate jumped to 59 bpm. I still showed up for coaching and even got a walk and sauna in…and I felt like that day was more about surviving my schedule, instead of leading through it. Email got done. Big thinking did not.

What’s been more important than a single heroic night is rhythm. In the week of January 6–11, my sleep–wake times were within about an hour of each other most nights; WHOOP scored my Sleep Consistency in the 80% range and my Sleep Performance above 80% almost every night. During that same stretch my Recovery averaged in the high 70s to high 80s, HRV lived in triple digits, and my calendar was full of multi-hour client calls, offer building, and long-form writing. The data matches the subjective experience: when my sleep is consistent, I feel like I’m steering the week instead of hanging on.

One thing WHOOP has made uncomfortably obvious is that my non‑exercise stress is high even on “normal” days: it’s common for me to log four to eight hours of high stress from coaching, content, and decision-making alone. The difference is what happens overnight. When I sleep well—high Sleep Performance, high consistency, and green Recovery—my nervous system can hold that load as clarity, presence, and creative output. When Sleep Performance sinks into the 60–70% range and Recovery drops into yellow or red, the same amount of stress shows up as reactivity, brain fog, and shallow work. Same inputs, different leadership capacity.

At this point I use a very simple rule of thumb: for me, “sleep as a leadership skill” looks like Sleep Performance above about 85%, Sleep Consistency above about 80%, and a green WHOOP Recovery with HRV over 110 ms and resting heart rate in the mid‑40s. When those boxes are ticked, I can reliably plan deep work, hard conversations, and high-stakes coaching. When they’re not, I don’t pretend I’m the same leader. I deliberately ratchet down the ambition of the day.

Forget indulgence.

Sleep is infrastructure.

Leadership Stability

Authority reflects regulation.

Regulation reflects recovery.

Recovery begins with sleep.

A leader’s nervous system sets cultural tone.

Stable leaders build stable teams.

Performance compounds through structure.

Sleep belongs inside performance architecture.

And the only thing worse than a 22 hour flight, with some kid screaming bloody murder two rows behind you is a 22 hour flight, with some kid screaming bloody murder two rows behind AND you not sleeping for 3 days.

I’d invite you to start paying closer attention to your sleep hygiene. It’s the best exercise.

And I’m feeling it.

This one’s hard, guys. I was sitting there watching the game just like you, saw Makar stumble after McDavid tried to end it and watched the odd-man rush develop. My heart sank when the twine snapped. It was over. Just like that…

Yep. I felt it alright.

That tight chest.
That national pride hit.
That “we” feeling.

And… here’s the reminder:

We didn’t* lose.

They did.

We didn’t* take a shot.
We didn’t* miss a pass.

Or two gaping 6x4’s…

Or 8 men on the ice for USA… what a blown call…

And we certainly didn’t* turn over the puck.

We watched. And that was easily the best hockey I’ve ever watched.

So what’s that worth? There’s gotta be something there…

Somewhere along the way, especially in this country, we started fusing our identity to the jersey. When the team wins, we feel elevated. When the team loses, we feel diminished.

That’s a heavy thing to carry.

Let players carry their win.
Let players carry their loss.

Carry your own life.

It had nothing to do with politics.
Nothing to do with national worth.
Nothing to do with who we are as people. As Canadians.

It was a game.

A brutal, beautiful, high-pressure game.

You can sit in the well and spiral it into something bigger.

Or you can let it be what it is.

A wake-up.

Competition is tight at the top.
Margins are thin.
Outcomes swing.

That’s sport.
That’s business.
That’s life.

We knew it would come down to inches anyway.

So lift some weights.
Go for a skate.
Call a friend.
Build something.

Remember why we play games.

Joy.
Challenge.
Community. It was a nice touch from the Americans with the Johnny Hockey lap… congrats boys, well deserved.

Today, I am reminded of a phrase I often use in my coaching practice, seems fitting here…

“It happened.”

And it’s okay.

Get ‘em next time.

With love, boys. Thanks for playing your asses off.

- M

• One can’t sleep.

• One is always injured.

• One catches every bug that goes around.

• One feels groggy, flat, anxious, or snappy for no reason.

• One has the stubborn cough that just… hangs on.

Different case studies. Same root problem.

Recovery is missing. Especially sleep. And when recovery is missing, the body fails to have the capacity to handle life + training + stress + “one more thing.”

This is crash culture: do, do, do… then wonder why the wheels fall off.

The model: Load vs Capacity (why you keep “randomly” breaking)

Think of your day like stacking boxes on your system: work stress, training, parenting, caffeine, screens, scrolling, under-eating, under-hydrating, deadlines, worry. Those boxes are load.

Your body has a dotted line known as capacity. That’s what it can handle before something becomes a problem. When load consistently rises above capacity, you don’t get “more resilient”… you get symptoms.

And here’s the part most people miss: the recovery box is the base. Sleep, nutrition/hydration, and stress management determine whether you’re in build-up mode or break-down mode.

So the last rep didn’t “cause” the injury.
The last late night didn’t “cause” the insomnia.
That last exposure didn’t “cause” the illness.

Those were the final straw on an overloaded system.

Your “internal doctor” needs resources

Your body is always trying to solve problems: repair tissue, regulate hormones, coordinate immune function, calm inflammation, stabilize mood.

But it’s unable to do that on a shoestring budget.

When sleep is short or fragmented, you’re basically telling your internal doctor:
“Here’s a bigger to-do list. Oh and… I’m also cutting your staff and your funding. Good luck.”

That’s allostatic load in plain language: the accumulated cost of chronic stress + inadequate recovery. When it’s high, symptoms appear wherever your weak link is.

The hierarchy is a honey badger… it don’t care about your goals

This is the hard truth:

If recovery is low, everything above it suffers.

Active Life’s hierarchy is brutally simple:

1. Recovery & capacity balance (sleep, diet, stress)

2. Flexibility (passive range of motion)

3. Mobility (active range of motion)

4. Strength imbalance

5. Skill

If you’re trying to “out-train” poor recovery with more intensity, more supplements, more hacks, more grit… you’re building a penthouse on wet cardboard.

The 7-day “No $1000 therapy bill” reset (high value, low drama)

Forget the personality transplant. You need a system.

1) Protect a sleep window (non-negotiable)

Pick an 8-hour window and defend it for 7 days.

• Same wake time every day.

• If bedtime varies, keep wake time locked anyway.

If you only do one thing, do this. Consistency is the lever.

2) Cut the two biggest sleep thieves

Choose one from each category for 7 days:

• Stimulation: no screens 45 minutes before bed or blue-light blockers + dim lights + no work.

• Chemistry: no caffeine after 10 hours before bedtime or no alcohol on weekdays.

Not forever. Just 7 days to reduce allostatic load.

3) Downshift the nervous system (3 minutes)

Right before bed:

• Inhale 4 seconds through the nose

• Exhale 6 seconds through the mouth

• Repeat for 3 minutes

Longer exhale turns your rest+digest system (parasympathetic) on. You’re telling the system: “We’re safe now. Repair mode.”

4) Trade intensity for capacity (temporarily)

If you’re under-recovered, the answer is to stop “pushing harder.”
Do smaller, repeatable doses that you can recover from.

Swap 1–2 high-intensity sessions this week for:

• Zone 2 easy cycling / incline walk

• Carries

• Crawls

• Rotational, elastic patterns (think rope flow, steel mace anything with coiling, or spiraling)

Rather than thinking you have to stop movement, think of it like training the base so you can do more later without crashing.

How you’ll know it’s working (fast)

Within 7–14 days, most people notice:

• Falling asleep faster

• Less “wired-tired” at night

• Better morning clarity

• Fewer flare-ups and nagging pain spikes

• Less irritability and fewer cravings

• Better training consistency (because you stop getting derailed)

The punchline

Crash culture says: “more is better.”

Reality says: more is more. better is better.

Stop thinking that you have to do less forever.
The goal is to build capacity so your life stops costing you your health.

If your symptoms keep changing shape, stop chasing symptoms.

Shrink the recovery box first.

-M

ps.

Thought this was good? Share it with your most burnout pal. They’ll prob hate you for a minute and then they’ll love you for helping them out. Tuff love.

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pss.

If YOU wanna learn how my Performance Infrastructure could work to help get your out of the Burnout Loop, join me for an up-skill workshop on March 1st at 11:11am MST… to make sure you get the invite, click below. 👇🏼 📧

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Now… where were we? Right, girl goes down with what looked like a blown back… and if you saw her face… you’d know — this was serious. 😬

Clearly in pain, she started cleaning the weights from the hip thrust machine she was on and asked a nearby member to help her ‘cause she couldn’t lift any weight.

Not to call EMS…

Not to help her…

But to help her clean the machine she just blew her back on…

That’s when I stepped in.

With the help of the first person I saw, one of my staff on duty, we cleared her pain, made sure there was no risk to moving her and got her safely off her feet, on her back and made the call to emergency.

So… Why should you care?

The scary truth? This happens more than I’d like to admit in a commercial gym. People have no idea what they’re doing on machines and with the help of the “well-meaning” instagram influencer crowd, more and more people are getting injured doing sh*t they’ve got no business doing. If I had not been there, no one else seemed to care, recognize the potential spinal injury she just incurred and she would have continued to try to clean the machine, walk to her locker and try to drive home… likely collapsing somewhere along the way as her body shut down. Could have been real bad. Real, real bad.

Let’s get this out of the way first.

It was not the exercise that blew her back out. Nope. Not the machine either. WHAT!? But how…?

Well…

If you’re tired all the time…
If your motivation comes in short, unreliable bursts…
If you bounce between that weird liminal space of super intensity and complete collapse…

I’ve been there.

And… You’re not* lazy.

You’re burnt the f*** out.

And the worst part?
Most of the world will gaslight you into thinking it’s a character flaw.

F**k ‘em.

Burnout Isn’t a Personal Failure

It’s a Systems Failure

Laziness is consistent avoidance.
Burnout is inconsistent capacity.

Burnt-out people want to do meaningful work.
They just can’t access their energy on demand anymore.

Why?

Because they’re stuck inside what I call the Burnout Loop.

The Burnout Loop 🔁

It usually looks like this:

1. Overstimulate
   Caffeine. Screens. Noise. Deadlines. Dopamine.

2. Overperform
   Push harder. Say yes. Rely on intensity instead of building capacity.

3. Override Signals
   Ignore pain, fatigue, bad sleep, irritability, brain fog.

4. Crash + Cope
   Exhaustion. Injury. Numb scrolling. Binging. Shutdown.

5. Guilt + Reboot
   “I’ll do better Monday.”
   New plan. New routine. Same system.

Then the loop restarts—usually faster than before.

This is less about being a motivation problem.
It’s more about being a mismanaged nervous system inside a culture that rewards self-abandonment.

Welcome to Crash Culture

We live in a world that praises output and ignores cost.

A culture that treats:

• rest as weakness

• sensitivity as fragility

• recovery as indulgence

Crash Culture doesn’t ask how you’re producing.
It only asks if you are.

And when your body finally taps out?

You’re told to:

• optimize harder

• push through

• “just be more disciplined”

That advice keeps people stuck in the loop.

Why Rest Alone Doesn’t Fix Burnout

Here’s the trap:

Burnt-out people don’t need more rest.
They need better recovery architecture.

Sleep helps.
Vacations help.
Days off help.

But if you return to the same load, the same pace, the same identity built around pushing…

The crash just comes back.

Burnout doesn’t end when you stop.
It ends when your system changes.

Recovery Isn’t Doing Less

It’s Reordering the System

Recovery-first work flips the sequence:

• regulate the nervous system first

• rebuild capacity intentionally

• reintroduce load gradually

• protect focus and boundaries

• design weeks that don’t require hero mode

This is sustainability. And I’m sick and tired of the BS influencer-culture pushes back on this calling it “soft”. F**k ‘em too.

High performers burn out because they care without containment.

The Lie That Keeps People Stuck

The most dangerous belief I see is this:

“Once things calm down, I’ll take care of myself.”

Things don’t calm down.

Life expands to match your tolerance for chaos.

If your system only works under pressure, pressure becomes permanent.

That’s how capable people slowly lose access to their creativity, clarity, and joy—while still “functioning.”

A Different Way Forward

If this hits, let me say this clearly, negations acknowledged:

You don’t need more motivation.
You don’t need another productivity system.
You don’t need to try harder.

You need:

• your signals back

• your sleep back

• your consistency back

• a way of working that doesn’t cost your body

That starts by breaking the burnout loop.

Quietly. Intentionally. Without drama.

A Soft Invitation

I’m exploring this work publicly through writing, conversations, and private recovery architecture for people who are done living in Crash Culture.

It’s for those who wanna hurt less and live more. If that’s you, let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear what one thing you’re willing to ease up on to get out of the loop…

More soon.

Much love

M

—
PSsst.You’re not lazy.
You’re exhausted for a reason.

Specialists price like operators: outcomes × structure × local affordability.

Here’s the clean “city-indexed” anchor I use.

The Model

We index your rate to your city’s mean household income, then allocate a small, intentional slice of monthly household income to coaching outcomes.

Rate per session = (Monthly mean household income × Allocation %) ÷ Sessions per month

When you see allocation % in the calculator, read it like this:

“If a household earns about $X per month in my city, what percentage of that monthly income would a serious person reasonably allocate to solving this problem?”

It’s a pricing anchor based on:

• local earning context (city mean household income)

• problem importance (pain, performance, longevity, confidence)

• your role (trainer vs specialist vs high-touch guide)

• how you deliver results (session time + plan + support between sessions)

A simple way to choose the %

Use these as starting points:

• 2% (Standard coaching): accountability + training sessions, lighter outside support

• 3% (Specialist): assessment-led + a clear plan + measurable outcomes

• 3.5% (Premium specialist): higher stakes outcomes, more precision, more “between sessions” support

• 4–5% (High-touch): only if your delivery genuinely includes deeper support, faster iteration, and tighter guidance

Why this isn’t “hourly”

Allocation % creates a monthly outcomes budget first. Then you decide how many sessions/month you need to deliver the result. That’s why a specialist can run 2 sessions/month and still price appropriately—because the value is the system and outcome, not minutes.

Rule of thumb:

If you raise the allocation %, you’re claiming greater outcome responsibility. Your delivery has to match.

Calgary calibration (the benchmark)

Using Calgary mean household income ≈ $131,600/year:

• Monthly mean household income = 131,600 ÷ 12 = $10,966.67

• Premium Specialist allocation = 3.5%

• Sessions per month = 2

Rate = (10,966.67 × 0.035) ÷ 2 = $191.9 → ≈ $190/session

That’s the anchor: specialist pricing based on results + structure, not time.

How to use it

• If you’re running a true specialist model (assessment + plan + async support), 2 sessions/month is enough to justify a higher per-session number.

• If you want more contact, increase sessions/month and decide whether allocation % stays the same or rises. (refer to the guide above if you’re unsure or shoot me a message and let’s have a chat about what tier you fall under and what you need to do in order to level up. 👇

Your turn

I built a Google Sheet for you. You can enter:

• your city’s mean household income

• your specialization level (allocation %)

• sessions/month

…and it outputs your specialist rate + results-driven pricing.

Template link: Get your Rate Calculator Here
(Use File → Make a copy)

Landed in San Fran, two hours behind schedule…mapped out my commute from the airport to my hostel… and started on my way. With plain old naivety on my side, I made a few bad decisions, and ended up strolling nonchalantly right through the “Tenderloin…” one of the roughest neighbourhoods in America I later learned… uncertain how I navigated right down the middle without any problems, let alone my life… but that’s a story for another time…

I made my way to my room, unpacked and got ready. I had just enough time to hop a train and head over to the other side of the Bay for the Oakland A’s game… the fog delayed my flight so I missed the Giants in the afternoon… oh well. I was in America and going to my first ball game. Again, another story for another time…

Class was bright and early, and I figured one way to save money on my journey to the hotel (nowhere near the tenderloin). Subway had a deal for the rest of the month for a $5 footlong… with the exchange, it was like 8 bucks Canadian and I could stomach that, literally. I split a breakfast sub on whole grain for each of the three days of class between breakfast and lunch and still had enough to grab a coffee. Perfect.

Got to the hotel. Sat down, sipping the pipin’ hot coffee and this oddly buff but artsy looking dude in a CHEK polo strolled in, and tucked his long ginger hair behind his ears, looks around the room, and waits for everyone’s attention. We’re all leaning in. He was magnetic. Once he’s got the room, he states what might be the most powerful openers I’ve ever heard. Still to this day. Not sure it could be topped.

“My name is JP, and the first thing I wanna let y’all know is that I know absolutely nothing at all.”

Now…I’ve trained in a lot of gyms.
And I’ve learned something simple:

There are two kinds of coaches.

The ones with all the answers…
and the ones with a few good questions.

They can look the same at first.
Same water bottle. Same smile. Same clipboard. Same confidence.

Let me tell you though, they build two very different rooms.

Coach One: The Answer Guy

You know this guy.

“This is what real athletes do.”
“This is the program.”
“If it hurts, that means it’s working.”

Someone says,
“Hey, that didn’t feel right in my shoulder.”

Coach says,
“No, that’s proper form. Here’s why.”

Another athlete says,
“I’m not sure if this is how I want to train...”

Coach explains the theory again.

Louder.

This gym produces:
• people who follow
• people who stop asking
• people who quietly override their own signals

The coach believes challenge equals growth.
What he actually practices is correction over curiosity.

Over time, the room gets quieter because everyone learns what’s safe to say.

It’s bullshit. It’s stupid. And I know this coach very well. I used to be him.

Coach Two: The Veteran

Still strong.
Still disciplined.
Still believes in standards.

And when someone says,
“That felt off,”
he asks:

“Where did you feel it?”
“What part felt off?”
“What are you noticing?”

When an athlete questions the program,
he refrains from defending the program.

He listens to the athlete.

This gym produces:
• agency
• trust
• athletes who know their own bodies

Same belief: challenge equals growth.
Different posture: questions before conclusions.

This room gets fuller over time.
Not louder.
More alive.

Teams Work the Same Way

You can tell what kind of team you’re on by one thing:

What happens when someone speaks up?

If the response is:
• explanation
• correction
• diagnosis

That team is training compliance.

If the response is:
• curiosity
• inquiry
• reflection

That team is training self-leadership.

The Quiet Trap of Being “Right”

A room can be:
technically accurate
philosophically sound

…and still closed.

Accuracy without curiosity feels like authority.
Truth without consent feels like control.

And people leave because they feel voiceless and unheard. Very rarely is it about a disagreement. They’re views are simply unwanted.

What I Look For Now

The best coaches I’ve known:
don’t define what a “real” athlete is
don’t shame people into form
don’t confuse certainty with safety

They build rooms where:
questions pull
everyone’s trusted to put their own pants on
and growth belongs to the human who wants it.

What JP did in San Fran stuck with me… and for this reason. He taught by example… that the greatest teachers are those who are willing to learn. They ask questions and enter any situation as a white belt. And yes… my very first coach was JP Sears. The now world-famous comedian. He was funny as shit back then too… again, another story, for another time…

My Friday Thought

Bad coaches have all the answers.
Good coaches have a few good questions.

Inexperienced leadership builds alignment.
Veteran leadership builds agency.

The gym I want to train in
and the team I want to be part of
feels more like a conversation
than a command.

That’s my kind of workout.

What do you think?

What your best/worst coaching experience? What made it that way?

Leave a comment below.

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Ps. I’m crafting up some killer offers in my founders forum. Why? Well, because I think world-class coaches get stuck in low-class systems and it sucks the life from them. The people out there helping others get healthier are often the ones sacrificing their own health. I did it. It sucked. I’ve since spent the last decade flipping the script and built multiple “recovery-first” business models both inside the big box and outside. These principles apply to anyone in the people business too, I just happen to specialize with world-class coaches and practitioners who feel stuck in the low-class, commercial systems. Consider becoming a Founder of Stage Left, my founders forum, and get immediate access to my first 5 part self-study called “The 30-Day Breakaway… Here’s a quick preview… 👀

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pps. or if you know a coach who should, share this post with them.

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ppps. It’s Bandcamp Friday. Which means artists get all the proceeds from all sales made on Bandcamp. Here’s a link to a plant-powered, sleepy album I made with the help of my dear friend, Megan Pomarensky. Pay what you want, if you want. We love you either way. 👇

Sleep Deeper, check out the plant-tunes!

We’ve finished a long day on the floor at Sunridge World Health and decided to catch a late showing of 300 after a big lift.

Bunch of dude sweat…

I remember barely being able to wash my hair in the shower, my arms were so sore… lol

The lights go down.

The shields rise.

Aside from being just a really cool cinematic movie for its time, there’s one scene that stands out to me.

It’s the scene where King Leonidas has to explain to the crippled Ephialtes why he’s unfit for the job.

The strength of the Spartan army was the phalanx. They each protected the man to their left, thigh to shoulder…

I look over to the guys beside me and remember thinking,

“That’s us.”

Back then, we called ourselves the core four.

We trained together.

We shared clients.

We trained together.

We talked through hard days.

When one of us felt stretched, someone else stepped up.

The movie keeps going…

Persians, in the millions are descending down on Sparta… it’s a full war.

And the small contingent of 300 Spartans hold up.

But, how?

Sitting there, I recognize something I’ve already seen on the gym floor.

Teams grow strong through shared structure.

People stay steady through connection.

Work carries weight when it moves through a system instead of landing on one set of shoulders.

Leaders who take brave action, inspire their teams and in doing so, prepare them for all the wild shit that could happen.

Over the years, I’ve seen the same pattern in businesses, bands, teams and families.

Health shapes attention.

Work shapes time.

Relationships shape tone.

When these parts move together, effort becomes coordinated.

Life takes on shape.

Decisions arrive with clarity. We’re able to focus.

Sustainable work comes from integration. We’re able to create.

And that creation comes from connection.

Structure shapes action.

Connection guides movement.

That night in the theatre, I learned the language of something I had already been living:

A system creates when its parts stay in relationship.

And every day since, I keep an eye on the line.