Today we continue our series of short Dispatches from the Workbench: updates on decisions, things I’m trying, and invitations I’m sharing.
In today’s Dispatch:
There are two kinds of lonely
You’re one conversation from revelation
What’s changing with the Order and why you’re actually not invited
There are two kinds of lonely. The first is isolation, the ache we all feel for good company. The second is the loneliness of being counter-cultural.
It is the exhaustion of being entrenched in a world that has optimised every last inch of life for profit. Our feeds, overrun by content created by machines, people who have traded their souls for tactics that promise wealth and glory, on platforms that have welcomed velocity, outrage, and certainty into the black and beating heart of their business model.
You are literally a voice in the desert.
And it was Monday’s call with the Order of Unremarkable Creators that opened my eyes.
We had a deep, and for some painful, conversation. Those who gather in that room know who they are: people called to challenge the system. And they experience a heavy sort of shame: holding space for the individual isn’t enough to change the world.
Except that it is.
We have two paths before us. One is paved, maintained, and inviting. It’s the one the system wants us to walk, where we can be categorised, sold to, and kept in service of the machine. There is no question it cannot answer.
The other is a ragged, narrow way. Overgrown and uneven, it makes no promises, and is full of risk. You’d barely know it was there if you didn’t care to look. Few find it, fewer still choose it. Even though there is no truth it cannot find.
Here’s the thing. If we don’t choose the narrow way, who will? Your first step is the only reason someone else can follow.
My narrow path is teaching me something about permission. Over the years, I have anticipated people’s judgement, so I’ve censored myself to make my message more palatable. The faith that once defined me among them. But through the Order, the wild man I’ve silenced is rediscovering his lungs.
On Monday, he had his say: Jesus didn’t need to go to war with the Romans because the alternative that people were witnessing in his ministry was so fucking unreal that it spread like wildfire. He touched the leper.
The leper was someone to fear. To touch the untouchable made you untouchable too, an act of social suicide. I’m not saying Jesus didn’t resist the empire of his time, but he did it by doing the thing no one else had the courage to do.
The burnout that comes from trying to take on something huge and systemic is real. What you’re experiencing is the soul-shredding way the current empire operates. But the thing that will spread like wildfire isn’t a clever argument. It’s the radical alternative.
So what would you do if you let your courage lead?
Now, I’m not suggesting we retreat into the shadows and burn down our social presence. The people already looking for the servant in you need some way to find them. In that sense, there is a creative tax to pay. But give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and be damn sure to show up on your own terms.
Not by measuring your metrics, but by reaching out and touching somebody.
I mean this quite literally. Leave the audience, the 99, and look for the abundance of one. Find them, send them a message, and let them know that you see them. And that they are not alone.
We will never challenge the system if we don’t serve the person. And nothing that we do or say matters if we’re not in real-world contact with the people who need us. Otherwise it’s just an opinion.
God knows we don’t need another one of those.
Monday wasn’t a conversation, it was a revelation. The group found something together that none of us would have reached alone. And that’s why the Order is changing.
I knew I wanted the Order to meet the isolation we feel and ignite the spark we hold, but it’s only the journey I’ve taken with this small group, who’ve become great friends, that’s revealed what that really means.
It’s a fellowship for those with the courage to outserve the empire and the will to discover how, together. It’s not a group chat for people who just need a friend.
And you’re not invited. For now.
I’ve made the decision to operate on an invite-only basis until January 2027, or until we reach 20 members. This is not my community, it’s a fellowship I belong to, and we shape it together. If I reach out to you in the coming weeks and months to join, it’s because I believe you’ll bring a specific challenge we need, and you’ll be willing to help shape the Order so we’re as ready as we can be to welcome the members who need us.
No one will be excluded based on what they do. They will be included based on how they choose to operate. When you join you’ll find yourself in good company: people who make the pressure of the empire irrelevant by embracing the radical alternative they offer.
And if you’re reading this and have an itch that says ‘hey, this is for me right now’, don’t ignore it. Let’s talk about what you’d bring. Email me at dan@unremarkable.co. Just be aware that the timing needs to be right for both of us.
Today, let me leave you with this thought.
I’ve spent too many years playing it safe. Trying to sound smart, playing by the empire’s rules, and ducking the slow but reality-shifting work of one-to-one contact.
I wish I’d realised sooner that no one needed my polish.
They needed the wild man in the desert and footsteps to follow.
Like yours, my imperfection is what makes me worth hearing.
So look to the desert. You’ll find me there, howling at the top of my lungs.
Be well my friends, speak again soon,
Dan
My heartfelt thanks to Michael Mirza, Rebecca Hawkins, Mark Dilcom, and Justin Foster. Without your wisdom, friendship, and vulnerability, I couldn’t have found this path. Our best work is found, not chosen, and you are my testimony.
Each of you has started a campfire. I will do what I can to fan the flames.
