The Trouble With Measuring Your Life (And Business) Too Closely
The Soulpreneur Series Free Issue No. 34
You may not know what you’re chasing—only that something’s off.
Like you’re doing all the right things, but still slightly off-course.
Do you sometimes feel like you are living slightly beside yourself?
Things get done, but you still feel restless.
Still waiting, but unsure for what?
We tell ourselves or get told by others on social media, that the answer is simple… It’s just “consistency”!
Or a clearer Vision.
Or purpose.
Or a better system
Or more cold outreach…
Or, it can be found in six easy modules (for $199).
But our souls don’t move in straight lines— neither does personal meaning. And they certainly don’t care about your productivity, output, or follower count.
More Metrics Myths
The Creator Economy is obsessed with more. The metrics of more.
More subscribers. More followers. More measurable reach.
Visibility is a virtue, suggests some prolific myths.
Some deeper, peddled illusions?
If you just post enough, write enough, and show up enough— you’ll eventually build a thriving, successful business.
That one person—maybe you—can change the whole game. Be the next breakout. The next story people quote in case studies or on CNBC.
We’re sold a story that visibility equals impact, and scaling up is proof of success.
However, most of this is built on several biases.
Focusing Illusion
One of these — psychologists call it the focusing illusion.
When you shine a light on one area of life, it begins to dominate your mental landscape.
You become convinced everything depends on it, that your identity rides on engagement rates.
And that your worth, progress, and success are whatever the internet reflects back to you on any given day (in coloured line graphs and updated counts).
If you are caught in this, shine the light elsewhere. Move your focus elsewhere.
Intentional Stance
There’s also intentional stance, a bias suggesting significant changes occur because one specific individual willed it into existence.
Without Steve Jobs, no iPhone.
Without Musk, no SpaceX or Tesla.
Without you, this whole corner of the internet may collapse!
For many, it’s a comforting thought. But it’s an exaggerated one. And, false.
Most significant events, shifts, and movements aren’t the result of a single visionary. They’re messy. Deeply enmeshed with the past, including the work of others.
Einstein didn’t develop the theory of relativity in a flash of genius. It was built on years of other people’s (and his own) work. While he developed it, he worked in a patent office.
Big events and breakthroughs are interconnected with the past. They’re full of contradictions and interpretations, plus some luck and timing.
Even the stories we tell about them are cleaned up in hindsight.
For example, despite Einstein’s brilliance in several breakthrough theories, he spent the last 30 years of his life trying to devise theories which never came to much…
And yet, this myth of singular, scaled influence (like Einstein, or Benjamin Franklin, or Ghandi-even) still drives many creatives to try and build things unaligned with themselves.
The myth isn’t just that one person changes everything. It’s the glorified myth that everyone should. Which quietly turns meaningful work into a ridiculous performative false destiny.
Biases like the ones above shape perception, as well as how we build and what we believe we must become. But those stories aren’t ours.
The Machine of Perceptions
I’ve done some of this in the past.
For example, taken on work because it “moved the needle.” Agreed to projects because they were visible, not because they were right.
At the time, it felt “strategic.” In hindsight, it was reactive—a way to feed the perception machines.
Somewhere along the way, I must have stopped asking:
What’s useful? What’s sustainable? What’s mine?
And probably started asking:
How do I get more eyes?
How do I match the pace of others?
How do I not fall behind in a race (I never agreed to participate in)?
The answers to the above are predictable.
Make more. Move faster. Be everywhere.
But that’s how erosion works. Not in a single collapse—but in tiny, almost invisible shifts.
It starts with just one compromise: one project that doesn’t feel right but looks good. One “just this once” agreement to work you don’t believe in—one week where increasing your metrics feels more real than your authentic self.
These sorts of slips don’t break you. They wear you down.
Quietly. Gradually. Strategically.
[We have a cat like this — she’s 13 years old and Relentless when she needs something]
The problem with a business operating this way is it runs on perceptions. False ones. Ones not your own — instead of purpose and meaning (defined and lived by you).
My Creative Enterprises
I don’t run my businesses to scale them. I run them to stay rooted. Translating to fewer projects but ones with deeper meaning.
It means resisting the pressure to chase what’s trending.
It means treating my attention like a precious resource.
It means letting go of certain myths.
Like the myth, I can plan my way to certainty. The myth that scale equals security.
The myth that every worthwhile project must grow an audience, grow more subscribers, grow more impressions.
Yet, much of what sustains a creative business isn’t glamorous. It’s small, habitual, persistent, and quiet.
Like the weekly email or newsletter, you post even when no one replies or gives you a 👍 or ❤️.
The client project you refine for the third time—not because you had to, but because it matters.
The decision to ignore a trend, even though it could boost your visibility.
It’s not just quiet — it’s rebellious.
Because in a world shouting for more, showing up small, true to you, and understanding your “just enough”—is radical.
Clarity in Small Sizes
There’s clarity in being small. You can see your work more plainly.
You know who it’s for. You stop chasing abstraction and tend to reality.
I’ve had posts with zero likes lead to new clients—five-line posts with 10 impressions that opened deep conversations.
I’ve had my quirky illustrations on LinkedIn posts draw in comments from someone on the other side of the globe. (A digital dialogue that continues 2 years later)
I’ve had stories go primarily unnoticed—until someone sent me a note (weeks or months later) saying it was exactly what they needed.
This is the thing about meaning and Soulpreneurship. It doesn’t always arrive on time. And it rarely scales cleanly and immaculately.
Look through history for people who died unknown to most, but their work rose to immense fame and value after passing.
Their work didn’t go viral. It went deep. Passed hand to hand.
Quietly. Persistently.
Until it outlasted the noise.
There are elements to this approach, in how I try to build these days.
No hacks. No hype.
Just keeping the work meaningful to me and shared in small cycles. Relatively quiet, steady, persistent.
Thankfully, it’s grown into revenues more than the corporate sector job I left behind.
Not by chasing scale. But by staying aligned.
Some Things to Try 👇
1. Question the impulse to scale
Before chasing and pursuing bigger—ask, “why?”
Is it about reach? Or recognition?
What are you hoping to feel once you get there?
2. Define “enough” (without the algorithms)
What is:
Enough readers.
Enough clients.
Enough revenue to live well (and create freely).
Write your ‘enough’ metrics before the internet and social media write it for you.
3. Build for sustainability, not applause
What systems support the life you want—not just the business you admire?
What can you keep doing, even when it’s quiet?
What do you want to do even when it feels like getting ghosted?
4. Separate cause from illusion
You don’t need to believe you’re changing the world to do meaningful work. You only need to act in alignment, respond with care, and create with integrity plus some level of authenticity.
What narrative are you telling yourself about why your work matters—and is it your story?
If your work never went viral, would it still feel meaningful to create?
5. Accept the partial, the slow, the sufficient
Not all good things have to become big.
Not all resonance is measurable.
Not all impacts can be traced.
So What? Now What?
You don’t have to be the hero of a movement.
You don’t need a stage. You probably don’t even need applause.
A life of value and meaning isn’t built by audience size. It’s built by attention (especially yours’) and meaning (also yours).
It’s built by craft. By rhythm.
By the quiet, daily return to work, reflecting who you are.
You don’t find your voice by scaling it.
You find it by listening to what won’t leave you alone.
The soul doesn’t care about reach.
It cares about resonance — the kind lingering, disturbing, healing, and maybe sometimes haunting.
Let your work grow roots, not just branches. And let those roots be tangled, imperfect, and real.
Scaling and algorithms are for machines. Stay human first. "The soul doesn't care about reach" is a good starting point.
An esoteric point. I work in the rainforest. It's a jungle of chaos between competing forest layers and multitudes of species all trying to survive in their niche. And amidst all the struggle there is a sense of equilibrium that balances out all the hubbub.
That is a lesson to learn for the human jungle.