Rebel Talk: The World I Know

In life, I catch myself wondering how people can be the way they are. How two people can look at the same situation, the same facts, the same moment—and walk away with completely different conclusions.

I see it every year around the holidays with Relentless Rebel.

Most of our customers are our people. They get it. They’re patient. They understand what we’re building and why we do things the way we do. They’re part of the family. But every holiday season, without fail, a different group shows up. Impulse buyers. People who don’t know us, don’t want to know us, and don’t care to understand us.

They buy.
They complain.
They nitpick.
They drain energy.

We’ve come to expect it.

And every time it happens, I find myself asking the same question:
Who thinks like this? And why?

It’s not judgment as much as curiosity. A genuine attempt to understand how someone arrives at a completely different way of operating in the world.

That question followed me again today—this time at brunch with my family.

I sat there for a moment and just took it in. All of us together. Laughing. Eating. Present. Grateful. I asked my sister what the rest of her day looked like. She told me she was heading home to organize a fundraiser for kids’ sports. She’s deeply involved—managing logistics, researching, coordinating, knowing every detail. It’s a huge part of her world.

And honestly? God bless her for it.

There are parents out there where that is their life. Youth sports aren’t just something their kids do—they’re something they live. Brackets, schedules, meetings, fundraisers, team dinners, group texts, the whole dog-and-pony show.

For me, it’s different.

My kids’ sports matter deeply to me. Showing up matters. Teaching discipline, effort, improvement—that matters. But everything beyond the fundamentals? That stuff lives in a mental “to-do” list. Quick scan. Anything urgent? Handle it. Move on.

The sports interest me.
The theatrics don’t.

And that difference doesn’t stop there.

I’m not into watching sports on TV. I don’t spend my Sundays glued to games I have no control over. I’m not into fiction—movies, shows, made-up worlds designed to distract rather than challenge. I’m not drawn to modern Hollywood, the constant performance, the manufactured outrage, the relentless push to influence how people think, vote, feel, or behave.

None of it resonates with me.

What does resonate are quieter, heavier questions.

Why is the world the way it is?
Who benefits from things staying exactly as they are?
What’s the motive behind the noise?
What’s real—and what’s being sold to us as real?

And even more personal than that:

What is my purpose here?
What am I building?
Who am I becoming?
What can I do today—not tomorrow, not someday—to be better than I was yesterday?
And what can I do, even in a small way, to make someone else’s world better too?

Those questions live in my head constantly. They shape how I spend my time, what I pay attention to, and what I ignore completely.

My sister and I love the same kids. We want the same outcome. We’re just operating in completely different worlds.

And that same divide shows up everywhere.

Politics is another example. Take what’s going on in Venezuela. One side says one thing. The other side says the opposite. The people there appear to be celebrating—at least according to the version of the story I’m being shown. But who knows? That’s just the information fed into my world.

That’s when it really hits me—we’re not just disagreeing on opinions. We’re often living inside entirely different realities.

Years ago, I’d look at people who saw things completely differently than I did and label them as idiots. Or naive. Or blind. Or something I couldn’t quite articulate—but definitely wrong.

Now, I see it differently.

They’re not stupid.
They’re not clueless.
They’re not broken.

They’re living by the world they know.

And I am living by The World I Know.

The world I know looks different than it does for a lot of people.

The world I know is beautiful.
It’s engaging.
It’s full of opportunity.

It’s also frustrating.
It’s annoying.
It’s exhausting.
It can be depressing as hell at times.

Setbacks are guaranteed. Discomfort is part of the deal. Progress is never clean or linear.

But the world I know rewards those who keep going.

Those who push further.
Those who question instead of consuming.
Those who build instead of spectate.
Those who choose purpose over performance.

Not everyone wants that world. And that’s okay.

What matters is recognizing that we’re not all playing the same game—or even seeing the same field.

Once you understand that, something shifts. You stop wasting energy trying to convince everyone else. You stop labeling people who don’t make sense to you. And you start focusing on what actually matters: living your life according to the world you know.

Because once you see your world clearly…
Once you understand what drives you, grounds you, and pulls you forward…

You owe it to yourself to live in it fully.

Stay Relentless,

Ryan