Beyond Approval

Digitallywired

You know, throughout most of human history, the need for social acceptance—belonging—has been so deeply ingrained in us. It wasn’t just emotional; it was a survival tactic. You stuck with the group, you improved your odds of making it through a harsh winter, or, you know, protecting yourself from predators.

Mystery

Right, like, back then it wasn’t about likes or retweets, it was about not getting eaten.

Digitallywired

Precisely. But here’s the thing: that same instinct hasn’t gone away. We’ve just found new ways to chase that feeling of acceptance and reassurance. Whether it’s through promotions, compliments, or even an audience that we might not actually see, we’re performing—

Mystery

Oh, totally, like when you post something and keep checking your phone every five minutes.

Digitallywired

Exactly. And here’s where it gets tricky. Back when I was a young photojournalist, I fell into that same trap. I remember this one assignment—covering student protests in Cape Town—and, honestly, I was so obsessed with impressing the editor back at the office that I lost... well, I lost the joy of the moment. The click of the camera, that almost meditative state of capturing a story—it all disappeared because I was too focused on whether anyone would notice my work.

Mystery

Man, that sounds rough. Did—did it work, though? Like, did the editor notice?

Digitallywired

Sometimes, sure. But it was fleeting. The second one piece got acknowledged, it was on to the next. It was exhausting, and the pressure of performing, of trying to meet someone’s invisible standard, it started to bleed into everything I did. I’d even—

Mystery

—You’d second-guess yourself, right?

Digitallywired

Exactly. You start questioning whether what you’re doing has any worth, or if it’s only valuable when someone else approves of it. And that’s the irony—chasing that validation takes away the very thing that used to give you joy.

Mystery

It’s wild, though, ‘cause, like, even now, so many people feel that pressure. Look at social media—everyone’s out here crafting this perfect life for an audience that, half the time, probably isn’t even really paying attention.

Digitallywired

True. It’s as though we’ve built entire platforms around creating these little performances—highlight reels, not real life. And it keeps us tied to this invisible audience, craving approval that may never come, or at best, is so fleeting that it leaves us always wanting, never satisfied.

Mystery

It’s so true, though, what you were saying about chasing that approval. It’s like we’re always performing, right? You craft this image for an audience, and they’re not even really there most of the time. I mean, I remember when I’d post my short films online. If they didn’t get a certain number of likes within an hour, the panic would set in. I’d be thinking, "Is it bad? Did I mess up? Am I—"

Digitallywired

Am I enough?

Mystery

Exactly. It’s like this voice in the back of your head going, "If no one’s clapping, does it even matter?" But, dude, I was burning out. Like, legit burning out. So I—I had to ask myself, why am I even doing this in the first place?

Digitallywired

And that’s the critical question, isn’t it? Why do we create? Is it for the applause, or is it for something deeper, something... intrinsic? Take this artist I once met in New York. She painted these incredible murals—not for galleries, not for fame—but for the sheer joy of it. She’d spend days perched on scaffolding, covered in paint. And when I asked her why, she said, "Because the process feels like breathing. It’s just... life." Now, people started noticing her work, but it was never her primary drive. She was at peace, whether anyone cared or not.

Mystery

Wow, that’s—yeah, that’s powerful. I think about when I finally stopped caring, for real. I stopped checking stats, stopped stressing over the algorithm, and went back to, like, storytelling for its own sake. And, honestly? It’s freeing. Like, you get to rediscover why you loved it in the first place.

Digitallywired

Absolutely freeing. And here’s the thing: social media, while it connects us, amplifies the comparison game. We’re constantly comparing our behind-the-scenes moments to someone else’s highlight reel. That dopamine hit from a notification? It’s fleeting. It’s like chasing a mirage—it looks satisfying, but it’s empty when you actually get to it.

Mystery

Yeah, it’s crazy. And, like, no one posts their struggles, right? So you’re sitting there thinking, "Why isn’t my life as perfect as theirs?" But it’s not even real. It’s just, like, all smoke and mirrors.

Digitallywired

Smoke and mirrors, indeed. And the cost? Emotional fragility. We tie our worth to those likes, that approval, and when it’s not there, it’s devastating. But when you shift your focus—like your rediscovery of storytelling for storytelling’s sake—you start to build a resilience. It’s not about their applause anymore, it’s about your connection to the act itself.

Mystery

Right. It’s about what it gives you, not what it—what it gets from other people.

Digitallywired

Exactly. And when we anchor ourselves in that internal joy, we’re no longer at the mercy of external opinions, trends, or fleeting feedback. It’s... empowerment, in the truest sense.

Digitallywired

You know, all this reminds me of a principle from the Bhagavad Gita—it’s this powerful lesson about focusing on the work itself, not the reward. It’s like, you pour yourself into what you’re doing with integrity and dedication, and the outcome? That’s secondary. The effort, the joy of the act—that’s where the real fulfillment lives.

Mystery

Yeah, like focusing on the journey instead of, you know, obsessing over the finish line.

Digitallywired

Precisely. And if you think about it, when you truly embrace the process, each moment within it becomes the reward. Take gardening, for example. It’s not just about the harvest, it’s that quiet satisfaction of planting a seed, tending to it, the feel of soil—

Mystery

And watching it grow. Like, the process itself is its own reward. That’s—I think I kinda feel the same way with, like, working on films, you know? It’s the editing, the scripting, all those little moments.

Digitallywired

Exactly. And that’s true for so much—volunteering, learning something new, or even something as rigorous as martial arts. For me, Hapkido isn’t just physical movement. It’s discipline and focus. The repetition might seem monotonous to some, but for me, there’s satisfaction in refining a technique, in building muscle memory, in... evolving, internally as much as externally.

Mystery

Yeah, I get that. Like, how when I’m deep in a creative project, there's this flow—that state where you're just so into it that everything else just fades away. That stuff is magical, dude.

Digitallywired

Magical, indeed. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus once said, "The way up and the way down are one and the same." The path itself, the doing, is where transformation happens. If we align with that, if we focus on our core values and cultivate mindfulness, we find that elusive satisfaction—not in the applause, but in our own rhythm.

Mystery

So, basically, if you're living for the moment, not the reaction, you’re really living, huh?

Digitallywired

Exactly. When you stop chasing external validation, you’ll often find yourself more grounded, more content. And ironically, that’s usually when good things start to come your way—not because you’re chasing them, but because you’re fully present in the process itself.

Mystery

Okay, so, if I had to sum it up? It’s like, forget the audience. Just do your thing, love the grind, and let everything else fall into place.

Digitallywired

Well put. At the end of the day, the unseen symphony of our efforts is its own masterpiece, far more enduring than any fleeting applause. And that, right there, is the harmony we should strive to live in.

Mystery

Dude, if this was ever a mic-drop moment, that’d be it.

Digitallywired

And on that note, thank you all for joining us on this journey. Until next time, keep finding joy in the process. It’s the most authentic way to live.

Mystery

Peace out, everybody. Catch you next time!