Real work happens when you're in the arena. Yet most of the world isn't even watching from the stands — they're cosplaying being in it.
This is why I'm so drawn to people who create things.
The process from inspiration to idea to action to shipping — that's what the arena looks like. And you're only in the arena if you complete it all. Feel the emotions that come with that process. Go through the fight of bringing an idea to life.
The thing that separates those people from everyone else: skin in the game. Real exposure to the downside. If it doesn't work, something real is at stake — a livelihood, years of effort, a bet placed on yourself. No hiding from the consequences.
So who is actually in the arena?
The musician who writes songs and carries the real pressure of making a living from music.
The writer who publishes books without recognition — just for the sake of it.
The founder who has shipped three products, looks at the harsh reality of not having product-market fit yet, and still builds, ships, and talks to people.
Then there are those who look like they're in the arena but aren't. The cosplayers.
They might have the same office, use the same language, and technically build something. But the deeper purpose isn't the work itself — it's the side effects of what success looks like. The status. The identity. The aesthetic of being a creator. They're not driven by a genuine need to make something real. They're driven by social domestication and mimetic desire — building what they think they're supposed to want to build.
The missing ingredient isn't effort. It isn't even talent. It's that they're never truly exposed to the downside. When something doesn't work, they can walk away without real consequence. The feedback loop of the real world — shipping, failing, adjusting — never fully closes for them.
Those in the arena feel all of it. The fear before shipping. The uncertainty of not knowing if it matters. The specific loneliness of building something nobody cares about yet — and choosing to keep going anyway.
This might not make sense to many. But those who are in the arena get it.
Question your own mind and spirit: are you in the arena? Or just observing?
And then — who do you really want to be?