Dissatisfaction, Death & The Divine
- Stuart Knight

- Oct 22
- 3 min read
By: Stuart Knight (Founder and CEO) | October 22, 2025

I’ve recently found myself in a place that I know all too well and yet love to avoid. It’s a moment in life where you look at the distractions you’ve been conveniently using to hide from the truth, only to realize they have never really worked. They played their part in giving me the excuses I needed to put things off for another day, or to sleep in later than I should, but now I find myself laughing and loathing for even letting them have a role in the first place.
It reminds me of my favourite sayings, which is “The lesson will be learned, when the lesson is learned”. To me, it’s such a powerful, and somewhat tormenting thing to not only consider, but to actually face head on. I say that because I don’t think it’s possible to look into a mirror, say those words, and then not get a feeling of what that “lesson” might mean for you personally.
It could be anything from an awareness that you’ve been creeping precariously toward irreversible health issues, all the way to wondering what your life will look like if you stay at that job. Regardless of one’s personal situation, we all understand that life lessons will be forced upon us if we don’t choose to learn them ourselves. And it’s that simple truth that kicks the needle on my inner compass towards the better version of me, with that usual feeling of knowing I should have made the move sooner.
Alas, I find myself here again. And while I could go into the details of where that is exactly, I realize that it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I share with you the profound impact dissatisfaction with any one area of your life can have. For all the wonderful contributions it makes, I believe its best function is to light a fire where no flame exists. Specifically under your ass! And that’s the beauty of dissatisfaction. It grabs you by the neck and says, “enough is enough, are we staying here or are we going there?” It asks the rhetorical question none of us want to answer, but know that we must if we are ever to break free from this self imposed quicksand.
Like anyone, I feel ashamed for needing certain aspects of my life to get so “bad” that I am left with no other choice, but to level up. I’d much rather be the rare enlightened being who saw the writing on the wall from miles away, and easily avoided the rockslide I knew was coming. Sadly, it turns out that I’m just as flawed as the next person. However, I’ve learned that there is solace in taking the road “most gravelled”. It happens when I realize that by allowing my dissatisfaction to grow, I am able to experience both death and the divine.
Sure, the feelings that accompany deep dissatisfaction suck, but I do appreciate the unique way they manage to remind me of what I really want from life. I want to experience the entire spectrum from the death to the divine! And while an early death is not something I wish upon anyone, I do hope that all of us get to experience the joy of seeing those unserving parts of ourselves wither away into oblivion. With respect to the divine, I understand that it goes by many monikers, but I see it as the nameless part of me that I get to meet when my dissatisfaction fuels the fire cremating that old version of myself.
So, my friend, if today you find yourself feeling dissatisfied about any part of your life, do not push it down, but instead aim to pull it up. Invite it into the room, so the two of you can dance together to that song you have been despising for too long. However, this time, while twirling it around, allow it to chop off those parts of yourself that have pinned you to the floor, so that your divine can finally help you break free!
Whatever you do, don’t stop dancing, because doing so will only prolong that time between now and the day when this all makes sense. Your dissatisfaction isn’t the end of you, but rather the beginning of the next you. Let it lead you to the deaths you must endure, so that you can meet the divine well before you die.
Much love,
Stuart




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