What You Should Do

Say That Again

from the be-yourself,-do-what-your-true-self-demands dept

Okay, people. You keep asking me, “Mike, but what should we do?” I am going to condescend to you now, about what you should do.

The only resistance worth a damn is the one where you stop calculating the odds and start living your truth without reservation. What separates the merely clever from the genuinely courageous isn’t tactical brilliance but moral clarity—the willingness to act as if your conscience matters more than your comfort. The irony, which our enemies will never grasp, is that this apparent recklessness creates the most robust safety net imaginable. While they isolate themselves in gilded bunkers of power, we forge bonds of mutual aid that no authority can sever.

History doesn’t remember those who hedged their bets or preserved their options; it remembers those who, when facing the abyss, decided that some principles cannot be compromised regardless of consequence. This isn’t martyrdom—it’s the highest form of self-interest, recognizing that a life of calculated moral compromise isn’t worth protecting in the first place.

So abandon your clever exit strategies and risk calculations. Your most authentic self is also your most powerful weapon, and in times like these, it’s the only currency guaranteed to hold its value. Even beyond the span of our lifetimes. The only currency that can.

The truth is, the question “what should we do?” often masks a deeper hesitation—a search for the perfect, risk-free action that will somehow satisfy both our conscience and our comfort. But that’s precisely the trap. There is no algorithm for moral action in immoral times. There is no checklist that, once completed, absolves you of the responsibility to keep acting, keep choosing, keep standing for something.

Think of it as venture capital for civilization. Just as the greatest financial returns come from identifying inflection points where maximum risk meets maximum opportunity, the greatest moral impact comes when you invest your full self at precisely the moment when everything seems most precarious. By placing your “social capital” on authentic moral action without hedging for reputation, wealth, or safety, you’re making the highest-leverage bet possible.

Because here’s the thing: if you have social capital, even if you are the most financially poor person in the world, you know you’ll always have a safe place to sleep. So the investment profile is quite good. And you don’t even need to spend your conscience to invest!

This isn’t about grand heroic gestures. It’s about the daily choice to be fully present in your own moral reality. It’s about deciding that, whatever comes, you’ll be able to face yourself in the mirror. It’s about recognizing that in times of systemic failure, the only reliable security comes not from institutions or financial reserves, but from the bonds we forge through authentic moral action and mutual aid.

So what should you do? Stop asking that question as if there’s a single answer that applies to everyone. Start asking instead: What does my most authentic self demand in this moment? What action would make me feel whole rather than diminished? What truth needs speaking that only I can articulate in my unique way?

Then do that thing. Not once, not as a performance, but consistently. Not with an eye toward results, but with a commitment to process. Not because it will necessarily “work,” but because it’s the only thing that will allow you to recognize yourself when this is all over.

The revolution isn’t coming someday. It’s happening right now, in millions of individual decisions to align actions with deepest values. The resistance isn’t elsewhere. It’s in you, waiting to be lived rather than merely contemplated.

That’s what you should do. But you already knew that, if you’re honest with yourself.

P.S. And no matter the circumstances in which I meet my ultimate fate, know that, that I know that it eats them alive inside. And that I died contemptuously amused by their internal torture. That deep down, they are the greatest cowards of all: afraid of the truth.

Mike Brock is a former tech exec who was on the leadership team at Block. Originally published at his Notes From the Circus.

Filed Under: activism, authenticity, donald trump, elon musk, resistance