Opinions Are Everywhere

Welcome to The Brighter Side of Everything.

This newsletter serves a simple purpose → To help you build optimism, resilience and a solution-focused perspective.

Each week, I’ll share actionable insights that not only brighten your day but position you to be a leader within your own life and seize life’s opportunities.

Read time: 20-30 minutes.

Hello, Brighter Side readers! ☀️

Thanks for being here once again, and welcome if you’ve signed up this week.

It means a lot to share my reflections with you and I always enjoy reading through your feedback.

This edition is all about what happens when we stop letting every passing opinion steer our decisions, and start backing our inner compass instead.

We also explore Eddie the Eagle’s remarkably scrappy courage and address a simple shift in attention that can make life feel more possible, and less heavy.

I hope something here encourages you to trust your own direction a little more this week.

See you on the Brighter Side,

Chris

P.S. Please feel free to send me feedback on how I can improve. I respond to every email.

Winter doesn’t have to feel heavy or indulgent in ways that don’t serve you. It’s a season to slow down, feel grounded, and still savor the ritual of a beautiful drink. Enter Vesper, Pique’s newest release—and my favorite upgrade to winter sipping.

Pique is known for blending ancient botanicals with modern science to create elevated wellness essentials, and Vesper is no exception. This non-alcoholic, adaptogenic aperitif delivers the relaxed, social glow of a cocktail—without alcohol or the next-day regret.

It’s what I reach for when I want something special in my glass on a cold evening. Each sip feels celebratory and calming, with a gentle mood lift, relaxed body, and clear, present mind. No haze. No sleep disruption. Just smooth, grounded ease.

Crafted with L-theanine, lemon balm, gentian root, damiana, and elderflower, Vesper is sparkling, tart, and beautifully herbaceous—truly crave-worthy.

Winter isn’t about cutting back. It’s about choosing what feels good. And Vesper makes every pour feel like a yes.

Get 10% off for life

There’s a moment that shows up in life time and time again.

It just presents differently each time.

You’re hovering over a decision you can feel in your gut.

Maybe it’s applying for a new job.

Or quitting your current job.

A new direction that makes you feel a little exposed.

Or simply choosing to pursue a more honest way of living.

Inside you, there’s a solid yes.

Around you though, there’s noise.

When I was younger, I lived too close to that noise.

I spent a lot of energy wondering how things would look from the outside.

I’d replay choices in my mind, not just asking what I wanted, but wondering what others might say.

Was this choice smart enough, impressive enough, acceptable enough?

If that sounds familiar to you, you’re not alone.

Countless people across the globe edit their lives in advance for an audience they can’t see and can’t control.

Across time and through real life moments though?

I noticed something.

The more we organise our lives around opinions?

The further we drift from our own sense of direction.

The more we listen to that informed voice that sits inside us?

The less those opinions run the show.

I’m immensely grateful to have learned this lesson at a relatively young age in moments where I stepped away from the script.

Where I changed direction and made calls that didn’t always make sense to people on the outside looking in.

As I reflect on these lessons, there are two simple concepts have helped me better understand and maintain this approach:

They’re short and simple.

But they land hard.

Right now, anyone, anywhere, can have a take on what you do.

Someone sitting on a couch on the other side of the world can respond to a choice you’ve made before you’ve even finished taking it in yourself.

Then there’s the opinions that live closer to home.

Colleagues who think they know the smart ladder to climb.

Family members carrying ideas about what a sensible life looks like.

Friends who love you but are wired differently.

On top of that, there’s the voice in your head, replaying comments you’ve collected over years.

Opinions are everywhere.

They’re easy to give and sometimes surprisingly heavy to carry.

This is where the first idea steadies you.

Everyone can have one, so they can’t all be valid.

Some are thoughtful.

Some are anxious.

Some are based on regret.

Some are based on very little information.

The issue is when we hold all of these voices at the same time and give them equal volume.

Studies show that when we see others’ choices, our own judgments subtly drift toward them, especially when we see that input early and often.

Think about a decision you’re carrying right now.

Maybe you’re considering a role that pays less but lets you breathe.

Maybe you’re thinking about pausing, travelling, or trying a different pace than the one you’ve been sprinting at.

Maybe there’s a boundary you know needs to be set or something creative you haven’t had a chance to share.

Often, before we even get to the practical questions, our brains do a roll call of who might have an opinion.

We start organising around reactions that haven’t even happened.

When we remember they can’t all be valid, it gives us some breathing room.

You can use them as information rather than instructions carved in stone.

This brings us to the second idea.

What others think about us is none of our business.

On first read, it can sound a bit sharp.

In practice, it’s about boundaries.

We don’t get to climb into someone else’s mind and rearrange their thoughts.

We don’t control their history, their fears or their filters.

Even if we spent years trying to manage how people see us, we’d never gain full control.

What we do have is our side of the fence:

When we forget these, life turns into a performance that never ends.

Weighing every step against how it might be interpreted.

We try to get ahead of anyone being confused or critical.

We adjust ourselves in the hope that nobody will misunderstand us.

It’s tiring, and it doesn’t do what it promises.

When we remember what is and isn’t our business?

A bit of space opens up.

You can still listen.

You can still care.

You can still course‑correct if you realise you’ve missed the mark.

The result is you stop trying to guarantee a perfect scoreboard in other people’s minds.

This leaves so much more room for our own voice.

The one that actually has to live with our choices.

In 2026, the volume of opinions can feel like static.

Someone can see ten seconds of your life, or one paragraph of your story and feel certain they understand the whole situation.

Research links heavy, comparison‑driven social media use with more depressive symptoms and lower self‑esteem.

Which makes it even harder to hear ourselves clearly in the noise.

Most of that commentary is missing many key pieces, though.

It doesn’t see how long you’ve been sitting with this decision.

It doesn’t know the setbacks you’ve walked through or the trade‑offs you’ve made.

It doesn’t see the responsibilities you carry or the support you’ve built.

It doesn’t sense the potential you can feel on the other side of the risk.

It’s like reading a single page and trying to explain the whole book.

When we let those context‑free opinions steer us?

We’re giving the wheel to people who aren’t in the car.

They’re not the ones who show up for the work or live inside the consequences.

Which is why it’s a lot of influence to hand over.

Here’s where things start to feel lighter.

The goal isn’t to erase opinions from your world.

Far from it.

The goal is to be more deliberate about which ones you absorb.

Most of us are better off with a small circle of people whose input we genuinely seek out.

A deep circle carries so much more value than a big circle.

They’re the ones we go to on purpose.

They know how we operate.

They understand our values and the type of life we’re building.

They’ve seen us through both the chapters that look shiny and also the ones that don’t.

When we ask for their thoughts?

We’re not asking them to decide for us.

We’re asking them to help us see more clearly.

Maybe they spot something we’re downplaying.

Maybe they remind us of a pattern we’re repeating.

Maybe they ask a question that makes the next step seem obvious.

Their opinions don’t always match our first instinct, which is part of the point.

They simply stretch our view.

Even when we disagree, we know they’re not asking us to become someone we’re not.

Just so they can feel comfortable in themselves.

Random opinions tend to flatten information into a simple story.

You’re being reckless, boring, selfish, naive, too much, not enough.

Those who actually know us help make our story grow, not shrink.​

So, not every voice gets a vote.

You get to choose who sits on your internal panel.

With constant noise everywhere around us, the ultimate skill is learning to filter better, rather than trying to absorb more.

Therapists increasingly talk about “valued living”.

Making choices that match your core values, because it’s consistently linked with lower depression and higher wellbeing.

You don’t have to completely stop caring what anyone thinks.

Most of us do care, at least a little.

The main point is to understand the difference between caring for people and letting them decide your path.

When you start tuning out unnecessary noise?

Your inner optimism has more room.

That natural pull toward trying, learning, adjusting becomes stronger.

You start planning your life around what feels honest and right.

Instead of who might frown.

You’ll still have moments where old habits flare up and you wonder how something might look to others.

It’s just that those moments just don’t get the final say anymore.

Here’s a few simple ways to bring this into real life.

Try the ones that land for you, and leave the rest:

Not every voice gets a vote: You’ll hear lots of views. Only a handful need to influence your decision. Choose those people intentionally. Based on trust, shared values and a history of wanting you to do well.

Filter, don’t absorb: When someone offers an opinion, pause. Ask if there’s a useful truth or perspective in there for you. Keep that part. Let the rest move on.​

Return to your why: For any big step, write down why it matters to you in plain, honest language. When the noise builds, read your own words before you reach for more outside input.

Protect early‑stage ideas: When something is new, share it only with people who can handle it and will ask good questions. Early on, ideas need oxygen more than they need critique.

Remember whose life this is: Others go home to their own days. You’re the one who wakes up inside the outcome of your choices. That counts.

When I strip this back, I land here:

We’re the ones who live inside our choices.

Not the people passing opinions from the sidelines.

A life built around what feels true will ask more of us, and it’ll give a lot back in return.

Opinions are everywhere, but your direction is yours alone.

You can start with one decision you need to make, big or small.

Make it as if the only person you have to answer to is the one staring back at you in the mirror.

Because the validation that matters the most?

Is your own.

The air at the top of the 70‑metre jump in Calgary is thin and bitingly cold.

Eddie ‘the Eagle’ Edwards stood there, a stocky plasterer from England, adjusting his helmet that didn’t fit properly.

His thick glasses beginning to fog behind his goggles.

He was wearing borrowed boots so large he had to pull on six pairs of socks just to keep them on his feet.

Below him, thousands of spectators waited for a punchline.

Everyone of them holding a sharp opinion.

Above him, elite competitors of the winter sports world looked on with a mix of pity and annoyance.

He looked down the steep, icy run.

Took a breath.

Then leaned into the void.

Eddie grew up in a town known for horse racing, not winter sports.

He grew up as a kid that liked to move.

Spending his days on construction sites with his father, learning the steady, rhythmic work of plastering walls.

It was honest labour, but Eddie’s mind was often somewhere else.

He wanted to be an Olympian.

Most people treat that dream like a lottery ticket.

You either have at birth or you don’t.

Eddie saw it more like an opportunity waiting for him to reach out and grasp it.

He began his adventure as a downhill skier.

Chasing snow across Europe while sleeping in the back of a van and eating crusts of bread to save every penny for lift passes.

When he narrowly missed the British downhill team for the 1984 Games?

Rather than head home to lick his wounds, he went looking for another way.

He realised that Great Britain had no ski jumpers.

Zero.

There was no one to beat in a trial, because no one else was doing it.

He decided he’d move to Lake Placid in the United States, to train where the experts trained.

He had no funding.

No proper kit.

And little formal coaching.

He survived on leftovers, accepting whatever work he could find and slept in the cheapest beds available.

At one point, he even called a room in a Finnish mental health centre home.

Eddie was heavier than the typical jumper, which made it harder to fly.

Add the fact that his vision was so poor, whenever his glasses fogged up at altitude?

He was effectively jumping blind.

Imagine standing on a platform as high as a ten‑storey building.

Now imagine you can’t see the landing strip clearly.

Most of us would find a reason to step back.

Eddie chose to face fear and step forward.

The act of participating in the Olympic Games was his podium.

Along the way, he broke his jaw, his ribs and also his nose.

Getting back up every single time.

That was his rhythm.

Fall, heal, climb the tower and go again.

When the 1988 Winter Olympics began, a lot of the media expected a circus.

What they saw was something different.

Eddie finished dead last in both the 70‑metre and 90‑metre events.

His scores registering roughly half of what the gold medallists achieved.

When he landed though, he never hung his head.

Not for a second.

He flapped his arms like wings, celebrating as he beamed at the cameras.

Whipping the crowd into a frenzy, not because he was a failure, but because, in some way, he represented all of them.

The person who’d been told “no” in a hundred different ways.

And showed up anyway.

The stubborn, slightly scruffy man who refused to let other people’s expectations have the final say.

He is an extraordinary ordinary person who willed himself into the history books through his sheer presence and persistence.

Life after the Games was far from smooth for Eddie.

He had became a global celebrity almost overnight.

There were talk shows, adverts, public appearances.

For a while, the money rolled in.

Then came the legal disputes and tax troubles.

Mismanaged earnings caught up with him and he ended up bankrupt.

So, he did the most Eddie thing possible.

He went back to plastering walls in Cheltenham.

No drama, no self‑pity.

Just work.

Over time, he began to rebuild his life.

Later earning a law degree and becoming a popular public speaker.

Talking to rooms full of people about fear, risk and doing the thing everyone says you can’t do.

His life kept moving forward long after the TV cameras lost interest.

Identify your side door: If a major path is crowded, look for the discipline or angle where no one is paying attention. Sometimes the smartest move is not to compete in the busiest lane, but to find a quieter one.

Audit your gold: Eddie’s gold medal was getting to the starting line. For him, success meant hearing his name called at the Olympic Games. Define success by your own progress, not by the scoreboard of others.

Embrace the scrappy start: You don’t need a sponsor or the best gear to begin. Borrowed boots and extra socks can be enough when your heart is fully in something. Waiting for perfect conditions just delays the life you actually want.

Expect the fog: There will always be factors (like fogged glasses, lack of funds, or other people’s raised eyebrows) that make the path unclear. You can’t wait for every variable to tidy itself up. Just jump anyway. Clarity arrives through action, not endless contemplation.

There’s something about Eddie’s story that cuts through the noise for me.

He didn’t look the part for his sport, he didn’t have the right background, he didn’t deliver the right results.

And still, he kept putting himself at the starting gate.

He showed what real bravery looks like.

Not glamorous.

Not polished.

Just the repeated decision to move toward what matters most to you.

Even if the world has already decided you don’t belong there.

That’s the part that lingers.

He had no business standing at the top of a 90‑metre ramp at the Olympics.

Glasses steaming, wind tugging at his suit, knowing he’ll be out‑jumped by everyone around him.

He chose to point his skis downhill anyway.

And achieved his goal.

What’s your own version of that start gate?

A conversation, a trip, a pitch, a new idea.

Will you choose to stay on the platform?

Knowing the reasons you aren’t ready to jump.

Or would you let your heart thump, take a breath, and go?

Opinions will always be there.

Loud, endless, certain.

Your direction is yours to choose.

One shaky, courageous launch at a time.

Words are one thing, seeing him fly is another. This quick video gives you a front‑row seat to Eddie’s Olympic moment:

Every day, 4.5 million readers turn to 1440 for their factual news fix. We sift through 100+ sources to bring you a complete summary of politics, global events, business, and culture — all in a brief 5-minute email. No spin. No slant. Just clarity.

Join for free today!

This week I’m recommending the album La Revancha del Tango by Gotan Project.

Just hearing the first notes throws me back to my first visit to South America in 2007.

Wandering the streets of Buenos Aires, listening to live music, watching tango dancers and feeling completely immersed in the culture.

Almost twenty years later, this album has remained in my regular rotation.

It’s perfect as background music while hosting or cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

It also has a side effect I love.

It tends to pull you into an impromptu dance in the middle of whatever you’re doing.

Which might be the best endorsement of all.

I vividly remember the moment my wife and I heard this lounge‑infused tango in a small Argentinian restaurant and felt my whole brain light up.

Gotan Project are based in Paris and blend traditional Argentine tango with modern electronic music in a way that feels both grounded and contemporary.

The music has a pulse that encourages you to move.

But it’s also gentle enough to sit in the background while you talk, cook, read, or just unwind.

There’s a real sense of place in this album.

When you listen fully?

You can almost feel warm evening air, hear distant street noise and picture couples moving across a dance floor as they tango.

It’s music that shifts you into a different mood and pace without always demanding your full attention.

Here are a few simple ways you might weave La Revancha del Tango into your own week:

None of these require a big plan.

They’re just small invitations to bring a bit more play, connection and presence into everyday moments.

When I listen to La Revancha del Tango?

I’m reminded that most of what makes life sweet happens in the spaces between big events.

A walk down a side street in a new city.

A song in the background while you cook.

A quick spin around the kitchen with someone you love.

These are the moments that stay with us.

This album has become a bridge for me.

A bridge between past travels and present routines.

Between everyday tasks and small bursts of celebration.

It encourages me to make ordinary evenings as something worth marking.

Even if all I do is turn up the volume and take my wife’s hand for one more song.

Please share; I'm always keen for great suggestions.

There’s a simple truth about attention.

Whatever you feed, grows.

When you spend most of your energy staring at what’s wrong?

Your world starts to feel like a collection of problems waiting to be fixed.

When you begin to look for possibilities and the next small step forward, life starts to feel more spacious and encouraging.

This week’s bright idea is an invitation to shift the spotlight.

Instead of asking what’s broken here?

You begin to ask what’s possible here?

The situation on paper might be exactly the same.

But your experience of it (and the choices you make from there) can be completely different.

Our mind is an incredible pattern‑recognising machine.

If it believes that life is mostly problems?

It will scan your day for proof.

Frustrations, delays, disappointments, all the ways things are not how they “should” be.

Over time, that habit of focus can be draining.

It can drain your energy, your optimism and even your willingness to try something new.

Fuelling your mindset with possibility doesn’t deny reality or gloss over the hard stuff.

It simply widens the frame.

Instead of stopping at when something becomes hard, you ask yourself what can this teach me?

The facts may not change right away, but your posture does.

You move from bracing yourself against life to actively engaging with it.

I’ve seen this play out again and again in leadership and in travel.

Two people can face the same delay, the same difficult conversation, the same unexpected detour.

One will get stuck in anger and helplessness.

While the other feels the sting, then takes a breath and starts finding their way forward.

The difference lies in where they choose to place their attention.

Here’s a few simple ways to move from problems to possibilities in everyday life:

A two question reset: When something goes wrong, notice your initial reaction. Then ask yourself: “What’s the real problem here?” and “What’s one possibility this opens up?” It’s important to remind yourself it’s not the entire story.

Five second pause: When someone says (or does) something that spikes your heart rate, count to five before you respond. In those five seconds, ask, “What outcome do I want from this?” That simple pause can turn a defensive reaction into a calmer, more honest response.

The possibility list: Take a current challenge and write down five possibilities connected to it. A skill you could build, a person you could ask for support, a boundary you could set, a fresh way of interpreting what’s happening, or a small experiment you could try. They don’t need to be perfect. The goal is to remind your brain more than one potential path exists.

Micro experiments in attention: Choose one ordinary part of your day. Your commute, making coffee, standing in line. Instead of scrolling or rehearsing worries, spend that time noticing what’s working. By doing this you’re training your attention to notice resources and possibilities, not just the problems.

It’s important to not mistake this approach for forced positivity or that you’re ignoring what hurts.

You’re simply giving as much airtime to what could go right as you do to what might go wrong.

Life will always bring you both of the following: problems that need your care and possibilities that need your courage.

You can’t always control what lands at your doorstep, but you can choose what gets to live rent‑free in your mind.

When you choose to look for possibilities?

You’re choosing to participate in your life rather than just endure it.

This week, when something feels heavy or frustrating?

Try asking yourself: “What opportunity is hiding here?”

Many moments that feel like a setback might actually be pointing you toward your next chapter.

Transform your daily routine with my specially crafted gratitude journal.

Start (or end) each day with a moment of reflection and positivity.

As you develop daily your gratitude, you're also helping grant wishes to children facing critical illnesses.

It's a powerful cycle of hope and optimism.

🌟 What's Inside:

Ready to embrace the power of gratitude?

Click here to order a copy now!

New to this newsletter? - Subscribe for free and join the Brighter Side!

Follow on Threads & Instagram & X for daily insights from the Brighter Side.

Follow on Medium for longer form content - @TheBSofE