In this episode:

[0:11] Maegan introduces herself — or tries to, and gives you her whole life story instead

[4:53] "Be your most authentic self and your whole life will spiral into chaos for a season"

[5:54] From overachieving kid to couples therapist at 21 to running a seven-figure mental health agency

[8:19] The leap from Texas to Portland, on a hunch, with an unemployed husband and a brand-new private practice

[20:58] What "your crew" actually means, and why the liminal space will cost you some relationships

[28:23] The case for the "escape fantasy" — and the rule about not making big decisions inside it

[32:26] Sovereignty as "ultimate self-authority": holding certainty and spiraling at the same time

[35:30] Religious trauma, plant medicine, and building a spiritual practice from scratch

[40:01] Dean Potter, free solo climbing, and what it means to be "tapped in"

[43:14] The prayer Maegan uses instead of a five-year plan

[47:02] Florence Welch, synchronicity, and the myth of the solo genius

[54:51] "This isn't a problem. This is just the process."

[60:00] What fifteen-year-old Maegan asked her dad after her first economics class (and never really got an answer)

[64:30] What she saw, as a therapist, happen to relationships once clients got wealthy

[66:44] Naming "Good Growth" — and why she stopped believing the goal was to grow less

[68:37] The four threads: inner world, unseen world, natural world, practical world

[78:39] Why she calls it a "micro business," not a "small business" (the SBA cutoff is 500 employees)

[82:57] Where to find Maegan and her newsletter, Deeply Rested

There’s a version of this conversation where Maegan Megginson gives me a tidy one-liner about what she does. This is not the version. Instead, Maegan gives me her whole life: overachieving kid, psychic since birth, couples therapist at 21, private practice by accident, a husband who couldn’t take one more day in Texas, a group therapy center in Portland with her name still on the lease. Then the itch. Then the unraveling.

“I still haven’t told you who I am or what I do,” she says, twelve minutes in. She’s not wrong. She’s also not late. That’s the whole point of what she’s sharing.

Somewhere in the last few years, Maegan walked into what she calls the liminal space and didn’t come out on the schedule anyone would have picked for her. Not her clients. Not her business. Not the people trained to expect a one-liner and an elevator pitch. Certainly not capitalism, which does not do well with a person mid-metamorphosis.

“Be your most authentic self, and your whole life will spiral into chaos for a season,” she tells me.

The fog isn’t a malfunction

Maegan describes the liminal space the way you’d describe driving into weather. You know where you are. You don’t know where you are anymore. One wrong step and you’re off the edge of something you couldn’t see coming.

Most of us have been trained to treat that fog as an emergency. Get out. Fix it. Find the five-step framework that puts the ground back under your feet. Maegan’s whole body of work right now is an argument against that reflex. The fog isn’t the problem. The fog is where the next version of your work gets made.

“A lot of art comes out of these spaces,” Natalie shares, “where you tap into something, and it’s this remembrance.” Natalie also points to Dean Potter, the free solo climber who walked tightropes across canyons with nothing holding him up. Maegan points to Florence Welch, mid-trance on a stage in Portland, six inches from Maegan’s outstretched hand. Both of them tapped into something that isn’t fully theirs. Both of them had to get lost first to find it.

What actually holds you up in there

If the fog is where the work comes from, the question isn’t how to escape it. It’s what keeps you from losing yourself inside it. Maegan names two things, and neither of them is a productivity system.

The first is people. Not your whole network. A crew. A handful of humans who have made this same descent, or are making it alongside you, and who won’t try to talk you out of it or rescue you from it. “They’re just going to be with you,” she says, “and cheer you on, and bring you tea and cookies.” She’s also honest about the cost: this season will cost you people. Some of them you’ll grieve.

The second is a spiritual practice, whatever that means for you specifically. Maegan grew up church-adjacent in conservative Texas, judged the “woo woo” people same as everyone else, and ended up in Portland doing plant medicine work and building a relationship with the unseen world she once mocked. Her point isn’t that you need her practice. It’s that you need one. Without some way of touching something bigger than your own ego, the liminal space will convince you to abandon ship. You’ll take the job. You’ll go back to the identity that used to fit. Anything to make the fog go away.

Good growth, not more growth

Here’s where the conversation turns from personal to structural, and where I think Maegan says something most business content is actively afraid to say: growth isn’t the enemy. The version of growth capitalism sold us is.

“We have been taught that life is supposed to just go up and up and up,” she says, “and we’re supposed to acquire more and more, which requires extracting more and exploiting more. And when does it end?” She spent a season believing the answer was to stop growing altogether. She’s since landed somewhere more useful: not less growth, good growth.

Good growth, in Maegan’s framework, means weaving together four threads instead of maxing out one:

Your inner world: the psychology, the identity work, the therapy.

The unseen world: the spiritual practice that lets you channel instead of grind.

The natural world: living in sync with actual seasons instead of one long, extractive summer.

The practical world: the money, the systems, the business that has to actually work.

Most of us collapse into one of two camps. Either we’re so deep in the inner and spiritual work that we can’t pay our rent, or we’re so fixated on funnels and frameworks that we’re making real money while quietly dying inside. Maegan’s seen both burn people out. “Money is not bad,” she says. “It’s not real. It’s also not bad. Capitalism isn’t about money. Capitalism is about exploitation and extraction.”

You don’t have to carry it alone

The other thing Maegan names, almost in passing, is the trap of toxic individualism inside creative and spiritual work specifically. The idea that if the work is really yours, you have to build it, deliver it, and sustain it entirely by yourself. She’s watched it lead straight to burnout, over and over, in her own clients and in herself.

Her counter-image is a band. You wrote the song. Now who’s playing guitar? Bringing something you channeled into full form was never supposed to be a solo act, and the fact that you need other people to help build the vessel around your work isn’t a failure of the work. It’s just what work actually requires once it’s real.

Where this leaves you

If you’re in a season right now where nothing quite makes sense, where the old one-liner about what you do doesn’t fit anymore, where you feel like you’re spiraling and also somehow more yourself than you’ve been in years: Maegan’s not offering you an exit. She’s offering you a way to stay in it without losing yourself.

“May what’s coming next be something I can’t even fathom yet,” she says, more prayer than plan. “May it be better than anything I could possibly imagine.”

That’s the whole point of this episode. Not a five-step way out of the fog. A reason to trust it.

Notable quotes:

“Capitalism isn’t about money. Capitalism is about exploitation and extraction.”

“This isn’t a problem. This is just the process.”

“May what’s coming next be something I can’t even fathom yet. May it be better than anything I could possibly imagine.”

Connect with Maegan:

* Website: https://maeganmegginson.com/

* Newsletter: Deeply Rested at https://maeganmegginson.com/newsletter/

Guest: Marisa Guthrie, Ethical Business Coach | Author of The Reluctant Capitalist | Founder of The Ethical Entrepreneur Ecosystem

The call-out posts are everywhere: "I'm leaving Substack." "Get off Instagram." "This platform is complicit." But what actually changes when ethical creators leave? And what stays the same?

In this episode, Natalie sits down with Marisa Guthrie, ethical business coach and author of the upcoming book The Reluctant Capitalist, for a grounded, nuanced conversation about how to make platform decisions that actually align with your values, without falling into shame spirals, purity politics, or dopamine dependency.

They talk about what happened when Andrew Tate showed up in Substack's trending section, why asking "who benefits?" changes everything, the real cost of the validation loop these platforms are engineered to create, and how to build a business that could survive the inevitable arc of any platform's decline.

This is the conversation ethical entrepreneurs need to be having, and it goes way beyond Substack.

In This Episode:

Why "I'm leaving this platform" posts often miss the point

The question Marisa asks before making any platform decision: who benefits?

How to define your own red flags, not someone else's

The dopamine reckoning: what Natalie discovered when she left Instagram as a primary platform

Why our inability to imagine a world without Meta is more dangerous than any single platform decision

Practical steps for building platform independence (and what to do with your subscriber list right now)

The difference between being hooked on a platform and intentionally leveraging it

Why staying and fighting is sometimes the most ethical move

Resources & Links Mentioned:

Marisa Guthrie: The Ethical Entrepreneur Ecosystem on Substack

The Reluctant Capitalist by Marisa Guthrie: Available for pre-sale now

Robert Reich on Substack

Connect with Natalie Brite of Creative Camp Radio:

Substack: https://substack.com/@dogoodbiz

Website: https://www.dogoodbiz.studio/

Halle shares the origin story behind her practice name, Chicory Counseling, and how it ties to her Creole heritage, resilience in times of scarcity, and the power of ritual. She opens up about the personal and professional experiences that led her to go fully virtual, including physical safety concerns working alone in an in-person office, navigating COVID as a chronically ill person, and ultimately finding that portability became its own form of freedom.

We also dig into how Halle defines success, not through the lens of productivity or profit, but through sustainability, rest, and the ability to access joy. She traces this back to watching her parents' very different relationships with work, and her father's profound spirit of perseverance despite growing up in the segregated South.

The conversation expands into Halle's animist worldview and how she weaves a sense of deep relational belonging, with ancestors, with plants, with the more-than-human world, into her therapeutic work. For clients who struggle with loneliness and disconnection, this expanded sense of relationship can be genuinely transformative.

Key Topics Covered

Chicory Counseling: the history of chicory in New Orleans, its ties to Halle's Creole heritage, and why it became the name and anchor of her practice

Safety as a web: how Halle understands safety as interconnected with play, joy, ritual, and relational belonging

Going fully virtual: the physical safety concerns, the COVID pivot, chronic illness, and why Halle never plans to return to in-person work

Redefining success: moving away from overwork and grind toward sustainability, rest, and intentional living

Joy in therapy: why Halle describes her trauma and anxiety work as "fun," and how clients learn to access joy again

Working with queer elders: the profound experience of witnessing people live as themselves, sometimes for the first time

Ancestral connection and animism: expanding the definition of ancestry to include the more-than-human world, and how this helps clients feel more connected and resourced

Identity at the center: centering the lived experiences of BIPOC, queer, chronically ill, and neurodivergent folks in therapeutic care

About the Guest

Halle Monique Thomas, LPC (she/they) is an anxiety therapist who also works with trauma, currently licensed to practice in Colorado and Oregon. Through modalities including Brainspotting, parts work, and animist practices, she supports anxious adults whose anxiety stems from trying to follow rules that were written for them, rather than by them.

Halle's practice, Chicory Counseling, centers the lived experiences of BIPOC, queer, chronically ill, and neurodivergent folks — particularly those who defy neat categorization. Her work is deeply informed by her own identity as a queer, chronically ill, multiracial person, her Creole heritage, and her animist worldview. She is a 100% virtual practice.

Connect with Halle:

Practice: Chicory Counseling: https://www.chicorycounseling.com/

Licensed in: Colorado and Oregon (sessions are virtual; licensure is based on client location at time of session)

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chicorycounseling/

We followed the industry playbook for growing a business, and it left us overworked, burnt out, and undercharging. In this episode, we unpack what happened and how we shifted into a nature-based business model rooted in sustainability and intention.

What if the pace you're running at isn't actually what you have to stick with? Just because everyone else is running a million miles a minute doesn't mean you have to.

We've been sold a version of success that looks like full calendars, fast replies, and always being available as business owners... and for a long time, we bought it. Because that's what building a real business is supposed to look like, right?

This is a topic that our studio manager, Emma, and I kept circling back to over the years... and it took us longer than we'd probably like to admit to find and practice the pace that made sense for us. In today's episode, we're going deep on something we don't talk about enough in the creative industry: setting your own pace. We'll walk you through what hustle culture looked like at its peak inside our studio, the moments that made us question it, and the practical shifts we made, and are still making, to run a business that actually aligns with the life we want to be living and the relationship to work we want to embody.

In this episode, we cover:

What "busy" looked like in the early days of the studio, and why it felt like the only way

The metrics we were measuring success by then, and why they were the wrong ones

Where the pressure came from: clients, industry peers, social media, and the stories we were telling ourselves

The moments that made us both realise something had to change

What slowing down actually means and why it's not the same as stagnating

How the pace of the studio shifted operationally: bookings, project loads, response times, boundaries

What we stopped doing and what that freed up

The real costs of making this shift, financially and professionally

The unexpected ways that sustainability actually grew the business

The systems and structures we built to protect our pace when external pressure picks back up

What a nature-based approach to business means to us and what it looks like in practice

Quotes From This Episode:

"We were booked out and miserable... and for a while, we both thought that was just what running a business felt like."

"Bigger is not always better. Sometimes growth means going deeper, not taller."

"We stopped letting the industry define what success looked like for us, and that changed everything."

If This Episode Resonated:

We'd love to hear where you're at with your own business pace. Are you in the thick of the hustle? Starting to question it? Already on the other side and still figuring out what the shift looks like day to day?

Leave a comment, share this episode with someone who needs to hear it, and if you haven't already, grab the free companion guide linked above. It'll help you audit where you're currently at, reflect on what needs to shift, and start designing a pace that's actually yours.

About This Episode

What does it actually mean to get paid in alignment with your values… inside a system that was never built for that?

In this first episode of the Ethical Business for Humans series, Natalie Brite is joined by Marisa Guthrie of The Reluctant Capitalist to explore money not as a fixed reality, but as a social agreement we have the power to revise. From the ethics of pricing to the trap of self-extraction, this is the conversation most business coaches won’t have with you.

About Marisa Guthrie

Marisa Guthrie is a business coach, teacher, and author of the forthcoming book The Reluctant Capitalist. She works primarily with solopreneur women navigating the space between profit and purpose, helping them make money ethically, run businesses sustainably, and build lives of real impact. Find her on Substack at The Reluctant Capitalist.

Key Quotes

“Money is a ritual. An agreed-upon ritual between human beings. It has no intrinsic value of itself.” — Marisa Guthrie

"Being wealthy is fine, but it comes with huge responsibility. We hear a lot about rights. We don't hear people talking much about their responsibilities." — Marisa Guthrie

"I really love thinking about ethical exchange and reciprocal exchange. We're talking about money like it's so easy to deconstruct, but this is a lot of deconditioning. But it is possible to really shift the way you relate to and view money… as a resource for ourselves, for each other, for the community, for our collective." — Natalie Brite

Resources & People Mentioned

* Simone Seol

* Rachel Rogers

* Toi Marie

* Kelly Diels

This is Episode 1 of the Ethical Business for Humans series: a collaboration between Natalie Brite and Marisa Guthrie exploring what it really means to run a values-aligned business inside a system that wasn’t built for it.

What if business wasn’t built like a machine… but like a living system?

In this episode, Natalie Brite shares the thinking behind their Ecological Roles of Care framework, a nature-based approach to understanding care, contribution, and ethical participation in business and beyond.

Against the backdrop of social upheaval, environmental grief, and collective burnout, Natalie explores why so many creatives feel stuck between silence, performative action, and self-sacrifice…and why none of those paths are sustainable.

This conversation isn’t about doing more.

It’s about doing what’s aligned, collective, and rooted in care.

You’ll hear reflections on:

Why modern business systems fail human and planetary needs

How ecology shows us another way to organize care and contribution

Why burnout is often a design flaw, not a personal failure

What it means to treat care as infrastructure, not sentiment

How identifying your role can bring clarity, relief, and sustainability

This episode is an invitation to stop carrying what was never meant to be held alone… and to begin participating in change in ways that are ethical, embodied, and resilient.

In This Episode, We Explore:

Why moments of crisis expose the limits of hustle-based business models

The hidden cost of performative care and constant reactivity

How capitalism and colonialism shape our ideas of worth, productivity, and “doing enough”

What living systems teach us about shared responsibility and resilience

An introduction to the Ecological Roles of Care framework

Why contribution looks different in different seasons of life

How care becomes sustainable when it’s distributed, not centralized

Reflection Questions to Sit With:

When things feel hard or uncertain, how do you instinctively respond?

When the world feels overwhelming, do you tend to step forward, hold steady, share information, protect boundaries, or pull back to recover?

What kind of care do you find yourself offering without being asked?

What drains you when you try to show up in certain ways?

Where have you been trying to perform care instead of practicing it?

Who or what do you tend to protect instinctively?

What would it look like to trust that others are holding different parts of the work?

What kind of contribution feels most natural to you… even if it’s not the most visible?

A Closing Reminder

Ecosystems don’t ask for heroes.

They ask for participation.

Care was never meant to be carried alone.

It was meant to be shared.

What’s Coming Next

In upcoming writing and episodes, Natalie will explore their Ecological Roles of Care framework in more depth…. unpacking individual roles, seasonality, capacity, and how this approach can be woven into ethical business design and creative work.

If this episode resonated, you’re invited to follow along, reflect slowly, and stay in relationship with the work.

Welcome back to Creative Camp Radio.

This episode is for anyone who feels the tension between how we’ve been taught to build creative lives… and what our bodies, values, and the living world are actually asking of us.

Earlier this month, in the January Dispatch, I shared reflections on reimagining systems like money, work, and business.This episode is the thinking underneath that.

It gets at why this podcast exists in the first place.

Because long before we change systems, we have to look at the mental blueprints we’ve inherited (often without consent) and how they quietly shape our creativity, our work, and our sense of what’s possible.

So today, we’re exploring one core question:

What changes when we stop building our creative lives like empires and start tending them like ecosystems?

To begin, I want to offer an image.

Imagine a forest.

There are towering trees, yes… but most of the life is happening out of sight.

Roots woven together underground.Fungi passing nutrients between trees.Fallen leaves breaking down into soil.Decay feeding growth.

Nothing is racing.Nothing is hoarding resources.Nothing is growing for growth’s sake.

Everything is responding… to season, to weather, to damage, to the needs of the whole.

There are moments of growth.Moments of rest.Moments of collapse and regeneration.

And somehow, the forest keeps going…in rhythm with the world around it,in relationship,in partnership.

When we look at living systems, we don’t see endless expansion or rugged individualism.

We see interdependence.

And yet, this is not how we’re taught to build our creative lives.

What ecological thinking actually means (and why it matters)

When I talk about ecological thinking, I’m not talking about being perfect.I’m not talking about moral purity.

Ecological thinking is a way of relating.

It’s an understanding that nothing exists in isolation.That everything depends on something else.That growth has limits.That care is not optional.That rest isn’t a reward, it’s part of the design.

Capitalism teaches us to treat creativity like a machine:

Turn it on.Extract output.Keep it running as long as possible.

But living systems don’t work like machines.

A garden doesn’t produce year-round.A river doesn’t follow a straight line.A body doesn’t perform at full capacity every day without consequence.

And yet, we’re often asked to.

Ecological systems move in cycles, not straight lines.

There are seasons of visibility and seasons of quiet work underground.Times of growth and times of rest.

Nothing in an ecosystem is considered lazy for lying fallow.Nothing is shamed for changing pace.Nothing is expected to produce without nourishment.

Ecological thinking asks us to stop forcing our creativity to behave in ways that contradict how life actually works.

Capitalism asks:

* How big can this get?

* How fast can this scale?

* How much can I extract before something breaks?

Ecological thinking asks:

* What does this depend on?

* What does it affect?

* What happens if it grows too fast?

* What does it need to stay alive over time?

The blueprint you follow determines what you sacrifice.

Empire logic sacrifices rest, health, originality, and often joy.Ecological logic designs for sustainability, relationship, and long-term aliveness.

When creativity is treated as something alive, something responsive, everything changes.

A question to sit with:

Where in your creative life are you currently forcing something to behave like a machine?

Your output?Your schedule?Your relationship to visibility?

What might happen if you treated that part of your work the way you’d treat a living thing?

How capitalism trains creatives to follow empire logic

Most of us didn’t choose how we relate to our work.

We inherited it.

Capitalism doesn’t just shape markets… it shapes imagination.It teaches us what work is for and how creativity is supposed to behave.

Under capitalism, creatives are trained to treat creativity like a factory line:

Produce.Optimize.Monetize.Repeat.

If something matters, it should make money.If it doesn’t make money, it should build visibility.And if it doesn’t do either, it needs to justify itself.

We’re handed blueprints and told they’re natural:

Post constantly.Show up every day.Scale like this.Build an audience first.Monetize later, or sooner, or constantly.

And when it doesn’t work?

Do more.

More content.More effort.More discipline.More output.

This is empire logic.

Empire logic treats creativity like land to be conquered.Like territory to claim before someone else does.

But creativity isn’t mechanical.It’s relational.

It responds to how it’s treated.

Burnout isn’t a personal flaw; it’s a predictable outcome.Loss of joy isn’t a mystery; it’s information.Creative exhaustion isn’t failure; it’s feedback.

A question worth asking:

What blueprint did you inherit about how creative work is “supposed” to look?

Where did it come from?And who benefits when you follow it?

If you’re realizing you never chose this… you’re not behind.

You’re waking up.

What breaks when we follow empire blueprints

Empires are rigid by design.They depend on control, hierarchy, and constant expansion.

Rigid systems don’t bend.They break.

When we build our lives like empires:

* Burnout becomes common

* Chronic illness becomes normalized

* Rest becomes suspicious

Relationships fracture.Collaboration turns into competition.Metrics replace meaning.

Originality thins out.Trends replace intuition.Work becomes something we endure instead of participating in.

Empire logic asks us to grow faster than we can metabolize.

And when anything grows faster than it can metabolize, it collapses.

Sometimes loudly.Sometimes quietly.Often with shame.

If something in your life or work is breaking, it doesn’t automatically mean you failed.

It might mean the structure was never meant to hold you.

What has empire logic already cost you?

Just notice.

Awareness is often the first act of resistance.

What ecosystems teach us instead

Ecosystems offer a different model entirely.

They’re built on relationship, not domination.

In ecosystems:

* Many roles matter, not just the most visible ones

* The work that sustains life is often unseen

* Small is not failure

* Slowness is not laziness

* Redundancy is resilience

Roots anchor.Fungi connect.Decomposers transform what’s no longer needed into nourishment.

Nothing is wasted.

When we model our creative lives after ecosystems:

* Work can have rhythm instead of urgency

* Growth can be cyclical instead of constant

* Success can mean enough instead of excess

A practical reflection:

If your creative life were an ecosystem, what role are you playing right now?

The producer?The connector?The caretaker?The one who needs rest?

And what role have you never been allowed to inhabit, but secretly long for?

How this connects to Creative Camp (and you)

This way of thinking is the foundation of everything I do.

It’s why I talk about ecosystems instead of empires.Why I resist one-size-fits-all strategies.Why sustainability matters more to me than scale.

Creative Camp Radio isn’t here to hand you another blueprint.

It’s here to help you unlearn the ones that don’t fit… and start noticing what does.

As you listen, I invite you to think of yourself not as an audience member, but as part of the ecosystem.

Your reflections matter.Your questions matter.Your experiments matter.

Questions to carry with you

As you move through your days (working, resting, walking, making) consider these:

* Where are you following a blueprint that no longer fits your life?

* What would change if you stopped measuring success by speed or visibility?

* What wants to grow slowly in your work right now if you let it?

Unlearning blueprints isn’t always about burning everything down (though sometimes it is).

It’s also about remembering how life actually works—and letting our creativity follow those rhythms.

You don’t have to do this alone.Because none of us are meant to.

If this episode stirred something, try one small thing:

Name one empire blueprint you’re ready to loosen your grip on.And one ecosystem practice you’re willing to try, even imperfectly.

That’s how ecosystems form.Not all at once.But through many small, intentional acts of care.

I’ll see you next time.

Natalie Brite - DoGoodBiz Studio

Designing creative ecosystems for people & planet.Our Studio helps creatives, conscious brands, and impact-driven businesses turn values into visible, working systems through branding, web design, and strategy built for longevity.

Click here to learn more about our Studio.

An Invitation to Build Ecosystems, Not Empires

Creative Camp Radio is a podcast for people building creative lives outside the blueprints of capitalism.

In this opening episode, Natalie Brite (They/Them) shares why Creative Camp Radio exists now and why so many creatives, artists, organizers, and values-driven builders are feeling exhausted, disillusioned, and disconnected from their work.

This episode is an invitation to step away from grind culture, extraction, and performance... and toward a slower, more relational way of creating and living.

Together, we explore creativity as an ecosystem rather than a resource to mine, and imagine what becomes possible when care, sustainability, and collective liberation guide how we make and share our work.

This isn’t about optimizing your life or fixing yourself.

It’s about inhabiting your life more fully, and remembering that creativity can help us imagine new ways of being and living together.

Pull up a chair.

You’re welcome here.

In this episode, we explore:

Why so many creatives are feeling bone-deep exhaustion right now

Burnout as a systemic issue—not a personal failure

Creativity under capitalism vs. creativity as an ecosystem

Why “more content” and faster growth aren’t the answer

What it means to build ecosystems instead of empires

Camp as a metaphor for belonging, interdependence, and shared knowledge

Refusing grind culture, extraction, corporatized creativity, and binary thinking

Inviting care, ecological thinking, and creative liberation as everyday practices

This episode is for you if:

You’re tired of hustle culture and constant performance

You feel misaligned with traditional definitions of success

You care deeply about people, the planet, and justice

You want your creativity to feel nourishing again—not extractive

You’re curious about anti-capitalist, ecological approaches to work and life

You’re ready to imagine different ways of creating, living, and relating

A note on pacing

Creative Camp Radio is intentionally slow, reflective, and spacious.

You don’t need to listen all at once.

You don’t need to take notes.

This is a campfire, not a classroom.

About Creative Camp Radio

Creative Camp Radio is a podcast where ecological thinking meets creative liberation.

Through solo reflections, storytelling, and campfire-style conversations, we explore how to build creative lives rooted in care for ourselves, our communities, and the living world.

This is a space for people growing creative ecosystems instead of empires.

Stay connected:

You can explore more about Natalie Brite and DoGoodBiz Studio at:

https://www.dogoodbiz.studio/

Subscribe to our Substack for essays, reflections, and updates:

Join us on Substack

Until next time.

* Why the most powerful frameworks are the ones you create yourself—and how they shape everything from your services to your marketing.

* Creative integrity, alignment, and the courage to lead with your own ideas instead of following someone else’s rulebook.