The other day, I received a phone call offering me $1,000 and a script to talk about a very specific issue in my niche. Later that same day, I saw multiple people in my space talking about that exact issue—in nearly identical language.
I’m not a major influencer. Across my restaurant, the ranch, and my personal platforms, I probably reach about 100,000 people total. But the offer surprised me, and it made me wonder: Do we really own our own minds?
We all follow people we find interesting. We consume their ideas, their ideas shape our ideas, and it becomes a feedback loop. But when dark money is influencing even micro-influencers to say very specific things, who can we trust anymore? Who’s authentic? And where did the ideas I hold so deeply even come from?
I believe that people who truly own their minds don’t fit in neat little boxes. They wrestle with nuance. They struggle to align with just one side of the aisle. And they inevitably change their minds sometimes—because real thinking is alive.
Often, when I’m engaging with people in my Instagram comments or even here through an article, it feels like I’m talking to talking points. There’s no curiosity. No sense that they’ve read past the headline or even finished the caption. Just a reaction—usually because something I said bumped up against a deeply held belief they’ve never really questioned.
I’m a free speech maximalist. I believe that everyone should be allowed to say what they think—the good, the bad, and the ugly. But I also believe that we need discernment. We need to be able to recognize who still owns their mind in a world that’s becoming more digital, more curated, more performative.
Real authenticity is rare. And I think our souls are aching for it.
I don’t have a nice, neat answer tied up in a bow, but I do think that we need to ask ourselves: What are we consuming?
Is it feeding us, expanding us, challenging us—or is it numbing us, manipulating us, polarizing us?
The average U.S. adult spends more than two hours a day on social media. That’s more than 15 hours a week. Some use that time to relax, some to think, some to argue. But how often do we pause to ask: Do I actually believe this? Or does the tribe I belong to believe this?
It’s important that we disagree. It’s important that we stay curious. It’s important that we listen to understand—not just to defend our position. It’s far too easy to spew unkindness online and forget that there’s a human being on the other side of the screen.
When I shifted my life from vegan chef in Los Angeles to cattle rancher in Texas, you can imagine the backlash. Some people wished harm on me and my children. I have a thick skin, and it doesn’t bother me anymore—but not everyone is as emotionally strong. And we need to remember that.
So I say this:
Look for voices that don’t fit in.
Look for people who agree with you on some things but challenge you on others.
Be curious.
Give grace to ideas that don’t match your own.
Remember that each of us is a skin bag holding a soul—a tiny piece of God—reflecting something back at you.
There are no sides. No left and right. We should all be on the side of humanity, the side of transformation, and the side of God.
I don’t have all the answers about how to reclaim our minds, but I know this: I’m trying to consume less and create more. On a podcast recently, the host said, “You’re either creating content or consuming content.” And I think that’s true of everything—we’re either creating something beautiful in the world or consuming what someone else created.
So let’s create a more beautiful world together.
Let’s consume less. Let’s honor our own minds. And let’s allow space for people around us to think differently from how we do.
