Sauna Thoughts: The Currency of Cool

There’s something that has bothered me for most of my life, and I still can’t quite shake it.

The social hierarchy of “cool.”

The in-crowd. The connected people. The socially valuable people. The people who seem to glide through rooms effortlessly while others orbit around them hoping to be acknowledged.

I’ve noticed it everywhere: music school, churches, mountain biking, surf culture, snowboarding, business circles, fitness communities, social media, small towns, big towns, cool towns.

Especially cool towns.

And honestly, I think that’s one of the reasons social media exhausts me sometimes.

You’ll scroll past endless posts about: community, love, inclusion, support, brotherhood, authenticity.

And then you’ll see those same people in real life and realize… they barely acknowledge anyone outside their social ecosystem.

Sometimes they act like they’ve never met you before. Even if you’ve met multiple times.

And maybe they genuinely forgot your name. That happens. I forget names too sometimes.

But there’s a difference between forgetting someone’s name and making someone feel invisible.

You can always say: “Man, I’m sorry, remind me your name again?” “Good to see you.” “How’ve you been?”

That takes almost nothing.

Instead, a lot of people protect the optics of coolness like currency.

Because coolness is social capital.

Who you know. Who follows you. Who reposts you. Who rides with you. Who tags you. What bike you ride. How fit you are. How attractive you are. How much money you have.

How close you are to the “important” people.

It’s subtle sometimes. Sometimes not subtle at all.

And honestly? It breaks my heart a little.

Especially when it happens in Christian spaces.

Because Jesus consistently moved toward the people outside the social hierarchy.

The overlooked people. The awkward people. The outsiders. The poor. The weird. The sick. The socially rejected.

He didn’t build VIP sections.

He built tables.

I think part of why this stuff affects me so deeply is because I know what it feels like to be outside the circle.

I’ve felt it growing up. I felt it in sports. I felt it in music school. I felt it in action sports. I’ve felt it in churches. I still feel it sometimes now.

And maybe because of that, I notice the people standing alone.

The awkward kid. The parent nobody talks to. The person trying to enter a conversation but never fully getting let in. 

The person everyone politely tolerates but never really embraces.

I notice them because I’ve been them.

Some of the safest environments I’ve ever been part of weren’t built around coolness at all.

They were built around kindness.

In the Classroom

When I was a classroom teacher, dozens of students over the years went through identity shifts or seasons of questioning who they were. 

Some changed names. Some changed genders for a season. Some longer.

And whenever a student quietly approached me and said, “Can you call me by this name instead of this one?”

My answer was always simple:

“Of course. I’ll call you by whatever name you want… as long as you promise to keep being kind to yourself and kind to others.”

That was it.

No giant speech. No culture war. No political debate.

Just: “Be kind.”

And honestly? I think that’s part of why so many kids gravitated toward my classroom before school, during lunch, and after school over the years.

My room was safe.

Not because there were no rules. There were definitely rules.

You had to treat people well. No bullying. No cruelty. No constant vulgarity. No making people feel small.

Also… no potty mouths.

But underneath all of that was something I wish existed more in adult spaces too:

People didn’t have to earn dignity first.

They didn’t have to be cool enough. Popular enough. Talented enough. Connected enough. Stylish enough. Or socially valuable enough to be acknowledged.

They just had to be human.

And maybe that’s still what I’m chasing now.

Not “cool.” Not status. Not social positioning.

Just environments where people can exhale a little.

Where people feel seen. Where kindness matters more than optics. Where nobody has to fight so hard to belong.

Growing Up

I don’t think most people are intentionally malicious.

I think people are anxious. Busy. Distracted. Image-conscious. Protective of their status.

Protective of belonging.

Humans naturally organize into tribes. Into cool kids and outsiders. 

Adults just get better at disguising it.

But I also think we have a choice.

We can continue participating in the economy of social value…

Or we can intentionally become people who make others feel seen.

Not because they benefit us. Not because they elevate our image. Not because they’re useful socially.

But because they’re human beings.

Honestly, some of the most meaningful moments in my life have happened far away from the “cool crowd.”

At simple dinners. At campfires. At prayer circles. At group rides with beginners. At awkward conversations. At folding tables with cheap food and kids running around everywhere.

Real community rarely looks impressive online.

It usually just looks warm.

And maybe that’s what I’m chasing these days.

Not coolness. Not status. Not proximity to important people.

Just warmth. Presence. Eye contact. Authenticity. Tables instead of cliques.

Because the older I get, the less impressed I am by cool...and the more moved I am by kindness.