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The Artist's Oath
The Artist’s Oath is a personal commitment to how I show up creatively. It is a reminder to lead with integrity, to resist the pressure to perform, and to make work that reflects truth, not just what gets attention. It is a compass for navigating the tension between expression and permanence, and a way to stay rooted in what matters: presence, process, and purpose, not perfection.

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AI is changing how people relate to each other at work.

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The Artist's Oath
The Artist’s Oath is a personal commitment to how I show up creatively. It is a reminder to lead with integrity, to resist the pressure to perform, and to make work that reflects truth, not just what gets attention. It is a compass for navigating the tension between expression and permanence, and a way to stay rooted in what matters: presence, process, and purpose, not perfection.

Stanford Confirms My Research Findings
AI is changing how people relate to each other at work.

Not My First Rodeo: Minting SuperRare Ghost Tokens
The story of how I minted art on SuperRare in 2021 while banned.
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
I go through an emotional rollercoaster whenever I record a podcast.
Most of what I say is spontaneous—off-the-cuff and in the moment. But as soon as the session ends, my inner critic kicks in, convinced I must’ve sounded like an idiot. It’s like this relentless loop where I second-guess every word, wondering if I understood my point clearly or stumbled too much.
The relief doesn’t come until I listen back to the recording, bracing myself for the cringeworthy moments I imagine. But surprisingly, it’s never as bad as I feared. In fact, I often sound better than I thought.
It’s a cycle: doubt followed by relief.
Because the reality of what I’ve said is far kinder than the voice in my head during those raw, unedited moments.
I’m learning that the inner critic doesn’t always reflect the truth. It’s a product of self-consciousness, of wanting to meet my own high standards in everything I say. But I’m also realizing that perfection isn’t the goal. It’s about trusting the process, embracing the spontaneity, and knowing that what feels messy at the moment can come together far better than I expect.
I go through an emotional rollercoaster whenever I record a podcast.
Most of what I say is spontaneous—off-the-cuff and in the moment. But as soon as the session ends, my inner critic kicks in, convinced I must’ve sounded like an idiot. It’s like this relentless loop where I second-guess every word, wondering if I understood my point clearly or stumbled too much.
The relief doesn’t come until I listen back to the recording, bracing myself for the cringeworthy moments I imagine. But surprisingly, it’s never as bad as I feared. In fact, I often sound better than I thought.
It’s a cycle: doubt followed by relief.
Because the reality of what I’ve said is far kinder than the voice in my head during those raw, unedited moments.
I’m learning that the inner critic doesn’t always reflect the truth. It’s a product of self-consciousness, of wanting to meet my own high standards in everything I say. But I’m also realizing that perfection isn’t the goal. It’s about trusting the process, embracing the spontaneity, and knowing that what feels messy at the moment can come together far better than I expect.
1 comment
"It’s a cycle: doubt followed by relief." - #EricsBlog https://paragraph.xyz/@epr/struggling-with-public-speaking?referrer=0x5573FEdf9f390F41033C89Eb15dfDb8b1981cd3A