
Value. Happiness.
I feel happy. It's fun, it's light, like a feather floating at the beginning of Forrest Gump. But, like the feather, it's not grounded. It can flitter and float away. Value is also ephemeral. We know it when we see it. We feel it, somewhere deep inside. Something connects to us, saying "yes, this is worth it." The "it" that it's worth is energy. Energy in the form of time, attention, money. The things of which our possession is limited. There's a reason why all the great traditions point to "...

Coffee with AI
Every day for the past month, I’ve had a coffee date with AI. I literally sit down, with a cup of coffee, with an appointment on my calendar that says “coffee with AI”. During that time, AI (I’ve used ChatGPT, Gemini, Perplexity, Claude, and Venice) and I literally have a chat, the way I would with a friend. It’s not “write this letter for me” or “do this or that.” No, it’s a chance for us to have a conversation about whatever topic I want. Many days, recently, at least, it’s been about quant...

Cultivating Stillness
When the swirling stops, the dust settles. The debris falls away. The water recedes. The picture becomes clear. The value becomes apparent. But so too the ugly truths. The things that make me scared; make me sad; make me want to cry. So, despite the feeling of fullness that comes from seeing the landscape, my mind responds, like an emergency vehicle, seeking to whisk me away so I don't need to feel the discomfort, the pain, the brutal reality. But, I'm not in the back of the ambulance. I'm th...
www.twitter.com/jer979

Subscribe to jer979

Value. Happiness.
I feel happy. It's fun, it's light, like a feather floating at the beginning of Forrest Gump. But, like the feather, it's not grounded. It can flitter and float away. Value is also ephemeral. We know it when we see it. We feel it, somewhere deep inside. Something connects to us, saying "yes, this is worth it." The "it" that it's worth is energy. Energy in the form of time, attention, money. The things of which our possession is limited. There's a reason why all the great traditions point to "...

Coffee with AI
Every day for the past month, I’ve had a coffee date with AI. I literally sit down, with a cup of coffee, with an appointment on my calendar that says “coffee with AI”. During that time, AI (I’ve used ChatGPT, Gemini, Perplexity, Claude, and Venice) and I literally have a chat, the way I would with a friend. It’s not “write this letter for me” or “do this or that.” No, it’s a chance for us to have a conversation about whatever topic I want. Many days, recently, at least, it’s been about quant...

Cultivating Stillness
When the swirling stops, the dust settles. The debris falls away. The water recedes. The picture becomes clear. The value becomes apparent. But so too the ugly truths. The things that make me scared; make me sad; make me want to cry. So, despite the feeling of fullness that comes from seeing the landscape, my mind responds, like an emergency vehicle, seeking to whisk me away so I don't need to feel the discomfort, the pain, the brutal reality. But, I'm not in the back of the ambulance. I'm th...


<100 subscribers
<100 subscribers
Yesterday, I decided that my blogging career should come to an end.
I was doing myself a disservice.
I told myself that the goal of the posts was to dig deeper, peel back the layers, get down to the core.
But by publishing online (or on-chain as the case may be), I was subconsciously writing for others, even if I told myself that I didn't care if others read.
So, in an effort to be more authentic, I figured I'd stop publishing and start doing a private journal.
Within 2 hours of that decision, 2 different people offered me unsolicited praise for the posts and their authenticity.
Now, I felt the struggle.
For whom am I writing?
And why?
The ego says, "you have a value you provide to others. You should serve them."
The self says, "you'll never get really deep if you always know that someone else might read it."
I'm struggling.
Maybe that's the point?
Learn to sit with both and do both?
Or maybe it's not binary. Maybe there's a way to square this circle...
Yesterday, I decided that my blogging career should come to an end.
I was doing myself a disservice.
I told myself that the goal of the posts was to dig deeper, peel back the layers, get down to the core.
But by publishing online (or on-chain as the case may be), I was subconsciously writing for others, even if I told myself that I didn't care if others read.
So, in an effort to be more authentic, I figured I'd stop publishing and start doing a private journal.
Within 2 hours of that decision, 2 different people offered me unsolicited praise for the posts and their authenticity.
Now, I felt the struggle.
For whom am I writing?
And why?
The ego says, "you have a value you provide to others. You should serve them."
The self says, "you'll never get really deep if you always know that someone else might read it."
I'm struggling.
Maybe that's the point?
Learn to sit with both and do both?
Or maybe it's not binary. Maybe there's a way to square this circle...
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
No activity yet