jer979Purpose Struggle
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...
jer979Value. 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 "...
jer979Coffee 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...
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jer979Supposed to Be
jer979Purpose Struggle
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...
jer979Value. 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 "...
jer979Coffee 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...
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There’s a tightness in my shoulders, the small of my back, and in my jaw when things don’t manifest as they are “supposed to.”
But what is “supposed to?”
Why should I or do I feel like the universe owes me anything?
It doesn’t.
What I feel is my ego trying to preserve itself by willing reality to bend to its needs.
But reality doesn’t work that way.
Reality can manifest in millions of possible ways.
And my ego’s needs aren’t needs in the sense that food and water are.
They are the constructed result of thousands of inputs, accumulated over time.
The pain of “supposed to” begins to dissolve, slowly, as each brick of the constructed House of Ego is carted away.
Eventually, maybe, all that remains
There’s a tightness in my shoulders, the small of my back, and in my jaw when things don’t manifest as they are “supposed to.”
But what is “supposed to?”
Why should I or do I feel like the universe owes me anything?
It doesn’t.
What I feel is my ego trying to preserve itself by willing reality to bend to its needs.
But reality doesn’t work that way.
Reality can manifest in millions of possible ways.
And my ego’s needs aren’t needs in the sense that food and water are.
They are the constructed result of thousands of inputs, accumulated over time.
The pain of “supposed to” begins to dissolve, slowly, as each brick of the constructed House of Ego is carted away.
Eventually, maybe, all that remains
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