I am not skilled at networking — it’s not my gift. However, I thought about two opposite yet complimentary ideas related to it.First: Quantity over QualityNetwork with as many people as you can to maximize for future optionality. The more people you meet, the more you can pick and choose with whom to cultivate relationships. Second: Quality over QuantityWhy not pick just a few people and focus on them? Have a few memorable conversations that may produce something beautiful in the future. People aren’t trading cards. ConclusionNetworking is a cost for me. I’m more introverted than not, and I’m a bit weird to meet in person. That said, I see how the person like me can exist in either world — quantity or quality. Focusing on rapid networking doesn’t require me to deploy emotional resources. I can see how many people I can meet before I’m exhausted. I optimize for a balanced intro and an option to meet in the future. Focusing on quality seems like a smart move for people I believe there can be a strong exchange of value. Perhaps I look at relationship-building like a funnel and I reserve “quality” towards the lower half of the funnel?

I like to think about culture. And I like to wonder how culture shapes our view of the world and how we exist in it. Perhaps I’m a bit of a culture contrarian most times. As it relates to AI, I’m remarkably curious how our culture will be changed (I believe for the better) in times to come. Here are two examples care of Tyler Cowen: Click here for a clip of how OpenAI (makers of ChatGPT) developed their tech to order 400 chocolate covered strawberries… and pay in cash.Are doctors considering AI’s diagnostic reasoning? “Doctors were given cases to diagnose, with half getting GPT-4 access to help. The control group got 73% score in diagnostic accuracy (a measure of diagnostic reasoning) & the GPT-4 group 77%. No big difference…. But GPT-4 alone got 88%. The doctors didn’t change their opinions when working with AI.”Play the role of the devil to my own optimism — how might this new tech change creative work? I believe we are entering an era where humans are challenged to be more creative. And creative in a way that kids shine — asking questions. It’s my experience that the median adult struggles to generate questions to answer; they are over index on finding answers. My experience with the median child is the opposite — they over index on asking questions. Working with AI, the ability to get better outputs from the technology is correlated to a user’s ability to craft useful prompts. Is the ability to ask better questions a result of a creative mind? In my opinion, yes. While I share the concern of many that AI may disrupt our lives in unpleasant ways. I also see the potential. I see myself becoming more creative in my thinking and more productive in my outputs. I see others experiencing the same gains. Nothing is ever too good to be true — and AI is no exception. And, simultaneously, it’s beautiful seeing how we adapt to an ever changing landscape.

Some people like to avoid conversations around death. I’m different.At the quantum level, a particle could be or could not be present — we only know once it’s observed. I take that and use it as a model for existence. You, faithful reader, could be here or you could not be here; it will only be once I see you whether I know you’re here. My idea about the impermanence of life gives me a freedom to adopt a realistic view on life and death. In a way, it’s the thought of death hanging over my head that motivates me to work harder, be more present, and to never take any moment for granted. I stress less. What’s the incentive to avoid death then? Personally, I don’t see one. I acknowledge that others might have had traumatic and horrible experiences losing a loved one. I can’t offer an insight to counter their experience, and I would never. I wonder if our avoidance is because deep within our mind there is a question that we are afraid to answer. That question might be: “Did we make the most of the time we had?” I fear the answer, for some, might be “no.”

I am playing a funeral today. I notice people investing lots of time and energy into making the service perfect. Attempts to keep things “cool” are obvious. I hear people give moving speeches about the deceased’s life and how they interacted with others. I see people showing up in black and dark colors — in grief. I think: Will the deceased ever know this happened? I wonder: Who are funerals for? I acknowledge that different groups of people have different views on death and rituals relating to death. It is not my intention to disparage those views. Rather, I intend to question my own views. I hypothesize: Perhaps funerals are not to celebrate the memory of the person who left. Perhaps funerals are ways to create a memory of what it was like to accept and move forward. It could be said, “well funerals are for honoring the dead?” For my own belief system, I wonder if the best way to honor the dead is to honor the living while they are with you. For every moment you’re in the company of someone else, make that moment count. Let that person, or those people, know how much that moment meant to you.It could be said, “funerals are a way to grieve.” I see that. I then wonder, does the flower and the stressed planning improve the effectiveness of my grieving process? Certainly saying “goodbye” to someone is tough. It’s sad to lose someone. While I hold that belief, I hold a parallel belief that every time I say goodbye to someone, I am saying “goodbye.” Until we meet again.

I’m playing a gig today. On the gig, I will play all kinds of music. I can play music the way it’s recorded. I can also add my own voice. Most musicians prefer a blend of the two — depends on the gig. For the gig I will play, I get to add my own flare. My musical voice is distinct. It’s a product of all that I listen to, have played, and have learned in my life. It’s slightly unrefined, soulful, happy, different, and full. Those are words others use to describe the sound. When I play and infuse my self into the music, I transmit who I am to the listener and to the other musicians. They experience what words can’t describe. I am translating myself so that others can understand me. Musicians that play with me often know how to understand my musical language. They know how to finish my sentences. Through my work as a translator, I have helped those musicians become fluent in “me”.Translation and transmission of self are daily acts.

A translator bridging the understanding gap of culture and language helped explorers, teachers, leaders, sales people, families and all types of human occupations for a very long time. A translator’s output is a function of their ability to comprehend context, language, tone, cultural norms, and attributes of two different culture (read: groups) and bridge the gap. I translate. I attempt to communicate my ideas to you in ways you might comprehend. Some translations are insightful, others jibberish. I translate for my team. I take business concepts and enable my team to understand and use these concepts in a way they understand. I translate myself to different groups of people. At a church, I attempt to translate my ideas in a way that’s respectful of the norms and traditions of church goers. In a business setting, I attempt to translate myself in a way that business executives accept. In my family, I attempt to do the same.You are no different than me. Our work every day is a work of translation. Perhaps the way we navigate the complexities of social interactions is to learn all we can through immersion and active engagement with different cultures of people so that we can translate and authentically transmit ourselves to them. That ancient skill whose value grows and compounds century-on-century.

I feel life with intensity. And I see how others might have their own feelings about life. It’s easy for me to be empathetic. At the same time, it’s more often than not, easy for me to see life as it is. Example: given news that is sad, I don’t often express sadness in my tone or physical behavior. Instead, I express it with words. Perhaps, “oh wow, that’s sad. I imagine it’s tough for…. to deal with that.”Example: at a funeral people discuss the life of someone who lived. The stories people tell are moving. For me, I’m able to find humor or happiness. My reaction is the inverse of what’s expected.Example: if others are stressed with life, my reaction is to accept that others have stress and they’ll work through it because they’re strong enough to do it. That’s not always the reaction people want me to have. My reaction comes off cold. Yet I am not cold. I feel very deeply. Perhaps I’m getting better at seeing an emotion as a temporary chemically-driven experience. And perhaps I’m getting better at seeing the moment simply as the moment. And perhaps that ability to be content with myself in this world as it is comes at a cost — I don’t always follow the social contract you and I implicitly sign. Reflecting now… I believe contentment is worth the cost. The alternative, to conform more to social expectations doesn’t yield valuable outputs for me. I’m often the “weird”, “difficult”, or “interesting” one in a group. Conforming to norms and obligations requires me to give up what I’ve worked to build up in my self — a sense of contentment with who I am. The challenge is finding ways to navigate. Thus I arrive at my conclusion — perhaps part of the war that is life is determining who you are, how you move through it, while navigating the outward complexities of our shared existence.

Is bad service at a restaurant a sign of a better world? An article written by Mike Makowsky’s suggests that service becoming sub par at restaurants because labor is short is a byproduct of people moving into better jobs. Makowsky asks us to consider that service may not be as important as quality of food or the people you’re with — I can see his point. I see an implication for a view I wrote about days ago — hard to deliver against happiness. I argued that happiness may be a byproduct of a job well done versus the goal. And in a restaurant, “service” may be an adjacent idea to “happiness.” Service at a restaurant is about the “experience” of being served. The white gloves. The descriptions of food and wine. The experience of being greeted and shown to your table. Delivering “happiness” is no different — it’s an experience just the same. Ultimately, neither matter much if the ultimate goal — food or the material service being rendered — does not produce value. Food for thought.

Teaching is more fun when the students teach themselves and a guide fills in the gaps. The students ask more questions, the guide encourages more investigation and exploration. Ideas are considered, proofs made… learning.

Studying history can open your eyes to concepts you could never imagined. For example: in the Philippines, corn, root vegetables, and fish were primarily the foods consumed prior to the arrival of the Spanish. Also interesting, the civilizations in Mesoamerica consumed similar food stuffs — corn, root crops, and fish. Both Pre-Spanish civilizations are believed to have crossed land from Asia bridges after the last ice age to reach what we call the Philippines and the Americas. It’s possible to draw a line and imagine some connection. But it’s more exciting to ask the question: what else might we learn if we dug into our past? And what lessons might we learn?