Let’s just get into it.

Morals Without a Master

I’m at the dinner table, sitting with Immanuel Kant, Niccolò Machiavelli, and Albert Camus. The vibe of the dining room is uniquely San Franciscan: part Victorian, part modern, with chandeliers, candlesticks, and sleek black quartz finishes with LED light panels. It’s dim but not quite dark—mirroring the city’s fog-covered aesthetic.

Me: ”Gentlemen, here is tonight’s menu. We have three unsigned customers. An investor call is in 48 hours. If I write ‘three active pilots’ on the slide, I probably close the seed round. If I write ‘three pending pilots’, I probably don’t. What do I do?”

Kant straightens his powder wig, voice clipped. “A slide is a speech act. If you knowingly misstate, you will it as acceptable for every founder. Investor trust collapses. Say ‘pending’. Anything else is a lie.”

Machiavelli flicks a crumb off his sleeve. “Seed funding is not about truth. It’s about narrative control. You’re not lying—you’re casting a spell. Say ‘active.’ Then make it true. The lie becomes retroactive truth if you move fast enough.”

Camus lights a cigarette he didn’t have a second ago. He smiles, not with humor, but with recognition. “They offer you rules for a game that has none. One sells purity, the other victory. Both are phantoms to shield you from the truth: nobody is coming to tell you what to do. The universe doesn't record the choice, only that a choice was made. The rest is just the story you tell yourself afterwards. So, which lie will you choose? The lie of purity, the lie of victory, or the lie that it doesn't matter? The only truth is in the choosing.”

Me: I swirl my glass. My runway is a countdown clock in my head. My conscience is a high-frequency buzz in my ears. My desire for this to mean something is a dull ache in my chest. I stare at the empty slide on my laptop screen, the title "Our Traction" stares back, mockingly. The cursor blinks. Blink. Blink.

The investor call is in two days, but this dinner is timeless. The guests are ghosts I've been entertaining for years, the personification of a lifelong war. Their arguments are the soundtrack to every meaningful decision I've ever had to make.

There's the unyielding, demanding Morality, a voice that sounds suspiciously like my lovingly disciplinarian grandmother's, but armed with the unsparing logic of Kant. There is the seductive, pragmatic whisper of Effectiveness, a Machiavellian urge to win at all costs. And then there is the hollow laugh from the corner, from the shadows of Meaning, where Camus reminds me that the universe doesn't care about my slide deck or my soul.

This essay is an attempt to map that battlefield. It is a dispatch from the war between the person I ought to be, the person I must be to succeed, and the nagging fear that neither of them truly matter.

0. Prologue

My mom and my grandmother are some of the most idealistic and righteous people I know. Through nature and nurture, their principles are deeply embedded in me:

Never lie. Respect everyone.

Be kind to everyone.

Hard work speaks for itself.

I accepted these as the basic terms and conditions of being a decent person.

My grandmother, a school principal and disciplinarian, never yelled or threatened; she simply expected, and I behaved. Math problems after school, classical music lessons, and unwavering moral expectations were the texture of daily life. My mother, while gentler in approach, carried the same ethical gravity. She had clear ideals and values she wanted to instill in me. She didn’t want me to just follow rules—she wanted me to believe in them.

Ideals of righteousness coursed through the marrow of my bones. I thought Superman was cooler than Batman precisely because, and not in spite of, him being a goody-two shoes. Hell, I even avoided killing innocent civilians when I played Grand Theft Auto.

For both my grandma and mom, the foundation of goodness was obvious: we must be good because God. But God was dying in me long before I declared apostasy. I looked on evil—war, strife, the suffering of innocent children—and I questioned divine benevolence. Scientific theories like the Big Bang and evolution by natural selection made God’s creation powers seem redundant. But the most lethal cut was the fact of human myth-making. It is the understanding that humans have always had a proclivity for creating fantastic stories to explain their environment—and that divinity is one of the most common literary devices. This made it obvious to me that God, of the myths and stories, was a human invention, not a Truth about the universe.

By seventeen, God was irrefutably dead. And without God, I did not have a good justification for why I had to be good. But since goodness was conditioned into me, I still felt guilty when I couldn’t abide by it. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then completely, my foundation for being good became guilt—and shame.

“I feel guilty about everything, all the time,” I said to Julie, my first date since moving to the US. It was pleasantly warm in San Diego and we were at a cute ice-cream shop. I was 22. She blinked and nodded, “Why do you feel that way?” “I… don’t really know,”

I felt a gut punch, and a tightening in my chest, every time I was even a minute late to a meeting. If I’m late, I don’t respect them or their time, so I must be a horrible person. Even for something that trivial, I’d feel ashamed hours later. Maybe if I had God, I might have asked Him for forgiveness and offloaded some of my burdens. But I just had raw guilt. I felt guilty about everything I did not do flawlessly and felt constant shame about being a person who was so flawed.

This unmoored guilt became intolerable; I needed an anchor, and in the absence of God, I began searching for a system—any system—built on a foundation that couldn't die.

1. Morality

“Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”

- Immanuel Kant, Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals

In the midst of my rudderless guilt, I found Kant and his categorical imperative.

It was like discovering a law of physics for the soul. The campers’ rule—leave it better than you found it—is a great example. If you could will your personal rule as a universal rule for everyone without creating a contradiction, it was moral. If you couldn't, it was not.

But as I looked deeper, I realized this was only the entry point. The universal law was the litmus test for a deeper, underlying principle. It is captured in Kant's second, more profound formulation of the categorical imperative: to treat all of humanity, in yourself and others, never merely as a means to an end, but always as an end in itself.

This was the revelation. The Universal Law was the cathedral's architecture, magnificent and logical. But the Humanity Principle was what it was all built for—the sacred altar of human dignity. Lying wasn't just logically inconsistent, it was an act of violence against another person's rational soul. It was using them as a tool. I now had a system that was not only rational but also deeply humane. I clung to it like a man overboard clings to a spar.

It wasn’t just an armchair philosophy for me. I strove to live it and build with it. Almost like a rite of passage, one of my previous startup ideas many months (feels like years) ago, was an AI-powered dating app. I know. The premise seemed simple enough: the AI would help users improve their profiles and conversations. Applying the categorical imperative, helping someone take better profile pictures felt like a universal good—it would create a better, higher-quality dating pool for everyone. But what about coaching a user on what to say? Is providing the "perfect line" an act of helpfulness, or is it a deception? Would I be willing a world where all romantic connection is built on a script? This was a “real-world” product design dilemma, and Kant's logic was paralyzing.

And the paralysis was a revelation. That dating app question wasn’t a unique edge case, it was the template for a thousand daily choices. To will a world where all romantic connection is scripted felt monstrous. Yet to deny users a tool that might ease their crippling social anxiety felt like a violation of a different, more human imperative. The system offered no answers, only a perfect, elegant, and totally unworkable dead end. It was a philosophy for angels, not for founders.

Kant’s beautiful, rigid cathedral of reason had no room for human messiness. It offered no absolution. In fact, it was a harsher master than the God I’d abandoned. Viewed through Kant’s unforgiving lens, even a reflexive white lie was to will a world where truth has no meaning. The guilt I felt before was a murky fog; this new guilt was a blade, sharp and precise. I hadn’t escaped my prison—I had merely rationalized its walls and handed the key to a colder warden.

I had to create an updated system to survive. I called it my "relaxed categorical imperative"—an attempt to build a little chapel of human exceptions onto the side of Kant’s grand cathedral. This was a place where kindness could override truth, where context could finally matter. It was a system that permitted the lie to save a life, or the assurance to an anxious relative that "everything will be fine." It was an appeal to my own judgment, honed over a lifetime, to make appropriate compromises. But each compromise, each exception, chipped away at the foundation. The clear lines of reason blurred into the murky grey of self-justification. It wasn’t enough.

Kant had given me a ruler to measure my own soul, and the act of measurement itself became a new and constant source of torment. I had a moral system, yes, but it was a system that stood in the way of a life that worked. The voice of "Ought" was clear and loud, but I began to hear a new whisper: "Win."

2. Effectiveness

“Where the willingness is great, the difficulties cannot be great.”

- Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince

Something I thought I’d never do is play calculated bluffs to get ahead. For example, we’ve told investors we had a few letters of intent (LOIs) when some of them were signed by supportive friends at other startups. Was this really a problem? They were still legitimate LOIs signed by legitimate startups. We’ve presented a case study that was hypothetical to help customers visualize our product's potential. We never claimed that the customer was real. This was fine, right? The boy who loved Superman would have been appalled at this refraction of the truth. He would see only the lie.

But the current me understands the bootstrap paradox: you must project the reality you wish to create to get the resources to create it. I deploy these hacks while still being grounded in principles. Even though I showed a hypothetical case study, I’m honest about it being hypothetical, in the details and if asked. Similarly, I’m honest about the letters being signed by friends, when asked. Is this a self-serving loophole or a necessary ethic for anyone trying to build something from nothing? Is relying on someone not asking the right question truly a stable ethical position? I wrestle with this question daily.

I started building my startup after I quit my job two months ago. Startups demand ruthless execution, often clashing with strict ethical ideals. I won’t necessarily defend the reckless “move fast and break things” ethos of Silicon Valley. But the reality is, the most effective path isn’t always the most ethical. Those willing to bend the rules often gain an edge. This, at least, hasn’t changed much since the time of Machiavelli.

Machiavelli’s name evokes manipulation, but he wasn’t about evil for its own sake. His primary focus was virtù—effectiveness above all. He was amoral. Critics argue Machiavellian tactics backfire long-term, but this misses the point. True Machiavellianism optimizes for the long game, ethics be damned. By this measure, leaders like Mark Zuckerberg or Sam Altman embody a modern Machiavellian spirit, prioritizing results over ideals.

Even as I find compromises I can live with, a deep unease remains. In this state, I watch the public trajectory of Elon Musk and feel a disturbing tremor of recognition. I see a man who has achieved a level of worldly effectiveness that is almost mythological, the ultimate embodiment of "Win." And yet, he seems trapped in a feedback loop of impulsive actions and chaotic consequences, forever at war with a world he has ostensibly conquered.

Stories are powerful. They are the core meaning-making machinery of any person. From the story of who you are, of who you want to be, of who you were and where you came from, you emerge. Ambitious people tend to over-index on stories of where they want to be, or even deserve to be. But ambition can be dangerous when it totally captures the person—to the point where they are no longer the author of their story, but a character trapped within it.

The narrative of “The Founder,” “The Visionary,” or “The Disruptor” demands constant performance. Every action, every tweet, every conversation becomes a piece of character work. The risk is that after years of performance, there is no one left behind the curtain. The mask becomes the face.

As such, Elon has become a haunted mirror for my own ambition. Looking at him forces me to ask a more terrifying question than the ones Kant or Machiavelli pose. It is not, "Am I good?" or "Am I effective?" It is, "What will be left of me once I have won?" The pursuit of power, I am learning, is a fire that can forge a new world or consume the one who wields it. That, above all, is why I refuse to worship at the altar of absolute effectiveness. The point of this war is not merely to win, but to ensure the person who crosses the finish line is still, recognizably, me.

3. Meaning

“Live to the point of tears.”

- Albert Camus, Notebooks

This fear of becoming a character isn't just an abstract terror I feel when looking at billionaires. It ambushes me in the trenches of the mundane. “There’s nothing quite like endless drudgery,” I thought, after sending my 482nd LinkedIn connection request for my new startup, “to surface existential dread…” I was executing on my cold outreach plan to find customers for my new startup when it hit me: This feels demeaning. What’s the point of this? What’s the point of anything? This startup thing was supposed to be my golden ticket to “meaning.”

The dread that hit me wasn't just about boredom. It was the violent cognitive dissonance between the story I was telling—”I am a Visionary Founder building the future”—and the reality of my actions: I was spending more time sending LinkedIn connection requests and messages than actually building cool shit. Intellectually, of course, I understood that talking to potential users and customers was extremely important, and that building in the dark was a trap, especially in the early stages. But couldn’t shake off the feeling that the cold outreach was somehow beneath me.

Was the grand Visionary Founder story just a lie I'm telling myself to endure? What if the mundane is all there is?

Kant’s grand categorical imperative has nothing to say about the morality of data entry. Machiavelli’s “Win” is useless; there is no opponent here, no tactic, no strategy that can conquer the sheer, soul-crushing volume of the mundane.

My go-to defense was to intellectualize it, to cast myself as a student of Camus rebelling against a meaningless universe. Hell, I even wrote a blog post about it, convinced myself of my own absurd heroism.

But the 483rd connection request calls my bluff. My fingers hover over the keyboard, the cursor a blinking indictment. The "Visionary Founder" in my head is screaming. This isn't building. This isn't creating. This is digital panhandling. The story I tell myself—the myth of the Disruptor—is a universe away from the reality of this text box. The dissonance is a physical weight, pressing my shoulders down.

And then, something shifts. Not a grand epiphany, but a quiet surrender. I give up trying to make the task fit the myth. I stop fighting. I let the "Founder" ego dissolve into the background noise. My focus narrows from the imagined summit of "closing a pilot" to the rocky texture of the immediate ground. Click. Find a name. Type it. Hi [Name]. Copy the template. Paste. Scan their profile for one, just one, authentic detail to add. "Your modernization approach with templates and AI is really interesting." It's not a grand gesture. It's a small act of craft in a sea of repetition. Delete a word. Add another. Hit "Send."

And I prepare for the 484th.

That is the rhythm. It isn’t a beautiful melody; it’s a dull, hypnotic beat. Click. Copy. Personalize. Send. A tiny, perfect loop of action, divorced from outcome. This is the motion that Camus was talking about. It’s not a rebellion of thought, but of muscle memory. In that moment, I am not "The Founder," a noun heavy with the burden of future success. I am simply sending, an anonymous verb. And in this, I find a strange defense against the very loss of self I fear. Victory is not getting a reply. Victory is hitting "Send" and not being destroyed by the pointlessness of it all. Sisyphus is not defined by the peak, because the peak is a fiction. He is defined by the push. By anchoring myself to the verb—building, selling, connecting—I find I cannot be broken by the failure of the noun.

4. Epilogue

I walked home from the Muay Thai gym... drenched in sweat, sore, tired... I had made no progress that day... But there was this strange clarity in the cold. Nothing mattered—not the 484 requests I'd sent, nor the rocket-ship success I dreamed of. Both the drudgery and the destination were cosmically meaningless. All that was real was the cold wind, the tired muscles, and the choice to walk home and do it again tomorrow. It was a burden I had freely chosen. And in that choice, free from the weight of both the mundane and the myth, I felt like myself. It was a brief ceasefire in a lifelong war.

I'm back at my desk.

The empty slide glows. "Our Traction." The cursor blinks. Blink. Blink.

And the ghosts are here again. Not at a dinner table, but standing watch in the dim light of my monitor. Kant, rigid and expectant, a silhouette of pure principle. Machiavelli, a shadow leaning against the doorframe, a glint of victory in his eye. Camus is by the window, a curl of smoke obscuring his face as he looks out at the city lights, profoundly unimpressed.

For years, I waited for their verdict. I sought a unified theory of action that would satisfy the judge, the general, and the jester. But looking at them now, tired to the bone, I see the truth. There is no verdict. There is no unified theory. There is only the blinking cursor. There is only the choice.

Their voices are still there—Is it universal? Will it win? Does it matter?—but they are no longer a firing squad. They are the dissonant chords of a song I am learning to write.

I lean forward. My fingers hover over the keyboard, not with hesitation, but with the deliberateness of a hand placing a stone at the bottom of a hill, ready for the push. I begin typing.

Thanks so much , , , , , and ! The essay has come a long way from its first shitty draft and your feedback was critical.

Here’s another poetry edition. I found a couple of poems buried in my drafts from last year and figured I’d share them. I solemnly swear I was not on drugs when I wrote them. Just me trying to pin down a few thoughts that felt too slippery for prose.

They’re about attention, awareness, maybe identity if you squint. No big agenda here. Hope they land for you, or at least don’t make you roll your eyes too hard.

1. Clenched Fist

I clenched my fist—
tighter,
and tighter. 
So tight it hurt.

After all, 
I had to protect 
that which I was holding.

"But you’re holding nothing," 
you say. 
"Your hand is empty."

Indeed—
not unlike 
how I hold the idea of myself 
in my mind.

2. To Be It

It is.
I see it, I notice it.
I see myself noticing it.
Then something shifts
and I am it.

But then it goes away,
And I’m left with a longing—
for moments when the recursion stopped,
when there was no meta, just it.
Then I let the longing fall away.
It returned.

Again, I was at it, chasing it,
that stable and steady presence.
But how can it chase itself?
It already has.

Until next time,

— Aayush

Welcome to The Wasteland, the place where my best essays begin.

As a reminder, this is the place I write experimental stuff, that’s still in progress. It’s not at the level of polish of my other essays, but it is real and it’s raw. If you’d rather read just my completed essays, feel free to opt out in your subscription preferences.

Anticynical Preferences

Speaking of polished essays, here’s my latest essay on Status Games.

What I’m thinking about

I’m still broadly thinking about idealism and reality. How repeatedly coming into contact with harsh reality is changing me. This edition captures a snapshot in time of when I felt especially stuck and jaded.

The Jade Demon

The Jade Demon is my romantic way to think about being jaded. I imagine the feeling as a feminine silhouette made entirely of green, hardened jade.1 The she-demon has deep, dark, penetrating eyes, hinting that there’s more to her than her hard exoskeleton. She resembles mother.2

It’s a relatively new feeling for me. Until recently, when my friends said they felt jaded about something, I would nod along—intellectually understanding, but unable to empathize. Feel jaded?…What do you mean? I’m too busy being curious and enthusiastic about life!

But over the last few years, I’m developing a slow, but growing generalized loss of enthusiasm for almost everything. The Jade Demon terrifies me.

For example, take fitness. Even until late last year, I was chasing strength goals with religious fervor: a 250 lb bench, a top 1% VO2 max, front levers and handstand push-ups. It was working—until it wasn’t. Then came the setbacks: elbow and back injuries, a long bout of flu, two months of international travel, and downtime after a minor surgery.

You’re pushing yourself too hard. You don’t have to be amazing. The demon sounds like she wants the best for me, like she doesn’t want to see me get hurt. But there is an edge, a hint of condescension, in her voice. Like she almost wants to say you don’t have to be amazing because… you can’t. Why try?

Then there’s the can of worms of my social life—or the lack thereof. Early this year, I was beyond excited about joining The SF Commons. The social club of my dreams actually existed—on planet Earth, no less. And it was a 15-minute walk from my apartment in San Francisco.

But I’m drowning in projects and pressure, barely able to show up, let alone connect. The club of my dreams feels like another thing I’m failing at.3 I feel appalled that my social life has always been a low priority for me over at least the last five years. I wanted to change that in 2025, but I’m not making much progress. I expected to have made at least a handful of BFFs by now—and though I’ve met lots of amazing people, I haven’t gotten super close with anyone yet.

Being alone is not bad. You are enough. You don’t really need anyone. Again, the demon’s words seem positive on the surface, but there is a cynical undercurrent. The real meaning is closer to you’ve lost more friends than you can count… what makes you think it’ll be different this time? Why go through that pain all over again?4

You are burdened by your own unrealistic expectations, the demon says. There is truth in that. A part of me wants to be ripped by next month and have a soulmate by next weekend. But more than not meeting those expectations, it is more that raw feeling of lacking deep friendships, and of having been single for more than five years, that aches me.

—I simply want the ache to go away.

As I’m writing these words, I feel a small shift. Not that I suddenly started feeling less jaded. Before, I pretended the demon didn’t exist, but now I have the courage to gaze into her eyes. I’m even beginning to understand her.

In my last post, I wrote about the tension between idealism and reality. This piece is about what happens when that tension breaks something inside you. The Jade Demon is what steps in when idealism cracks under the weight of repeated disappointment. She’s not dramatic or loud. She doesn’t scream. She just leans against the wall with folded arms, watching you try, fail, get back up—and eventually stop trying altogether.

And that’s what scares me. Not failure. Not effort. But the erosion of the will to try. The slow numbing. The creeping suspicion that maybe nothing will ever hit quite the same way again. The mundane decay of wonder.

But maybe—just maybe—naming her gives me a sliver of power back. She hasn’t left. But I’m not looking away anymore.

Until next time,

— Aayush

Huge thanks to ! Your feedback on bringing out the demon was really on point. Thanks to —our conversation on the topic (before I had even started writing) was insightful. Also thank you to for your feedback two days ago!

Welcome to The Wasteland, the place where my best essays begin.

My long-form essays don’t come out of nowhere—they emerge from months of thinking, reading, and refining. Instead of keeping that messy middle hidden, I’m sharing it with you.

These won’t be polished, but they will be real. If you want to see the ideas before they become full essays, stick around. If you’d rather wait for the finished product, feel free to skip these. You can also adjust your subscription preferences to not receive any future Wasteland editions:

Anticynical Preferences

If you’re interested in more of my polished work, and haven’t yet read my latest essay on Status Games, here it is.

What I’m thinking about: Idealism vs. reality

I was an extremely idealistic kid. Controversially, I thought Superman was better than Batman—precisely because he was a goody two-shoes. Not to mention, much, much stronger. And why be (even a little) bad when you can just be good?

But as I’ve grown, I see how idealism bends, cracks, and sometimes falters when faced with reality. Lately, I’ve been exploring this tension—through books, conversations, and personal reflection. Right now, I’m especially interested in these classics:

1. The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli (brutally pragmatic)

2. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodyor Dostoevsky (philosophically weighty)

3. Meditations by Marcus Aurelius (stoic idealism; rereading after years)

4. The Rebel by Albert Camus (bridging idealism and reality)

In this edition, I will share my thoughts on The Prince and The Brothers Karamazov—other books will come later.

Thoughts on The Prince

Machiavelli’s name is now shorthand for ruthless pragmatism—and it’s clear why. The Prince doesn’t bother placating idealist notions.

For instance, he nonchalantly recommends eliminating a deposed ruler’s entire family.

“In that case all you have to do is eliminate the family of the previous ruler and your hold on power is guaranteed.”

If you were a ruler who just annexed new territory, would you do it? The idealist in me wants to find a nobler way—but what if not doing it meant rebellion, chaos, and even more deaths?

It’s unsettling, but The Prince forces a reckoning: politics isn’t bound by the ethics of everyday life. I haven’t looked at political leaders the same way since.

Thoughts on The Brothers Karamazov

This might seem cliché, but a few months ago, I was looking for a book with some “philosophical depth” and picked up the Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky—and boy was I not disappointed!

Here’s a quick take on some characters:

• FPK: A buffoon who knows he’s a buffoon. He’s aware that others see him this way, feels insecure about it, yet can’t help playing the fool.

• DK: Ex-decent guy; now a reckless lowlife, consumed by obsession with a woman (a prostitute).

• IK: An intellectual tormented by his own inquiries.

• AK: Saintly, but almost too pure for his own good.

• KI: Takes pride in a twisted loyalty to DK.

I’m only halfway through, but the characters feel intensely human—flawed and contradictory. Next month, I’ll share more insights (hopefully without spoilers).

Looking Ahead

• Next Essay: I’m leaning into “idealism vs. reality.” Still fuzzy on the thesis, but reading these classics is shaping my thoughts.

• Wasteland #2: Expect more short updates, favorite quotes, and random observations.

Until next time!

— Aayush

Huge thanks to ! Your harsh, but necessary feedback was invaluable. Thanks to , from whom I stole the name “Wasteland.”

I used to think I was above it all—above the petty politics of corporate life. Fresh-faced and brimming with confidence, I landed my first job at Big Tech. I told myself, "I refuse to play these petty status games.”

I watched how senior colleagues jockeyed for visibility, how subtle power plays determined who got praised and who was sidelined. It disgusted me. I felt like an outsider in an environment filled with strange, unspoken rules about who was "winning."

Around that same time, I stumbled on Naval Ravikant’s ideas about status games. His words resonated so deeply that I practically devoured them. Here’s an excerpt:

“The problem is that to win at a status game, you have to put somebody else down. That’s why you should avoid status games in your life because they make you into an angry combative person. You’re always fighting to put other people down, to put yourself and the people you like up.”

“Hell yeah!” I thought. “Go, Naval!”

But my initial excitement soon gave way to a quiet hesitation. Could I really opt out of status games altogether? At first, I believed I could—I just had to keep my head down and excel at my work.

Yet the more I insisted on this path, the more friction I felt. Each time I told myself, “I refuse to play these stupid games,” I realized, ironically, that I was playing my own virtue status game. By labeling myself morally superior for not competing, I was still seeking recognition—just in subtler ways, playing a “corporate discontents” status game. Instead of escaping the game entirely, I’d entangled myself in a new version of it.

One morning at standup (a morning meeting, for the non-tech folks), as usual, my manager at the time profusely praised everyone even for the most banal and basic work. “Ugh, here’s the daily dose of flattery again,” I thought to myself. But then it hit me: in silently condemning him for “playing the game,” I was boosting my own ego. I was telling myself, “At least I’m above that nonsense,” which was just another, more private form of status-striving.

Eventually, I had an epiphany: status games are inescapable. You exit one only to find yourself in another. They’re so deeply wired into us, so fundamental a drive, that it’s impossible to eliminate them. Even Naval was playing a status game, where the high-status move was to claim not to play status games at all.

But where did that leave me? I was a naive idealist, someone who loved the Camus-esque idea of “revolting” against impossible foes like death and existential meaninglessness. I wasn’t about to embrace corporate status games solely because they were inescapable.

There had to be a way, I needed a resolution. This led to three years of searching. Sometimes I’d think about it in passing; other times, I’d reflect more intentionally—especially while figuring out my future career and writing this essay.

To even stand a chance to arrive at a resolution, I needed to be clear about what I was trying to resolve. Being a philosopher at heart, there was no way I was going to tackle something as tricky and loaded as status games without defining basic terms. So that's where I started.

II. What is status? What is a game?

At its core, a game is any activity with objectives and rules. It can be competitive (UFC) or cooperative (Minecraft), or a mix of both (Soccer). It might be a one-time event (the Prisoner’s Dilemma) or iterative (long-term foreign relations). Some games are finite (sports), while others are continuous (your career). Their objectives and rules may be crystal clear (official leagues) or hazy (relationships). Participation can be voluntary (chess) or involuntary (office politics), and the setting public (televised wrestling) or private (the score in your head).

Next, what is status? Status arises from how others perceive and value an individual, shaping interactions and the allocation of resources and responsibilities.

Sometimes, status is crystal clear—like when a CEO outranks a junior engineer in a corporate hierarchy. But it can also be highly context-dependent. Outside the office, that same CEO might have “lower” status than the junior engineer in their local soccer league, especially if the engineer happens to be the star striker. In other situations, status shifts moment by moment, dictated by whoever naturally steps into a leadership role. Think of a house party: one friend pairs their phone with the speaker and suddenly becomes the unofficial DJ. No vote is taken, yet everyone else simply accepts them as the evening’s arbiter of music. In each case, status isn’t just about titles; it’s about who we, as a group, collectively decide to follow—even if only for the night.

Status is a mechanism to reduce conflict and foster cooperation in groups. Instead of continually fighting over resources, established hierarchies allowed communities to function more efficiently. Yet in our modern world—especially with AI and social media—status dynamics have become more volatile, and their impact on our lives can be profound and unpredictable.

My fascination with status grew as I noticed it everywhere. Across all cultures and even remote tribes, evolution has hardwired the pursuit of status into our DNA. In The Status Game, Will Storr calls it an “ultimate” drive—a deep evolutionary motivation behind many of our beliefs and behaviors. We’re driven by myriad desires—sex, power, wealth, altruism—and status, as Storr notes, is “the golden key that unlocks other dreams.” Achieving higher status often paves the way for fulfilling these other desires. This underlying drive shapes countless aspects of our lives, usually without our conscious awareness.

III. What are status games?

Status games are social activities or interactions where people compete or collaborate to gain or maintain social standing within a group. These games have objectives and rules—sometimes explicit, sometimes implicit—and one’s standing depends on how well they navigate them. Status games determine perception, respect, influence, and the distribution of resources and responsibilities.

IV. Why exactly are status games inescapable?

Everything we do triggers approval or disapproval, admiration or contempt. Even when we’re alone, we imagine how others might judge us, adjusting our self-image accordingly. This reflex is embedded in our psychology, making status-seeking inevitable.

What did I do when I didn’t like the corporate status game (where rank often hinged on tenure and “visibility”)? I jumped into the “corporate discontents” status game. I told everyone about my plans to start a business and soaked up the admiration that came with that. Just like Naval, who played the “I’m rejecting status” status game, I found I couldn’t actually rid myself of status-seeking. I was just shifting its shape.

V. Now what?

So there I was: fully aware of status games yet determined to avoid the corporate variety. It felt like a paradox. If status was inescapable, was I doomed to wander from one game to another, forever chasing or rejecting social approval? This is where my story became a search—a quest—for a better way to live and work without feeling trapped in somebody else’s rules.

I started confiding in friends and mentors who shared my frustration with office politics. Their experiences painted a vivid picture, with cautionary tales of burnout and unfulfilled promises in Big Tech. As I listened, I noticed three common strategies for navigating status games:

1. Play the game: Some embraced the system, insisting, “It’s just how the world works. Accept it and climb the ladder.” Talking to them often felt like staring into the abyss. Was I overcomplicating a natural social instinct? Or, were they so deeply entrenched in their own status games that they couldn’t see beyond them?

2. Rebel against it: My self-proclaimed “anti-status” friends prided themselves on rejecting competition altogether. They openly mocked corporate jargon like “visibility” and “circle back,” yet their disdain often felt performative—a competition to prove who could avoid status games the most.

3. Opt out: Then there were the “IDGAF” types, who just wanted to do their work, get paid, and go home. They dismissed my concerns as overthinking, but their apathy seemed to mask a resignation that status games were inescapable.

None of these approaches felt right. Each conversation, however, revealed an underlying truth: everyone was grappling with status, whether they admitted it or not.

However, within these discussions, I noticed a pattern. People who thrived in corporate settings often designed their own sub-games. They carved out niches—becoming the go-to person for a particular skill or type of advice—and gained status on their own terms. They didn’t reject the system outright, nor did they fully surrender to it. Instead, they created a space where they could succeed without sacrificing their principles.

VI. My “sub-game” at Apple

So I decided to give it a shot. I joined a company hackathon, aiming to build something cool—an internal product everyone at the company could use. Long story short, I succeeded. I teamed up with like-minded folks, and we won first place in multiple categories. Many of us wanted to continue our hackathon project and develop it into an official internal tool—which we did.

Fast forward eight months, we presented our product at a company-wide summit and launched it successfully. I also became the “go-to guy” for AI and LLM (large language models) in my team. Four months after that, I was promoted, thanks largely to the product I’d built.1

I should have been on top of the world, but I wasn’t. I had just “conquered” the status game problem. I should have felt satisfied, but I didn’t.

VII. Resolutions

I had built the internal product mostly on my own time, on my own terms. I’d tasted the autonomy of entrepreneurship, and there was no going back. My regular tasks felt incredibly dull in comparison. I tried to persuade my managerial chain to champion the product I’d built—after all, I believed it was good for the company. But guess what got in the way? Politics, of course. Sigh.2

Finally, I arrived at a resolution: first, I realized that escaping status games wasn’t just impossible—it was undesirable.

Let’s run a quick thought experiment: What if we could architect a world without status games? Imagine a society where no rank is ever assigned—everyone is perfectly equal, and you get the same social recognition whether you work 2, 5, or 50 hours a week. Actors, Olympic athletes, Nobel laureates are treated no differently than anyone else.

Except for the few who are motivated purely by intrinsic drive, what would push us to excel? “You ran 100 meters in 15 seconds? Great job. Ten seconds? Great job.” Would you really want to live in that world? I wouldn’t.

I’m not saying the status games we have today are perfect; history has shown how dark and brutal they can become. Yet these games have also fueled our greatest achievements.

My second realization—my resolution—can be boiled down to one word: agency. As simple as it sounds, the key isn’t eradicating these games; it’s about having more say in which games we play and how we play them.

VIII. Choosing which status games to play

So, how do we decide which games to play? In short, we pick games whose objectives and rules—stated or unstated—align with our values and long-term goals.

But identifying which games align with our values requires a deep understanding of what those values and goals truly are. I realized that autonomy (ability to craft my own vision), freedom (no one imposes restrictions), and independence (self-sufficiency) are very important to me. In contrast, Big Tech offered limited autonomy, especially during my early career. I wanted to play in realms where independence and personal decision-making are core features. That’s why I’m now drawn to entrepreneurship and indie software development.

You should consider whether you want to spend time with the other players of the game. If you dislike them or don’t wish to become like them, maybe it’s not the right choice. Though things have improved over time, certain sectors like entertainment and finance can still be notoriously toxic. In Big Tech, “visibility”—making sure your work is seen by the right higher-ups—is crucial for climbing the ladder. Sometimes this fixation leads people to act selfishly, undermining others.

One senior engineer on my team played a dominance game—often using her position, rather than rational discussion, to dictate what the team would focus on. This borderline bullying got her the visibility she needed, and she was even promoted. It left an awful taste in my mouth and was just one of many unpleasant political situations I encountered.3

Of course, it isn’t all bad, but I’d rather opt for a career path with incentives better suited to my values.

Finally, consider the ambition-sacrifice tradeoff. Ask yourself how much status you truly want and whether you’re willing to pay the price. Building a successful startup, for instance, will likely yield a high level of status—if you succeed—but demands enormous sacrifice. Becoming a competitive salsa dancer is also ambitious and requires a different type of sacrifice. I’m willing to invest in the former, not in the latter. I’m content being “good enough” at salsa.

IX. How to play

Besides choosing which games to play, you can also decide how to play them. Apply overarching strategies that turn status games into engines for personal and collective flourishing.

First, we must keep them from destroying us. Enter Rule One: Always remember that status games are illusions, and never let them take over your entire reality.4

Some of history’s worst atrocities occurred when entire groups were consumed by a status narrative. Think of Nazi Germany, certain communist regimes’ famines, terrorist suicide bombings, and cult disasters like Heaven’s Gate. In each instance, people became wholly caught up in the story of their chosen game—often leading to horrific outcomes.

On a personal level, I’ve sometimes let a single aspect of life—like academia or career—consume most of my self-esteem. The job I now can’t wait to leave was once my dream, and any failure there felt deeply personal. Eventually, I realized that basing my identity on one role was like putting all my eggs in a rickety basket. I’ve since learned to guard against that “monism,” the trap of focusing too narrowly on one game.

Avoiding over-investment in any single game brings us to Rule Two: play a hierarchy of games across various parts of your life.5 A plurality of games provides balance and keeps any single one from hijacking your entire mind. A hierarchy clarifies the priority each game holds in your life.

Right now, my career game is at the top, and other areas have lower immediate priority. That doesn’t mean they’re less important; I remain deeply committed to family, friends, health, and personal passions. (If you’re reading this, Mom, Dad, bro, friends: I love you.) I also carve out time for writing, working out, dancing, and martial arts—all of which enrich my life. Meanwhile, I’ve realized I’ve been single for far too long; it’s time to invest energy in building meaningful relationships (cue “Hide the Pain Harold” meme).

As you choose which games to play and prioritize them, it’s crucial to aim for a “positive-sum” approach—where success doesn’t come at others’ expense. Thus, Rule Three: avoid dominance, play fairly, and practice competence.6

Dominance might work in the short run, but it often creates resentment and hostility, damaging trust and cooperation. Eventually, it can backfire, leaving you isolated. Dominance isn’t the same as leadership: a true leader voluntarily shares status and welcomes feedback, while a dominator suppresses it.

No one likes a rigged game; fair play fosters collaboration. By respecting shared rules and treating people well, you build strong relationships and a positive environment that motivates everyone. Practicing competence means developing real skills and bringing genuine value to the table. Respect earned through merit outlasts coerced compliance and elevates not just you, but the entire group. The more each player grows, the more the game itself becomes a generator of collective value—a truly positive-sum scenario.

Lastly, balance your focus on collective good with personal meaning. Rule Four: express yourself. “Be authentic to escape competition” (another Naval-ism?) may sound cliché, but like most clichés, it’s true. Doing so can help you create your own games. Writing (in public) is a great example.

As my writing improves, I gain recognition. Yet it’s not just about technical skill or following Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style to the letter. It’s about injecting my personality and unique worldview into the work. Great writers aren’t typically revered for flawless grammar; they’re known for their distinctive voices. The same applies to artists, musicians, and other creatives.

Additionally, similar to status, self-expression seems like a fundamental human need—and also happens to be at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.7 There is something intrinsically joyful about using creative acts to project our internal worlds onto the external realm. By blending status pursuits with self-expression, you can satisfy both the drive for validation and the need to share who you truly are.

Epilogue: A world where most play “good” status games

A younger, more idealistic me vowed never to get involved with status games again after witnessing the darker side of corporate culture. But I’ve come to realize there’s no need to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Status games are unavoidable, and trying to escape them entirely might even be counterproductive.

I don’t see myself lingering much longer in my current Big Tech job. Instead, I’m gravitating toward building businesses, startups, and products that provide genuine value. I may fail—somewhat or spectacularly—but I refuse to keep playing a game I no longer believe in. I’d rather invest my energy in games I truly care about, played on my own terms.

I also find myself dreaming of a world where most people choose healthy, meaningful games—where we minimize dominance and foster spaces that reward real effort, moral courage, and creativity. Call me an idealist, but I think it’s possible. If enough of us consciously decide to share status instead of hoard it, we might inch closer to an “anti-tyrannical” future.

Ironically, that future looks a lot like what Naval hinted at: “Be free, think critically, create your own path.” Perhaps he and I aren’t so different after all. In the end, we’re both playing a game—hoping more people will choose better ones.

Many thanks to those who helped shape this essay:

• Andrey Lepekhin for early discussions on status games.

• or feedback on the outline and emphasizing the “moral drama.”

• for reading the first (shitty) draft—sorry and thanks!

• Akshat Naik for challenging the thesis.

• for helping me cut the fluff.

• for the final review and the confidence to hit publish.

I’m trying out something for the first time, and that something is poetry.

To be honest, until recently, I never really “got” poetry. A poem was mostly just: sentences with bad grammar, song without the music, and required reading from high school.

That is not to say I did not appreciate good poems. Heck, some poems have even moved me to tears. But I could not comprehend why anyone would ever write them. That is, until a year ago.

I saw the Milky Way ring during a trip to Canada, and something shifted in me. I felt the urge to write something, but not an essay or prose. Sentences felt too structured. So I tried out writing a poem. It felt much more natural and the entire poem just flowed out of me in a few minutes. That poem is the one that appears in this post.

Then just two weeks ago, I went to SFMOMA (San Francisco Museum of Modern Art) and was really captivated by some of the art pieces there. The next morning, I had a similar feeling as when I saw the Milky Way ring. Another poem just “wrote itself” through me. (I will publish that poem in another post)

So here I present to you: The Siege of the Starry Sky.

The Siege of the Starry Sky

And the youth said

Living such a short span, we are all almost dead

Brought into this world without my permission 

I did not ask to be born

What is even the point?

Life is but a tribulation.

Nature isn’t beautiful; it is cruel

It is the survival of fittest and destruction of the weak

Society isn’t much better; it is a culling of the meek

And gentle

Only the strong, mighty, and glib may rule

But then I saw a starry sky far from civilization 

For the first time, saw not just a handful of stars 

But thousands upon thousands

And the Milky Way ring

I began to weep uncontrollably 

My hatred of the world was a wall I had built up

But that starry night mounted a siege 

An onslaught that the walls could not withstand 

The walls crumbled

And I fell in love with the world

Just a little bit.

My night-shifted monitor, with its orange glow, displayed the email I had been waiting for. I finally had a job. My first ever job. Not just any job, but a job at the most valuable company in the world: Apple.1

However, fast forward six months into my job, and my internal monologue had shifted to a counterpoint:

“Job at Apple? So what? Isn’t it better to build your own successful company instead of being employed at one?”

I had acclimated to my elevated status—from that of a grad student to Apple software engineer—but I wanted more. I wanted to feel like I was somehow above a mere garden-variety, big-tech software engineer.2

When I was a student, I was in awe of Apple (or big-tech) software engineers. Now, being one myself, I did not feel very awe-worthy. I felt like I wasn’t enough—I needed to be more, much more.

This wasn’t the first time I felt like this. Before getting into grad school, I was very impressed by people who scored in the 95th percentile or higher on the GRE. Using some unconventional methods for test prep, I scored beyond the 99th percentile. Instead of feeling great, my internal monologue had transformed again.

“Oh, I crushed the GRE. So what? What are test scores even good for?”

I can drudge up many more examples like this: from my experience with dating apps to workout PRs. I looked up to something; then I got it; then I looked up to it no more.

But this is more than just “moving the goalpost” or even hedonic adaptation. I’m also capable of feeling great about past achievements.

Sometimes I reflect on all the hard work it took to snag my job, and I remember how a past version of me would have killed to be in my shoes. These moments give me a slight ego boost. Or when I notice a subtle change in posture—how others measure me up—when I mention where I work or share my test scores, I feel a surge of self-assurance.

It’s not that I always adjust to my accomplishments and end up with low self-esteem. Rather, it's an erratic fluctuation—between feeling very self-assured and feeling inadequate—that’s truly unsettling. I keep flip-flopping between assigning too much or too little value to the things I’ve achieved. This variability and instability is the crux of my struggle.

I’m tired of assigning my self-worth to transient metrics. Last week, I felt super confident about myself because I got lots of matches on Hinge. This week, I feel insecure because most of them stopped replying (aside: is this normal?). Or last week, I absolutely nailed some problems at work and felt great about myself. But the weeks before that, I was stuck and felt a little bit like I was a loser.

This essay, then, is a way for me to discover a more stable source self-esteem. I don’t expect to have all the answers by the end of it, but I hope to be just a little bit wiser. As usual, I hope this process of discovery also helps someone out there. Let’s begin.

Exploring Self-Esteem

In an ideal world, all self-worth and self-esteem would be intrinsic. I would have the same level of self-esteem even if, three months later I became fat, homeless, and unemployed. But that is not reality. For most humans, self-esteem is never entirely intrinsic.

But what even is self-esteem? There are many perspectives from which we can come at it.

From a psychological perspective, self-esteem is a subjective sense of our overall value and capabilities.

Philosophically, it is a balance between intrinsic self-worth—our inherent value as individuals—and extrinsic validation, reflecting how we see our place in the world and our significance in the grand scheme of things.

Sociologically, self-esteem is partly a social construct shaped by cultural, societal, and familial influences, often molded by norms, expectations, and comparisons with others.

Culturally, different societies place varying levels of importance on individualism (emphasizing personal achievements) versus collectivism (valuing social harmony and group success), creating diverse notions of self-esteem.

I will borrow from each of the above perspectives to build a more robust concept and subjective narrative around self-esteem.

By being mindful of cultural and sociological effects on self-esteem, one can begin creating a stable philosophical foundation for self-worth, which then shapes the psychological perspective. This mindfulness allows us to understand how external factors influence us, and from this place of awareness, to consciously create a more stable and positive self-esteem.

I will use myself as a case study.

Sociological and Cultural Perspective

During my early years, up until high school, the culture around me valued intelligence and academic achievement above all else. I was naturally good at those things and generally felt good about myself.

However, this natural talent led to complacency, which ultimately hindered my academic performance during college and beyond. As my academic performance declined, so did my self-confidence.

Moving to the US for grad school presented a new challenge. I found myself in an environment where intelligence and academic achievement were no longer the most important measures of success. Coupled with my academic abilities falling short of my expectations, my self-esteem nosedived to an all-time low.

After college, I worked hard on my fitness and becoming an excellent software engineer. I also focused on becoming more well-rounded by improving my social skills, learning improv, and taking up the violin. Over time, I saw my self-esteem rise.

From this perspective, competence in areas highly regarded by yourself and your culture significantly impacts your self-esteem. Conversely, feeling insecure or incompetent in these areas can severely undermine your self-esteem.

This understanding highlights two crucial points:

1. Awareness and Choice of Values: It is essential to be aware of the values upheld by your culture and to consciously decide what you personally want to value. In other words, it’s important to value the “right” things for yourself.

2. Continuous Improvement: It is vital to keep working on those valued areas, either by excelling in them or by being on the path to improvement. Mastery or progress in these areas can greatly enhance your self-esteem.

Philosophical Perspective

Do all humans have intrinsic value?

From one perspective, no. We are just bags of flesh living on a speck of dust we named Earth in a disinterested universe. There is no cosmic assigner of value saying that each human is worth 500 brownie-verse points.

But from another perspective, humans must have value a priori. It is a sort of belief or premise that you begin with. If human life has no value, then nothing we do can have any value because almost everything we do is for humans, self or other.

Another way to say this is that if humans are not valuable then virtually nothing is. Because if something is valuable, the natural question arises: “To whom?“ If it is valuable to a human, then that human must necessarily also have value.

Psychological Perspective: Tying it All Together

Self-esteem is fundamentally a psychological phenomenon, shaped by your thoughts, feelings, and behaviors.

My psychology is the interface between my self-esteem and the philosophical, sociological, and cultural realms. Sociology and philosophy are irrelevant independent of underlying psychology. In other words, for the purpose of self-esteem, the cultural, sociological, philosophical perspectives are only useful insofar as they help me tell a better story about self-esteem.

Having a mathematical bend, I will use an equation to illustrate this story:

Here, a is a “life area”. Let’s break the equation down into its three parts:

Intrinsic Worth. The first part of the self-esteem equation is your intrinsic worth. As I mentioned before, intrinsic value is an a priori belief. If you strongly believe that humans, including you, have substantial intrinsic value, then your baseline self-esteem will be high. A benchmark for this is the Dalai Lama. He truly believes that all human beings have immense value. Whatever you may say about him, you can't say he lacks self-esteem.

Extrinsic Worth. The second part is your extrinsic worth: the sum total esteem derived from all the external things you value. It is a product of how much you believe in something and your level of success or proficiency at that thing. For example, if I believe that being good at origami is super important and my papercraft game is killer, then my origami skills will boost my self-esteem. Conversely, if I highly value math proficiency but am not great at math, that will pull my self-esteem down. If I don't value, say, making fart noises using my armpit, then being either really good or bad at it won't have much effect on my self-esteem.

Random Influences. The third part doesn’t need much explanation. Random events in life can also affect self-esteem. The death of a loved one, getting a new job, being intoxicated, etc., can temporarily boost or inhibit how you feel about yourself.

Putting it in Practice

The self-esteem equation gives us four levers that we can pull to bolster our self-esteem.

1. Cultivating a belief in your intrinsic worth. If you don’t already somewhat believe that humans—including you—are valuable, then this might not be a worthwhile pursuit. But if you do, then practices like metta meditation, reflecting on your qualities and worth, will help to build this up.

2. Valuing the “right” extrinsic things. Before even building competence to gain confidence, it is important to value the right things. Valuing things like status or fame for their own sake is a recipe for disaster. Getting validation from the number of likes on dating or social media apps is a common trap that can leave you feeling unsatisfied.

3. Working towards getting better at the “right” things. Once you know what external things are important to you, you can set realistic expectations and work on getting better at those things.

4. Being more robust against random influences. Investing in self-awareness by practicing meditation, practicing gratitude, and cultivating a support network of friends and family can help you guard against the transient feedback from external events.

This essay isn’t the be-all and end-all of building a stable foundation for self-esteem. It is only a flag in the ground; it is a start. I will continue to refine my story of self-esteem, but this essay has been an important checkpoint along the path.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to hit reply or add a comment.

If there is one thing I have learned working as a software engineer at Apple, it's the value of focus: ruthless prioritization in the service of a better product. This high level of focus, applied at all levels in the company, has undeniably been a cornerstone of its success.

Such focus isn't exclusive to the tech world; it's just as pertinent to our personal lives. How do we discern and concentrate on what truly matters in today's information-dense era?

In the previous edition on the Future of the Extended Mind, I mentioned an impending age of information saturation — with a deluge of content with answers at every turn. But are we not already immersed in this reality? In such a world, curation, filtering, and focus — and posing the right questions — becomes crucial.

This emphasis on discernment and direction suggests that we might benefit from a personalized "information strategy." This week’s idea — favorite problems — is a critical component of such a strategy.

Idea: Favorite Problems

When thinking of how to better focus and prioritize your life in a world brimming with choices, the Favorite Problems framework is one of my favorites. The core idea is simple: have a set of "problems "or questions at the forefront of your mind, ready to be deployed should an appropriate situation arise.

With these questions or "problems" alive in our minds, we create a cognitive filter to continuously scan our experiences, interactions, and even seemingly unrelated information for insights or pieces of wisdom that could bring us closer to an answer. It's not about harboring unsolvable conundrums but nurturing curious inquiries that encourage us to delve deeper, think harder, and stay persistently open-minded.

In my essay Future of the Extended Mind, I wrote, "Questions and filters serve as guides, limiters, and guardians of our attention" in an age of information saturation. In a world with answers for almost everything, asking the right questions becomes indispensable. Thus, the Favorite Problems framework is a critical component of your "personal information strategy."

I first read about the Favorite Problems framework in Building a Second Brain by Tiago Forte, and it is often associated with the renowned physicist Richard Feynman. The precise number of problems doesn't really matter as long as it's not too small to be limiting and too large to be overwhelming. Eight to fifteen is a good ballpark.

Some example questions:

• How can I build lasting courage and confidence?

• How can I achieve tranquility and equanimity of mind?

• How can we be parents that bring out the best in our children?

• How can I become a world-class writer and thinker?

• How can I be a leader that can inspire others (to act)?

Picture this: "How can I build lasting courage and confidence?" is one of your favorite problems consistently lingering in your consciousness. As you go about your day, this question serves as a catalyst, nudging you towards bolder decisions. For instance, during a negotiation with your boss, this quest for courage emboldens you to assertively voice a differing opinion. Instead of passively agreeing when your boss suggests a one-week project delivery, you confidently propose a more realistic timeline. Over time, these consistent, courageous decisions accumulate, and you may find that your inherent confidence has grown substantially.

Take another scenario: Holding the question "How can I achieve tranquility and equanimity of mind?" close to your heart can become a protective shield against unproductive habits. Instead of succumbing to the allure of mindless scrolling or engaging in self-destructive behavior, you find yourself drawn to introspection and mindfulness. This quest might also prompt you to reevaluate deeply ingrained beliefs. Such introspection may lead to a more nuanced understanding of the religion or philosophy you were raised with, enabling you to discern its core values from mere dogma, ensuring a more harmonious alignment with your personal values.

The beauty of the Favorite Problems lies in their ability to focus our thinking without narrowing it. They act as anchors for our curiosity, ensuring that while we explore a world teeming with information, we are not swept away by the current of data overload. Instead, we're grounded in themes and questions that genuinely resonate with our life's quest. These problems become the themes of our personal narratives, the ongoing stories we tell ourselves as we navigate the complexities of life, encouraging a synthesis of experiences through a very personal and profound intellectual odyssey.

Finally, many of you, especially if you are driven and have a zest for life, already have some variation of the Favorite Problems software running on the operating system of your mind. It may manifest as goals, objectives, or specific processes you've set for yourself. These problems, then, are complementary to your existing processes. Unlike definitive goals, questions are inherently open-ended. This invites our minds to engage in diffuse thinking over extended periods, often yielding deeper insights than if we were merely outlining steps toward a particular objective.

Crafting Your Favorite Problems

So how do you get started? I suggest carving out a dedicated period — perhaps 1-2 hours — in the upcoming week. This will give you enough time for your thoughts to simmer and your subconscious to weave its magic.

When you sit down for this, some problems/questions may come to you quickly — they will just "feel" right. Trust your intuition on those. For more elusive questions, reflect on your core values and aspirations. Referring to a vocabulary of values might help to better structure this introspection. Remember, it's okay if your first list isn't perfect. Life changes and your questions might, too. 

Keep this list somewhere you'll see it often. We aim for the opposite of "out of sight, out of mind." Furthermore, consider revisiting and refining your list periodically—perhaps every few months. Update it in response to new experiences, insights, or shifts in your life priorities.

A Personal Anecdote

I have been using the Favorite Problems framework for over a year. A few months ago, when I returned to the first set of questions I wrote for myself in August 2022, I was astonished to find that most of the questions/problems on the list were now “resolved.”1 I had expected the problems would be my companions for many years.

One of the questions on the list was, "How can I become totally financially independent at the earliest?" It propelled me into an odyssey of research, of cultivating habits, of engaging in deep conversations with friends and family, and even exploring my thoughts in reflective circling sessions.

All of that made me vividly realize that financial independence was not the destination but rather the vessel—a means to chart a course toward what truly mattered.

It was a means to spend more time on meaningful projects. Things like writing this blog, improving at software engineering and AI, pushing my fitness limits, reading and pondering philosophy, and much more. It was possible to reorganize my life in the present to make more time for those meaningful projects. 

The pursuit of financial freedom still resonates with me; however, it's no longer a precondition to living a fulfilling life. I learned I could architect my present to accommodate these pursuits, breaking free from the self-imposed constraints that financial fixation often brings. This framework didn't just help me solve problems—it reshaped my understanding of what constitutes a meaningful problem to begin with.

I’d like to thank Michael Shafer, , Simoun Redoblado, and Clare Chika for their feedback on the draft. The piece is substantially better because of it.

Question: If I gave you a million dollars to stop using the Internet forever, would you do it?

What about 10 million dollars? A billion dollars?

(no cheating, like hiring an assistant to do your “internet work”)

I'd love to hear from you…

What are some of your favorite questions?

Is the Internet almost priceless for you?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the third edition of Anticynical Recap! There have been a lot of new subscribers over past few weeks and a recap would be perfect to ensure everyone is up to speed. Here are links to Recap #1 and Recap #2 as well.

I want to extend a warm and thoughtful welcome to all the new subscribers!

Now for the updates.

Although I have a ~1000-word draft for Anticynical #17, it’s not ready yet. Over the past few weeks, I had a tremendous uptick in my day job responsibilities and side projects work. Additionally, I spend much more time writing, researching, and editing each essay than when I started Anticynical.

So, I’m transitioning the cadence of this newsletter from strictly biweekly to biweekly-ish.

Whenever I can, I will publish biweekly. But when I’m onto something more complex like the multi-part Anticynical #16 on the Extended Mind, or when my work and other commitments get out of hand, I won’t hesitate to take an additional week or two.

All this allows Anticynical to be more enjoyable and sustainable for me, ultimately making for a better experience for you readers.

Now, let’s get to the recap of Anticynical #11 through #15.

Recap: #11 - #15

• Anticynical #11: Working Deeply. Focused, uninterrupted mental effort not only enhances productivity and output quality but also provides a profound sense of fulfillment and meaning. With the right strategies, we can integrate such practices into our daily routines.

• Anticynical #12: Positive-Sum Games. Positive-sum games allow self-interest and other-interest to be mutually compatible—this mutual compatibility can foster environments where everyone can thrive.

• Anticynical #13: Incentive Structures. Incentives appeal to an individual’s self-interest to perform a specific action; incentives are ubiquitous and effective, thus surprisingly powerful.

• Anticynical #14: Habit Tracking. Habit tracking is the meta-habit that makes all other habits more achievable and effective. As long as you can define a repeatable action in a life area or domain, you can improve that area by tracking the repeatable action.

• Anticynical #15: Grandfather Paradox. The "grandfather paradox" of our internal narratives reveals how preemptive self-sabotage based on fear and doubt limits growth; engaging with these doubts, instead of succumbing to them, unlocks pathways to personal development and self-realization.

I'd love to hear from you…

About the recap, the ideas, or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the third and final part of the 16th edition of Anticynical! Over the last two weeks, I sent out parts one and two of the series on the extended mind, where I talked about what the extended mind is and the evolution of the extended mind.

In summary, for part one, the internal parts of our mind, along with cognitive tools (like computers and calculators) and extensions (like language and culture) together, can be called the extended mind.

And for the second part, we explored a theory of cognitive evolution based on three major transitions, or stages of culture, in the way humans process and store information.

1. Mimetic Culture: The mimetic culture stage began around 1 to 2 million years ago. During this stage, Homo Sapiens and their ancestors used gestures, mimicry, and imitation for communication and to represent knowledge.

2. Mythic Culture: The Mythic Culture stage began around 50,000 to 100,000 years ago. This phase is characterized by the invention of spoken language and the creation of myths and shared narratives.

3. Theoretic Culture: The Theoretic Culture stage began with the invention of writing systems. Although the earliest known writing systems, like cuneiform in ancient Mesopotamia and hieroglyphics in ancient Egypt, emerged around 3500-3000 BCE, the full blossoming of theoretic culture, with widespread literacy and the development of institutions dedicated to analytic thought (academies, libraries, and scientific societies), took longer and varied from one civilization to another. This is our current stage with external symbolic storage and the analytic processing (writing, computers) associated with it.

Again, links to the essays if you’d like to read them: part one and part two.

In this part, I want to address the following question I brought up in the previous parts: What will the future of our extended minds look like in a digital age (and how can we be better prepared for this future)?

Idea: The Extended Mind - Part 3: The Future of the Extended Mind

We're on the brink of something big in the tech world. The cost of a wide array of technologies is dropping exponentially, at the same time their availability and efficacy is increasing exponentially. Our extended minds? They're evolving at a pace we've never seen before. Between software eating the world, the omnipresence of smartphones, and the rise of powerful AI systems like Large Language Models, we're reshaping the potential of our extended minds.

We may be entering a new fourth, post-Theoretic stage, which can be aptly named the “Information Saturation Culture.” We can speculate about some ways in which our extended minds will evolve.

Prediction 1: Filtering and Curation will be more important than ever

We already live in a world saturated with content and information. In many instances, the challenge isn't the absence of information but rather its efficient discovery and utilization.

Kevin Kelly, in his book Inevitable, identifies 12 pivotal technological forces. Among these, Filtering and Questioning are particularly salient when discussing our data-saturated future and the evolution of our extended minds.

As we grapple with an ever-expanding digital cosmos, effectively filtering information becomes paramount. Beyond mere filtration, there's an emergent need for sophisticated, personalized curation to align with individual needs. As we rely more on these filters, there will be an ongoing need to refine and improve them, ensuring that they serve us effectively without narrowing our worldviews excessively.

Similarly, when there is an information overload, having access to answers isn’t the final frontier. Instead, it shifts the emphasis toward the ability to ask the right questions. This is what Kelly means by the Questioning trend. In many ways, a well-formed question can be more valuable than an immediate answer, as it can direct and guide research, innovation, and deeper exploration. We already see a glimpse of this value of questioning when interacting with LLM interfaces, where asking the right questions or writing the right prompts can be like magic spells that unlock key information from the LLM.

We can expect Questioning and Filtering to become a more and more fundamental aspect of how we interface with reality. The fraction of reality we can effectively attend to gets smaller as the amount of information saturates. Questions and filters serve as guides, limiters, and guardians of our attention.

Prediction 2: Rapid learning and skill acquisition will be more important than ever

The accelerating pace of technological change implies that knowledge and skills can become obsolete with alarming rapidity. An "always in beta" mindset will be crucial for personal and professional growth. In the Information Saturation Culture, adaptability becomes a prized asset. It's no longer just about what you know, but about how quickly you can learn, unlearn, and relearn.

Effective use of AI offers a representative example. The adage “AI won’t take your job, but a person using AI might” applies. As AI systems become increasingly integrated into diverse sectors — from healthcare to finance to arts — professionals will need to understand not just the basics of AI, but how to co-work with these systems to optimize results.

On one hand, professionals must remain agile, continuously updating their knowledge and skills. On the other hand, they must never lose sight of the inherently human aspects of their roles — empathy, ethics, and the unique insights that come from lived experiences. This dual competence — technical acumen coupled with deep humanity — will define the most successful professionals of this new era.

Prediction 3: We will need ethical and philosophical maturation

The rise of powerful technologies will usher in complex ethical dilemmas. Societies will be compelled to deeply reflect on topics like the value of privacy in an interconnected world, the ethical boundaries of AI and genetic engineering, and the rights and responsibilities associated with digital identities.

As we delegate more cognitive functions to AI, how do we ensure that these systems make ethical decisions? How do we balance efficiency and morality? AI ethics will become an essential part of the curriculum, not just for computer scientists but for all citizens.

Focusing on another view, as genetic engineering becomes more advanced, we face moral dilemmas about selecting traits for our offspring or even potentially "curing" aging. What are the ramifications of humans playing god with our own evolution?

There may emerge a new class of ethicists and philosophers specialized in navigating the moral quandaries of our digital extensions. Just like legal experts in cyberlaw today, we may need "digital sages" to guide society.

Prediction 4: There will be a revaluation of "being offline”

As we deepen our understanding of the long-term effects of social media and the deluge of information on our well-being, we will devise more effective strategies to moderate and balance our digital consumption.

A surge in 'digital detox' movements will emphasize the value of periodic disconnection from digital devices and online platforms. Retreats, workshops, and vacations catering to 'unplugging' will gain popularity as they promise rejuvenation by encouraging participants to engage with the physical world without digital interruptions.

In a sea of distractions, philosophies that are focused on depth and focus will rise in popularity. Deep work is one such example in the professional or work domain.

Takeaways and Preparing for the Future

The relationship between humans and their extended minds is an intricate dance of coevolution. Each step, each technological advance, doesn’t merely add tools to our arsenal; it reshapes the very core of our cognitive fabric. From gestures to myths, from the written word to digital extensions, our journey has been one of increasing symbiosis with our cognitive extensions.

In a world that is fast becoming digital-first, it's easy to get lost in the cacophony of innovations and feel overwhelmed. But the heartening reality is that humans have always been adaptable, always evolving in tandem with our tools. The extended mind, whether rooted in primitive gestures or in the vast realm of the digital, is a testament to our unparalleled ability to extend our cognitive horizons.

Drawing from the historical progression of our extended minds and potential future trajectories, there are proactive steps we can take now to ready ourselves for what lies ahead.

1. Embrace Continuous Learning

Given technological change will happen faster and faster, it makes sense to invest in continuous learning. In addition, you should try to cultivate judgment to separate the latest fad from truly useful skills and tools and focus on the latter.

2. Design with Humanity in Mind

We should emphasize user-centric design in technology, ensuring that tools enhance human capabilities without diminishing our inherent qualities. We should encourage curricula that merge technology with humanities, emphasizing ethics, philosophy, and social sciences. Working through the ethical challenges of AI and other emerging technologies will require more than just technological sophistication.

3. Develop a Personalized Information Strategy

The information saturation culture comes with a near-endless amount of content. It’s easy to mindlessly lose oneself in it. Developing personalized curation, filtering, and limiting strategies will be a key piece of prioritizing mental and emotional well-being. This strategy can include limiting content exposure and allocating time for “offline” activities.

4. Develop an Awareness of the Extended Mind

As our cognitive tools become more pervasive and intertwined with our lives, there's an increasing need for mindfulness. Being aware of how and when we utilize these extensions can help us use them more effectively and prevent them from controlling or overwhelming us. Just as one practices mindfulness to become aware of one’s internal thoughts and emotions, a similar approach can be taken with our cognitive tools to use them optimally.

…

In conclusion, the journey of the extended mind is an exciting testament to the evolutionary ingenuity of humanity. As we sail further into the digital age, it's our responsibility to shape our cognitive extensions in a way that augments our humanity rather than diminishes it. By being proactive, ethically aware, and continuously adaptable, we can ensure that our extended minds serve us well, leading to a future of immense potential and harmonious coexistence with our digital extensions.

I want to thank Akshat Naik for his initial thoughts and introducing me to the term “extended mind.” Thank you Shanece Grant and for your feedback on the draft.

Question: Curation or filtering of information can go wrong in many ways. What can we do to prevent the worst?

We already see a glimpse of this in the form of echo chambers and information bubbles on social media. Beyond that, there is also an over-reliance on the gatekeepers — people or algorithms that do the filtering.

I'd love to hear from you…

Your thoughts on the future of the extended mind.

How can we do information filtering more in a more discerning way?

Welcome to part two of the 16th edition of Anticynical! Last week, I sent out part one of the series on the extended mind, where I talked about what the extended mind is.

In short, the internal parts of our mind, along with cognitive tools (like computers and calculators) and extensions (like language and culture) together, can be called the extended mind.

Head over here if you’d like to read the first part.

For part two, let’s explore how our extended minds might have evolved over time. It’s fascinating how we went from primitive “psycho-technologies” like mimicry and imitation (apes aping apes) to written language and other symbolic systems, including computers.

Idea: The Extended Mind - Part 2 - Evolution of the Extended Mind

For the history of evolution of the extended mind, I will lean on Origins of the Modern Mind by Merlin Donald. Donald outlines a theory of cognitive evolution based on three major transitions, or stages of culture, in the way humans process and store information.

Stage 1: Mimetic Culture

The mimetic culture stage began around 1 to 2 million years ago. During this stage, Homo Sapiens and their ancestors used gestures, mimicry, and imitation for communication and to represent knowledge.

I like to imagine my great^28,600 grandmother signaling towards a berry and then dramatically pretending to collapse, illustrating the berry's lethal nature. While this form of communication might appear rudimentary to our modern sensibilities, it held groundbreaking significance back then. Much like how computer programming empowers us today by extending our capabilities, these early mimetic acts were the vanguard of human communication, not yet hardwired into our neural circuitry.

The mimetic phase expanded on the basic representational skills of our great ape ancestors, allowing early hominins to develop ritual, dance, and shared social actions that are more advanced than those seen in other primates.

Thus, during this stage, the bleeding edge of our extended mind consisted of gestures, mimicry, and imitation for information representation.

Stage 2: Mythic Culture

The Mythic Culture stage began around 50,000 to 100,000 years ago. This phase is characterized by the invention of spoken language and the creation of myths and shared narratives.

Myths, produced by combining mimetic gestures and language, became central to cultural transmission. They allowed humans to create shared narratives and explanations for phenomena in the world around them.

I like to think of myths as being similar to those old, nearly full floppy disks. Weird analogy? Let me explain. 

Imagine an entire city or tribe dependent on one single floppy disk to pass on wisdom to future generations. Here’s the twist: the floppy disk is already brimming with insights from the generations that came before. How do you cram all the new knowledge gained into a medium that already is chock full of cryptic wisdom from the generations that came before? You’d have to get creative with some compression, reinterpretation, and synthesizing past wisdom with new knowledge. This iterative process of encoding, refining, and layering birthed myths possessing profound depth and intricacy.

Thus, akin to these almost-bursting floppy disks, myths became vessels, preserving layers of collective insights for subsequent generations.

Stage 3: Theoretic Culture

The Theoretic Culture stage began with the invention of writing systems. The earliest known writing systems, like cuneiform in ancient Mesopotamia and hieroglyphics in ancient Egypt, emerged around 3500-3000 BCE. 

However, the full blossoming of theoretic culture, with widespread literacy and the development of institutions dedicated to analytic thought (academies, libraries, and scientific societies), took longer and varied from one civilization to another. In general, though, the shift into a theoretic mode of cognition can be seen as aligning with the rise of early civilizations and their complex societal structures, roughly 5,000 years ago.

This is the stage of external symbolic storage and the analytic processing associated with it. With the advent of written language and other symbolic systems, humans began to offload much of their cognitive processing onto external storage devices (like books). This externalization of memory enabled more complex, abstract thought and underpins modern scientific reasoning and other advanced cognitive processes.

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In today's interconnected world, the tapestry of our cognitive evolution remains palpably present. Each successive cognitive stage didn't replace its predecessor; rather, it built upon it, integrating and synthesizing the capacities of earlier stages. Whether you're using a metaphor to elucidate a complicated scientific idea, employing gestures to accentuate a point, or delving into abstract theoretical constructs, you're drawing from the vast reservoir of cognitive tools honed across these evolutionary stages. The modern extended mind weaves together mimetic, mythic, and theoretic threads, creating a rich mosaic of communication and understanding.

Moreover, many aspects that might have been “outside” of our ancestors' brains — like mimicry and imitation — two million years ago have been now encoded into our DNA over years of evolution. The “external” aspects of our extended minds have also shaped our neural and physical architectures over the years. For example, early hominins likely relied more on vocalizations and gestures for communication. Over time, our facial muscles and neural networks have evolved to automatically produce and interpret a wide array of facial expressions, conveying emotions and intentions without conscious thought.

I want to thank Akshat Naik for his initial thoughts and introducing me to the term “extended mind.” Thank you Shanece Grant and for your feedback on the draft.

Question: If a fourth cognitive stage were to emerge, what might it look like?

I’ll share my thoughts on this in the next part, next week.

I'd love to hear from you…

What did you think about the three stages of cognitive evolution?

Fourth cognitive stage?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome again to the 16th edition of Anticynical! In the last edition, I wrote about an analogy between self-doubt and the grandfather paradox.

Two weeks ago, I sent out an email (the original 16th edition) with an essay on the idea of the The Extended Mind.

The extended mind idea is really fascinating, and I believe that essay was one of the most interesting essays I’ve ever sent out.

However, in spite of that, the response and reader stats of the essay were disappointing. I suspect the main reason was the length of the essay: it was almost 3000 words long, which is almost 3-4 times longer than my usual essays.

Thus, I've decided to re-do the Extended Mind essay as a series. Over the course of this week and the next two, I'll be releasing it in three digestible parts, aiming to provide clarity without the overwhelming length. This way, the essence of the concept can be appreciated in bite-sized reads. Enjoy!

Idea: The Extended Mind - Part 1: What is it?

In an age where our smartphones and computers feel like an extension of ourselves, I’d like to delve deeper into the nature of this extension. The intrinsic parts of our mind, along with cognitive tools and extensions, together can be called the extended mind.

The term "extended mind" was popularized by a seminal paper titled "The Extended Mind" written by philosophers Andy Clark and David Chalmers in 1998. The main thrust of the paper is a philosophical argument asserting that objects in the external environment can become part of an individual's mind when they play the right kind of role in one's cognitive processes.

The question, “Where does the mind stop and the rest of the world begin?” is the first line from the paper by Clark and Chalmers. They champion the idea of active externalism, suggesting that when a human and an external entity form a coupled system, they should be viewed as a collective cognitive unit. Removing the external component would impair the system's competence, akin to removing a part of its brain.

These entities in the external environment can be physical—phones, computers, and notebooks—or abstract—language, writing, and culture.

It’s easy to see why a physical tool like my smartphone could be considered a part of my extended mind. My smartphone augments my thinking via enhanced information storage and retrieval, searching through immense information, and much more.

Why would language be considered an extension of our cognitive faculties? Think of it this way: language provides us with frameworks to break down, analyze, and communicate complex ideas. Without the vocabulary and structure of language, many thoughts would remain nebulous, fleeting, or even unreachable. Just as a calculator extends our mathematical abilities, language extends our capacity to think, reason, and share knowledge.

Similarly, culture serves as a vast repository of shared knowledge, norms, and practices. It's a collective database that we tap into, both consciously and unconsciously, to navigate our world. When we follow a cultural norm or use a cultural reference, we are, in essence, offloading our cognitive processing to the collective wisdom accumulated over generations. It's like accessing a cloud-based storage system where societal learnings and nuances are saved.

Thinking over the idea of the extended mind over a few weeks, I realized that there were two questions I wanted to explore:

1. How have our extended minds evolved over time?

2. What will the future of our extended minds look like in a digital age (and how can we be better prepared for this future)?

I will address the first question in the series's next part, part two, and the second question in part three.

Stay tuned as we journey through the evolution of our extended minds and ponder their future in the subsequent parts of this series.

I want to thank Akshat Naik for his initial thoughts and introducing me to the term “extended mind.” Thank you Shanece Grant and for your feedback on the draft.

Question: What are some tools or entities that feel like a part of your mind?

The keyboard of my computer feels very much like a part of my mind. I don’t think about what keys to press. I think in words or phrases and they just “magically” appear on the screen.

Another example: Python, the programming language, is an abstract entity that feels like a part of my mind. Over years of practice, my familiarity is at a point that I no longer think according to various language constructs; I just think about the problem I’m trying to solve and the code just flows out of me.

I'd love to hear from you…

Your thoughts on the extended mind idea.

Things that feel like a part of your mind.

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the 15th edition of Anticynical! I’m now back from vacation, back home from two weeks in Toronto.

Before heading off, the last idea I wrote about was habit tracking. Habit tracking is the meta-habit that makes all other habits achievable and more effective. Indeed, for me personally, tracking my habits has been life-changing.

This week’s idea is grandfather paradox.

Idea: Grandfather Paradox

Imagine an alternative universe where Hitler suddenly grew a conscience on the last day of the Battle of Berlin, hours before his suicide. "I have caused incalculable suffering. I wish I never existed." In this alternate universe, Hitler also has a secret wormhole. Instead of shooting himself, as he did in our universe, he travels back in time before his father was born and kills his grandfather. Hitler is never born, and World War II never happens. Problem solved. 

Or is it? How did Hitler kill his grandfather if Hitler doesn't exist? There are many ways to "resolve" this apparent paradox. For instance, if multiple universes exist, Hitler exists in one universe and doesn't exist in another.

Nonetheless, as much fun as they are to think and write about, this post isn't about the logical paradoxes of time travel. It's about a common, everyday phenomenon that mirrors the grandfather paradox.

You look at an enticing job posting. It matches your skill set and is just enough out of your comfort zone to make you feel giddy with the opportunity to grow. But you deny yourself. Or, you see an exciting singles event happening nearby, and you're in the best shape of your life. But instead of going, you shoot yourself down. "I'm not good enough. "There is so much competition right now." 

So, what is happening here?

It's almost as if, in an alternate universe, you applied to the job, got to the interviews, and then bombed your interviews. Or you got spurned at the singles event. Then at the peak of shame and indignation, you traveled back in time to shoot down your "thought grandfather": the person who birthed the idea of applying to the job or attending the singles event. Instead of physically traveling back in time and using a gun, you shoot down your grandfather with dreadful thoughts. If the timeline seems twisted, let's clarify: The "grandfather" in question is you, currently eyeing the job listing or singles event.

Now, for the off chance you think I'm a lunatic, I don't believe this is actually happening. But I want to take this analogy further. What if it were? What are your options as the grandfather being bombarded with terrible thoughts?

The natural first step seems to be recognizing and acknowledging the time traveler's thoughts. If you just pretend they don't exist, they will continue to influence you like the unseen strings of a puppeteer.

You meet your future self's mental volleys of dreadful thoughts with a swift dance of your own thought and counter-thought. Your own mental jiu-jitsu, trying to engage in dialogue with the time traveler.

If you do that, you'll find that the future-present communication channel is, in fact, a two-way street. Ask your future self why they think they failed and feel ashamed. Here are some potential failure-case responses from the future:

• "Since I was a near-perfect match for the job, I didn't think I needed much preparation for the interviews. But they threw a few curve balls, and I got flustered and angry at my lack of preparation. Now I feel ashamed that I didn't prepare and that I got flustered later during the interview."

• "Starting a conversation with attractive strangers is way out of my comfort zone. I just sat in a corner, waiting for the Earth to split open and swallow me."

• "I talked to lots of potential dates, but none of them clicked. Maybe I'm the boring one?"

• "The interviewer was a dick."

In all of the above situations, it is easy to see that important information was gleaned in spite of failure. To be better prepared for interviews is a good lesson to learn. Maybe spending a couple of weeks just talking to strangers at mixers and conferences first might warm you up for more difficult social tasks like chatting with potential dates. And if the interviewer was simply too arrogant, then maybe the job wouldn't be the best fit, as you might have had to work with that "dick" if you were selected.

If we drop the time-travel analogy (finally!) and make things explicit, I am, of course, drawing parallels between the grandfather paradox and self-doubt. You shouldn't let your self-doubt pull your strings. Instead, try to have a conversation with it; there's a lot to learn there. You might find the fears behind the self-doubt are insubstantial. Or conversely, you might discover that there is actual substance – lack of skill or real trauma and fear – behind the self-doubt. In the first case, you can march right on, but in the second, you might have to take it slow and seek help and support. Regardless, letting it simply paralyze you enforces a pattern of inaction and strengthens the self-doubt.

This idea came up in a conversation with Andrey Lepekhin. Thanks for the inspiration, Andrey! Thank you Nick Drage, Diana Sumi, Chris Angelis, and Lisa Dawson for their feedback on the draft.

Question: What are some recurring “dreadful thoughts” that your time-progeny keeps attacking you with?

Whenever I think of attending a social event, I’m hit with a torrent of unhelpful thoughts.

I also sometimes have dreadful thoughts when trying to be more assertive and telling people exactly what I think. However, I have improved by digging deeper into and conversing with my time-progeny.

I'd love to hear from you…

What did you think of the analogy between time-travelling and self-doubt?

What are some of your dreadful thoughts?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Although I've written and completed an essay this week, I'm not going to publish it.

Starting with Anticynical #15, each of my essays will undergo a round of external feedback. I'm confident that it will bring an added layer of depth and clarity to my work.

This change aligns with a planned vacation to beautiful Toronto 🍁. I'll be taking a brief respite, but rest assured, the writing cadence won't change.

Here's what you can expect:

• A temporary pause in emails

• A continued commitment to a new essay every two weeks

• Emails resume starting with Anticynical #15 on the 31st of August

Thank you for your continued support. Feel free to reach out with any questions or thoughts.

Warm regards,

Aayush

P.S. Feel free to reply to this email with any questions or thoughts. I always love hearing from you!

Welcome to the 14th edition of Anticynical! In the last edition, I wrote about incentives and incentive structures. Incentives are appeal to an individual’s self-interest to perform a specific action, and incentive structures are a set of one or more incentives applied together in a context.

This week's idea is habit tracking.

Idea: Habit Tracking

In a nutshell: Habit tracking is the meta-habit that makes all other habits more achievable and effective. As long as you can define a repeatable action in a life area or domain, you can improve that area by tracking the repeatable action.

Whenever I want to bring significant change into my life, I start by tracking a related routine action or habit.

Barring extreme experiences—trauma, mystical psychedelic trips—it’s impossible to bring meaningful changes to your life by doing something just once or a few times. You need hundreds and thousands of repetitions for lasting change. You need habits and routines.

Sticking to a new habit is simple: you just have to get yourself to do that thing X times per day/week/month consistently for a long time. Simple.

Although simple, it is far from easy. After all, if it were easy, many more would have a fit and strong body, run marathons, produce novel research, and be virtuoso musicians, masterful meditators, and rockstar programmers.

There are many obstacles to being consistent with habits and routines.

You probably know that it’s easy to do something when you’re motivated or inspired. But after the initial spark of inspiration wears off, motivation can be elusive.

Moreover, a habit can take a long time to “set in.” It is a myth that this takes only 21 days.1 It usually takes many months, if not years. Even after setting in, it’s possible to “fall out” of a habit due to change in the environment or circumstances.

Further, if you’re working on more than just a handful of new habits, it can feel overwhelming to be on top of all of them. When life gets in the way, and many things compete for your attention, it’s easy to simply forget or lose track of your habits.

Therefore, an effective solution for managing habits must:

1. help you feel more motivated and satisfied, especially before the habit/routine sets in,

2. keep track of all your habits, and

3. be highly conspicuous and visible so you never forget about your habits.

I have been doing habit tracking for many years and can confidently say it is incredibly effective. I have used it for starting and sticking with regular meditation, exercise, and reading over many years. I have also used it to improve my fashion sensibilities, be more social, and sleep better.

I currently use a habit-tracking app called—wait for it—Habit Tracker,2 but you can use other apps, calendars, bullet journals, or anything else that is good for the above three things.

Let’s go over how my habit current tracking process passes the effective solution-for-managing-habits checklist.

First, habit tracking can be a source of motivation and satisfaction.

A habit tracker allows you to measure your progress on your habits. This measurement and progress can be extremely motivating and satisfying.

One such metric is streaks. The power of streaks has been very well documented and popularized. You must have come across mentions of Jerry Seinfeld's Don't Break the Chain! technique at least once. Many video games give you incrementally increasing "daily rewards" to make you sign in daily (hoping to turn the game into a habit). Snapchat streaks are another popular example.

You can use this power of streaks to help you with your habits. For example, when I see that I've been sticking to my writing stint for the last 19 weeks, I feel motivated to keep going, and even the idea of breaking the streak sounds painful.

There are also other metrics about past performance (see the image above for examples). A few weeks ago, I noticed that I had actually exercised ~4 times per week for the past year. Although I've been exercising regularly for many years, a part of me always thought I wasn't doing enough. For the first time, I had proof, and it felt really satisfying.

Second, habit trackers are great for tracking many habits at a time.

I keep track of exercising, reading, sleeping on time, violin practice, meditating, and many more habits. Many of those still need to set in, and some have fallen out after setting in multiple times.

Tracking all of that in my head would be highly intractable.

Third, visible habit tracking can prevent “out of sight, out of mind” for habits.

Finally, I have my calendar and habit tracking widget on my phone's home screen. This high visibility has been a game-changer. Before the home screen widget, I often forgot about my habits for weeks at a time, especially when I was busy.

Now I’m reminded of my habits every time I use my phone.

…

Habit tracking is a simple but powerful exercise. It is the meta-habit that makes all other habits more achievable and effective.

As mentioned, I use the Habit Tracker app to track my habits. You can use Habit Tracker or other apps or go analog with a journal or physical calendar. If your method helps with motivation, keeps track of habits, and has high visibility, it will help you change your life.

Question: If you could press a button to turn any action into an unshakable habit, what would you choose?

Would you want to meditate for an hour or longer every day? Lift weights? Run every morning? Do math problems?

I'd love to hear from you…

Have you tried habit tracking before? How did it go for you?

What is your wished unshakable habit?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the 13th edition of Anticynical! Last week I wrote about positive-sum games, situations where self-interest and other-interest are mutually compatible.

This week’s idea is incentives structures.

Idea: Incentives and Incentive Structures

In a nutshell: incentives appeal to an individual’s self-interest to perform a specific action; incentives are ubiquitous and effective, thus surprisingly powerful.

When I was in college, I noticed that the harshly grade-curved courses punished collaboration.

It felt like the students were playing a zero-sum game against one another. Helping others meant higher marks for others and a lower grade for yourself. Even otherwise helpful people were less generous, and many withheld information about what they knew. I admit even I was less helpful than I would’ve liked.

I remember having a discussion with a classmate about this. We talked about how if the grades were curved less harshly or against historical numbers, there would be more student cooperation and collaboration. It would be closer to a positive-sum game—which, arguably, is what good education should entail.

We were essentially talking about how the grade-curving created a counterproductive incentive structure for students.

Most people fail to appreciate the power of incentives and incentive structures. Incentive structures are like the proverbial water for the fish: they are everywhere, they have an effect on everything you do, and they are invisible unless you know how and where to look.

Simply put, an incentive is an appeal to an individual’s self-interest to perform a specific action.

There are many ways to classify incentives. An incentive can be positive (reward, satisfaction) or negative (punishment, avoiding penalty or guilt). It can be explicit (intentionally designed) or implicit (unintentionally created). Incentives can also be extrinsic (external rewards or punishments) or intrinsic (the action itself is the “reward”).

An incentive structure is a set of one or more incentives applied together in a context.

The earlier example of the harshly-curved course was a negative, implicit, and extrinsic incentive structure. Negative because it punished helpful behavior. Implicit because it wasn’t explicitly designed to promote unhelpful behavior (at least, I hope not). And extrinsic because the “punishment” of a bad grade is external to the action of helping.

When an organization sets incentive structures in place, it does so to align its employees' self-interest with the organization's mission. Examples include bonuses, stocks, stock options, praise, and promotion.

Parents set up incentive structures to make their children behave and help them grow.

Governments and nations also set up incentives that guide their populace in myriad ways. For example, tax breaks or subsidies for green energy sources and punishment for crimes.

Once you internalize the idea of incentive structures, you start seeing them everywhere. You also notice how they evolve over time.

While writing this essay, I noticed a slight change in Amazon's delivery choices. Amazon used to offer small credit amounts (positive extrinsic incentive) if you selected "Amazon Day Delivery." Presumably, this allowed Amazon to batch a higher number of requests together and save costs. As the world has become more aware of climate responsibility, Amazon mostly just mentions that Amazon Day Delivery has "fewer boxes, fewer trips." The type of incentive is now intrinsic as it appeals to the customer's sense of responsibility and morality.1

As you become more familiar with how they work, you can start looking at your life with a new lens—seeing the invisible web of incentives that influence your actions and the actions of those around you. You can also start questioning why you behave the way you do in different situations.

You can double down on the incented actions when the incentives align with your goals and values. If your company offers a biking commute subsidy and you enjoy biking, that's a sweet deal!

When they are not aligned, sometimes, just being aware of bad incentives is enough—acting with this awareness can often counteract their influence. Other times, you may have to actively work to change the incentive structures around you. And some other times, you can do nothing externally, but a lot you can do "internally"—like changing the story you tell yourself.

If your work culture encourages quid pro quo behavior, but you are a generous person, there is no reason why you shouldn't be a "giver”2—helping others without any expectations. You might have also fallen into purely transactional behavior without noticing the implicit incentives.

On the other hand, if your work incentives push you towards counterproductive habits, or you find yourself procrastinating because you're not excited about the tasks, then you might want to work on changing your incentives. How exactly you do that depends on your circumstance—you can change them yourself (if you have the power to) or discuss it with someone who can.

Question: What would you do if you could add any (reasonable) incentives at work or school?

At work, you might give yourself or others monetary incentives for completing challenging projects on time.

At school, you might choose to make homework optional if demonstrated you mastery some other way.

I'd love to hear from you…

What are some incentives that you were surprised to notice that affected you?

What incentives would you add?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the 12th edition of Anticynical! In the last edition, I wrote about working deeply. If you’re interested in learning how to get valuable things done and how deep work enables that, I highly recommend you check it out!

This week's idea is positive-sum games.

Idea: Positive-Sum Games

In a nutshell: positive-sum games allow self-interest and other-interest to be mutually compatible—this mutual compatibility can foster environments where everyone can thrive.

You might be familiar with zero-sum games. It’s a situation where one party’s gain is necessarily another party’s loss. They are called “zero-sum” because if you add the total gains and losses of all participants involved, it adds up to zero, with no net change in total value.1

Most sports are zero-sum. One team wins, and the other loses.2 Gambling games like poker are zero-sum. Trading on the stock market is zero-sum in the short-term.3 Negotiations over a finite resource—river water, oil reserve, who gets to play on the computer first—is also zero-sum.

Then there are negative-sum games: value is destroyed. War is a classic example. Both sides expend resources, and the total losses could outweigh any gains the winning side made. Many Tragedies of the Commons examples of short-term selfish behavior lead to longer-term overall negative outcomes. Driving aggressively and non-cooperatively can exacerbate traffic jams, slowing down everyone’s travel time. Overfishing can reduce the total number of available fish in the future.

And finally, there are positive-sum games where the net value is positive. Many buyer-seller interactions, at least in the short term, are positive-sum. When I buy jogger pants from Uniqlo, their value to me is greater than the money I spend on them,4 and Uniqlo earns more money than it used to manufacture those pants. Creating and building a successful company is a positive-sum endeavor: all the involved parties gain more than they invest.5

The best thing about positive-sum games is that self-interest and other-interest are mutually compatible in their context. For example, a healthy relationship is positive-sum. Taking good care of myself is also in the interest of my partner, and taking good care of my partner is also in my interest.

In contrast, self-interest and other-interest are at odds for negative and zero-sum games. In such situations, helping other parties actively hurts your own interests.

But why is this compatibility of interests so important?

It is crucial because it enables cooperation and fosters an environment where everyone involved can thrive. By participating in positive-sum games, individuals and organizations can work together towards common goals without fearing a loss in the process. This collaboration leads to innovation, growth, and overall improvement in the quality of life for all parties.

At my own job as a software engineer, I find I’m most productive when I put the team's needs alongside my own growth, goals, and ambitions. Since I started setting aside time for learning stuff, getting inspired, and reflecting on my career, I’ve been more energized to do other work as well.

Moreover, positive-sum games encourage trust and openness, which further strengthens relationships, whether they are personal or professional. When you know that your success is connected to the success of others, you are more likely to share ideas, resources, and opportunities.

Therefore, I believe it is a good idea to take a look at and be aware of all the “games you play” on a daily basis. Are your relationships, work projects, leisure activities, and personal growth efforts primarily positive-sum, negative-sum, or zero-sum? If the vast majority of your interactions are negative or zero-sum, it might be worth reconsidering the choices you're making and seek out more positive-sum opportunities.6

Finally, I’m not saying we should eliminate all non-positive-sum games from our lives. That would be impossible and ridiculous. Sports and games are a lot of fun! And to some, competition is very challenging and rewarding.7 A balance will look different for everyone.

Question: Are there situations in life that you viewed as zero-sum but later realized were positive-sum? Or vice-versa?

Although not explicitly, I had a vague notion that working for someone was mostly zero-sum. But with better alignment of goals, it can be highly mutually beneficial and positive-sum.

I'd love to hear from you…

What are some examples of positive-sum games in your life?

Are any of those examples surprising?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the 11th edition of Anticynical! Last week, I published the first edition of Synthesis, where I wrote about common threads between the first ten ideas of Anticynical.

A quick announcement: I'm going to transition Anticynical into a biweekly newsletter. That is, you'll receive a new idea every two weeks instead of one. 

I want to create another newsletter/blog related to programming, software, tech, and AI. I plan to work on the new thing every other week and similarly work on Anticynical every alternate week.

I still love writing Anticynical, and it's not going anywhere anytime soon!

This week's idea is working deeply.

Idea: Working Deeply

In a nutshell: Focused, uninterrupted mental effort not only enhances productivity and output quality but also provides a profound sense of fulfillment and meaning. With the right strategies, we can integrate such practices into our daily routines.

I first read Deep Work by Cal Newport in 2016, just a few weeks after its release. I was in my junior year of college then. Working more deeply was at least partially responsible for my grades jumping up in my junior and senior years.

Since then, I've committed to regularly working deeply, which got me through my CS Masters program with an almost perfect GPA and enabled me to get a job at big tech (Apple).

These days at work, I protect my deep work hours against a barrage of meetings and other interruptions. Thankfully, my manager is supportive of my tendency to negotiate myself out of unnecessary meetings.

In this essay, I will describe what deep work is, why it's important, and how to implement it.

What is deep work?

Here’s the definition from the book:

Deep Work: Professional activities performed in a state of distraction-free concentration that push your cognitive capabilities to their limit. These efforts create new value, improve your skill, and are hard to replicate.

When designing a new feature or application at work (I’m a software engineer), I spend hours nailing down various requirements, iterating through prototypes and experiments. I minimize distractions, and I am focused. This is one example of the kind of deep work I do at work.

Writing code to implement those features is another example. And writing essays like this is also deep work.

Checking and responding to emails is not deep work. Many meetings I attend at work are not deep.1

Why work deeply?

To produce greater value

Early in the book, Newport presents the following equation:

High-Quality Work Produced = (Time Spent) x (Intensity of Focus)

The first term in the product (time spent) makes obvious sense. Spending more time will produce more and often higher-quality work.2

When I first read Deep Work in 2016, the intensity of focus didn't seem all that important. As a student, almost all my study or work sessions had similar intensity, and I didn't have many data points varying over the intensity of focus.

Now, as a software engineer, I clearly see the effect of intensity of focus. To illustrate, when I'm working on hard problems,3 I've found that a day with zero interruptions is equivalent to two or three days with a few (one to three) interruptions/meetings. Even though I have double or more the total time in the 2-3 days with meetings, the intensity of focus allows me to make quicker progress with lesser time.

At least some of this is explained by the science of attention residue. According to Sophie Leroy, a business professor at the University of Washington, when we switch from one task to another, a "part of our attention often stays with the prior task [...] instead of fully transferring to the next one." This means that your "performance on [the second task] is likely to suffer, especially if [the second task] is cognitively demanding."4

To stand out in a distracted world

Newport presents an interesting hypothesis titled The Deep Work Hypothesis:

The Deep Work Hypothesis: The ability to perform deep work is becoming increasingly rare at exactly the same time it is becoming increasingly valuable in our economy. As a consequence, the few who cultivate this skill, and then make it the core of their working life, will thrive.

It's clear that by enabling you to produce greater value, deep work is valuable. But why is deep work "becoming increasingly rare"?

Studies after studies have shown that our attention span and ability to concentrate/focus are declining with increasing connectivity and social media usage.5

Further, organizations have been over-prioritizing things like rapid communication (Slack) and serendipitous collaboration (open offices) that make deep work more difficult.

These forces make it more and more difficult for deep work to thrive. If you can cultivate and protect your time for deep work, you'll stand out as being more effective and productive.

To create meaning and fulfillment

Newport uses three arguments to show that deep work can be a solid foundation for a meaningful life.

1. Neurological argument: This argument is based on the behavior science writer Winnifred Gallagher's Rapt. Gallagher reviews research across various fields--anthropology, behavior economics, education, etc.--to conclude that our brains construct our reality based on what we pay attention to. So if our life is filled with deep work, our world will seem "rich and deep in meaning," as Newport says.

2. Psychological argument: This argument is based on Csikszentmihalyi's work on flow. Based on a decade of research, Csikszentmihalyi says: "The best moments usually occur when a person's body or mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile." This is a description of the flow state of mind. Not surprisingly, deep work is highly conducive to the flow state.

3. Philosophical argument: This argument is based on Dreyfus and Kelly's All Things Shining. The authors suggest that craftsmanship--developing mastery and building an "intimate relationship" with a craft--is the way to find meaning and escape nihilism in the modern world. This process of mastery is arguably achieved through deep work.

How to implement deep work?

Schedule every minute of your (work) day

Divide your work days into task blocks, and assign some work--deep or shallow--to each block. I like to use calendar apps (Google Calendar or Apple Calendar) to create my task blocks.

I was surprised when I first implemented this. I got much more done and enjoyed work more than before. By setting my schedule, I could direct and have more control over my work. Additionally, when I kept track of my work day like this, the time wasted went way down.

Some might argue that scheduling every minute is too cumbersome or too inflexible. It doesn't have to be.6

I have a weekly template of how I want to spend my time (see image above). At the start of every day, I assign concrete tasks to every template task block. If I need to work on a task longer than the time I assigned it or if a new task pops up--no problem. After completing that task, I simply restructure the task blocks for the rest of my day. In modern calendar apps, this is merely dragging around or expanding/shrinking the task blocks and doesn't take more than a few minutes.

Startup and shutdown rituals

I like to start my deep work sessions the same way each time. I first clear up any clutter on my desk, if any. Then I make sure that I have water and coffee ready. Finally, I take three deep breaths and begin. This "primes" my brain, and I can more easily transition into a deep mode.

At the end of the work day, I update my "global tasks list," which (as the name suggests) lists all the tasks I need to complete in the next few weeks. I cross out completed tasks and write down the next steps for pending tasks. Then I take a few deep breaths and call it a day. This shutdown ritual cues our brain to put the work down and help combat the "Zeigarnik effect," which "describes the ability of incomplete tasks to dominate our attention."

Question: If you could architect your workplace or office, how would you design it?

What does your ideal office environment look like?

In Deep Work, architecture professor David Dewane talks about the Eudaimonia Machine—a building plan he conceived—"where the users can get into a state of deep human flourishing—creating work that’s at the absolute extent of their personal abilities." See this footnote7 for more info about it.

I'd love to hear from you…

How does deep work play out in your life?

Do you wish your office had more quiet places? Or do you wish that it were more lively?

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the first edition of Synthesis.

When I started writing 13 weeks ago, I just wanted to commit words to paper and organize my thoughts. Now, 13 weeks later, I have a better idea of where to take the Anticynical project.

If you’re new here (welcome!), today’s newsletter is a great place to start things off! If you’ve been here a while (thanks, Mom!), I hope you’ll enjoy today’s newsletter.

Many foundational aspects of life and society are changing. How we work, software and AI, aging and longevity, renewable energy, cosmopolitanism, and personalization. The world is changing at an unprecedented pace. This is not breaking news.

Although these changes offer new opportunities and resources, they also place new pressures and stressors on the individual.

Having to constantly learn new skills and adapt to new technology makes almost everyone feel like an impostor. It’s also easier than ever to compare yourself to the world’s best, leading to increased feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt.

Further, if anxiety is truly the “dizziness of freedom,” as Kierkegaard said, we have more freedom and opportunity than ever before and, thus—more anxiety. In the face of this anxiety, it’s easy to fall into cynicism, nihilism, and pessimism, surrendering to the apparent meaninglessness of the universe.

In writing Anticynical, I want to build a psychological and philosophical operating system for this rapidly changing world. A framework to thrive in such a world while also developing psychological resilience and adaptability.

As a reminder, this is the current publication schedule of the newsletter:

1. 10 ideas (one each week)

2. 2-4 weeks of recaps

3. One synthesis essay. (we are here)

4. Repeat.

Let’s jump in.

Note: this email is longer than the others, so you might have a better reading experience in the browser or the Substack app.

Synthesis

There were a lot of common threads between the ten ideas I covered before. I decided to organize those common threads into three categories and write about two things per category:1

1. Foundational pillars: ideas or concepts that underlie or form the basis for some or all of the ideas. I wrote about:

   1. Rational Optimism

   2. Self-awareness

2. Emergent ideas: ideas or concepts that emerge from the “interaction” between ideas ideas. I covered:

   1. Plurality of Values and “Living Out” Revolt

   2. Cynicism and (Non) Achievement

3. Complementary practices: practices that can support, enhance, or strengthen the ideas and their implementation. I covered:

   1. Mindfulness Meditation

   2. Goal or Process-setting

Foundational Pillars

Rational Optimism

I briefly mentioned rational optimism in the first edition of Anticynical. It is a foundational concept to this entire project.

To begin, I’ll quote Naval Ravikant’s succinct definition of rational optimism again:

To create things, you have to be a rational optimist. Rational in the sense that you have to see the world for what it really is. And yet you have to be optimistic about your own capabilities, and your capability to get things done.

Seeing the world for “what it really is” is hard.

To illustrate, no one really "sees" or understands how exactly the stock markets work. How or why the prices fluctuate from moment to moment. Consider then that the stock markets are a tiny part of the world. The world is much more complex and vast. And it's rapidly evolving.

However, some develop a deep understanding of a small slice of the market and get rich from that. And others develop approximations—basic principles2 and mental models—that represent or approximate reality well enough to be useful.

This hints at a “generalized specialist” way of looking at reality—delving deep into some of its aspects and using helpful approximations for most other aspects—is a common tack many successful people take.

In fact, this way of looking at reality might be the only effective way to look at reality in a dynamic, evolving world. To thrive in such a world, you have to keep learning new things and also continue to build deep expertise in a few areas. This deep expertise allows you to contribute to and impact the world, giving you a sense of mastery and purpose.

Now let’s talk about optimism. The optimism Naval, or I, am referring to isn’t foolish or naive.

Yes, proportioning your beliefs to the evidence is prudent. I have terribly flat feet, and I’m a slow runner. I have no reason or evidence to believe I can sprint 100m in under 10s, even if I practiced consistently for 10 years. Being optimistic about running 100m under 10s is naive.3

“90% of all startups fail.” We’ve all heard a version of that before. And it’s likely true—the actual number might be 80% or 75%—but most startups indeed fail.

But if you have a strong background, a good team, and you’re trying to build a company you’re passionate about, there is little reason to appeal to the failure probability of startups.

First, you don't have much evidence conditioned on your specific circumstances. Second, taking something that's probable for something granted is a fallacy. Third, the failure rate becomes less relevant if you're willing to pivot and try multiple times. And fourth, even if your startup fails and you decide to quit, your life doesn't end there; you will have learned valuable lessons.

Being optimistic and trusting yourself and your team to execute well over time is entirely rational. It is actually more naive to get overly attached to the high failure rate of startups in this case.

This kind of optimism translates to life as a whole. You trust yourself to live life well. You trust yourself to grow toward your ideal self.

…

Self-awareness

Self-awareness is such an important aspect of psychological well-being. No surprise, then, that it plays a central role in everything I’ve written about.

When you design your environment, you make certain things difficult and other things easier. But what are these “certain things”? To answer that you need to have self-awareness of your own tendencies. Is it hard for you to consciously save/invest money? Then enrolling in automatic recurring deposits is a great option. Do you (like me) have difficulty controlling yourself when there is junk food at home? Then limiting how much junk food is at home is a good way to design your environment.

If you resonate with the idea of integrating revolt (see next paragraph for more info) into your life, then you should have some idea of what you’re revolting against. What are some specific ways in which the absurd plays out in your life?

Remember, the absurd is the strange condition you find yourself in, living in this world. You go through the motions and routines of life. But why do you do those things? You know you are going to die one day. Why do anything at all? Why keep living? If you take a step back to examine your life, you might realize that it is kind of absurd.

This realization and seeing your life’s absurdity requires a level of self-awareness.

Once realized, instead of succumbing to this absurdity and falling into nihilism or cynicism, you might choose to explore and enjoy the depths and beauty of existence. You revolt against the absurdity.

Recognizing when you’re merely acting and producing motions rather than those actions achieving something and moving you toward an outcome is often only possible when you take a hard look at yourself. You have to be highly self-aware to know that you’re deluding yourself.

Thus, without some self-awareness, it’s impossible to understand or implement many of the Anticynical ideas.

…

Emergent Ideas

Plurality of Values and “Living Out” Revolt

I’ve said this before: Albert Camus’s idea of revolt is one of my favorite philosophical ideas.

Yet, you live in a constant revolt against this absurdity. […] You have a perpetual middle finger raised to the universe’s silence and indifference. You live fully asserting the present, not being caught up in the past or being hostage to the future. You explore and enjoy the depths and beauty of existence.

I want to relate this idea of revolt to having a plurality of values.

A plurality of values means that you recognize that many things in life are important and worth pursuing and that these things can often be in tension with one another. For example, the value of honesty might conflict with the value of loyalty in certain situations. In these cases, you must find a way to balance these values.

In my opinion, the way to “live out” revolt is by:

• being clearly aware of the absurdity of life and inevitable death,

• not succumbing under the burden of this absurdity,

• not trying to assign some artificial meaning or purpose to this absurdity,

• striving to live in the present and not squandering away attention, and

• using a plurality of values to guide your executive functioning.

Values give you an overarching “direction” in life, and a plurality curbs the worst aspects of placing too much emphasis on a single value.

…

Cynicism and (Non) Achievement

I wrote the following about cynicism in Anticynical #10:

Modern4 cynicism is a defense mechanism that often stems from insecurity. It is an effort-avoiding, intellectually lazy position that allows you to feel better about yourself. It can also appear to sound intelligent.

[…]

The cynical “attack strategy” is also effective. You can shut down a surprising number of discussions and arguments by employing the cynical strategy. And here’s the most pernicious aspect when you have ingrained cynical tendencies: the person you “attack” most often is yourself.

Here, I want to explore the interaction of the two emphasized parts:

• cynicism is an effort-avoiding and intellectually lazy position that makes you feel better in the moment, and

• once cynicism becomes a tendency and a habit, you are very cynical of yourself.

These two work in tandem, creating a vicious feedback loop that makes you feel good (in the moment) about not taking up challenging, but fulfilling endeavors. This all but guarantees that you never achieve what you want.

Whenever you fancy creating something or aspire towards something, you’ll quickly convince yourself that doing that thing wouldn’t be in your best interests. Or you would paint yourself a victim, claiming only those that aren’t held back as you are would be able to do such things.

“I’m too old to start working out; that’s for younger and fitter people.”

“Ha! I can’t even save $5 from my paycheck… I’m going to live in a cardboard box when I retire!“

Whenever I hear people say such self-cynical, self-defeating things, I feel like vigorously shaking them and then hugging them.

Shaking them because I want to “wake” them up to take a hard look at reality. To not be effort-avoiding and lazy.

I also feel like giving them a hug because I empathize with them and know what it’s like to be in that vicious feedback loop.

…

Complementary Practices

Mindfulness Meditation

I have been practicing mindfulness meditation regularly for almost five years. It is one the most powerful tools to develop self-awareness5 and skillfully direct attention.

Goal or Process-setting

Some people love setting goals and swear by them. Others claim goals don’t work, but processes do.

I’m personally biased toward processes, but I use both depending on the use case. Paired with a plurality of values, both can provide more direction or orientation in life.

Bonus: Behind the Scenes

Here are some fun things that came out while writing this newsletter.

The N-th Order Idea Matrix

To start relating the ten ideas to one another I created an “idea matrix.” I wrote down the ideas along the row and column headers. Then each cell in the matrix corresponded with an “interaction idea” between the two ideas. I thought about each non-gray cell for a few minutes and wrote down my thoughts on a card.

Then I picked out some interesting interactions from this matrix and put them on another matrix, creating a “higher order” matrix. In theory, this could go on ad infinitum: a matrix of ideas of ideas of ideas….

A Fantasy Story that (as of now) remains a Fantasy

My original idea for this synthesis newsletter was to write a story based on the ten ideas.

I did some world-building, created a bunch of characters, and even drew a rough map of (a small part of) the world. But after writing ~3000 words, the story had only just begun. There was no way I could deliver the whole thing in time. So, I switched tracks.

I'd love to hear from you…

Did you like any one of the subtopics in particular? Or did you think one of them was just fluff? Tell me more.

Or anything else at all. Just hit reply.

Welcome to the second edition of Anticynical Recap! Last week, I sent out the first edition of Anticynical Recap.

As a reminder, instead of the regular new idea email, I’m sending a recap of my previous ideas. I sent one last week (May 18) and this week (May 25) is the second of two. These recaps might be especially useful for our new readers (welcome!).

After every 10 regular new idea essays, I will write a longer “synthesis” essay, contextualizing the previous ideas. I will send the first such email, Anticynical Synthesis #1, on June 1, 2023.

So here’s a recap of Anticynical #6 through #10.

Recap: #6 - #10

• Anticynical #6: Thought Antipatterns. Our thinking can often get distorted and fall into irrational thought patterns; awareness of the most common distortions and thought patterns can help us recognize and correct them.

• Anticynical #7: Acting vs. Achieving. There is a difference between doing something and doing something that causes a particular outcome—and we often delude ourselves into thinking we’re doing the latter when we’re doing the former.

• Anticynical #8: Revolt. In the face of life's inherent absurdity—and death being the most fundamental absurdity—the only real response is that of revolt; not succumbing to despair or hope, but always asserting the present, living with purpose, and being in a constant state of revolt.

• Anticynical #9: Receptivity. We can tune our receptivity—to some extent—by invoking a sponge (to be more absorbing and open-minded) or a stone (to be more resisting and critical).

• Anticynical #10: Cynicism to Skepticism. We should replace cynicism with skepticism where possible, as it is a healthier alternative.

That’s all folks!

I'd love to hear from you…

About the recap, the ideas, or anything else at all. Just hit reply.