Index
Open Note
December 12, 2024

We near the completion of another year. All of us. Regardless of what was lost or gained. The time continues. That was the single most daunting fact in 2020 when I was sick. Now it's a comforting reminder of the nature of what's truly eternal. The bodies that serve as divine instruments are not timeless absolutes. We are not timeless absolutes. But the words we act on are. The ideas we bring to life. Their date and moment of inception will be much greater than ours ever could be. Only they have the potential to be remembered forever. Hopefully they are. Make them with love. Love is permanence.

As I write this, the value of compounding becomes shockingly apparent. In every aspect of my life. Some friendships are hitting the 8+ year mark. Once strangers I met through dinner in 2022, are now close friends inviting me to their wedding 2 years later. A quick kiss one year ago turns into spending time together in a state we've never been to. The staff at the restaurants I frequent now give me a wink & stop me to ask how my mother's doing. Navigating the idea maze + gaining conviction was a matter of months this time around.

Many moons ago, my friend invited me into their apartment. He's the kind of person everyone seeks out. The ability to make someone feel special in such a short amount of time is an important hallmark in truly rare conversationalists. He confided in me that he felt lonely. Impossible I thought - but then he framed his grievance in way that reverberates strongly in memory to this day. He said if something happened to him. Something heavy. And for whatever reason he wasn't allowed to call his family. Who could he call that would come to his apartment and shoulder the grief with him. Not to say people wouldn't, rather who would he feel comfortable asking to shoulder that grief with him.

I spent years thinking about how to solve that in my own life. The conclusion I came to is fairly simple. To get love you have to give it. Receiving it is still somewhat of a challenge. There's a lot I still hold close to the chest. This is where compounding makes all the difference. The nature of doing more with less means the depth in the tether of those moments is unrivaled. It's almost like entering a flow state or escape velocity. Decisions happen naturally. You're not consciously thinking about the next pass. There's a seamless connection between mind and body. In my life currently, I know who to see or when to call. For most situations. It's a very simple statement but I can't overstate its importance. If all we have is each other, then surely that's an invitation to put even more effort.

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2024.

Since I can remember I've always been told life moves in circles. I haven't lived enough to feel like that's true. I've always thought perhaps it feels that way because we're often in the pursuit of the new. How many places have we been challenged to make ours. Streets we've memorized. Foreign eyes that eventually became all too familiar.

But sometimes life certainly shows us the same hand - or a similar one at that.

Concluding 3/4 years of work is never easy. You don't get a call from a random 212 number that lays out what the next script is going to be: where you're going to live, who you'll fall in love with, and what the next idea worth dedicating your life to will be. Something I've never been able to put into words about the last 4 years is just how difficult it's become to stray from my emotional norm. Any deviation is met almost too calmly. You can lose everything next week? Nice. Things went life-alteringly well? Nice. I think it has something to do in large part with planning years ahead. It might be 2022, but mentally you're checking off boxes for 2024. When things happen, you've kind of been expecting them for months/years. I hope that makes sense, it's the best way I can explain it.

I had a very delayed reaction to processing the finality of the moment. I was on the phone with my brother & former co-founder. Laughing about something I can't quite remember. And the silence that typically follows laughter was extraordinarily loud. I realized for the first time in a long time. This wasn't laughter in our apartment. No words even tangentially related to digital health were spoken. We weren't hunched over a computer typing away. Tomorrow I'd wake up and there wasn't an office we'd be seeing each other at. We were on a phone call. Thousands of miles away from each other. Each with a different day to day. Fully immersed in the new. I felt a deep sadness. I struggled to get the next word out. For the first time in 4 years that feeling trumped everything else. The immense gratitude that came with how things ended. The happiness that came from working on what I loved with people I loved. The hopefulness for what was to come. All of those feelings were there. Just much quieter than the sound of nostalgia.

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Kendrick Lamar has this quote that I love. The essence of it is that it's up to us to make the most of whatever happens. Good and bad moments. Turn pain into power.

The happiest I've ever been in my life was when I first learned about this dharmic concept that things are never inherently good or bad. Never for us or against us. They simply are. It's easy when things are going well to tell yourself everything happens for a reason. I'm much quieter when something heavy happens. Then I'm not so giddy about everything happens for a reason - well, at least not until it's over. But there's real power in cutting the proverb short. Things happen. And in the realm of what we can control, there's an abundance of power. There's freedom.

I grew up voraciously religious. To the point where when I had a friend tell me they were agnostic in the 8th grade, I got home and fell to my knees crying because I thought they'd go to hell (you're allowed to laugh). But as I grew older I used the justification of things being inherently bad as a means to abandon ties with my faith. Quite selfish in retrospect. Like bad things were okay until they happened to me. You've probably heard that argument often. Maybe you've grappled with it in your own life. Why would the divine ever allow bad things to happen. As you read this someone's business exit is netting them a 7 figure wire. Another family is putting a gofundme link for their child's cancer. How can we make sense of the latter. I've heard the counter often. This life is just a test for the next. Those who struggle here will be rewarded. Making sense of that always hurts my head. I think that's where the issue lies. Trying to rationalize what truly can't be. Assigning human based labels and emotions to the passage of time.

For the same conditions there's 2 wildly different story archetypes. Someone who gets diagnosed with X falls apart completely. Someone with the same diagnosis miraculously has their situation turned around & they walk away with a new (but beneficial) perspective on what it means to suffer. To be patient. To be here.

When I got over my illness. There was so much guilt. Why did I get to be relieved of my suffering. I tried to subside the guilt by believing that things happen for me. I thought it was clear now. I got sick so I could live the life I live currently. That made sense to me. And somehow the most emotionally (and physically) taxing time of my life, became the best thing that's ever happened to me. But that was as incorrect as ever. In reality. In 2024. I can't tell you why I got better. It's nice to pretend that it's part of some bigger plan. But that would be grossly presumptuous for the billions of people that would be doing incredible things had they been relieved of pain. I also just as easily could've gotten better and never started a company. And then would I really be thinking that everything was aligned? Most likely not.

Everyone, regardless of their situation deserves to dream. In my life I've stopped trying to make sense of everything. What something could mean is of very little importance to me. If it's good. If it's bad. Instead I think intently on what reality can be forged next. No human classification could ever stop me from dreaming.

Maybe it's time to find faith again.

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