We’re Not Dumb, We’re Missing Context

Introduction: The Case For Bottom-Up Nuance 

Nuance and subtlety are on life support. Public discourse increasingly feels like a team sport where the goal isn’t understanding - it’s winning. We defend our “side” at all costs, prioritizing the appearance of being right over the more difficult work of getting to the best answer and ultimately driving the best outcome.

You’ve likely heard this complaint a thousand times, but I promise this isn’t another think piece blaming politics or social media. The real issue runs deeper. Many of us have stopped practicing the habits that make nuance possible. We complain that the world has become polarized and shallow, yet rarely examine our own role in that trend. The fix won’t come from institutions; it starts with how each of us forms and communicates our own opinions.

The more we rely on borrowed ideas and flatten others into caricatures, the less capable we become of genuine understanding. Rebuilding nuance begins with reclaiming our own thinking - and with remembering that intelligence, status, and value are all context-dependent.

This essay explores why nuance so often collapses in modern life, what the concept of context can teach us about intelligence and status, and how we can use a bottom-up approach to restore nuance through intentional opinion-making.

How Nuance Falls Apart

Society’s loss of nuance isn’t some mysterious cultural illness. It’s the compound effect of small cognitive habits many of us have fallen into - often without realizing it. There are countless factors driving polarization, but three in particular stand out: our growing passivity toward information, our lack of empathy for other people’s contexts, and our overconfidence in our own assumptions.

The Passivity Problem

We live in a world of infinite input. There’s more content available than any human could meaningfully process in a lifetime, and algorithms are happy to feed us an endless stream of opinions tailored to our tastes. The result is a subtle shift in how we spend our time: we consume more, but we think less. Put simply, though we’re absorbing more information than ever, we’re forming our own opinions less often.

That imbalance matters. Polarizing and reactionary content attracts the most attention, so it’s what we see most. When we casually adopt those takes and repeat them without filtering them through our own judgment, we reinforce the very dynamics that make discourse worse. It’s a self-reinforcing loop: outrage performs well, so it spreads; we see it, we share it, and the cycle repeats.

This isn’t about moral purity - everyone consumes. The problem is passivity: treating opinions as something to download rather than develop. Rebuilding nuance begins with reclaiming the creative side of thinking - taking the time to interpret what we consume before deciding what we believe. Run everything you hear through your own experiences and values. Don’t just accept information at face value.

The Empathy Gap

We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their outcomes. When we make a mistake, we know the full context - we were tired, distracted, or under pressure, so we forgive ourselves. But when someone else stumbles, we rarely grant them that same grace. Their actions become their whole story.

This dynamic extends to a broader scale. We see ourselves as complex, multi-layered people, yet we flatten everyone else into one-dimensional characters in our personal narratives: the bad driver, the rude coworker, the inconsiderate stranger. When we cut someone off in traffic, we’re running late for an important meeting; when they cut us off, they’re an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive.

That’s the empathy gap - the distance between how we explain our own behavior and how we interpret everyone else’s. The truth, of course, is that no one is purely good or bad. Each of us is a collage of influences, experiences, and contradictions. Even the people who frustrate us most are, in some causal sense, products of their circumstances. If you were swapped with them cell for cell, you’d be them - grumpiness, flaws, and all.

Closing that gap is the first step toward nuance. When we remember that everyone carries their own mix of strengths and blind spots, it becomes easier to look for shared ground rather than proof of difference. We’re generally more alike than we think: most people just want safety, purpose, and love for themselves and the people they care about.

The more we practice that kind of empathy, the harder it becomes to flatten people into opponents. And once we stop flattening, we start noticing the next trap: how quickly we let a single detail - a belief, a label, or a vote stand in for an entire, messy human being.

The Assumption Trap

“Stereotype” is kind of a dirty word, but they do exist for a reason. Our brains are wired to fill in gaps and make quick judgments so we can navigate the world efficiently. But somewhere along the way, we started mistaking those shortcuts for truth. We’ve become comfortable extrapolating entire worldviews from a single data point.

Picture the kind of person who has an “In this house, we believe no human is illegal…” sign in their yard - now picture the kind of person furious that Bad Bunny is performing at the Super Bowl. You probably imagined two very different people, and you could probably guess where each one stands on a dozen unrelated social or political issues. And chances are, you’d be mostly right.

I’m not suggesting we approach every interaction as a blank slate - that would be exhausting and unrealistic. Stereotypes, at their best, are rough pattern recognition. They can even be useful starting points*. The problem isn’t that we make assumptions - it’s how confident we’ve become in them. We treat our guesses as fact and avoid conversations that might challenge them. We’d rather preserve the neat stories in our heads than test them against reality.

That’s the real trap: our assumptions don’t just make us wrong, they make us incurious. When we think we already know who someone is, we stop engaging with them altogether. We miss the chance to uncover the contradictions and nuances that make people (and conversations) interesting. By opting out of those interactions, we lose opportunities to refine our own thinking.

The reality is that most of us hold inconsistent or even contradictory beliefs somewhere. That’s not a flaw - it’s often the sign of a mind doing its own filtering, wrestling ideas through lived experience rather than blindly adopting them. It’s not realistic to expect anyone to hold perfectly consistent, rational beliefs. We’re all emotional creatures. In my experience, it’s often quite the opposite: the more contradictions someone holds, the more interesting they are**.

When these habits of overconfidence and avoidance scale up, they become cultural. We start to see entire groups as simple, misguided, or unintelligent - while granting ourselves endless complexity and context. After all, how could anyone possibly disagree with someone as thoughtful and multi-faceted as us?

But what we often dismiss as stupidity is usually just difference - a gap in context we don’t understand.

Rethinking “Smart”: The Context of Intelligence

Intelligence, like almost everything else, is contextual. Yet we often talk about it as if it’s a single, universal score - some fixed trait that sits neatly on a spectrum from smart to stupid. That illusion makes it easy to label people as intelligent or not, while ignoring the conditions that shape what they know and how they think.

So many of the qualities we admire - intelligence, talent, status, success - are deeply dependent on environment and experience. A genius in one setting can be useless in another. Whenever we compare ourselves to others on those traits, we’re flattening all the variables that make them meaningful: context, opportunity, background, and values. The doctor who thrives in a hospital setting might owe that expertise to a lifetime of structured education and access, while the farmer who never went to college might know more about soil chemistry and weather patterns than the doctor ever will. Both are intelligent - just in different contexts.

In reality, there are at least two kinds of intelligence worth distinguishing. The first is general intelligence - critical thinking that applies across contexts. The second is domain-specific intelligence - expertise that depends on a particular environment or body of knowledge.

General intelligence is less about raw IQ and more about habits of thought:

• Sniffing out obvious BS

• Recognizing your own limits (i.e., acknowledging when you’re not an expert) 

• Forming your own opinions instead of repeating others’

• Communicating those opinions clearly

• Explaining the reasoning behind them in a way that makes sense

People might not agree with where you land on an issue, but if they can follow the logic that got you there, you’ve already created the foundation for real dialogue.

Domain-specific intelligence, on the other hand, is when you are the expert. It’s the craftsperson, the coder, the nurse, the mechanic who can diagnose a problem that others can’t even describe. Knowing the limits of your own expertise - and deferring to others when they’re in their domain - is a form of intelligence in itself. It’s the humility to recognize that no one is smart everywhere. 

A few examples make this obvious. The rural mechanic who might feel out of place at a black-tie gala could be the savior when the gala guest’s car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. The Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders - some of the most technically skilled dancers in the world - go home and resume their day jobs as nurses, office managers, and teachers***. Genius, skill, and competence all depend on setting. Often, those settings overlap neatly with class and geography. What looks like “ignorance” from a distance is often just intelligence tuned to a different environment - rural instead of urban, practical instead of academic, hands-on instead of theoretical. We miss that truth when we assume intelligence only counts if it comes with the credentials or characteristics of our own world.

When we start to see intelligence through this lens, the hierarchy flattens. “Smart” stops being a status label and becomes a description of fit - between a person’s knowledge and their context. When we lose sight of that, it becomes easy to divide the world into the intelligent and the ignorant - a false split that fuels the collapse of nuance across our culture. Instead of recognizing that everyone has strengths in different areas and engaging them accordingly, we simply write them off as stupid.

If we can relearn to see intelligence and status as contextual, we can also relearn to form opinions that respect complexity - in others and in ourselves.

Rebuilding Nuance From the Bottom Up

So what now? How do we actually bring nuance back?

If polarization and simplification are the natural byproducts of passivity, empathy gaps, and lazy assumptions, then the antidote has to be active - something we each practice intentionally. The work of rebuilding nuance won’t come from political institutions or the social media companies developing our algorithms; it has to start with how we think, speak, and listen.

At the simplest level, this means addressing the passivity problem head-on. We need to be more deliberate about engaging with the information that makes its way into our heads - accepting some parts, rejecting others, and shaping it all into opinions that actually belong to us. In practical terms, that means:

1. Generating your own opinions instead of regurgitating others’

2. Communicating your stance clearly, even when it’s incomplete or evolving

3. Explaining how you got there - the reasoning, trade-offs, and values that shaped your view

The goal isn’t to make everyone think alike; it’s to make disagreement productive again. When people understand how you reached your conclusion, they’re more likely to respond in kind. Even if you still disagree, you’re disagreeing on shared ground - with mutual respect for the thought that went into it. This is where common ground is found, and Bad Bunny Super Bowl rejecters begin to actually have fruitful discussions with “In this house we believe…” yard-sign people.

It’s not enough to endlessly consume content and call it awareness. You have to insert yourself into the process. Think critically about what resonates, what doesn’t, and why. The more intentional your inputs - the higher-quality, more nuanced, fact-based ideas you expose yourself to - the sharper your outputs become.

The nice part is that this isn’t just an individual skill; it scales. A culture of people who form and articulate their own opinions is, by definition, a culture that values context and complexity. It rewards curiosity over certainty, understanding over signaling, and creation over consumption. 

Developing your own opinions is a creative endeavor - the daily act of making meaning instead of merely absorbing it. And if enough of us do that work, nuance might stop feeling like an endangered species and start feeling like a habit again.

Conclusion: Practicing Context 

Nuance isn’t an abstract virtue; it’s a habit of curiosity, practiced one conversation at a time.

We shouldn’t expect this to be fixed from the top down. Political institutions and media companies aren’t exactly incentivized to slow things down and make us more thoughtful. Outrage is profitable. Simplicity is efficient. Picking teams is easier to sell than sitting with complexity. If we’re waiting on a platform redesign or a new batch of politicians to make public discourse more nuanced, we’ll be waiting a long time.

The good news is that the habits that create nuance are still completely within our control. We choose whether to treat other people as caricatures or as full humans with contexts we don’t yet see. We choose whether to adopt opinions wholesale or shape them ourselves. We choose whether to write people off as stupid or ask what kind of intelligence their world might actually require.

Practicing context means zooming out just enough to remember that everyone, including us, is a product of specific experiences, incentives, and environments. It means acknowledging the possibility that someone you disagree with might still be thoughtful in a domain you don’t understand. It means recognizing that “smart” isn’t a trophy some people get to keep - it’s a moving target that depends on where you’re standing.

None of this guarantees agreement. It doesn’t mean every viewpoint is equally valid or that we should stop drawing lines where it matters. What it does mean is that we take responsibility for the part we can actually control: how we think, how we talk, and how we treat the people who land somewhere else on the spectrum.

We can’t legislate nuance into existence. We can’t algorithm our way into empathy. But we can model it from the bottom up by forming our own opinions, explaining how we arrived at them, and giving others the grace of context. If enough of us do that, even in small, unremarkable ways, public discourse might start to feel a little less tribal - and a little more like what it’s supposed to be: a collective attempt to figure things out together.

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*At their worst, we know that stereotypes tend to be blatant racism, sexism, or insert other form of prejudice here. 

**They could also be a complete idiot. Your mileage may vary.

***This example may or may not be a result of watching the DCC Netflix documentary - against my will, for the record. 

The Pragmatic and the Romantic

INTRODUCTION

Several years ago, I was listening to an episode of How I Built This with Guy Raz. Sal Khan, the founder of Khan Academy, said something about tutoring that stuck with me:

“My little cousin was struggling with school, so what did her parents do? Like any good parents, they threw money at the problem.”

On the surface, he was right. Tutoring is, in fact, spending money to solve a problem. But the phrasing felt oddly cynical coming from someone who dedicated his life to helping students learn. That jarring moment eventually led to the following insight: for any given event, we can choose to see it pragmatically - at face value, facts and nothing more. Or we can see it romantically - as part of a bigger story, rich with meaning and possibility.

It’s tempting to conflate this with optimism vs. pessimism, but I think it’s different. Optimism is about positive vs. negative outlooks. Pragmatism vs. romanticism is about depth: accepting the shallow, surface-level view versus acknowledging deeper levels of meaning or value.

Realistically, though, this isn’t a binary choice. It’s a spectrum: how romantic we are about certain things compared to how pragmatic we are about others. And importantly, we can’t - and shouldn’t - always be romantic about everything. That would be exhausting and unsustainable. The power lies in sliding along the spectrum, choosing when to lean into romance and when to accept pragmatism.

Typically, this relationship works in one direction: we’re drawn to, and usually become better at, the things we’re already romantic about, while we avoid or feel dragged toward the things we view pragmatically. My core thesis is that by testing this relationship in the opposite direction - choosing romance where we’d normally default to pragmatism - we can enrich our quality of life. In other words: by being romantic about things we normally wouldn’t think twice about, we can find more beauty and enjoyment in what can often be a mundane life. 

Example: A Case Study in Seeing Differently

Many of our favorite writers and shows are doing exactly this: finding beauty and meaning in the otherwise mundane, and making it compelling enough to hold our attention. One show that brought this idea home for me was True South*. In Season 7, Episode 4, the crew visits Little Rock, Arkansas.

In the SEC Network’s own words, the show “revolves around two food stories told from one place, which True South sets in conversation to make larger points about Southern beliefs and identities.” In other words, True South takes food - something easy to see pragmatically as sustenance - and reframes it romantically, as a medium for heritage, memory, and community.

The Little Rock episode is a perfect case study. The city itself is often overlooked, its state is often dismissed, and this particular story unfolds on Baseline Road - a part of town often avoided altogether. Through a romantic lens, however, the episode reveals layers of beauty in what most people would write off as “the bad part of town.” We see cultural tradition, celebration, and resilience.

I won’t rehash the whole episode for you, but at the center we have Jordan Narvaez, a thirty-something running multiple small businesses in southwest Little Rock: El Súper Pollo (a chicken al carbón tent), two grocery stores, and a Western apparel shop. We follow him through the day in his F-150 (that we learn he inherited from his father), watching him keep these enterprises alive as we learn more about his background and why he continues to run these businesses. 

The reason this episode struck me so deeply is because it forced me to confront my own blind spot. I’ve been to Little Rock before, and in my pragmatic state of mind, I’ve never thought twice about Baseline Road. Candidly, the only real weight it’s held for me is as the “bad part of town.” But viewed through a romantic lens, the familiar became something else entirely - proof that in almost any situation, more beauty exists than initially meets the eye.**

At the end of the episode, Jordan’s businesses aren’t just businesses - they’re gathering places for his community. Jordan’s truck isn’t just another F-150 driving around Little Rock. It’s a way for him to stay connected to and honor his father. 

It may not be a Southern food documentary for you, or a specific part of town, but odds are there’s some overlooked corner of your own life. What might you be writing off too quickly - and what might change if you looked again, romantically instead of pragmatically?

Application: How does this apply to our own lives? 

So maybe you’re wondering why any of this matters beyond one episode of a niche food show. The point is that the same principle applies just about anywhere: we can make life feel richer by choosing to view the mundane through a romantic lens. 

Two examples make this clear: careers and sports.

Example 1: Careers

Our jobs give us endless chances to test each end of the pragmatic - romantic spectrum. Take the example of a local businessperson who has opened 10 Courtyard Inn hotels. The pragmatic take is: “I’ve built a handful of hotels along the interstate.” Owning 10 hotels is pretty impressive, but in the grand scheme of things, Courtyard Inns are generally forgettable and unremarkable.

But the romantic version? “I’ve opened 10 places where families on road trips, workers away from home, and weary travelers could sleep and get a warm meal. Since opening, we’ve hosted more than 10,000 people.”

The facts don’t change, but the meaning does. Even in a job that feels ordinary or inconsequential, a romantic lens can highlight the value you bring to others.  

Example 2: Sports

Sports might be the clearest split between pragmatists and romantics. On one side: skeptics who see them as nothing more than grown adults running around in uniforms, a modern “bread and circus.” On the other side: fans who see sports as culture-shaping forces that unite cities, create civic pride, and even spur broader change and community investment. 

Both of these examples are a little trite and on the nose, but that’s kind of the point. The reality of each is somewhere in the middle: operating hotels isn’t necessarily life-changing work, but it does bring value. Sports teams do unite communities, but they’re not an essential service. That middle ground is where the pragmatic-romantic spectrum comes in. It gives us the flexibility to stay grounded in reality without losing the sense of romance that makes things exciting and meaningful.

Conclusion

We don’t get to choose all the circumstances of our lives, but we do get to choose the lens we bring to them. Pragmatism keeps us grounded in reality. Romanticism derives meaning, emotion, and impact from that reality. And somewhere between the two - sliding along the spectrum with intention - is where an ordinary life can begin to feel extraordinary.  

Even Sal Khan’s story about “throwing money at the problem” can be read in two ways. Pragmatically, it’s a transaction - parents paying a tutor. Romantically, it’s parents doing whatever they can to support their child. The facts don’t change, but the meaning does. 

And in the end, it’s that meaning - the romance we choose to layer onto the mundane - that makes a life feel worth living.

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* Honorable mention here for F**k, That’s Delicious - another food-centric show that does an incredible job of highlighting the beauty found in food, often at hole-in-the-wall restaurants.  

** There are objective issues with the Baseline Road area as shown in crime statistics, educational outcomes, etc. I’m not trying to minimize this at all. If anything, I hope this example underscores the notion that by taking the romantic perspective, we can find beauty and meaning even in tough situations.

You’re Not in the Culture, You are the Culture

INTRODUCTION

“Bill Gates said: wait till you see what your computer can become. But it's You, who should be doing the becoming, not the damn fool computer. What you can become is the miracle you were born to be through the work that you do.” – Kurt Vonnegut

Consumption is easier and more passive than ever. In the past, choosing a book or a TV show required at least a moment of intention. Now, algorithms serve up personalized, infinite feeds to keep us scrolling, streaming, and clicking with minimal effort on our part.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with consumption - we all need rest, information, and inspiration. But when consumption becomes our default state, we risk spending large parts of our lives passively absorbing rather than actively growing. The danger is that we look back and realize we’ve consumed far more than we’ve created - we realize we haven’t truly grown or left our mark on the world and those around us.

This consumption / creation imbalance has consequences at two levels. At the individual level, research shows that a sense of progress, however small, is one of the strongest drivers of human satisfaction. Creation can provide that progress. As we expand to the cultural level, the same dynamic holds true: communities thrive when enough people are willing to make, share, and build, not just consume and watch from the sidelines.

Technology will continue to make consumption easier, which means the responsibility falls on us to rebalance our time. We need to be more intentional about how much we consume, how much we create, and how the two interact to shape both our own lives and the cultures we’re part of.

David Foster Wallace saw this challenge years ago. He warned that it would continue getting “better and better and more and more pleasurable, to be alone with images on a screen… given to us by people who do not love us but want our money.” A little of that is fine. But if it becomes our default, his (quite dramatic) take was that, “in a meaningful way, you’re going to die. And the culture’s gonna grind to a halt.”

That’s the heart of this essay: building a way to notice when we’re tipping too far toward consumption, and deliberately shifting back toward creation. At the personal level, that means intentionally checking in on how we spend our time and energy. At the cultural level, it means recognizing our role not just as consumers of culture, but as participants and shapers of it.

Let’s start with the personal side of the equation.

the Consumption / Creation Framework

When you boil it down, most of our time falls into one of two states: consumption or creation.

• Consumption: reading, watching, listening, scrolling. It’s input-oriented, and often passive

• Creation: cooking a meal, journaling, painting, writing, hosting a dinner. It’s output-oriented, and almost always active

Neither state is inherently good or bad. The danger is in imbalance. Most of us spend the majority of our waking hours at work, and for many of us, this may be the only environment where we’re consistently producing tangible outputs. By the time we’ve exercised, made dinner, taken care of our children (4 legged or 2 legged), and handled the daily chores, it’s tempting to collapse into the couch and spend the rest of our time consuming. That’s understandable - but if consumption becomes the default, and we’re only creating in a work context, we lose the deeper sense of progress that creation can bring.

Research shows that progress is one of the biggest drivers of human well-being. The trick is that “progress” doesn’t just mean promotions or pay raises - it can be even more powerful in personal contexts. It can be as small as writing a page, sketching an idea, or teaching yourself a song on guitar. But you only get that sense of growth when you’re creating, not just consuming.

It’s important to stress: creation doesn’t always have to be tangible. Sometimes what you’re creating is a bond - a closer relationship with a friend, a deeper connection with your kids, or a sense of belonging in your neighborhood. These are valid, powerful forms of creation too, and they matter just as much as any outputs you may be able to hold or point at.

Personally, I’ve found it useful to set at least one creation-centric goal outside of work. Even a modest one (for example - starting a blog). Having something you’re building or working toward gives you:

• A reason to claw back time and set better boundaries around work

• A place to feel progress and momentum that isn’t tied to your job

• A filter for what kinds of consumption are worthwhile (does this inform, inspire, or recharge me in service of my goal?)

There’s a broader discussion to be had here around the importance and benefits of goal setting in general, but the main thing for now is this: setting a creation-centric goal is the first step toward shifting your default state away from passive consumption, and toward active creation.

Auditing Our Consumption

Even if you set a creation-centric goal, the obvious question is: where’s the time going to come from? We’re all busy, and most days feel like there’s barely enough time as-is.

The place to start is by taking a closer look at how you’re consuming today. Not all consumption is the same. In my experience, most of it falls into three buckets: relaxation, information, and inspiration.

• Relaxation: Sometimes you’re just tired and need to turn your brain off. That’s fine - it’s personal, and it’s necessary. The goal isn’t to eliminate downtime, just to make sure it’s intentional rather than default.

• Information: We all consume information that helps us navigate daily life - from the weather forecast to local news to industry updates. This is useful as long as it actually informs your actions. Beyond that, it starts to become extra noise instead of useful signal.

• Inspiration: This often overlaps with relaxation, but the key difference is intent. Inspiration consumption points forward - the cooking show you watch because you want to try a new recipe, the stand-up special that nudges you to try an open mic, the book that pushes you to start writing. This consumption can be enjoyable, but the ultimate intent is that at some point it will help inform or influence your own actions and outputs.

That last sentence is crucial. If we put relaxation aside, consumption is only good to the extent it actually informs or influences our outputs and actions. Otherwise, it’s just the empty calories of attention - satisfying in the moment, but ultimately leaves us feeling a bit worse off.

And this is where we often trip up. If you’re opening an app without knowing why, you’re probably not about to be informed or inspired - you’re likely just going to piss yourself off for no reason, and ultimately you’re about to waste time you could have spent more beneficially. The goal isn’t to outlaw consumption, it’s to cut back on the mindless kind so you can repurpose that time and energy toward something more likely to make you feel good about yourself. 

In my own life, this meant admitting Duolingo was more entertainment than real learning, tightening my news habits into a simple (email-only, social media-free) morning routine, and letting my interest in stand-up comedy guide what I consume for inspiration. The details and specifics of my personal routine don’t really matter as much - the point is that once you know what you want to create, it becomes much easier to filter what’s worth consuming, and what isn’t.

Broader Cultural Implications

So far we’ve been looking at this balance between consumption and creation at the personal level. But the same imbalance shows up in our shared culture too. Many people want to consume or reap the benefits of a “cool culture,” but far fewer are willing to put in the effort to help build it.

City-level culture is a great example. Outside of a handful of U.S. cities - New York, LA, Miami, maybe a few others - odds are you can find someone complaining that “this place doesn’t have any culture.”

I’m reminded of a common sentiment I come across - this one about Charlotte specifically, but I’m sure there are versions of it in most other cities: “Everything here is great except there’s a lack of culture. It’s kind of just a transient place for young, white collar professionals to live for a little and make some money.”

To be fair, the sentiment is pretty on point. But the irony is often glaring: many of the people saying this are the exact white-collar transplants who moved here for jobs that are allegedly sanitizing the city. And this is the crux of it - when you complain about your city’s culture, to an extent you’re critiquing yourself. There’s a saying I heard not too long ago: “you’re not in traffic, you are traffic.” The same exact thing applies here: you’re not in the culture, you are the culture. You don’t just live in the city - you are part of what makes it what it is.

So if you think your city lacks culture (and maybe it does), that’s not just a critique - it’s an opportunity. When you say a city has no culture, what do you actually mean? No good restaurants? No music venues? No historic buildings or landmarks? You may not be able to open a restaurant or redevelop a historic building, but you could start a dinner club in your neighborhood, ask a local coffee shop to host an open mic, or rally support for preserving the historic spaces your city already has. We expect culture to be served on a platter, like the algorithm serves us on our phones. But by definition, culture is everywhere - you just have to put in a little effort to find the one that piques your interest. 

It’s not just about restaurants or music scenes, either. A lot of the broader complaints about people feeling less empathetic, less engaged, and less connected to their neighbors are likely tied to the creation / consumption imbalance we experience at the personal level. The more time we spend passively consuming (i.e., doomscrolling on our phones), the less time and energy we have to actively connect in each other’s real (non-digital) lives.

It’s worth saying directly: culture isn’t only built in restaurants, venues, and landmarks - it’s also built in living rooms, classrooms, and parks. Social bonds are culture. Teaching kids, hosting neighbors, showing up for friends - these acts of connection are acts of creation too. They build the trust and texture that make a community worth living in.

The takeaway is simple in theory, but tougher to act on: unique, vibrant cultures require active participation from a diverse set of people contributing their own energy and ideas. If you’re not willing to actively seek out different cultural experiences, much less engage and contribute, I propose you lose the right to complain that your city (or your scene, or your team) “has no culture.”

CONCLUSION

The balance between consumption and creation isn’t just a matter of personal productivity - it’s a matter of how we experience life, and how we shape the places we live. Individually, creation fuels progress and satisfaction. Collectively, it fuels the culture that makes cities and communities worth belonging to.

The trap is that consumption feels effortless, while creation takes energy. That’s why it’s so easy to default into scrolling instead of practicing something new, spectating instead of participating. But the same thing that makes creation harder is what makes it meaningful: it demands effort, and leaves something behind.

David Foster Wallace warned that if passive entertainment becomes our staple diet, both individuals and culture will “grind to a halt.” The inverse is just as true: if more of us choose to create - even in small, humble ways - we expand our own sense of progress and keep our communities vibrant.

So the onus is on us: what’s one small thing we could create this week? Not someday, not in theory - but right now. A page, a meal, a gathering… anything really. However small, it counts. Because you’re not just in the culture - you are the culture.

Keep Your Identity Diversified

INTRODUCTION

Paul Graham’s essay “Keep Your Identity Small” argues that the more labels we attach to ourselves, the harder it becomes to think clearly. He writes:

“If people can't think clearly about anything that has become part of their identity, then all other things being equal, the best plan is to let as few things into your identity as possible.

Most people reading this will already be fairly tolerant. But there is a step beyond thinking of yourself as x but tolerating y: not even to consider yourself an x. The more labels you have for yourself, the dumber they make you.”

It’s a compelling idea, and I agree with Graham’s underlying concern: identity can cloud judgment. When we anchor ourselves too strongly to an idea, it can become difficult to change our minds - even in the face of new evidence.

But I land somewhere else. Rather than shrinking our identities, I believe we should be more intentional about shaping them. That means grounding ourselves in foundational values and intentionally diversifying the roles we inhabit.

My goals here are:

• To outline where I think Graham’s argument misses the mark

• To offer a different approach to identity: one based on self-awareness, value alignment, and diversification

Where Graham’s Argument Falls Short

Is it a bit presumptuous of me to think I can refine the thinking of the man who founded Y Combinator? The answer is yes, but we’re already here so I might as well take a stab at it:

1) Minimizing Identity Isn’t Sustainable

Graham’s call to limit the composition of our identity may work in theory, especially for topics like politics or religion. But in practice, it’s unrealistic. We are social beings. We inevitably wear labels - as children, siblings, professionals, or community members. Identity is not optional. The real question is whether we’re shaping it or letting it shape us.

By suggesting we avoid labels altogether, Graham’s approach risks encouraging disengagement rather than introspection. Instead of keeping identity small, we should focus on keeping it examined.

2) Identity Doesn’t Have To Be Superficial

Graham focuses specifically on external or divisive identities - religion, politics, and profession. But identity can (and should) be rooted in something deeper. Rather than tying our sense of self to superficial titles, we can ground it in foundational traits: things like empathy, humility, and integrity.

These are traits that are valued and respected across eras and cultures. Because they are intrinsic rather than situational, they tend to be more stable and adaptable across the many contexts we move through in life.

A Healthier WAy To Build Identity

If identity is unavoidable, how do we engage with it productively? After thinking about it for way too long, I’ve found the following approach provides a solid start:

1) Take Inventory of Your Current Identity

Before shaping your identity, understand where it stands today. You can start by asking more surface-level questions: 

• How do I spend my time outside of work? 

• What activities dominate my week?

• What qualities or perceptions would I be uncomfortable losing?

However, as you begin to peel the layers back, you’ll likely find yourself considering deeper, foundational questions:

• Why do I spend my time where I do?

• What values do I consider non-negotiable? 

• How do I want to be remembered by those closest to me? 

Moving from surface-level to deeper lines of questioning helps reveal not just what you do, but who you’re becoming - and why. Exploring these layers often uncovers where we’ve invested meaning, sometimes unconsciously. 

For example, someone might realize their self-worth is closely tied to being seen as productive, physically fit, or intellectually impressive. These identities aren’t inherently bad, but left unexamined, they can become blind spots - quietly influencing our choices, emotions, and priorities without us even realizing it.

2) Anchor Yourself In Core TRaits, Not Titles   

There are two layers to identity:

• Core identity: Who you are - your character, values, intentions

• Contextual identity: Roles you play - employee, friend, parent, fan*

Your core identity should be grounded in values that transcend context. Traits like honesty or kindness aren’t bound to a specific job or relationship - they go wherever you do. When we lead with those, we benefit from stability even as the world around us changes.

3) When It Comes To Titles - Embrace Multiple, Meaningful Roles  

While we can’t avoid contextual labels, we can diversify them. Instead of being defined by one role - “the athlete,” “the analyst,” “the parent” - we can deliberately expand our identity across a range of meaningful roles. 

This has two major benefits:

• Resilience: When one facet of our identity falters, others can support us. 

For example, if your sense of self is entirely wrapped up in a prestigious job, and you lose that job, your entire world is likely going to get rocked. 

However, on the contrary, if you have other parts of your identity that you can be proud of (e.g., being a father, being the best player on your beer league softball team, etc.), leaning into those other parts of your identity can help stabilize you as you get back on your feet professionally. 

• Growth: Adding new dimensions to our identities pushes us into new, uncomfortable environments that ultimately lead to personal growth. 

There’s an art to not spreading yourself too thin, but it’s generally helpful to have one area of your life where you can really feel yourself stretching and actively growing. This is a feel thing and will vary for everyone, but as a rule of thumb, this should feel at least a little bit uncomfortable. Maybe it’s a bit trite, but growth comes at the edge of our comfort zone after all. 

More tactically, this could be joining a writing group, volunteering, or learning a new skill -  whatever floats your boat and gives you a healthy challenge.     

I came across a quote recently that resonated here: “To be the noun, you have to do the verb.” 

You want to be a writer? Put pen to paper. You want to be in shape? Show up at the gym. You want to be a mentor? Reach out to someone who needs support. Crafting your identity requires action.   

CONCLUSION

Rather than minimizing your identity, take ownership of it. Build it on a foundation of values. Stay open to new roles. And check in with yourself regularly. 

The goal isn’t to avoid being someone. It’s to become someone on purpose.

So ask yourself: What traits or titles define me today - and are they the ones I want shaping my future?

---

Thank you to Brandon Sloan and Tony S., Esq. for reading various versions of this essay.

*Note: As an OKC Thunder fan, I’ve been leaning into this portion of my identity heavily lately - I am a champion and no one can tell me otherwise

On Satisfaction

INTRODUCTION

“To live a more meaningful life, we don’t need another vacation, a new hobby, or another workout routine. We don’t need an endless stream of self-improvement projects piled onto an already overstressed life. What we truly need is a life we’re not trying to escape, a life where play and joy are woven into our everyday work, allowing us to experience deeper fulfillment and uncover the breakthroughs we’ve been searching for.” - Chase Jarvis 

There are 8 billion people on the planet today. Each of us is unique and complex, with our own desires and goals. But underneath all this complexity, we ultimately want the same thing out of life - to feel satisfied.

That may sound deceptively simple - and maybe it is. How we define satisfaction and how we pursue it varies widely depending on our upbringing and environment. Yet across all those differences, one truth remains: we want to feel good about our lives and how we’ve spent our time. 

Still, many of us find ourselves stuck on some version of the hedonic treadmill - chasing the next accomplishment, believing satisfaction lies just beyond it. But it remains a moving target we rarely seem to reach.

If what we want is so simple, why do so few of us seem to find it for ourselves?         

In my experience, several factors prevent people from finding satisfaction: 

• We overrate the abstract concept of “success”

• We fail to define it properly

• We compare ourselves to people who define “success” differently than we do

• We underrate the “average” life 

• We overlook the positives of “average”, lower-status roles 

• We undervalue the benefits of routine  

We’ll explore each of these ideas in more detail, but the bottom line is this:

The quickest way to satisfaction isn’t via achievement or status. It’s by finding contentment and gratitude in where we are today. To shoot you as straight as possible -  satisfaction is found by embracing the “average” life.  

To put it in more practical terms - we don’t find satisfaction by becoming a millionaire professional athlete, pop star, or titan of industry. There are countless examples of people who reach extraordinary heights of success, yet still wrestle with a sense of dissatisfaction. This is great news too, because let’s be real: most of us aren’t going to become any of those things. But even in our own fields, the reality is that most of us will fall much closer to the “average” section of the bell curve. 

Maybe that comes off as a bit defeatist or depressing, but I hope I can convince you to find this somewhat liberating. If satisfaction is found independently of any external achievement, it means we already have everything we need to find satisfaction in our own lives - right now. All that’s left to do is start winning the battle between our own ears and finding security in who we are today.

I think many of us chase certain growth goals or accomplishments in an attempt to keep up with the Joneses. Finding gratitude in where we are today allows us to chase growth goals from a place of genuine desire and excitement, as opposed to playing an anxiety-riddled game of catch-up.   

In other words: if we can be happy today - at “average” - anything else that comes our way is gravy. 

“SUCCESS” IS OVERRATED

As mentioned above, we tend to overrate the abstract idea of “success” for two primary reasons. First, we often fail to define success clearly - if we define it at all. Second, we compare ourselves to others who pursue different versions of success, often at costs we wouldn’t choose for ourselves. Let’s explore both dynamics more deeply.

1) We fail to define “success” properly

One fundamental mistake many of us make is confounding success with status. Though related, they’re not the same. Success is internal - we define it and determine when we meet it. Status is external - it’s comparative, depending on how others perceive us. Waking up to this distinction unlocks two critical insights.

First, defining success is a choice - one that most people leave unmade. When we fail to consciously define success for ourselves, we generally absorb society’s default version: a prestigious job title, a certain income level, a trophy, or a line on our resume. These goals aren’t inherently wrong, but chasing them without true personal alignment often leads to exhaustion, burnout, and a persistent sense of dissatisfaction. You can pursue traditional goals if they genuinely resonate with you - but the key is to choose them, not inherit them.

(If you’re interested in a deeper exploration of this idea, I recommend thinking about your goals in the context of "resume virtues vs. eulogy virtues"  - this is a framework that’s helped me personally think more clearly about where I derive satisfaction, and the kind of life worth aiming for. In short, resume virtues are skills you bring to the market, while eulogy virtues are the ones people remember you for when you’re gone.)

Second, and maybe most liberating: you can be successful without having high status. The more your definition of success diverges from traditional measures of status, the more uncomfortable this might be. It may mean taking a less glamorous job, earning less money, or stepping outside the script your peers expect you to follow. But clarity brings courage. When you truly own your personal definition of success, you’re free to pursue a satisfying life without seeking or depending on external validation. 

The call to action here is simple enough: define success for yourself, and think about how closely it relates to status. Even if you don’t fully achieve your vision, the mere act of honest self-examination often shifts your mindset closer towards a sense of satisfaction. 

2) We compare ourselves to people who define “success” differently than we do

Defining success on your own terms is crucial - it transforms your relationship with satisfaction in two important ways.

First, it helps you choose your cohort. In other words, once you define success for yourself, you can more deliberately identify the types of people worth admiring or emulating. Comparison is a natural human tendency we’ll always contend with, but if we must compare, we should at least be intentional about who we’re looking to for inspiration.

When we aren’t deliberate, we often default to admiring people in high-status roles - without fully considering the sacrifices those roles require. Worse, we tend to focus only on the glamorous aspects of their lives while overlooking the trade-offs. Two examples illustrate this pattern:

These examples lead to a second, deeper implication:

Your definition of success must also define the sacrifices you're willing to make.

If you’re absent-mindedly admiring someone with extreme status, but aren't prepared to endure the hardships that come with it, you’re setting yourself up for dissatisfaction. Extreme success often demands extreme trade-offs. Said differently: if you’re unwilling to endure the “cost” column of someone’s life, it doesn’t make sense to envy their “reward” column.

I can already hear someone thinking, “But Keith, if I were compensated like them, of course I’d be willing to absorb those trade-offs.”

But here’s the rub: you have to endure the sacrifices before you enjoy the rewards. In almost every high-status role, the heavy cost is paid upfront - long before the glamor and recognition arrive.

You always have a choice:

• You can aim for a definition of success closer to traditional prestige - but know it will likely require extreme sacrifices.

• Or you can pursue a more personal, non-traditional definition of success, accepting a different (and often gentler) set of trade-offs, like sacrificing external validation.

Both paths involve sacrifice - the difference lies in which costs you’re willing and able to absorb.

By choosing the right cohort and realistically assessing the trade-offs you’re willing to make, you dramatically increase your odds of finding satisfaction in your day-to-day life. Before you let comparison steal your contentment, ask yourself two simple questions:

• Would I actually want my daily life to look like this person’s?

• Am I realistically willing to make the sacrifices required to get there?

If the answer to either question is "no," it’s time to stop measuring yourself against that person. They’re playing a different game, aiming for different goals, constrained by different sacrifices.

(Holding luck constant, of course.)

“AVERAGE” IS UNDERRATED

We’ve spent time unpacking why high-status roles are often overrated - and how our obsession with them can undermine personal satisfaction. But there’s another side to this equation: we also tend to underrate the value of a more “average” life.

Before we go further, let me be clear: embracing an “average” life isn’t about settling or giving up. It doesn’t mean trading ambition for apathy. In fact, I’ve written before about the paradox of holding both gratitude and ambition at the same time - and that idea is at the heart of what follows. What I’m advocating here is a mindset shift: one where satisfaction isn’t postponed until we achieve something “impressive”, but can be cultivated in the lives we’re already living. When we start from a place of contentment, our growth goals become less about chasing validation and more about genuine curiosity and personal meaning.

Even if we’ve clearly defined success on our own terms and chosen the right people to emulate, we’re still vulnerable to two common traps:

1. We overlook the positives of traditionally lower-status, “average” roles

2. We undervalue the benefits of routine and stability

Let’s look at each more closely - starting with the quiet upsides of roles we’ve been conditioned to dismiss.

1) We overlook the positives of “average”, lower-status roles 

When we look at high-status lives from the outside, we often see the highlight reel - fame, influence, admiration - while ignoring the costs that come with them. With our own lives, we tend to do the opposite: we zero in on what’s missing or monotonous, downplaying the meaningful, positive aspects we already have. We romanticize what we don’t have and become blind to the quiet value of what we do.

At its core, I think this dynamic stems from one overarching cultural norm: we’ve been taught to always strive for more. As a result, we feel a sense of shame in being content with “average,” lower-status jobs - even when those jobs might quietly deliver the kind of stability, freedom, and balance that lead to genuine satisfaction. Case in point - when was the last time someone proudly declared their dream was to be a middle manager?

Middle managers, in particular, have become cultural punchlines - reduced to cogs in the corporate machine, endlessly circling back via email and sitting through status meetings. Sure, these roles can include their share of bureaucracy and boredom. But they also come with upsides we rarely acknowledge.

These benefits aren’t trivial - they’re foundational. A steady income, regular hours, and mental energy left at the end of the day can enable a deeply fulfilling life, one rich in relationships, creativity, and community. Yet we rarely give ourselves permission to celebrate this. We minimize it because it doesn’t conform to the polished narrative of success we’re constantly sold.

The beauty of choosing satisfaction over status is that you gain agency. You can design a life that aligns with your values - including how much risk, ambition, or visibility you’re willing to pursue. For some, high-status roles genuinely fuel a deep sense of purpose and pride. But for many others, satisfaction may come not from recognition, but from balance: steady income, protected time, and enough energy left over to pour into the people and passions that matter most. In those cases, keeping the day job isn’t settling - it’s a deliberate choice to prioritize what matters most. That’s not failure. That’s strategy. And in a culture that constantly urges us to chase more, recognizing that you already have enough is often the first real step toward satisfaction. 

Said differently: when you stop chasing what the world tells you to want, you finally make space to enjoy what you already have.

2) We undervalue the benefits of routine  

Like middle-manager roles, routines often get a bad rap. Both can be legitimately valuable, yet both are routinely misunderstood, dismissed, or frowned upon by modern culture. 

With routines in particular, we tend to associate them with boredom or stagnation - something we fall into rather than choose. Social media only amplifies this mindset, feeding us a highlight reel of constant novelty that makes everyday life seem dull by comparison.

But routine isn’t just necessary - it’s incredibly beneficial. Without it, life would be chaos. Imagine having no default structure: every day would require dozens of tiny decisions just to get started. What should I wear? What should I eat? Where should I go? What should I do today? This kind of unpredictability may sound exciting in theory, but in practice, it leads to decision fatigue and a scattered mind. A good routine eases that burden, conserving mental energy for the things that matter most.

The key is to stop seeing routine as the enemy of joy and start seeing it as the scaffolding that supports it. The right routine doesn’t have to be rigid - it should be built intentionally to reflect your values. Make space for what you love. And just as important, leave room for what you don’t yet know you’ll need - unstructured time, spontaneous detours, space to wander. Design your routine to include structure where it matters most, and intentionally block time for unplanned creativity and spontaneous adventures. It’s crucial to remember that the reason these “special” moments feel so special is because they’re set against the backdrop of our ordinary days.

Your whole life can’t be novel. And it shouldn’t be. That would be exhausting. Satisfaction doesn’t come from constant stimulation - it comes from rhythms and routines that create the space to find meaning, stability, and presence.

CONCLUSION

So many of us believe that if we could just hit the next milestone - or take that long-awaited vacation - we’d finally feel satisfied. We imagine that peace lives just beyond the next achievement, the next break, the next external fix.

But the real battle is the one between our own ears. Most anxious people who go to Cancun don’t come back calmer - they just end up being anxious on a beach in Cancun. I’ve come across a quote several times recently that applies perfectly here:

“Wherever you go, there you are.”

And “where you are” isn’t just geography. It’s your job. It’s your home. It’s your habits. It’s your routine. The hedonic treadmill keeps spinning, and we keep running - hoping the next thing or the next place will finally deliver satisfaction. But satisfaction was never out there to begin with. It has to be built from within. That starts by stepping off the treadmill - or at the very least, recognizing that you’re on it.

By decoupling success from status, being honest about the trade-offs behind other people’s lives, and embracing the quiet power of routine, we can start to build a version of satisfaction that doesn’t rely on escape or applause. It’s not about lowering the bar. It’s about learning to see the life you’re already living with clearer eyes and deeper appreciation.

Maybe this whole essay just sounds like a guy that’s sniffing 30 years old coming to terms with the fact that he’s probably not making the Forbes “30 under 30” list. And maybe that’s exactly what it is.

Maybe it’s also why this message is worth hearing - not from another millionaire thought leader on LinkedIn, but from a pretty average guy still figuring it out in real time.

And if that’s the case -  if this is just me trying to take my own medicine and learn to find peace without external validation - then maybe that makes this whole perspective even more compelling, not less.

It’s on each of us to examine our lives, define what we truly value, and build satisfaction from the inside out.

---

Thank you to James Blanchard and Warren McKee for reading various versions of this essay. 

The Case for Contradiction

INTRODUCTION

I don’t know what your specific interests are, but based on the ever increasing role of technology and digital media in our lives, I’m fairly confident making the following claims: 

Regardless of how niche your interests are, the internet almost guarantees that…

• There is more publicly available content / information than ever before

• This information has never been easier to access

• People are arguing about it

Said differently, our pool of information is becoming both larger and easier to access. As a result, we are more likely to come across ideas that contradict each other. 

Though we may not always realize it, we have the power to choose how to engage with contradictions. Instead of allowing contradictions to create internal tension or feelings of anxiety, we can use them as a tool to improve our decision making and find balance in our lives. 

We’ll explore this shift in mindset by discussing the following questions: 

• First - are we “allowed” to hold seemingly contradictory opinions? 

• If so, how can we use these perceived contradictions to our advantage?   

GETTING COMFORTABLE WITH CONTRADICTIONS 

Are we “allowed” to hold seemingly contradictory opinions? 

Contradictions tend to be uncomfortable - they inherently involve some level of conflict or disagreement. Whether this sense of conflict is internal (e.g., choosing between your passion vs. a high paying career) or external (e.g., arguing with an uncle at Thanksgiving), we as people generally seek to resolve this tension however we can. If it’s an internal dilemma, we think through the issue and decide where we stand on it. If it’s an external conflict, we try to reach a compromise or agreement of some sort.   

In other words, our preferred method for “resolving” a contradiction is to land on one side of it. While part of this inclination for decisiveness is likely instinctual, I’m also of the opinion that our culture (“business” culture in particular) tends to lionize a “bias for action” above all else. And action requires us to commit to a decision, again choosing one side over the other. 

Silicon Valley tells us to move fast and break things. Biographies are written about leaders who make bold, instinctual decisions. When given two paths, rewards await those who choose the “correct” one and discard the other one (whether that reward is money, status, or power).      

I am not here taking a position against the benefits of decisiveness. I recognize that in many contexts, we must commit to a decision and discard the other option. 

The idea I’m putting forth today is one that I believe can serve as a valuable input to decisiveness, an approach we can use to feel more comfortable and confident in our decisions. It’s an idea that applies to all of our decisions, whether they’re being made in a boardroom or in the everyday moments of our lives.   

This entire notion started with a single quote: 

“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald 

However, this idea relies on the following premise: not only are we allowed to hold seemingly opposed ideas as valid, there are often many situations where holding contradictory opinions as valid is advantageous.   

To build on this concept and take it a step further, I’d actually posit the following as a guiding principle: the more abstract a situation is, the more value there is in holding contradictory viewpoints as valid. 

In the section below, I’ll explain how contradictions can be of value. Right when things get a little bit too abstract, we’ll also take a look at some practical examples to keep us grounded: 

• Being grateful, yet ambitious 

• Getting motivated vs. staying disciplined

• Finding the long view on a “short” life

• Taking work seriously without taking yourself too seriously 

• Balancing mindfulness with mind wandering 

However, since I took the liberty of establishing a principle up above, I feel obligated to qualify the hell out of it. Keep the following disclaimers in mind:  

• Disclaimer #1: This concept generally works well with…

• Beliefs and ideas (as opposed to events)

• Abstract topics / discussions (as opposed to objective facts)

• “Grey area” situations as (opposed to “black and white” situations)

In other words: use this principle to make informed decisions, not validate delusion.  

A quick example: 

In 2014, Macklemore’s “The Heist” won the Grammy for Best Rap Album. This is an event that already happened - it’s an objective fact. Consequently, there’s little value in assessing contradictory viewpoints that say otherwise.

However, if I were to tell you that Kendrick Lamar’s “good kid M.a.a.D city” should’ve won, that’s a belief and idea. There may be some value to be had in assessing each of those contradictory viewpoints before you make up your mind. 

• Disclaimer #2: It’s less important that the ideas you’re debating are truly complete opposites or contradictions. They only need to be perceived as incongruent for this to be useful. 

Example: Gratitude and ambition are not diametrically opposed traits. However they tend to have conflicting connotations that can make them feel at odds with one another 

FINDING VALUE IN CONTRADICTIONS

How can we use perceived contradictions to our advantage?

Now that I’ve hedged and caveated to my heart’s content, let’s dive into the value we can derive from holding contradictory viewpoints as valid. As I see it, there are two ways this principle helps us shift from a mindset where contradictions cause anxiety to one where contradictions can improve decision making:  

1) Maximizing your pool of information: As we discussed in the first section - when faced with opposing ideas, we tend to favor one while dismissing the other, limiting our engagement with the opposing viewpoint. If we think of a collective body of knowledge and experience as a “pool of wisdom”, prematurely choosing one side or the other essentially cuts this pool of wisdom in half.     

Rather than invalidating an idea, we can recognize it as valid but not always applicable. This approach maximizes our 'pool of wisdom,' allowing us to draw from both perspectives as needed. The focus then shifts to determining when one idea holds true over the other.

In situations where a practical decision must be made, this principle insinuates that there is actually a “decision before the decision.” We should choose to genuinely engage with both sides of a contradiction before formalizing our position or choosing our path forward. 

2) Creating a spectrum of possibilities (to find balance): As we discussed above, when we hold contradictory ideas as valid, our focus then shifts to identifying when one idea holds true over another. However, something else cool happens - we also create a range of possibilities between these two end points. In other words, we create a spectrum. Instead of thinking in black and white, we start to see all the shades of grey. 

With a wider range of possibilities now on the table, we have more flexibility to determine where on a given spectrum we think we should be in a given situation. Holding both ends of the spectrum as valid allows us to lean more to one side or the other depending on the situation at hand.  

Thinking in these terms ultimately helps us drive towards a more balanced, fulfilling life.      

EXAMPLEs

I recognize that the value discussion above was very abstract. To help clarify what the hell I’m talking about, we’re going to take a look at some examples of specific contradictions that this principle has personally helped me reconcile. 

Since these examples are from my own experience, they’re going to lean a bit self-helpy. If they resonate with you, that’s great. At the very least, I hope they serve as initial guideposts for whatever contradictions may be more applicable to your specific situation. 

Being grateful, yet ambitious 

Although gratitude and ambition are not directly contradictory, the connotations around each word often make them feel at odds with one another. In my experience, it’s pretty easy to feel ambitious at work and grateful at church. However, switching those contexts would probably feel a little bit awkward.  

This principle allows us to get comfortable with the fact that you can be grateful for everything you have in the present moment, while also having a desire to continue progressing or achieve future goals. 

When you feel like you may be stagnating or in a “velvet rut” (i.e., in a comfortable situation, but not actively growing), these may be signals to slide down this spectrum of contradiction and lean into your ambitious side. 

On the contrary, if you’re feeling stressed or burned out, you always have the option of leaning further towards the gratitude side of the spectrum.  

Getting motivated vs. staying disciplined

Motivational speakers will get you jazzed up and ready to run through a wall. Navy seal podcasters will denounce motivation as a fleeting source of energy only needed by the weak. From their seat, discipline is obviously the path to results. 

As usual, reality tends to be somewhere in the middle. Motivation helps us start things, and discipline tends to keep us going. 

If you’ve been incredibly disciplined and regimented on your 5x per week fitness plan and you’re feeling burnt out one evening, maybe it makes sense to slide away from the discipline end of the spectrum a little bit. Give yourself grace and avoid burnout. 

However, if you’ve been “avoiding burnout” for 3 weeks and can’t remember if your gym membership is still active or not, maybe it’s time to lean a bit more towards the discipline end of the spectrum. In these scenarios, it’s often helpful to reconnect with whatever motivated you in the first place.  

Finding the long view on a “short” life

I’ve heard people older than me tell me that the days are long, but the years are short. Now that I’m sniffing 30, I tend to believe them. However, it feels like the overwhelming popularity of the “life is short” mantra has created so much urgency that if we’re not firmly established in our careers by 25 then we feel inherently flawed. 

Life is by definition the longest thing we do, it makes sense to think of it more like a marathon than a sprint sometimes (or perhaps, a lot of the time). Yes, urgency is needed sometimes, but you don’t have to become everything you’re ever going to be overnight. 

“Life is short” is a great mantra to drive urgency and encourage action, but we’d be wise to consider the other end of the spectrum more often. Life is also long - you need to pace yourself sustainably. Acknowledge the reality of trade offs. You can’t be everywhere at once. 

Taking work seriously without taking yourself too seriously 

It’s ok to approach a serious topic or meaningful work with a sense of humor. You don’t have to be stern or “serious” all the time to demonstrate your competence or commitment to a cause. 

Yes, there are plenty of times when you need to bear down and burn the midnight oil. These periods, when things seem particularly bleak and exhausting, often serve as prime opportunities to re-energize a team by injecting some levity into the situation.  

(Note: For more on this one, I’d point anyone interested to the book “Humor, Seriously” by Jennifer Aaker & Naomi Bagdonas)  

Balancing mindfulness with mind wandering 

Mindfulness and mind wandering tend to be at odds with one another, but both have been found to have their own benefits. 

Mindfulness calls for a concerted, focused effort to remain in the present moment. It’s been shown to improve our ability to focus, help us regulate our emotions, and foster a sense of clarity and relaxation. 

On the contrary, letting our mind wander with little to no structure has also been shown to produce its own set of positive benefits. Unstructured time enables our brain to make unexpected connections, allows our subconscious to work through thoughts and emotions, and often leads to “aha!” moments and new insights. 

Being mindful and intentionally focused on the present moment is a great way to appreciate the little things in daily life. However, if we’re always focused on the present moment, there’s no time for our minds to wander, play, and form unique connections and creative ideas.  

When your mind is all over the place and things feel completely chaotic, use mindfulness to bring yourself back to the present moment and focus your thinking. But also be intentional about carving out time to allow your mind to wander - it often feels like all of the best ideas come when we’re not looking for them.  

Hopefully these examples are helpful - if not, I’m sure there are a thousand other seemingly contradictory ideas that may be more applicable to your situation. Either way, hopefully the core tenets resonate:

• Think twice before invalidating an idea that seems contradictory - try to maximize your “pool of wisdom” when possible 

• Think of contradictions as the ends of a spectrum - move yourself on this spectrum until you find your own sense of balance (this is a “feel” thing, and will vary from person to person)

CONCLUSION

By applying these core tenets and getting comfortable with holding contradictory ideas as valid, we can improve our decision making and (hopefully) drive towards a more balanced, satisfying life.

Unfortunately, we don’t build this muscle by sitting around and reading essays like this. We start with an instinctual feel or pull in one direction, and ultimately feel our way through everything the world throws at us. In other words, we all learn for ourselves by trial and error. 

My hope is at the very least, the concepts covered here give you a new lens into how to think about and navigate the ongoing process of trial and error in your own life. 

---

  Thank you to Nikiel Kim, Thomas Kreiling, and Nick Foster for reading various versions of this essay.