Dreamland

Before you read:

My beliefs are drafts, and the context in which I’ve developed them is just as important as the conclusions I’ve reached. I encourage you to form your own ideas. I encourage myself to challenge what I’ve written.
While this was written chronologically, this is by no means a chronological account of what I’ve learned and reflected upon. Feel free to jump around and take what you will. If you are curious about anything, ask! I’m sure we’d have a good discussion.
I think the first four sections (through Meaning) are the core of my current worldview. Just throwing that out there.
Lastly, it is fascinating how I’ve known many of these truths my whole life, yet am only able to comprehend them now. Language alone can’t begin to contain the personal acceptance, gratitude, and enlightenment that I feel, but I try my best. I imagine this will be an incredible document to look back on later in life.

Gratitude

Life is to be celebrated. It’s incredible to imagine everything that has to go right for me to be here, in beautiful San Francisco, living — even when things on paper are not ideal.

I bring up two pieces of writing that capture this. In Taiwan, I read an essay titled 謝天. Translated literally, it means, ‘thank the sky’ or ‘thank God’. The author used this phrase not in a religious way, but as the only phrase that could capture the magnitude of gratitude they had for their life. On the flip side, in ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’ the author describes the Thanksgiving Address of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, in which the address stretches almost impossibly, restlessly long, because there’s so much to be grateful for.

Our existence in this world isn’t to be taken for granted. We don’t have unlimited time. The pains we feel today, are simultaneously incredibly valid and something we should be grateful to have. There are so many less fortunate than us. There are so many who’ve passed ¹.

Anyone who has entered the startup world has heard: we are default dead. That is so, so unbelievably true. It’s a privilege to be rained upon.

There is a lot to be grateful for. I am grateful.

Grace

Gratitude stretches far beyond a mere life philosophy. I’m beginning to realize that it’s foundational to truly wonderful human relationships and in turn real, systemic change.

Robin Wall Kimmerer talks of the benefits of tribal diplomacy in her description of the Address. If hard, painful discussions (between friends, family, teammates, and world leaders) began with gratitude for what we share and what we have, how would they change? How could we better understand each other? If we were to start always with what’s common, rather than what’s different, what could we achieve?

Jarrett of Human Transit has written for years about the incredible oversights that transit planners have made — many of which fell victim to ‘elite projection’. Humans tend to think and design by their own experiences. In the case of transit planning, this imbalance comes when ‘elite’ members of society make decisions based on how they would use a system, not recognizing that what works for them won't work for most (and vice versa).

What if we were able to critique these systems not with rage, but with forgiveness and gratitude? ² We can hardly begin to truly understand those dearest to us. We make mistakes all the time. Why do expect strangers to be better?

As painful as it is to admit, I have not been a paragon of empathy and gratitude. Perhaps inspirational, passionate, caring, and driven, especially toward those who share my care and want to bring change for the better. But I haven’t always exhibited that same grace to people who I feel have wronged me, or to those atop the systems that I so desire to rebuild. Heck, I have not always exhibited that even to those I’ve cared most deeply about.

I want to change that. I want to be forever grateful for the systems (man-made and natural) and people in my life who love and support me. I want to live life and exercise change with grace at the forefront. The strangler fig builds anew not by antagonizing the system from which it is born but by acknowledging its codependency until it reaches the ground.

Easier said than done, of course, and easier said than truly believed. If I take my time and be intentional, perhaps I’ll get there.

Being

I struggle with self-value and self-worth.

Part of it is tied to the sheer ambition I have. A (self-imposed) deadline due to real, environmental markers makes frenetic urgency a constant in my life.

Part of it is tied to the act of comparison. I’ve had the fortune of meeting quite amazing people, and have the world’s successes forever in my social media feeds. I also hold myself to very high standards — it’s who I want to be.

Part of it is tied to guilt. I have been fortunate to have never worried about food, shelter, or love. We were, and still are, incredibly wealthy. As I’ve grown up, I’ve come to realize that we were far from rich, and that it took immense sacrifice by my parents for us to live such carefree lives. Yet, I have not been able to provide for them, especially since graduation, nor am I willing to sacrifice my dreams, happiness, or morals to make their lives better. I am certain I could find and hold a financially lucrative job, at the cost of something. But I can’t bring myself to do so.

In conversation with my Mom: we've established that she does not want to create pressure in the way many traditional Taiwanese families have. My parents' decisions always came from a place of love (that which I'm eternally grateful for). The pressure I place on myself, though, comes from a similar place, and it's hard not to tie part of my self worth to this material goal. l think I’m beginning to change. ³

Meaning

When La La Land was released, I was moved by the tradeoff between love and ambition that Mia and Sebastian made. Given the scale of my own dreams and a healthy romanticism, I’ve always found it to be an impossible dilemma.

I spent many weeks afterward trying to understand all the reasons that would compel one to give up on their (childhood) dreams. Friends, family, teachers, strangers — I asked them all and received a myriad of responses.

The answer that stuck with me most, however, came from my friend Hernandez. She asked me why I viewed dreams as a goal-based endeavor. For her, the joy and meaning of such a pursuit comes from the process of pursuing a passion. A lofty dream, existing only as a measure of success, would be empty. ‘What’s next,’ she asked, ‘when you’ve achieved that goal? Who would you be if you never got there?’

I came away with supposed wisdom about how passions, not dreams, are the focal point of life, and ideas of how I’d maximize my effort pursuing chosen passions. That idea persisted throughout college — in Persuasive, I defined passion as ‘something you’re willing to suffer for’ (largely due to its etymology, and my understanding at the time). I’m beginning to realize that I had everything flipped.

We can only spend time (aka life) meaningfully and effectively when we stop decoupling time from existence. In other words, it is not a predetermined resource to be spent, but a gift in every moment that is tied to our very being. We are time.

When we find gratitude in being and understand that the next slice of time (life) is not guaranteed to us, the choice we make in how to use the present slice becomes infinitely more meaningful. Each decision throughout this process is in our control. The culmination of the output dictates what we were passionate about — not defined because we suffered, but because we lived. ⁴

In other words: it’s because we choose to spend our limited and uncertain life (time) doing thing(s), that passion(s) takes form. Passions are created, not chosen. ⁵

Reflection 1

Consciously making these connections brings me lots of clarity on how I want to live life.

Looking back, the constant evolution of my passions and career path makes sense — it has never been about (surface-level) indecisiveness or inability to commit, but more so a reflection of my understanding of life. I’ve always pushed toward what I thought would make the world a better place — not just helping people live more happily within existing systems and constructs, but asking us to go beyond and imagine better. ⁶

Looking forward, it’s only natural that what I do shifts. I hope that I can be kind to myself when it inevitably happens, and not lament the progress I falsely believe I will have missed out on.

Doing

So much in our world pushes us to do more. I’m not convinced it’s effective or meaningful, especially without proper direction.

When time was a resource to be spent, I thought putting more hours into anything was an indicator of effort, care, and ability. At crunch times, that can be true.

What I’m realizing now is that to put more hours in is to reallocate portions of our life, rather than magically conjure more of it. We need the moments of being and moments of rest to regulate the time spent doing; it’s where we find direction, creativity, and companionship. ⁷

Two common proverbs come to mind when I think of speed: ‘Direction is more important than speed.’ (in some variation of wording), and ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’ To find direction, build relationships, and rely on others, one must allocate the time and mind space to be, not just do.

Freedom

I keep coming back to this quote:

When we set out to remake the world, then, how do we make sure it is not solitude we are implicitly making? And how do we not succumb to the rhetoric of abundance and choice, of one more option to consume alone, one more degree of ever-increasing lightness? How do we remain beholden to one another?

There are a number of loose ideas I tie it to:

An obsession with self-sufficiency leads to a culture where our connections with one other and support systems become disposable. We lose the joys and gratitude that come with a culture of giving and receiving and being dependent on one another. And we lose the trust and dependency that are essential to the community.
Freedom (financial, temporal, and more) is neither gratifying nor meaningful until we share it with those we care about. I suspect this is a core component of the guilt that I, and countless other FGLI students, experience with personal success.
The ‘instant’ component of so many functions of life today is tearing us apart socially. By having services like Netflix, online gaming, and social media at our fingertips, we’re enabled to consume alone — in lieu of a movie theatre, board games/sports, and socializing that mandate a certain level of interconnectivity. We’re presented with the illusion of abundance; yet we can all relate to the soul-draining, almost toxic feeling that prolonged exposure to these apps results in.

Slowness

In the Western world, it feels like I’m constantly sucked into ‘fast’. The value prop of (seemingly) everything is ‘faster’; we’re measured by how quickly we move, do, learn, and evaluate products and services by the speed at which they’re performed or delivered.

What happened to being slow?

In taking time to be, I’ve realized just how much is lost in the whirlwind of the day-to-day. I’m more patient now. I’m more willing to think deeply and contemplate, and I feel my attention span returning. I’m able to laugh at the little inconveniences that would otherwise be unbearable and appreciate the details of the world around me. Dare I say I’m living more?

I wish that the days would slow as I slow; alas, it seems like our lives (time) will continue to rush onward. And while I can hardly measure the benefits that slow life is bringing me, I am certain I am better for it.

Reflection 2

One of the scariest things about the world is the commoditization of thought and emotional processing. I apologize for the raw, less-processed thoughts that this section contains.

First, this is not to bash on technology. Artificial intelligence is incredible. The sheer productivity that LLMs can give me is nuts; the gaps in my technical ability that are patched by vibe-coding give me a level of agency that I struggle to achieve without. I see innovation applied to agriculture, atmosphere, architecture, and more in my day-to-day. I do not doubt that this technology will unlock new heights for humanity.

However, our culture of consumption has expanded with it, and frankly, I’m worried. When plants get macro and micronutrients delivered directly to their roots, their root systems become less developed and their microbe signaling ability weakens. What happens to us (individually and collectively) when we do the same with thought?

Remember outputs over outcomes? When it comes to writing, the outcome shouldn’t be a noun (an email, an essay) but a verb (to communicate clearly, to connect with a reader, to think). When we watch a film, the goal is never to come away with a perfect analysis, but to relax, relate, enjoy, and process. In our emphasis on speed, we’ve over indexed on the nouns, not the verbs — and made ideas and reflections themselves the commodity to be consumed.

Here’s a quote that illustrates this perfectly:

In our hyper-speed world, we are increasing outsourcing the work of emotional processing, meaning-making and narrativizing to other people.

It’s hard to put in the emotional and mental work to find our own understanding, when we can so easily relate to and like the work done by others. I worry that we will slowly become homogenized in our thinking, and lose empathy and emotional awareness of both ourselves and others. And I worry that this process is so gradual and so invisible, that by the time we notice, it will be too late.

One common argument against this: all of these technologies are simply tools at our disposal. They empower the best of us to achieve more and lower the floor, making things more accessible than ever. Yet, we were fortunate to grow up, form our psyche, and become educated in a world where none of this existed yet. What of the generations below us, who have neither the (self) control nor awareness to avoid this?

I trust that humanity will not fail itself; and that by simply being human, there will never be a time when every single person conforms to this world. There will always be free-thinkers and dissenters. Still, I can’t help but worry.

Connection 1

An old thought, but a good time to clarify my thinking and get this on paper:

A few months ago, I realized how our relationship to spaces has changed, and the concept of familiar strangers is almost completely lost to our generation.

Public spaces in the past were communal; there was more trust, less social inhibition, and no alternatives to being alone. As a result, there was intermingling and connection between strangers that formed the basis of community. Take a local park or a neighborhood, for example (for my generation, we’ll have to rely on anecdotal evidence and movies).

Public spaces today are social; while intermingling does happen on occasion, we typically carve out private spaces for ourselves. The location itself is a place of doing rather than a place of being. In the fallback scenario, which can be uncomfortable, we retreat into our devices, through which we can access our entire world of personal connection through text, social platforms, or music. ⁸

Part of this is architectural; we literally build fewer public spaces and make them less accessible than in the past. Part of this is cultural — in many ways, we’ve imposed upon ourselves a culture of preferred solitude, privacy, and anonymity.

Even when presented with opportunities to break these barriers, we need a push to overcome social inhibitions.

Imagine a diagram of our social connections as circles of increasing size and decreasing opacity: those disappearing middle layers make up community. Where is that layer now?

Last week, I listened to a friend exclaim that a local store owner remembered her name and order, and vowed never to return (out of embarrassment). I would not recognize many of my own neighbors if we passed each other on the street. I suspect that statement rings true for most of us.

I can’t tell if I dislike the current state because it’s worse, or because it’s different from what I knew. But I do know that I find this all tremendously sad, I’m likely less healthy for it, and I’d like to change how I live moving forward.

Connection 2

Pixels on a screen and sound bytes through the receiver are pale imitations of the presence and experience of sharing physical spaces and activities with people we care about.

Connection 3

One of the tragedies of digital social platforms is how reductionist and utility-oriented they are.

Current platforms have us believe we can know a person through photos, labels, occasional personality tests, and social capital (read: IG follower count, LinkedIn connections, etc) — and we proceed to make judgments without ever experiencing who they are in real life.

We spend days, months, even years in profile, swipe, and scroll-based worlds in attempts to find our people. Yet we rarely criticize just how broken a system is that effectively forces us to engage in a never-ending loop of optimizing caricatures of ourselves (and evaluating others through the same lens) for social connection.

It’s not that complicated.

So much meaningful social connection is uncovered through simple shared experiences and the serendipity of meeting the right person in the real world.

We don’t interact with people in real life by 1. first determining the utility we hope to achieve and 2. evaluating whether somebody provides that. ⁹ I speak mainly from a social perspective, and not a professional one: real life is much simpler.

We live life.

People that we get along with, we spend more time with.

We get to know people (truly, deeply,) through the time and experiences we share with them.

And whether it’s for a reason, season, or our whole lives, we live our lives with them in it, until we inevitably don’t.

This isn’t to bash digital communities (many people have met friends and partners) — after all, they can be an interface and create chance encounters. This is more so a reflection of messaging that tries to convince us that social life, digitally, can be even half as rich as it would be physically.

The crazy thing is: I’ve never met anyone who is truly satisfied with the current social world. I’ve heard many sighs and much resignation for resorting to these platforms when times are tough.

Considering how crucial being social is to being human, I’m astounded we aren’t doing more to change this. Super inspired by Ben and Sedong for taking the leap.

Automation

Three things matter a LOT more when everything can be automated (and is thus automated, mass-produced garbage): relationships, design, and art.

Communication

Some personal reminders:

Communication is mainly for the benefit of the receiver. It would be rude for the audience member to make no effort of their own to listen, but even more inconsiderate of the communicator to not tailor the content, structure, and delivery to their listener(s). It’s an act of giving and taking on both ends.
Good communication takes time. We tend to rush the process. But to do it well, we need to form trust and relationships with one another — only then can we begin to peel back the layers of each other’s existence and truly communicate for each other. It should be a thoughtful act.
Because communication is easy, we often mistakenly believe that we are communicating well.
It’s so easy to reach a false understanding. Our interpretations of words are based on our own life experiences and philosophies — a beautiful thing, as it’s so wonderfully human, but which also makes room for harm. ¹⁰ It’s impossible to solve, yet something we should be cognisant of in our day-to-day interactions, and address with grace when harm inevitably occurs.

Self Preservation

Here’s a (paraphrased and shortened) exchange I had with Dhen. I have yet to reach a conclusion, but I find our chat insightful and curious.

Dhen: So what’s next? Are you finally going to make that film?

Me: I don’t know if I can. Art feels so self-indulgent; while I’d love to send it, I feel like I haven’t contributed enough to the world to take that space for myself. There’s more I want to do, people I want to meet, change I want to create… that all comes first for me.

Dhen: I mean, art is self-indulgent, but I see it as a [necessary] way of becoming yourself. Self-indulgence is really self-preservation — and once you are yourself, you’ll attract that energy to you.

There’s something deeply true about Dhen’s words that I’d like to hold on to and think about.

I wonder why I devalue these forms of creative expression (at least for myself), and view my art (and its creation) as something that takes rather than something that gives. I imagine a deep reckoning is on the horizon.

Self Awareness

One aspect of this entire exercise that surprised me is how little I know of myself, still.

I claim to be quite self-aware. I think I mistake self-awareness for being generally emotionally in tune with and accepting of myself.

Every year though, I reach a point where I develop a newfound understanding of some portion of my life; I’m able to collect disparate thoughts and ideas I’ve had for years, and finally put into words deep truths about me. It’s amazing, to be honest.

I’m reminded of advice I heard from some elderly stranger, once: to be kind to myself, be the best friend to myself first, and enjoy the ride, because when all is said and done, the only constant in life I can depend upon is my relationship with me.

At the time, I viewed this as deeply pessimistic. I tend to hope that there is more to my life, than me. But I’m beginning to their wisdom in a more optimistic light. We uncover new things about people we deeply love and have formed long relationships with, all the time, and it’s a wondrous experience (especially as we grow and change) — like finding a wild berry, or perhaps a forgotten stash of cash. I can only imagine how much I’ll learn about myself throughout the adventure of life.

I hope I take more time to think, reflect, and be.

I find it fascinating that in my youth, I am not quite aware of my own mortality. My father was in a coma for over a month — we are fortunate he lived. Aging family members have begun to depart, and I’ve lost friends. And in spite of this all, it is so easy to wallow in everyday doldrums and forget how temporary we all are. I wonder if this is just a quality of youth that I should be grateful to have, or a state of mind that I should ward off. I don’t want to have regrets when I leave, yet I’ve realized it’s nearly inevitable I do. ↩
The woke movement of today isn’t divisive purely due to ideological differences. It’s because many respond to dissension in such a rageful, almost dehumanizing way that any hope of mutual understanding and forgiveness is completely destroyed. I understand that pain, committed so systemically for so long, makes us angry. Sometimes, that anger can be fuel and power. But the vast majority of the world upholds these systems through complicity and ignorance, not malice and evil intent. ↩
Funnily enough, I do think I understand (truly) that life is about being, not doing. I am who I am, not what I do. Being let go freed me of this sort of rat race, and I can tangibly feel my change in perspective in my everyday life. At the same time, it’ll still likely take my whole life to fully come to terms with being myself. Of the three, I still feel guilt the most — especially while indulging in life (a feeling that most low(er)-income and/or first-generation students understand). I imagine that feeling will never go away, even once I achieve my financial goals. That’s life, I guess. ↩
The value of our time, in this modern world, is measured by the results of our productivity. Outcomes over output, right? Yet while I’d posit that this thinking is fine in a strategic or startup sense, it’s misapplied everywhere else. Neither outcomes nor life are guaranteed. Our output — what we literally exchange our life to produce — is what matters the most and (partially, at least) defines who we are, even if the same outcome is eventually reached. ↩
Noting that in many ways, I continue to use passion and meaning interchangeably. My current view on life lets me do so, but perhaps this changes. Until time is spent on it, I hesitate to label an interest a passion. At the same time, our culture devalues interests (low output, no outcome) even more so than passions (high output, outcome shouldn’t matter). Interests matter too, but the time component creates a clear distinction for me. ↩
Throughout my life, I have often been reminded of the Finnish photographer Minkkinen’s commencement address and advice to ‘stay on the (fucking) bus.’ I find the Helsinki Bus Station theory to be grossly misused and misunderstood. The quote is a caution against wavering to appeal to external validation and chasing the illusions of easy success. It’s also a reminder to push through the wall. It shouldn’t be interpreted, however, as a call to remain blindly committed to a singular path, nor used to dissuade exploration and expansion. Innovation often comes from cross-pollination between disciplines, and challenges solved by effective communicators who can bridge the gap. Likewise, learning is rarely as linear as our education system wants it to be. Sometimes you need to get off the bus, take a (fucking) walk, and then get back on. Just saying. ↩
Boredom and mind space are key components of creativity. But we need to reach certain thresholds (of rest, unstructured time) before these benefits materialize. 37 Signals really has it figured out, in my opinion. Pushing for 60, 70, 80+ hour weeks in typical Silicon Valley fashion decreases productivity drastically (lowering overall hourly output) and severely limits our ability to think creatively. I like the Signals’ frameworks for work and believe there is a lot to be taken from it. ↩
Personal devices can be a beneficial lifeline to our community, loved ones, and more, even if they’re often used as a crutch to avoid social discomfort (and in turn, social connection). And while I make bold claims about the changes to our communities and spaces, I cannot declare that we’re socially deprived in any way as a result. Though our interactions in physical spaces have shifted completely, we’ve gained access to entire worlds of digital spaces that connect folks without regard to geophysical limitations. Isn’t that beautiful? ↩
Here I describe the dance and choice that social platforms have us make before we meet someone. Professional connection? Friend? Potential romantic interest? Or someone I want no involvement with? We choose digital spaces based off what we think we want. Yet I'd posit that most of the time, we don't truly know what we want nor need, and much of the joy comes in the serendipity of discovering previously unknown connections, skills, hobbies, and traits. ↩
We as humans have such different life experiences that true understanding is nigh impossible to reach. We share what we believe is important. We often part ways with only cursory comprehension of each other’s thoughts, ideas, and intentions; the rest we backfill with our own interpretation of language and personal knowledge / experiences. ↩