Month: July 2025

After selling his company for $800 million, Bryan Johnson went on a quest: Can a human live forever? For several years now, Johnson has spent millions of dollars annually on a slew of health regimens, measuring systems, and algorithmically fine-tuned routines, all in pursuit of extending his life.

He infused himself with plasma from his son. He takes 60 supplements a day. Everything he does is exactly timed and aimed at a very particular piece of his health. When you look at his body, there’s no doubt Johnson is healthier than he was. He’s lost more than a few kilograms, and the belly has given way to neatly defined muscles. But what about his face?

In 2024, Johnson posted a picture comparison to his 2023 and 2018 selves. Sure, his cheeks have gotten thinner, but his hair has also changed color. Was it supposed to? He looks more like a model but much less natural. Many memes ensued, from comparing Johnson to a vampire, to the Night King from Game of Thrones, and to various movie villains. Some folks joked he managed to age ten years in just six.

Johnson has three kids, but the marriage didn’t last. His second engagement ended in a lawsuit. Most of the time, he seems in good spirits. He laughs off criticism and doesn’t take himself too seriously. Plus, nobody can knock his pioneering spirit. It’s a noble experiment he’s conducting on behalf of the human race, and future generations will undoubtedly thank him for it. Even if Johnson fails, his case will be studied.

While I’m skeptical of how whether Johnson’s approach actually works, the main question I have for him is a bigger one: What is it for? Assuming Johnson lives to 100, 200, even beyond—why does he need that time?

Johnson wants to spend time with his family, particularly his son. Perhaps more than the average person. Thankfully, Johnson is already rich. He and his family have all the time anyone could ever hope to have. But unless his family also follows his protocols—and they don’t—they might not be around as long as he will be. It’s one thing for one man to live forever—but can he extend his magic powers to the people he loves?

Then, there are the endless hours spent on Johnson’s protocols. If you have all the time in the world yet spend it entirely on generating ever more time for yourself, did you actually need more time to begin with? Or are you chasing more for more instead of more for better?

It’s a dreamy vision, living forever. But if, besides ever, we have nothing else to live for, even endless age might quickly get old. Use what you have. Be grateful. And trust the universe will supply you with enough.

It’s a screwed up world Joel and Gail live in, so it’s not exactly a normal therapy session that’s about to start when Joel enters Gail’s house. With humanity reduced to shreds by a murderous fungus turning people into zombies for its own evolutionary expansion, nobody has time for pleasantries anymore—and getting to the truth fast has become essential.

For Gail, that means fully indulging—but also openly admitting—her alcohol addiction. Especially on her first birthday without her husband, whom none other than Joel had the “privilege” of shooting once he’d gotten infected. But there’s more to both their stories, and in order to get Joel to open up about his, Gail has to hand out a trust advance.

“I’m scared to say it. Which is why I have to. You shot and killed my husband. And I resent you for it. No. I hate you for it. And, yes, I know you had no choice. I know I should forgive you. Well, I’ve tried, and I can’t. And looking at your face sitting in our home…makes me so fucking angry.

There it is. I’ve said it. I’m ashamed. But it’s in the air and I can’t take it back. And now, maybe there’s a chance I can make things right with you. Your turn.”

Yikes. Not exactly a happy ending, is it? Is this even still therapy? Or should Joel slowly back out the door? In a crazy world, crazy becomes the new normal. And in this case, the new normal works. Joel finally says what he came to Gail five sessions ago to say, if not exactly in terms Gail can fully understand.

The lesson? Let’s try and not have a zombie apocalypse—oh, and as Gail reminds Joel: “You can’t heal something unless you’re brave enough to say it out loud.”

For the longest time, I didn’t understand why the weather was everyone’s go-to small talk topic. But eventually, I got the memo: It’s a source of mild but shared suffering. The weather affects all of us, yet nobody has any control over it.

Right now, outside my window, it looks like the perfect spring day is about to begin. The sun is out, and there are barely any clouds in the sky. But my voice assistant tells me today’s high will only be 14 degrees Celsius. A lot of rain is expected. Huh?! Who knows if it’ll come to pass—but if it does, it’d be far from the first time that a beautiful day took a sharp turn for the worse, or vice versa, for that matter.

In a way, the weather is the perfect metaphor for life: There’s no point in focusing on what it looks like, because it could all change in a second. You could win the lottery tomorrow or lose your job. Your son might get his first A or kicked out from school. But actually, the lack of control makes your life easier: All you need to do is play the cards you hold in your hand right now as best as you can. That’s it. Mission completed. And tomorrow, you do it again.

The rest? We’re all equally powerless about the rest—yet in that powerlessness, we are not alone. Humility is what should unite us, and that’s exactly what the sun, clouds, and rain set us up for. “Ahh, the weather. Yup. Nothing we can do about it.” It’s an easy and mutually disarming thing to agree on. Now we can talk for real. Just two imperfect humans chatting about their imperfect lives.

If you want a permanent lift to your mood, enjoy the weather. Not just whatever climate you get today, but the institution itself. Realizing our limits is, paradoxically, a source of power—and, just like the weather, it can make a bigger difference than you think.

My good friend Nick Wignall and I are in the same boat: We’re going through a shift in our creative work, and we’re not sure what to do with some of the assets we’ve built over the years.

Do we merge or split the newsletters we run? Do we change what we write about and risk alienating one of our fan groups? Or should we just merge everything together and move on at full speed?

In talking it out, we observed two things. For one, we’re making our pivots into bigger deals than they actually are. No one cares about them as much as we do, so it’s easy for us to overanalyze and worry. And for another, even big shifts can be made decisively and quickly. I’ve been on plenty of newsletters where the writer decided to go a different direction. “If you don’t like it, that’s only fair. Here’s the unsubscribe button, and thanks for reading until now!”

It’s fair to take your time when the future feels daunting. No one wants to jump off a cliff without knowing they’ll land in deep enough water. But there is such a thing as overthinking even the big decisions. Chances are, in your heart you’ve known what you want to do for a while.

When in doubt, go with your gut—but keep going. You can always walk backwards later. Nine out of ten times in life, the movement is what matters, and momentum will resolve everything sooner or later.

Since my company is 100% remote, the team gets together in person once a year for a week. At around 100 people, it’s expensive but also worth it for the social aspects alone.

While attending my first of these events, I tried getting to know as many people as I could. One theme I noticed was how much everyone had given up to be where they are. I talked to someone who had to work extremely hard to get their health back after surviving a brain tumor. I talked to someone who left their dream job to move overseas for their daughter. I talked to someone who moved outside of the city they love so their partner could enjoy the countryside.

These are the stories you’ll rarely hear on a video call, and they show: It’s not just you. Everyone makes sacrifices. One of the many truths we know but like to forget.

Whenever you’re in a room with people you don’t know or don’t understand, imagine: What did they give up on their way to this place? It won’t always solve the problem in front of you, but at least it’ll remind you there’s more that unites us than sets us apart.

Fashion has never been my thing, and it likely never will be. My family still regularly orders clothes for me and gives me new ones on Christmas because they can’t stand to see me walk around in the same old stuff. I don’t shop unless I absolutely have to—except for t-shirts.

It all started when going to a concert with my sister. We bought t-shirts to remember the event. Every time I wore mine at home, I felt connected to that day again. So whenever we went to another concert, we bought more t-shirts.

I already had some souvenir t-shirts from places I had visited, and I started making an effort to buy more of those as well. I have t-shirts from Malta, Japan, and the UK, for example. Actually, the Malta one also opened a third—and so far the largest—category: entertainment. That t-shirt reads “House Stark” and shows a dire wolf, the symbol of Game of Thrones‘ most important family. I also have t-shirts branded with Zelda, Marvel, Star Wars, and other modern-day epics.

Yesterday, I met my reader Shelli, who was visiting Munich. She pointed at my t-shirt and asked: “What’s that about?” I explained it was a new t-shirt showing the characters from my favorite anime, Steins;Gate, and that I had ordered it because I’d realized I was missing a t-shirt for one of my dearest stories. “When I wear it, it makes me feel connected to those characters and their story,” I said.

At least to me, that’s what fashion is really about: wearing stories. My clothes should make me feel I’m part of a larger whole I want to support. Maybe it’s the same for people wearing the latest trends and haute couture, actually, and they just choose and express different stories. Wear what makes you strong and happy—and if you end up somewhere special, don’t forget to buy a t-shirt.

During lunch with antagonist Lord Henry Wotton, a lesser character in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray remarks: “If a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him.”

This explains why geniuses often get themselves into trouble: They’ve got the wits but lack the manners.

Robert Oppenheimer once humiliated a high-ranking politician who, in return, destroyed his career. Steve Jobs managed to get ousted from the company he founded. Ayn Rand made no secret of her views to anyone and, as a result, probably had more difficult conversations in her life than easy ones.

A gentle man or lady, meanwhile, can go through life mostly unharmed but also entirely unnoticed. Still, to most it is, and perhaps should be, enough. There’s nothing wrong with an ordinary life.

Where genius and consistent kindness walk hand in hand, we see the 1% of the 1%. No one is immune to controversy, but the few who make a splash without getting others wet in the process? Those are most worthy of our admiration, observation, and, if we can swing it, emulation.

Keep looking for genius with manners.

Thankfully, Rome’s Trevi Fountain was much larger than I had expected it to be. It was a 30-meter high wall of solid rock, beautified with uncountable little elements, each chiseled with great effort and care. Its size gave me something to look at in relative peace as hundreds of tourists swarmed around me. The area might have been busy, but hey, at least I actually got to look at the thing!

I was standing in the third of three “rings” keeping the mesmerized crowds at bay. The first was direct access to the fountain, which was limited and you had to queue for. The second was a barrier at about 10 meters away. That area was kept free of tourists altogether, presumably to maintain everyone’s view. My area was again separated by a metal barrier, and against it people were squeezing left, right, and center.

Some of the lucky ones directly at the fountain performed an iconic ritual: throwing a coin into the fountain with your right hand over your left shoulder as you stand with your back to the monument. A whopping 3.000 € makes it into the water this way every day. The gesture is supposed to bring good luck to you—and a return trip to the eternal city.

Apparently, the elderly lady next to me really wanted to come back. She was barely one and a half meters tall, which I noticed when, suddenly, her arm went up high. Before I knew what was going on, she chucked a penny towards the fountain from behind our barrier. Not only was it a far 20 meters—it also went badly. Instead of a nice “plop” sound, the coin went right into a poor teenager’s shoulder, who looked around, angry and perplexed. Sorry you had to take that photo again, sir! The lady, meanwhile, quickly scurried off without a word.

I only had a few minutes at the fountain. I was in town during a work trip, and out of the 90 minutes we had, my group lost a solid 30 on shopping for trinkets. The lady’s desperate coin toss got me thinking. Special places, special rituals. It’s understandable you’d want to do them while you’re there. But must you insist on doing something a million others have done to the point of harming the peace while you’re there? I think I’d rather stay quiet, coinless, and content with the view.

Indulge in all the stories you love, but don’t push other people out of them just so you can be the main character.

A centipede walked along in the forest, going about his business.

He came across a man, who asked him in passing: “How do you walk so fast with so many legs?”

As the centipede thought about the question, he tripped and fell.

For a moment, the centipede lay on the ground, confused. But he quickly forgot the incident and was back on his way.

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In 1967, Bruce Lee gave an interview to the Springfield Union News. He told them a variation of the above story. The point was to illustrate the ideal of fluidity any Kung Fu student should strive for.

“Gung Fu means an empty mind. Not just thinking about nothingness, which still implies thinking,” Lee said. “Life should be a natural process, in which the development of the mind is not allowed to throw the natural flow of life out of balance.”

A centipede can run at the human speed-equivalent of 67 kilometers per hour—but not while he’s thinking about how to do it. There’s a time to think, and a time to flow. Don’t try to explain the magic while you’re performing it.

I had it when I started my first job. After a decade of self-employment, I felt anchored. The job is meaningful, engaging, and I’m passionate about doing good work—but it’s also “just” a job. I realize I might not have this role forever, and everything else I’ve got going on my life makes it easy to close the laptop and care about other projects with equal enthusiasm, if not more.

Still, it’s easy to lose yourself in the day to day. The more deadlines and crises hit, the more often you hear it’s “urgent, urgent, urgent!” the more chances you have to fall into the trap. I’ve probably done so a few times already. But even on the few occasions I worked late so far, it was more of an acquiescent, “alright, let’s roll up the sleeves and get this thing done” kind of attitude than outright panic.

The zen formula. What is it? I’m not sure. But whatever its exact components, you can parse any topic or issue through it in order to feel calm when approaching the challenge. It’s less mathematical than emotional. That much I know. Reason and logic only go so far in quieting our nerves. Yet, it can still be a reliable formula. A piece of code you can rely on again and again—as long as you remember it.

Zen stories help. Meditation helps. Quitting coffee helps. But perhaps most helpful of all is lived experience.

Don’t let the world rattle you more than it should. Time solves any crisis—especially those at work—be it with or without our support. Work on your zen formula.