Month: December 2025

“Hmm, on slide eight, that third box on the right there. That somehow feels like it’s already covered by the other two. Should we replace it with something else, maybe?”

My colleague was right. I had already felt the third box didn’t fit myself. Twice, actually. Once when looking over the deck for the second time, and then again just now, while presenting the topic to him. We were working on a pitch about blockchain together—ideally one our ambassadors can easily understand themselves and then convincingly share with others.

When I first drafted that particular slide, it seemed to fit perfectly with the case study that followed. “Traceability, authenticity, and sustainability.” Those were three of the benefits blockchain could unlock, I claimed. But, as my coworker rightly pointed out, any lift in eco-friendly effects is usually more up to, first, which blockchain you choose, and, second, how much more efficient it makes your operations. It’s a consequence, not a feature. Ergo, the right box must go.

Confirmation bias is when we’re seeking information that tells us exactly what we want to hear. Usually, it’s described as a bad pattern we must combat to think properly and weigh all sides of a situation. There are moments, however, when confirmation bias actually pushes you in the right direction. Whenever your gut is already telling you that something feels off, for example.

In well-founded moments of doubt, we don’t need someone to tell us it’ll all be fine. We don’t want to gloss over our negative intuition, which is stronger and more accurate than our instinctive enthusiasm. Instead, we want to feed it with information—and if that information confirms we should take a second look, what’s the harm? Chances are, the end result will be more polished for it. And if the alarm is false, at least we’ll have made doubly sure.

There’s a time and a place for everything—even confirmation bias.

This morning, my mind ran ahead the rest of me again. Imagine a ghost version of yourself peeling off and dashing straight forward. You see it, but you can’t keep up.

I was thinking about the roadmap at work, and all the case studies I have to make, and the research for the next year. I realized I hadn’t thought of my own personal theme for 2026, that I had to respond to some wedding logistics queries, and that there were still leaves in the garden to clean up. All my ongoing post drafts, my next book, figuring out my email list logistics…it was just a little too much bubbling to the surface at the same time. Ergo, my mind was over the hills, but my body stayed in place.

It’s not strictly a mind-body separation, by the way. But it makes the analogy easier. To separate the mental and the physical. Of course my physical self couldn’t have dealt with all these ideas at once. But neither could my mind. It was a small subsection of my brain darting too far into the future, that’s all.

Well, what do you? When there’s a portion of you standing 100 yards down the road? Simple: You let yourself catch up. Stop the dashing. Reset. And allow your body—and the rest of your mind—to reunite with the little phantom that went missing.

How do you do that? In my case, I closed the laptop. I put on some pants. I went outside, breathed some fresh, cold air, and walked to the bakery. Mostly in the shade, but there was a bit of sun, too. I asked for a coffee. I observed the friendly interactions between everyone in the store. I turned a corner while circling around the block, and there he was: future-ghost-Nik. Standing there. Waving. Waiting for me to catch up.

I kept walking. We reunited. And now here I am, ready to start the day.

“Getting ahead of yourself” is more than a metaphor. It can happen in ways that feel quite literal. It’s okay to fall behind—even when it’s also you who’s doing the running away. Simply take a beat when you notice. We all want to have fair chances. How about we first try to be fair to ourselves? Start by letting yourself catch up.

Have you ever seen a minecart chase in a movie? Like the one in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, for example? The heroes must escape from an underground dungeon, but how to get through the vast network of twists, turns, and tunnels? Aha! An abandoned minecart. They hop in and a frantic ride begins.

Besides the enemy chasing them, the heroes will struggle with obstacles, the minecart going too slow, too fast, or almost going off the rails. Every now and then, there might even be a gap in the track, which they’ll have to jump over. And if one thing goes wrong? They’ll crash, their chances of fleeing dashed in a millisecond.

Working with other people can be like a minecart chase. Let’s say you’re an organized, diligent worker, and you usually do your stuff ahead of time. That’s you, getting into the minecart right at the beginning. You ride, you control the speed, and you know where you want go.

Your team, too, wants to get to the same destination. So, one after the other, they hop in. But not everyone joins at the same time. Not everyone has the same information about the project you do. People get on, get off, and start asking questions. “Should I use the brake or not? How fast can we go into this corner?” More people can make the cart wobbly. Some folks want to slow down, others want to speed up. Others still only ever address to-dos at the very last second.

That last kind of working, “just-in-time,” as people like to dress it up, is particularly tricky. It’s as if someone jumps into your minecart from above right before a critical juncture. With a new mass and velocity, it becomes highly likely your cart won’t make the next jump. If it’s too late, what’s supposed to be shipped won’t be ready, and that leads to delays, angry partners, or a scolding from the higher-ups.

But as you might also have seen in the movies, sometimes, letting the minecart crash is not a bad thing. It could pop our heroes right into an underground pond from which they can swim out of the cave. Or drop them in front of the tunnel that leads to the exit. In any case, it gives them a chance to regroup and form a new plan of action. Finally, they’re not going at lightning speed.

When the minecart stops, it gives us room to think. Sometimes, you might not need that room, but others do. If you’re one of the ones feeling anxious on other people’s behalf a lot, consider letting the minecart crash. Allow everyone to reassess, and build again from there. Chances are, you’re not paid enough to worry, but you all deserve to get out of the cave and bask in the sunlight of your success.

Yesterday was a first: The boss at the barbershop that’s a ten-minute walk from my house gave me an appointment. I may have postponed my haircut once or twice before when it was exceptionally busy, but nine out of ten times, I walk into the place, sit down for a bit, then get serviced. Even the time he suggested shows their can-do attitude: “Can you come back in an hour?” Yup, still got my hairdo sorted!

This kind of barbershop is slowly becoming the typical barbershop in Munich: run by a bunch of Eastern European guys—I’m still trying to figuring out if they’re speaking Turkish or something else—always a few friends hanging around, but also as productive as an assembly line. There are no delays, no schmoozing, no upsells for fancy shampoo. It’s sit in the chair, get cut, next—which, for someone trying to get a haircut and only a haircut, is fantastic!

Yesterday, in my brief waiting time sitting on the same fake leather couch as always, the one that seems to want to swallow me for lunch, I properly looked around the place for the first time. It’s a single, rectangular room with gray walls. LED light tubes line the ceiling in a honeycomb pattern, which extends itself to the mirrors of the four cutting stations as well as some of the shelves. The interior mostly consists of fake dark wood with some fake gold trim here and there. Throw in a bunch of decorative metal signs, framed individual photographs, and a few art pieces, like a mini propeller, lion head paper cut, and a clock—all in steampunk style, of course—and you have it: the just-do-it barbershop.

The photographs, in particular, caught my eye. They weren’t photos of the owner, famous clients, or even his friends. They were basically stock images. All black-and-white, mind you, but still. Some were more artsy, others showed old-school barber equipment. There must have been at least 20 of them, and it made me wonder: “How much time did they spend setting this shop up?” I imagined the guy flicking through some pics online, just going with his gut: “That one. And that one. And that one.” Then, I saw him firing up the printer, quickly framing them, and sticking them onto the wall. Heck, now that I’m thinking about it, he might have just bought those frames online, completely finished with the pics!

I mused a bit more about how much time they took to decide on the setup of the place, and how long the renovations actually ended up taking them. Contrary to what it may sound like, however, it wasn’t from a position of condescension that I made my assessment. To my own surprise, rather than scolding the team for a rushed job, in my imagination, I applauded them for quickly making a whole bunch of good-enough decisions. “You know what? They’re probably right! Who needs six months to decorate a barbershop? It’s a barbershop! The sooner you can cut hair, the better.”

Ultimately, I realized the way the shop had been put together perfectly reflected the attitude of the people making it come to life. That attitude is worth emulating not just in their line of business but in most of life to begin with: Just do it. Pick the decor, open the shop, and get to the actual work. Then, keep doing it. And if that’s becoming the typical barbershop in Munich and beyond, I’m all for it.

Appointment needed or not, somehow, I’m already looking forward to my next haircut.

I started doing 50 push-ups daily when I was 28. Back then, for a young man in his 20s, that was perhaps decent but hardly impressive. Not worth much more than a faint smile or nod of appreciation.

Now, I’m 34. 50 push-ups are still just 50 push-ups, but the scope of people who find that feat impressive has already widened a little. Your 30s are for arriving. It’s when many people settle down. A time of homes, families, hopefully job comfort, and perhaps a bit of extra weight. I, too, have to fight a little harder than I used to to keep mine down. But the 50 push-ups are a staple, and they won’t go anywhere any time soon.

When I think ahead, I can only see my 50 push-ups becoming more and more impressive from here on out. And all I have to do? Maintain the same habit. Imagine seeing a guy in his 60s, 70s, 80s, and there he is, doing 50 push-ups in one go. Crazy, right? Way to stay in shape! But of course, if he’s done 50 push-ups for most of his life, to him that’s just normal. I’d like to be that guy when I’m 80.

It’s not just the results of habits that add up over time. It’s also their reputation. How others perceive you will shift, even if your habit stays exactly the same. Writing every day, holding the door for other people, being able to touch your toes—a lot of activities that seem boring now will appear impressive later. All you have to do is keep doing them.

Often, “extraordinary” is nothing more than the result of “average” maintained over a long time.

Only you can decide.

This morning, like every morning, I sat in meditation for 15 minutes. From the point of view that meditation is about eliminating your ego and thoughts, it wasn’t a very good session. I had a lot of thoughts—about work, about reviewing a friend’s book, about old movies and TV shows.

And while I managed to reset and switch topics a few times, I could never quite let go altogether. Finally, I remembered: “You don’t have to think this thought.” In that moment, whatever was on my mind at the time quietly faded away, and my brain could take a deep breath. Not enter Nirvana or anything, but there was a tiny bit of space—and of course, right in that moment, the timer rang, and life went on.

15 minutes for five seconds of inner peace. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

The perpetuum mobile, which is Latin for “perpetual motion machine,” is an ancient dream of science. Alchemists in the Middle Ages already dreamed of a tool that would never stop working. A water mill that would somehow sustain its own momentum, for example.

But even though they were neither named nor widely accepted at the time, the laws of thermodynamics still very much applied back then. Therefore, all supposed examples of such machines were debunked sooner or later. A thousand years later, the best we can do is still faking it: Videos of supposed devices abound, yet none of the clever contraptions are actually the real deal.

Fortunately, what is a hard no in physics works differently in the elusive, subjective dynamics of the human mind. If you’ve ever come back after a long day of activity only to find yourself unable to sleep and yearning to do more, you’ve witnessed it in action: If there ever were anything close to a perpetuum mobile, humans might be our best bet.

My daily average step count for the year, for example, sat at only around 3,000 for the longest time. Then, I went to Japan for two weeks and walked 10,000-20,000 steps every day. You’d think I’d have arrived at my hotel dead-tired each evening. Alas, I often found myself with plenty of energy left. I went swimming at night twice, for example. On other days, I stayed up and did some work or watched a movie. What’s more, after a few days of walking so much, I found myself itching to go out every morning. I didn’t want to walk less but maintain the momentum. Not even for the sake of seeing sights. Just to keep moving.

Humans are creatures of habit, and habits can change on a dime. Constantly doing things is one such habit. You can get used to less downtime and more activity, like many of us do when traveling in a new environment. For me, I spent much less time deliberating what to do and just kept exploring. A few times, this became stressful, and I really did need some downtime. But if I maintained the same level of activity back home, I could probably do one-and-a-half times as much as I usually get done. And most of my fretting is usually just that: worrying about choices that come with little consequence.

It’s a fascinating lesson we can learn from travel, sports, or tending to our loved ones: Energy begets energy, and the more you do, the more spirited you’ll feel—at least up to a point. Don’t try to invent a perpetuum mobile. Become one, and you’ll find your time on this planet has been well-passed once it runs out.

The other day, we were talking about connecting different topics in a new course at work. Someone mentioned how one idea would make for a nice segway into another. I read the line in our chat, and something felt off.

A few days later, I saw it again. “Cool segway!” I thought I remembered seeing that word spelled as “segue” before, but I wasn’t sure if “segway” was perhaps a more modern version of the same verb. So I checked—and it’s not. “Segway” is the same it’s always been: The trademarked name of a transportation device with two wheels. The one you can use to cruise around town while standing up straight.

For those of us talking about seamlessly transitioning from one idea to another, “segue” must always be the word of choice. Anything else is just wrong. Phew! Not that I’d mind too much, but it’s still nice to find out I’m not crazy from time to time.

Trust your gut when it hesitates. Just because you see many people engage in the same behavior does not make that behavior any better or more honorable. Popular, perhaps, but that’s about all you can say. Allow yourself to stand your ground, even when it’s only a square inch you’re defending. Even if no one knows about it but you.

Common is not the same as natural, and a wrong crowd doesn’t make a new right.

Have you ever tried convincing someone you love they should follow a certain path? Given them good advice year after year to no avail? And then, one day, they return home from some event, ready to embrace the change—because an almost-stranger casually suggested what you’ve been preaching for years. Argh! “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” It makes you want to pull your hair out.

Of course, none of your attempts have been in vain. It just wasn’t you who sent the final spark. Take pride in your accomplishment!

Personally, when I first started reflecting on my life more deeply and shaping my path more actively, I used to tell people very outright what I think they should do. I always did so in a positive, encouraging tone. I’m a forever-optimist, and I was simply excited about passing on all the new lessons I was learning.

But I also eventually realized that you can’t make anyone do anything, really. More often than not, your good advice will fall on deaf ears—because people are simply not in the right place in life to hear it. Unless there’s some urgency to change, why change? Few would quit their job tomorrow to finally start their startup just because you reaffirm to them you believe it’s a good idea.

But if there’s time to reflect, a crisis, perhaps, maybe some sense of loss or pain that’s grown too hard to bear, then, perhaps, it could be the right moment—and that’s when your consistent encouragement might blossom, even if someone else, someone new who seems like a breath of fresh air, helps your loved one’s brain to click.

A good friend of mine asked me about investing into the stock market several years ago. We sat at Five Guys over some burgers, and I walked him through which app I use, what I buy, how I approach it, and so on. He put in a little bit of money but largely forgot about it. This year, he transitioned out of his busy job, and he finally found the right headspace to really dive into the topic. He learned more, did more, and invested a good chunk of his cash. We had another chat and, this time, we spent hours discussing the subject.

Yesterday, both of us ended up at the same birthday party. His latest update? “I bought this book called The Essays of Warren Buffett. I sat down, started, and, you won’t believe it—I read 100 pages. I ended up reading till 3 AM! You know how many times that has happened before? Never!” We picked up the topic again, and I’m sure it’ll stay with us for many future meetings to come.

In your own life as with others, try not to force it if it won’t go. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be when it wants to. Whatever “it” is, chances are, all we must do is wait for the right moment.

You don’t realize how many ways there are to count to 50 until you’ve done it a thousand times. From doing so for my daily push-ups, I’ve learned that you can focus on the minimum, the repetition, or the last 10, and it can all add a different flavor to your workout, depending on what you need that day.

Today I found one more of those flavors: 5 times 10 can be less than 1 times 50. If I think about my total goal of 50 for the day as I begin, I’ll feel far away until I’m at about 30 reps. And then the reps get hard, making me feel just as far away even though I’m getting close to succeeding!

To combat this, eventually, I started counting again from 1 to 10 once I hit 30. And then again at 40. This made the last two batches feel more manageable. After all, I only have to get to 10! While I’ve already done so on occasion, today, I realized this extends all the way down to zero. Instead of schlepping myself to 30 only to change how I count there, why don’t I go in sets of 10 to begin with?

As it turns out, this works very well. Now, rather than climb a 50 push-ups tall mountain, all I have to do is deliver 5 little packets of 10 push-ups each. Doing 5 times 10 feels much less than 1 times 50—even though the result is the same. It’s almost as if I’m counting back down to zero from 5 instead of up to 50. “Two more packets to deliver! Now one! Made it!”

Some believe math is beautiful because it never lies. I think it’s the most amazing when it does. Numbers are a lens through which we can view the world, and, like all other lenses, this one’s adjustable. Wherever it helps without hurting others, make the math work for you.