One day, along with my friends, we realized how far busier we are than our ancestors. If we travel crossing the Pacific, it used to take months by ship. Months! It takes time, but there is also something almost romantic about that. When you'd have nothing to do but curl up with a good book, strike up a conversation with a stranger, or wander down to the ship's bar for a little gathering. Life had a natural pause built right in.
Look at today, eight hours flight and you're there. Wonderful, yes — but the moment you land, the world expects you straight back at your desk. With Internet services, some are also working on presentations, emails, or taking video conferences on the flight. Racing becomes constant.
With AI in the picture now, things have squeezed even tighter. I was chatting with a developer friend recently, and she told me her team used to ship features by every two-week sprint. Now, it turns out to be every single day. One developer took a two-week vacation and came back barely recognizing his own codebase.
So, here's the question that keeps turning over in my mind, and maybe you do too: can our brains actually keep up with all of this? We could feel that strange fog — surrounded by more information than ever, yet somehow less certain about what any of it is for, what are the things that actually matter, and what we are really working toward.
It's worth coming back to life fundamentals where things remain simple. Life is meant to be lived and savored. More output, more reading, more delivery feels productive, but somewhere along the way, we might lose the thread. There really is a point when more becomes too much. Knowing more doesn't always mean gaining more — or enjoying more.
So here's a little teatime thought for you: what if we leaned back into the art of less? Pick one meaningful thing today. Just one. Do it well, do it slowly, and then let yourself rest. Slow but Steady wins. One at a time.