Meraki - A story about putting your soul into your work and the era of AI

NO AI PERFECTION here. A rusted Chevy truck I spotted on a recent motorcycle ride.

There was a time when meeting a potential client meant a firm handshake, a direct gaze, and an exchange of a business card. It was a moment of human connection. In those moments, you could follow your gut; you could feel, instinctively, if the energy was right.

Today, we are moving deeper into an ephemeral cloud of AI algorithms. Because these systems are trained on the past, they are inherently derivative, highlighting something that has already been done. We are drifting into a flat, one-dimensional digital universe.

But the last time I checked, we are three dimensional, breathing organisms. We crave connection with other living, breathing souls. This isn't just true for love or business; it’s true for the way we build. We hunger for things created with craft, care, and what we call in Greek, meraki, or putting a piece of your soul into your work.

To truly appreciate what we are losing in this digital migration, one only needs to step into a world class museum. Stand before a piece of pottery or a sculpture shaped by a human hand 3,000 years ago. Visit the Parthenon or the Duomo in Milan, it is a humbling, grounding experience that no algorithm can replicate.

So, how do we protect this "meraki" in a world of automation?

We retain our humanity by seeking out the "analog" in our daily lives, whether that’s the mechanical click of a vintage camera, the tactile resistance of a fountain pen on heavy hand rolled Japanese paper, or the decision to meet in person rather than Zoom or Google Meet.

I have always loved patina in everything. Rust on an old vintage truck like this 1963 Chevy I saw on a recent motorcycle ride, a beautifully weathered leather jacket or your favorite leather Eames chair. Those things are imperfect which also makes them real. While AI strives for a sterilized, mathematical perfection, human beauty still lies in those imperfect moments. By valuing the "slow" processes, the deep thinking, the deliberate craftsmanship, we ensure that our work and our lives remain an authentic expression of who we are, rather than a filtered version of what a machine thinks we should be.