There is a private ritual I return to when I am carrying a weighty burden that sits heavy on my heart. I begin by writing it out. Not carefully, not thoughtfully curated, but completely. Every emotion, every thought, every detail pours out in a raw and unfiltered release. It is messy. It is honest. I do not edit it or soften it. I simply get it out of me and onto the page. Then I sit with it. I do not avoid it or try to move past it too quickly. I let myself fully enter it. I look it in the eyes. I go down its throat. I allow myself to live, even if briefly, in the belly of it. For 15 to 20 minutes, I feel every ounce of it. The frustration, the weight, the discomfort. I let it move through my body in a way that is safe, but fully experienced.

Over the last several weeks, I have found myself wrestling deeply with the inevitable path and consequences of artificial intelligence and its impact on humanity. Not casually thinking about it. Not skimming headlines. Wrestling. A book called The Last Economy pulled me in.  It is thoughtful, articulate, and in many ways unsettling. The author lays out three potential futures for humanity and argues that we are inside a narrow window, roughly one thousand days, where the trajectory we set now will determine everything that follows.

I have been spending a significant amount of time lately inside businesses, family offices, organizations, and even universities, and I will tell you something that has become very clear: The animals are not getting along! The cows are stressed, the horses are spooked, the dogs are multiplying, and the shooting stars are going off everywhere.

Last Thursday, I stood before the graduating class at Snow College’s Richfield campus and delivered what I hope was a message worth carrying. It is one I have been sitting with for a while now, and as I spoke it out loud to those young men and women stepping into their next chapter, I kept thinking the same thing. This is not just for them. This is for all of us right now. Here is what I said:

As a rule, man is a fool.When it is hot, he wants it cool.When it is cool, he wants it hot.Always wanting what it is not. I have been reciting that simple little verse for more than 20 years, and it continues to reveal its truth to me in the most unexpected ways. I saw it clearly again this week.

This morning on the River-bottom Trail, I felt it. Spring. You can see it in the trees, smell it in the air, and feel the essence of the earth waking up. We all understand seasons. Winter slows us down, while spring brings us back to life. Nature does not resist this. It does not argue or hesitate. It simply moves forward in quiet alignment.