People often ask me what I write about.

Artificial intelligence? Travel?  Philosophy?  Language?  Neurodivergence?  Ageing?  Humanity?  Science?  Culture?

The honest answer?

All of those things.

And none of them.

The subjects may appear to constantly change, but my fascination never does.

For as long as I can remember, I have been captivated by one question above all others: what does it mean to be human?

Not just biologically or historically, but experientially. 

How do we think? Why do we perceive the world so differently? How does language shape our understanding? What invisible structures connect seemingly unrelated ideas? What exists around us that we simply haven’t yet developed the tools, or perhaps the vocabulary, to perceive?

Those questions have fascinated and followed me my entire life.

Long before I travelled.

Long before artificial intelligence.

Long before I knew words like intertwingularity or sonder.

I think it’s important to clarify that travel didn’t create my humanity curiosity.

It helped to actualize and fulfilled it.

I never wanted to collect passport stamps or simply say I had “been somewhere.” I wanted to stand where history unfolded. I wanted to hear languages I couldn’t yet understand, experience the many cultures that I had deeply researched about, and witness humanity and decipher societal narratives with my own eyes instead of solely through someone else’s interpretation or teachings.

I’ve never truly trusted accountabilities from knowledge that is not complimented with experience.

That is why my writing moves so freely between biology, anthropology, archaeology, language, psychology, philosophy, travel and technology. To me they have never existed as boxed in, separated disciplines. They are different windows looking out onto the same extraordinary mystery.

That’s probably also why I have never felt like I comfortably fit inside neat little boxes.

I don’t naturally think in categories.

I naturally think in relationships.

One idea flows to another. A conversation about dolphins becomes a reflection on communication. Communication becomes language. Language becomes artificial intelligence. Artificial intelligence becomes interpretation. Interpretation becomes philosophy. Philosophy inevitably circles back to humanity.

To me, none of that is a distraction. It is how my mind explores. It quite excites me to feel a natural deep dive coming on.

For much of my life I wondered whether there was something unusual about the way I thought. Today, I know that it is my way of seeing and interpreting this amazing world.

Over the years, I’ve also come to notice that we confuse a great many things in our culture. 

• We mistake self-observation for self-absorption. 
• We mistake introspection for narcissism. 
• We mistake confidence for arrogance. 
• We mistake curiosity for eccentricity. 

They are not the same thing.

Maybe that is why writing about myself has occasionally been misunderstood by some. I’m not writing because I believe I am the most fascinating person on Earth (however, I have had some pretty extraordinary experiences). I’m writing because I am literally the only consciousness (to date, who knows what is to come in the future!) that I will ever experience completely from the inside. 

Your life is just as rich. 

It is just as complex. 

And definitely just as worthy of exploration. 

But there’s only one problem, I simply don’t have direct access to it.

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