People say, "If you don't believe in yourself, why would anyone else?" And the intention behind that is good, and it can be helpful.

But here's another angle, because why not?

That question is a kind of mind trick or crutch. It makes an excuse for believing in yourself: "Oh, I doubt myself, and maybe I really am not capable at this thing, and untalented, and will never make it, and that could be predicted from what I already know. But when no one believes in you, you're still justified in believing in yourself - because it's logic: nobody believes in you unless you believe in yourself, so believing in yourself when it seems like no one in their right mind would is a prerequisite for anyone believing in you in the first place. Therefore let's put these doubts aside and lay the foundation of any and all belief in myself."

It's kind of a subtle thing, and I don't think most people parse through the implications quite like that. But... I suspect that's a lot of what's going on in the frame of mind evoked by that rhetorical question.

Anyway, what I'm saying is: you don't actually need an excuse. Believe in yourself because you exist, and by existing, help to create the universe.

Today I want to talk about the difference between intuition and magical thinking. They can look identical. Here's my summary: intuition is a crucial tool, but when you believe that the world operates according to that tool, that's magical thinking. Subtle but major difference!

The world unfolds via physics. Intuition is a way we cut corners that we wouldn't get around otherwise. The universe is not cutting those corners. To believe the universe cuts the corners your mind cuts is magical thinking.

Example: I have a good feeling about this new job, so I'll take it. Later, I still feel that was a great decision. That's intuition. If I say the universe was telling me that this was a great decision, and I had to listen, and this was objectively the first step on a new journey, that's magical thinking.

Think about the way themes work in literature and movies. That's magical thinking.

It's great in art. I love it. Absolutely love it. But when you start to believe that the world works the way themes work in a novel, you might be in trouble. It doesn't.

People respect decisiveness, and I tend to be indecisive - depending on my mood. If you haven't slept well, if you're anxious, if you're feeling down, these are all solid reasons you may not be at your most decisive.

You might be at your least decisive. And to some extent I think we get indecisive when we know we aren't at our best. Indecision can be seen positively as choosing when to choose, and recognizing that you are not best disposed in this moment to do so with clarity, foresight, and resolve. We don't (I hope) drive drunk, and nature has installed a similar mechanism in us for decisions in general, in regard to the status of our inner chooser and how its energy is doing, how it's vibing, if you will. Are we in a frame of mind to make a decision that we will like later? And do we even know enough, or should we gather more information?

Seeing all this is self-compassionate. Don't pummel yourself for having trouble making a decision. There's probably a great explanation for why it feels that way right now, why deciding feels troublesome.

So the trick I use is: if I recognize the decision is mine, and is required in this moment (oh, you know, because someone's staring at me waiting for an answer), I do my best to relax for a few seconds. You get it: take a long breath or two. Just because decisiveness is respected, indecisiveness not so much, and you need to be decisive right now and are feeling absolutely the opposite, doesn't mean either of the following things: 1) you can't be decisive now, 2) being decisive means making an instant decision.

You can take a few moments and think. And as long as you're not outwardly wavering and backtracking, as long as you process this decision internally and produce an answer, that's going to seem decisive. So you can take a minute. Don't worry that it makes you seem indecisive. That's the least important consideration, and it isn't even true.

Many people make a big deal about being on the right side of things. I try to focus on making good arguments. If you make the best arguments, and you aren't just trying to promote yourself, but make the best arguments by virtue of listening to and understanding all the arguments - then you will tend to be on the right side of things.

Trying to go straight to the right side of things because you're a moral person and that's what good people do - it's putting the cart before the horse.

There's something amazingly beautiful about code, and I'm pretty sure that no one who hasn't written much code has any idea. It has nothing to do with typing fast, or being cool, or money, or respect, and very little to do with hacking, and not much to do with streams of bits in the matrix of reality (though now we're getting warmer).

When you stand under a tall building and look up, what do you see?

Architecture? Space? Scale? Raw materials in massive refinement?

Now imagine creating that architecture, and pressing play, and everything inside that building that's happening, which you know is happening, but can't see, now happens because you pressed play.

That's the closest description I can give, but unfortunately it still isn't very close.

I keep thinking this weird thought I had.

Mastering fusion power doesn't just save us from global warming. It also changes the nature of planets, stars, and our relationship to them.

Without captive fusion, we can imagine a long-haul space vessel carrying humanity from one star system to another, to begin a new existence on a new home.

With captive fusion, we can imagine the long-haul space vessel becoming the next iteration of a planet. If you have all the energy you need and you can direct yourself as needed, why be bound to planetary surfaces and stellar orbits?

Does it occur to you that part of what your daily actions, which butterfly out, could end up determining is which star systems humanity expands to? Our entire future could certainly be determined by "this star, this little planet here" versus "this other star, this slightly bigger planet."

What you choose could swirl around and push unexpectedly what's chosen then. The breezes that they will account to chance? The breezes will have included your voice, your life - you influencing. You will have changed the breath ever so slightly.

And the universe might tip another way. Sometimes a single vote makes all the difference. Imagine consciousness exists to vote for the future. We play some chips, make some bets, follow some leads, play detective and get good at it, pursue prevention as in Minority Report, build new cities and forests around them, and stars around the leaves. Our conscious choices direct our energy and material, which can't help but scrape on the edge of this vista of a universe we're watching down from, and up from. We push the breeze.

Sometimes I think the wind in the morning is the lunchtime chatter of the tips of bird feathers as they cross other feathers, heat up: shingle-like in the sun and burning breeze. Their sounds, sights, and flutters traveled across the ocean at night, or for weeks or months or centuries, and here, now, these little buds, these tiny remaining spores of influence, tip the universe again, as do you. You're all tipping it. We tip it together.

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(Does it occur to you that part of what your daily actions which butterfly out could end up determining is which star systems humanity expands to. The entire future could certainly be determined by "this star, this little planet here" versus "this star, this slightly bigger planet." What you choose could swirl around and push unexpectedly what's chosen then. The breezes of randomness that they will account to chance? That will have included your voice, your life, you influencing. You will have changed the breath ever so slightly. And the universe might tip another way. Sometimes a single vote makes all the difference. Imagine consciousness existed to vote for the future. We play some chips, make some bets, follow some leads, play detective and get good at it, pursue prevention as in Minority Report, build new cities and forests around them, and stars around the leaves. Our conscious choices direct our energy and material, which can't help but scrape on the edge of this vista of a universe we're watching down from, and up from. We push the breeze. Sometimes I think the wind in the morning is the lunchtime chatter of the tips of bird feathers as they cross other feathers, heat up, shingle-like in the sun and burning breeze. Their sounds, sights, and flutters traveled across the ocean at night, or for weeks or months or centuries, and here, now, these little buds, these tiny remaining spores of influence, tip the universe again, as do you. You're all tipping it. We tip it together.)