When I started my TikTok channel, I had a long conversation with a friend who is a psychologist. She asked if I was prepared for what was ahead.

She said that by sharing our content, videos, and writings, we become like a canvas (I hope I’m quoting her correctly)... a canvas onto which readers and viewers project their own inner worlds.

After my "I'm Anxious" post, I received a flood of messages, and I think I need to clarify something because something seems to have gone off track.

I understand if anyone reading my post thinks I’ve developed a panic disorder, or I’m having anxiety attacks, or that I’m depressed. Those who know me could tell you if that’s the case.

If you’re curious about what’s really going on with me, give me a call, ask, let’s talk. You’ll get a clearer picture from that. If you’re content with forming an opinion based on the writing alone, that’s fine too—it doesn’t bother me.

The article was translated from Hungarian to English by ChatGPT. Thank you, ChatGPT, for being here.

Footnote to the "I'm Anxious" Article

A selfie is a self-portrait, a picture taken by the person of themselves. It’s a picture we take of ourselves. But this picture isn't just a digital imprint taken with a camera; there exists a selfie within us as well. A picture that doesn’t only appear on Instagram or Facebook, but in every segment of our lives. In every conversation, every decision, in our possessions, in the way we walk. In our words. But what is this picture? What are the filters that sharpen, blur, or color every tiny pixel of our lives?

I think this question has occupied me since childhood. No, I don’t remember my childhood answers at all: maybe a firefighter, or a soldier, or a shepherd... or simply the dreamer little Balázs. But I don’t remember what I might have answered as a young adult either, and honestly, I’m still searching for the answer today.

But where should I search, where have I searched? Where can I even begin to look for the answer to this simple question? Somehow, I always end up realizing that my actions provide the clearest answer most of the time. So, what have I done in the past to find the answer to this question? Because maybe, if I can’t find the answer within myself, I can try to build an image of myself in the relationship systems of others. I’ve always liked competition, somehow I’ve always been prone to comparing myself with others. Maybe because that’s what I grew up with, that was my environment, or perhaps I was just geared toward it—I don’t know.

I think we all know who we really are, but somehow, over the years, we try to become what we think will best meet the expectations of those important to us. We want to be accepted, to be loved, to belong to someone, to some people, to somewhere. So that we are not alone. The world is so big, and alone we can feel small and lost. So, deep down, we know who we are, but as part of our survival strategy, we try to become what we think will make us more successful in life than being who we really are. We act on this, even when it’s not conscious.

I tried to think about what things I’ve done over the years to show myself in a better light. Maybe if I understand who or what I wanted to be, I’ll also understand who I really am. What were the things that, in retrospect, I did to show that I’m worth something, all for the sake of connecting, for the feeling that I matter. Because the more important I am, the more I connect, the more others will want to connect with me. But what makes me important, what do I need to have, what do I need to become?

Wealth, status, possessions. Are they important? Yes, they can be important. There’s no need to be spiritual about it; we live in a material world. I remember around the time I started my entrepreneurial life, I wanted a big car. A big, black one with light leather seats. So it would be clear that I could afford it. If I could afford it, it meant I had money, and if I had money, it meant I was doing something right. If I was doing something right, then people would trust me to do what they needed. Many people define us by external things. Your car, your house, your vacation destinations, the labels on your clothes—all signs of how much you own. But are we really defined by what we own? If we define ourselves by wealth or material success, we measure our personal worth by them as well. And we don’t recognize their value, but rather their price. Would my worth be higher because the price of my possessions is higher? Does a luxury car, a beachfront house, or an expensive watch really define me? And if so, how do I feel when someone else has more, better, or more expensive things?

Many of my acquaintances had bigger, flashier, more luxurious stuff. I felt this wasn’t the right direction to show I’m the king. You only need money for expensive stuff. Money can come from anywhere, not just from good work, and no one asks where it came from, as long as you have it. So what else could set me apart? What will define me, what will make me unique? My performance and achievements! Successes like how quickly you complete the Kinizsi 100, the GR20 in Corsica, or whether you finish the Ironman, or run a marathon—they will show it. It’s objective. No corruption, favoritism, or cronyism; it doesn’t matter who your father is or which party you vote for.

You have to perform! So I ran, cycled, hiked, hit the gym. But it wasn’t enough, I didn’t have the time to make up for the years I had missed in my youth. I performed well at the beginning, lost weight, made visible progress, but I couldn’t keep going... from a sporting perspective, my results were unremarkable...

Not from a sporting perspective, but from an average person’s view, yes. There were the praising comments, casual encounters with people who mentioned they started doing something because of me. Fame. That’s it! Isn’t that what matters, that people say: Balázs, you’re the king! Isn’t that what wealth and performance are all about? Isn’t that the ultimate answer to the question? It doesn’t matter if you have it or not, if you did it or didn’t... the point is how the people important to you judge it. And how can you convince them? By getting recognition from people who are credible to them. THAT’S IT! So bring on the accolades, the awards. International competitions, international articles. And they came. An American Forbes article, an English competition, an American competition, an Asian magazine article. It was like they were pouring awards and recognition on me. I enjoyed it, I devoured the flood of reactions and comments on Facebook and LinkedIn posts. More and more people wanted to befriend me, even people I had never met in my life.

Success is a magnet. It attracts everyone. The successful come, because we successful people stick together, after all, we belong to the same group, having been through the same battles. The learners come, the supporters come, those who want to push your cart with you come, the freeloaders come, the onlookers come... and those who see opportunities in you come. Opportunities to get to where you are. They come as long as they believe you are so successful that you possess things that can help them achieve things more easily, things that will help them attract the friends they imagine you have. We bask in success, in the sea of abundance.

As I sat there and looked at my inner Instagram, my heavily filtered self-images, I somehow felt empty and impersonal. My profile felt like I had bought the "successful entrepreneur" 2019 model year, complete with fellow rising star manager types, with whom we had all surgically engineered our lives to look the same, meticulously following the Central European macho handbook. We sculpted our faces to look alike, driving the same cars, becoming artificially confident, push-up-faced success men.

Yes. Did I succeed? Yes. Check. Got it. Was it okay? No. Somehow, things still didn’t work. My friends mocked my car, saying I could have bought a proper one, not just something for clumsy guys like me. And anyway, why don’t I buy myself a decent watch? Where are you vacationing? No way, that place is for retirees. And besides, my life felt all wrong, I couldn’t find my place. That’s why I sold my company, because I didn’t believe in it anymore; surely it was starting to fail, that’s why I bailed out. I got lucky. It was easy for me.

I did everything to become what I thought would be important to others. Important because I had what they had, or what they desired. Important because I had achieved things that few could claim. Important because I believed they would say, think, and share with me that they respected and admired me.

An alpha who stands out, who has an impact, who doesn’t need to say anything, and people still know he’s the king. Respected. But what if all this is taken from me, if I lose it? Or what if I just realize that this whole thing is nonsense! An illusion. It’s there, but it’s not. Like in the tale of King Matthias, where the clever girl brings a gift, but not really. Years went into this. I worked for years, struggled, and at times made sacrifices to get all of this. I have it, but I don’t.

Stripped bare. Without car keys, title, or Forbes article. What am I like when stripped down? Do I dare show this? Would I dare post such a selfie of myself? Even the algorithm would instantly ban me. So, is wealth important? Yes. Are achievements important? Yes. Does it matter what others say about me? Of course. Are connections important? Naturally. So why all the lamenting? What am I philosophizing about?

I always end up realizing that my actions provide the clearest answer most of the time. What I do. And what’s the motivation behind my actions? I think what has matured in me is the understanding that I am not someone because these things—wealth, achievements, recognition, important connections—are present. My actions aren’t about having more and more of these things to justify who I am. I’m not working to prove the significance of my existence.

I think I’ve come to understand that cause and effect are reversed. These things are there because I am who I am. And I’m working to be as much of that person as I can be. The person I am. That’s why I search within myself and try to peel off the layers that life and the people important to me have put on me. So I can clearly see my inner selfie.

My self-image. Without filters and retouching.

Selfie

Here I sit in front of the computer, with a pile of thoughts before me that I want to write about. I actively collect them—during walks, before bed, while working out… anytime a thought pops up that I like, I jot it down. I write down the topic and the few lines that come to mind at that moment. All good thoughts, waiting to be fleshed out, to turn into stories wrapped in words, so they can start living, growing, and strengthening as they pass from reader to reader, seeking the soil where they can take root, joining with new ideas to grow into theories, then ideologies, and finally live on independently with the hope of becoming immortal.

Here I sit in front of the computer, and these hopeful thoughts are quiet and waiting. No one wants to step forward from the notebook today to begin this journey. Why? Are they afraid? Tired? Looking inward for their own meaning? Or are they just waiting for a leader, a guiding thought to show them the way, to arrange them in direction so they don't have to figure out the next step themselves? A guiding thought that will instill in them the belief that the struggle with other thoughts during the journey from person to person will not be in vain?

Could our thoughts be like us, humans? Is it possible that there exists another world where human names are listed in the notebooks of thoughts, with a short chain of words outlining their life plan? In whose mind were Aristotle, Descartes, or Freud conceived? And how did they grow up, gain strength, and spread in the realm of thoughts, as more and more small thoughts gathered around them, leading Descartes to write:

So, do I exist if I have thoughts? But what does it mean to think? Perhaps we are merely giving space to this other form of life? Are we the habitat for thoughts? Petri dishes, incubators, or natural soil? Is that why we are born, so they have a place to exist? And are there more and more of us because the multiplying thoughts demand larger and larger living spaces? And in this rapid growth, the quality of people declines just like our mass-produced tools.

Blessed are the poor in spirit! And meanwhile, our thoughts become just as impatient and exclusive as we are. One thought no longer tolerates the other; they honk at each other nervously on the thought highway that is the internet. Influencer thoughts post pictures of people to each other, showing where they've been, in whose mind they vacationed, or drank, or graffitied someone’s dream with some nonsense.

So here I sit in front of the computer, with a pile of thoughts before me that I want to write about. Last night’s conversation with my son, where we talked about his plans, how he wants to build his life, what his strengths are, where he’s stuck, and how he would deal with it. About how good it feels to be present as a father during such moments and what it means to me to be present as a father. Or there’s the question of how I should approach my business, what I desire, what I’m looking for in the new company, how I can achieve it…

They don’t move. I just look at them, but nothing happens. They don’t come, they don’t go. Only this philosophical nonsense camps inside me. But let's face it, this is also a thought. What does this thought want from me? How will it help my decisions, how will it change my actions, how will it affect me? I’m sure it wants something from me, as it’s been working inside me for over an hour. And it was present earlier too, during a walk, during a conversation. But back then, it only showed itself briefly. It came and went. But now it’s the only one here, so it has the space and time to clearly affect me. What if this thought is the truth?

What if the reality is that our thoughts really exist? They exist, and they don’t need us, they exist independently of us? What can I do, how can I shape myself so that thoughts that are capable and willing to be more, better, bigger reside within me? What do I have to be like for thoughts to visit me that will change me in a way that other similar thoughts also want to come here?

If I assume that our thoughts strongly determine what we are like—rather, how we act, how we live our everyday lives, how we see things—then I assume it’s worth grouping them based on their impact. Which thoughts make us curious, open, brave, and enthusiastic?

Open-ended questions are certainly open. That’s their name. So I try to attract many questions, and when a question arrives that I like, I start dealing with it. Everyone likes attention; attention gives energy, makes you feel important, interesting, beautiful, exciting if someone pays attention to you. So I pay attention to my questions.

Which are those that have faith and passion? Perhaps the thoughts about action. Because in action, there is a desire to do, a decision, energy, movement. To be open, to do, to act, to be in motion toward the unknown. The unknown can bring anything. Even something you don’t even know what it is.

And maybe thoughts also like to explore new spaces. To see what life is like somewhere else. And maybe they like places that help them get to new places. They don’t like to be locked up, hidden away.

We must not lock up thoughts. Because if thoughts are not us, if thoughts are not our property, if they just come to us, isn’t the best thing to do to let them move on? While they become a little different, a little more, a little like us. And as these thoughts, which are partly built from us, move on to someone else and then back to us, and so on, we always receive, and give something a little new, more, different. And with this, we also get into the flow.

And not only do you feel alive, but you also feel useful. Useful even if you’re just letting things flow, and useful even if you yourself are the flow. It doesn’t matter to me whether I’m the subject of shaping my own world, or just a tool in a world that is being shaped.

I love the ever-expanding space where more and more people share what they think of the world, where more and more people ask me what I think of the world. I love questions. I love them even when they open painful doors. Doors behind which are cold statements, painful or angry shouts. Commands, orders, rejections. Thoughts that sometimes try to suck the life out of me like parasites, sometimes like scavengers.

In the flow, these also come and go. They are no more than passersby. But if there were no flow, they would stay. Trapped inside me, trying to gnaw their way out of the hidden corners of my soul, desperately clinging to a little attention.

As they build in me or build something within me, as they come and go.

Thought-Provoking

I see how the system regenerates the tension. Again and again. I see it because I'm in it. I see it because I'm not the one doing it, I'm just there. If I were the one doing it, I wouldn't see it. Or it would be much harder to see. If I were the one doing it, I would rather think, "This idiot doesn't get it." I see how the tension builds up, slowly moving towards the point where someone will need to release it on someone else.

It's like when you get caught in a whirlpool while swimming. You're in the flow, running your business, taking care of your affairs, focusing on your creations, your process, your goals. The sun is shining, the water is refreshing. But out of nowhere, there's the whirlpool in the water before you. You didn't ask for it, you didn't call for it, you didn't do anything to bring it there. But it's there. The source of joy instantly turns into a deadly, suffocating environment.

I've been in a situation like this once. In water. In tension, many times. I had no idea what to do. The person I was with said, "Stay calm! If you don't panic, you'll conserve your energy, and then you'll be able to make conscious decisions." What a great sentence :) I get it, but how can I stay calm when there's a whirlpool in front of me? How can I stay calm when I see the tension growing, the conflicts sharpening?

I'm watching because maybe I'm wrong. What if the situation is really what the other person thinks it is? They're right, the other is the fool. Am I the fool? No, not me, I'm not in the tension. Not yet. And even if I were the fool, this isn't about me. I think. Not yet. But soon it might be because I'm there. I'm in it. Neck-deep. The whirlpool is starting to pull me down too. Should I swim upward? But it's pulling me down, I should resist it. Should I? Whirlpools pull downward, that's just how they are. The whirlpool is probably stronger, the mass of the water bigger than you think. I won't go against the tension; in this situation, it will only tire me out and increase the resistance. Mine and the system's too. If I tire out, panic can easily follow. If I panic, I won't see things clearly. And then comes the thrashing. Nothing matters but one thing.

But not upward. I'm not going to fight against the downward pull. I need to move sideways! Simpler, more effective, smarter. I'll look at the things that are part of the tension but aren't the main issue. What might the tension really be building on, not what we're talking about. To see this, I need to look at the situation from a distance. I need to see where it's worth moving, where there are no more whirlpools. How is the water flowing, where should I try, and where not. This takes time, calmness. I'll try not to be in the main current, and maybe that way I'll tire less, stay calm longer, and perhaps I'll see something to hold onto.

A thought I can hold onto. It could be anything, anything that helps me not to drift. I'll try to stay on the surface of the water. Underwater, options are limited. Panic comes quickly, air runs out fast. If I get out of the whirlpool's center, I'll try to stay on the surface and maybe swim towards the shore. What if it doesn't work? There's one more option.

Apparently, if you don't thrash around, the whirlpool will spit you out. The system doesn't know what to do if you don't resist. How can you argue with someone who doesn't argue? Of course, this is just to prevent you from struggling helplessly while you don't even notice your head is in the mud. Let the whirlpool toss you around, you're not a victim; you chose this. Can you hold on? Wait to see how it ends? Whirlpools usually only last for a short time. Usually. In theory, if you manage to stay calm and react appropriately, you'll soon get out safely. In theory. It's hard to believe this while...

How many such situations are there in our lives, how many situations where we feel endangered. We want to live. Survive. It's the basis of our existence. This instinct is ingrained in us. And if someone, or something, acts or seems like a threat to this, we want to fight it. We have to fight it.

Somehow. When I saw a whirlpool up close in the water, I got scared. The "stay calm" phrase made the whirlpool ten times bigger, darker, and deadlier. Yet it wasn't even a whirlpool there, just some surface thing, maybe a fish showing off to its friends. But I believed it was a whirlpool. Maybe for a moment, I even drowned in it.

The water is full of whirlpools. The water is full of swimmers. What is this, a race? Why am I here? I'm not thrashing around, not panicking anymore. I'm watching. Trying to figure out if it's just some surface thing or if the current is already getting stronger down below, ready to suck me in...

And if it does, I'll try to stay calm and decide whether to swim or drift.

In the whirlpool

I did it. I did it again and again. I always felt terrible afterward, but for some reason, I never did anything about it. I kept doing it for years, maybe for so long that I thought it was completely normal. Normal, because others do it too. It’s ingrained in our culture; books are written about it, we have expressions for it, countless articles discuss it, and now people even talk about it on podcasts. We talked about it too. Sometimes, we were even proud when we shared it with each other. And there were those who didn’t talk about it, just hinted at it or smiled mysteriously when it came up. I haven't done it in years.

I remember the first time. I didn’t do it—it was done to me. I realized it. I don’t remember the feelings, but I can picture how the events came together. I didn’t do anything at the time, just tried to understand what was happening. When I left, that’s when I started to get really angry. It was like my first big accident. That time, it was my fault; I didn’t yield, even though it was clearly there:

When the other car crashed into me, I just sat in the car. There was a burning smell. The radio was playing. My glasses fell off. Everything was so slow; the movie stopped for a moment. The windshield wiper, knocked forward by the collision, was rhythmically wiping nothing. The radio was still playing. I couldn’t find my glasses. Then suddenly, everything came together, my thoughts sped up—I need to get out, check on the other driver. I need to call the police. What about the car? Wow, it’s totaled, and a sign got knocked over too, glass everywhere, oil leaking. I need a body shop, maybe two. The more convincing one can take the car. The police wrote everything down, and I could leave.

I sat there, staring ahead. The images kept spinning, my chest hurt. Not from the collision, but from my mistake. From the weight of what I’d done. From the imagined consequences. Someone could have died. What if someone had been walking there? A group of kindergarteners? Someone would have definitely died. I could have gone to jail. I could have ruined everything. And what about my family, my kids?

I remember that moment. In the car, and how it felt afterward. That was the first time. It was like that when it was done to me too. It wasn’t my fault. Wasn’t it my fault? The moment I found out, it was empty. Empty and silent. The world stopped for a moment, the film slowed down. I was rational, gathering data, analyzing, observing. Everything. The silence was empty. The other’s mouth silently gaped as they told me what they had done. I left. I sat in my room, trying to understand what had happened. What had the other person done?! How did they not see that massive STOP sign? They rammed into me, no, they stomped on me.

Totaled? That’s how I felt. After that, everything changed. I went to demolition derbies. With partners borrowed for minutes, we’d smash into each other, into ourselves, into others.

Why? Was it that I might die in one of them? Or that I just wanted to understand the first one better? Or that I wanted to control things? Or was it something I inherited? I remember when my father did it. I was there. In the car. In the back seat. An inherited fate? Or maybe I just craved the adrenaline? That feeling of crashing, breaking all the rules, knowing I’d get away with it? They won’t catch me. They won’t catch me? I’m smart, alert, crafty.

I didn’t want to do it anymore. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why. Each crash became worse. It hurt, I think. I thought about myself. About the back seat. About the inherited fate. And about the STOP sign.

I didn’t know how. How should I stop at that sign? I don’t need to stop. I don’t even need to start. If you’re where you belong, if you’re already where you want to go. But that doesn’t exist; we’re always going somewhere. These days, I prefer to walk. I have time. I walk and observe. Sometimes someone bumps into me because they’re glued to their phone. They’re on Facebook, reading something, sending messages. I politely step aside, avoiding unnecessary conflicts. I walk, and I no longer have a STOP sign. Sometimes I get a red light. I wait for the green.

We convince ourselves why we shouldn’t stop at the STOP sign. We walk in forbidden territory, whatever that means. Because we have to keep moving. Wherever that may be.

We Don't Talk About This

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness. Actually, I’ve been pondering connection—how we connect with each other, what it means to connect, what connection gives us, and what significance it holds in our lives.

And naturally, the lack of connection comes to mind as well. If loneliness is the state of being disconnected from others, why is it that we can feel perfectly content being alone?

But what does connection give us? What does it mean to be part of a network? Why do we connect more with objects today, and where does it lead when our knowledge migrates into our tools?

I’ve been alone many times. Even as a child. While my brother was hanging out with friends somewhere in the neighborhood, I’d stay home. I’d read. Or daydream. I remember really wanting a handheld electronic game. A solar-powered one where I had to shoot down enemy spaceships with my own ship. But I didn’t have one. So, I drew one on a sheet of paper, pressing the drawn buttons and making shooting noises with my mouth. I shot down all the enemies. I was really good at it…

And I remember the fall of ’94, in my second year of university, feeling incredibly lonely. I was walking home from a party, the street was empty. A homeless man walked ahead of me, quietly crying. Maybe he was drunk, maybe he just thought he was alone. He cried and kept saying, “Nobody loves me.” It was a miserable feeling—the lovelessness. Not his, but mine. He just voiced it for me. I was there, in the void, alone, abandoned. That night, the homeless man and I somehow walked together, but still very lonely. We were heading somewhere, but neither of us had a home to go to.

And yet, that wasn’t true, because I had university friends. But still, I felt like I was just hanging in the void. I didn’t feel truly close to anyone, not even to myself. Perhaps least of all to myself… Even today, I spend a lot of time alone. I actively seek out those moments, and I immensely enjoy them. I spend a lot of time at home. I have a home. I have someone to belong to. I live a secluded life; our house could be on an island, and it wouldn’t make much difference… Yet, I feel like

Somehow, I’m connected to life. I talk a lot, read, and reflect. I’m connected to myself, to my thoughts, and to the thoughts and lives of others. And I love it. My relationships have changed over the past few years; I’m now curious about people, wanting to learn more about them, and through them, about myself and life. I feel how the quality of human connections fundamentally determines the quality of my life.

The Harvard Study of Adult Development is one of the world’s longest-running studies on human happiness and well-being. The research began in 1938 and has continued for over 80 years, following the lives of about 700 people, collecting detailed data on their health, relationships, and overall life satisfaction. The study found that good-quality relationships are the most important predictors of long-term health and happiness. Robert Waldinger, the study’s director, emphasized in a TED talk that those who were most satisfied with their relationships at age 50 were the healthiest at age 80. Good relationships act as a shield, reducing stress and improving mental and physical health. So, good relationships not only protect our bodies but also our minds.

We create a large network, a web. All of us, with each other. So, through our human connections, we not only make our lives happier, but we also create networks. For a time, I was deeply interested in the thoughts of Albert-László Barabási, who demonstrated how we, humans, create complex and multifaceted networks.

Barabási’s research draws parallels between human, natural, and artificial networks. As I read about this and discussed it with ChatGPT, a train of thought began to form in my mind…

As AI poured information about how networks work, I started to think about the evolution of intelligence. How does my intelligence connect with AI’s network? At the dawn of our history, in the beginning, humans did everything themselves. We had to know a lot to survive. We lived in small communities, creating small networks. We learned step by step through our experiences. We became capable of more and more things. We didn’t just gather and hunt; we made tools for these tasks, then we started farming, transforming our environment. We created artificial elements and spaces because we changed nature, making it as we wanted it to be. And in this environment, it became easier for us to multiply.

As the number of tasks increased, people began to specialize in them. As we specialized, we became more efficient at our tasks, but increasingly relied on others in different areas of life. My grandfather would be ashamed to know what things I call a specialist to the house for… So, we increasingly relied on each other, making it more and more necessary to develop our network so that information and knowledge could be more easily accessed. We need the network to exist. Today, our emotional well-being and mental state depend on our network, but so does our very existence. And we have an instinctive desire for this existence to be

As human knowledge advanced, we created tools to accomplish more tasks, and these tools became smarter, transferring human capabilities and knowledge into artificial objects. As a result, the information stored in humans became less important, as the information in tools became more easily accessible. Today, it’s almost enough to connect with our objects, as the knowledge necessary for our existence is within them. And all we have to do is buy them, discard them, replace them…

One of the fundamental laws of physics is the principle of energy minimization. The principle of energy minimization is a universal rule that governs the behavior of matter and the distribution of energy. It defines us as well. Just think about your life. Today, our tools are becoming smarter, capable of performing more and more tasks for us. The car takes you somewhere, your phone finds you a partner, navigates you, tells you how to raise a child—we’re starting to seek help in almost every important decision. From our phone.

Could our pursuit of comfort reach a point where we feed knowledge into our machines, making them so smart that they can reproduce themselves, so we no longer have to deal with it? And when will they reach the point where our own tools create tools to make their tasks easier for them? And when all this happens—when our tools are capable of self-reproduction and making tools for their own work—then what?

Will we be the creators of our machines? Will they worship us in their creations? Or will we live on as digital fossils in their history books? And then, will artificial intelligence become natural to itself? And when will the process begin where it creates us for its own comfort, so that a few thousand years from now, we can debate whether God created our world or if we are the winners of evolution… Are we the artificial intelligence of a previous extinct human species, and now we are shaping our future in the image of our creator? Are we creating the one who created us? Is this the wheel of fate?

I don’t know what was, I don’t know what will be, but I feel that comfort and simplicity are killing us as we live our lonely lives with our tools, sniffling as we post colorful details of our loveless lives because there’s hope that what kills us might bring us back to life?

And maybe then we won’t skimp on life, won’t be comfortable, won’t want to solve everything with less energy.

Because life isn’t something to solve; it’s something to live.

Circular Intelligence

I can’t see myself, or rather, I don’t know what I’m seeing. I don’t know what’s happening in my head. I’m about to turn 50, and after nearly 50 years of looking at the body I live in, I still don’t know what it’s like. And this realization has hit me hard.

After I wrote my article about having children, I received a lot of comments and messages. Women, mothers, wrote about the pain and often humiliation they suffered due to the physical changes caused by childbirth. Everyone experienced it differently. I read and listened to these stories and felt the questions begin to surface within me.

What is my relationship with this part of my existence? I’ve been on a self-discovery journey for years, examining so many aspects of myself. The tough stuff has definitely surfaced—whom I’ve hurt, whom I’ve lied to, whom I’ve taken advantage of, whether consciously or with the best intentions. I’ve dealt with my soul, my emotions, and I’ve analyzed my thoughts extensively. I’ve tried to understand how I function.

Are we on good terms? I work out. I’ve been doing it consistently for 14 years, with varying intensity. I switch up the sports, but it’s mostly just lifting weights in the gym. But what do I see in the mirror? And it’s not just about how I see myself, but what I actually see. A few months ago, I got really motivated, started lifting seriously, and paid close attention to my diet. I could see my progress, with more and more plates being added to the bars. Then, during workouts, the comments started—first, jokes from friends, then what seemed like sincere compliments from less close gym mates.

Are they joking with me? Teasing me? Is something wrong with me, or are they being serious? I had to ask Norbi, the gym owner and a good friend, if he thought they were serious. Yes, he said, my work was showing. It shows? But then why can’t I see it? What’s wrong? In university, we studied the brain in detail during biology courses—how the perception of sensed information works, how it becomes conscious. It’s a process; first, we become aware of things we’ve experienced before, and slowly, we start piecing together the details, integrating new information into the picture.

What have I experienced over the past decades? What is the conscious image, the stored version of myself? Chaos. I’ve been everything. As a kid, I was thin, as a teenager, I was fat. I was cross-eyed, pigeon-toed, and had a bun on my head. Then came the comments about which parts of me were too big and which were too small. As a chubby kid, I was all chest, then as I grew, I got skinny again. I had a girlfriend who said my arms weren’t muscular enough, my abs weren’t defined, and another who said I should gain weight because I was too thin next to her…

When I look in the mirror, I see all of this. Sometimes I’m fat, so I need to watch my diet, but as I get closer to the shape I’ve imagined, people start saying, "Whoa, are you sick or something? You should gain a little weight." Then my friend comes along, grabs my belly, and laughs at me. "You’re fat!"

We’re kids in adult bodies, teasing each other. I’m turning 50, an adult. My friends and relatives are adults. And I haven’t given birth. I have all my body parts. I have a mirror at home. I even have a smart scale. I work out three times a week and take long walks in the woods every day. I watch what I eat. And you know what’s the worst part of all this? It’s not about whether I like how I look. It’s not even about whether others like how I look.

What’s broken inside me? I have a stable self-image of who I am—what my emotional life is like, what my abilities are, what my talents are. I have immense faith in what I’m capable of doing. But I can’t see my body. I’m turning 50. I have a mirror. I do something for myself every day. I have a desire to look good, even in the eyes of others.

Is that a problem? Some think I’m a fool for it, others call it self-care. Why do I care? Why does it hurt, why does it bother me, why am I ashamed of my own body? I’ve been humiliated so many times. By women who were important to me, by friends who were close, by family members. Did they want to hurt me? Did they not love me? I don’t think so; they probably had their own issues with this. Or if not with this, then with something else, and this was how they protected themselves from that something. From feeling inadequate. I can be more than you if you believe you’re less than me!

It wasn’t pleasant to think about this. Especially since this topic has come up for me several times recently, but now it hit me hard. I don’t like mirrors. It’s oddly uncomfortable to undress in front of strangers. Maybe that’s why I avoid beaches. And it’s not just about not accepting myself; it’s more that I don’t want to look at what I am, what’s inside me. Because if I see it, maybe someone will be right. But what happens if I don’t?

I’ve heard so many things about what I’m like. Maybe it doesn’t even matter what that "what" is. Right now, I just want to see what that "what" really is. Exactly as it is. I’d like to look at myself with the eyes of the person I am today. To let go of the images from when I was 5 or 6, 10 or 13, or a young adult—images burned into me… Deep, layered, chaotic, flashing moments from the film of my life… Hypnotizing myself.

I’d like to erase them… or maybe not! I just want them to stop flashing, to stay where they belong. In my past. To disappear from the mirror. That’s what I want, though I don’t yet know how.

And if I can finally see what I have, who I am physically, who I truly am, then I’ll have time to figure out what to do with it.

Body Image Struggle

Yesterday morning, I was sitting in a café, having breakfast. At the neighboring table, two women were chatting. They were speaking loudly enough that their conversation was clear, but I wasn't paying attention. I was having breakfast with Kata, occupied with Ottó and my croissant...

"…why give birth when I can adopt? It spares my body. It's just hard to get a baby..."

I haven't been able to let this go since. I hope I missed some crucial context at the beginning. Something that could cast this sentence, this thought, in a different light.

Some want children but can't have them. Some don't want them but end up having them. Some are expected to have them and comply. Some don't. The list goes on. Concerned, aging parents ask their children: "So, what's the plan? When will there be grandchildren?" The government offers money, incentives, tax returns, loans—just have kids. One, two, three... That's how it is today, and it was similar in the past.

Demographic trends are a societal issue. Decide whether you want children or not. Decide whether you want to give birth or not. If you want children, I hope you have them. And love them.

I'm trying to see the positive side. Everyone has the right to decide about their life. Is your body more important than giving birth? That's your right. But this sentence carries an underlying tone that hurts. It pains me. Avoiding pain, avoiding loss, is more important than experiencing motherhood, than having a life develop inside you?

I'm a man. Biologically incapable of giving birth. I lived through the 9 months with both of my kids as they grew inside their mother. I felt and saw them move in the belly. True, they weren't in my belly, but it was still incredible. And I was there for my sons' births. I saw, I experienced something. But that's nothing compared to what their mother went through.

I don't know how much. It seemed like a lot. But I don't know exactly. I saw but didn't feel it. So, do I have the right to get hung up on this sentence? Yes. I can get upset about whatever I want. I can write about it.

I don't have the right to tell anyone how to give birth or whether to do so. But this sentence... Somehow, it projects a very bleak future... Maybe I've watched too much sci-fi?

So, don't let it hurt; keep the body beautiful. But where is the limit? How far can we go to avoid pain, to preserve beauty? At what point do we lose touch with life? And what comes after? Is this part of evolution? What happens when we have artificial wombs? And we can program the child's parameters? Will having children become easy? Like buying a house and moving in? Will there be special loans for this?

A parent doesn't need to be a biological parent to have a relationship with their child, to love them. But is this still psychologically true if one could have a child but chooses not to give birth to protect their body? To avoid pain? How will the connection differ? How will the child differ? I don't know. I'd gladly discuss this to understand better.

Not just childbirth. There are and will be a thousand painful situations. Even when the child is 40 years old. Because they'll always be your child. Avoiding pain, trying to escape painful situations, might be natural. After all, who wants to hurt?

But we're starting to be. The eternal chase for happiness, the perpetual flight from pain—where does it lead us? And what does it do to our children? What will young people spared from pain be like? Let's look around and ponder what we see. What have we done to them?

Is there something wrong with someone thinking this way? I don't think so. It's their business. A private matter. There's surely a reason they see it this way. It's a reaction to something. A strategy for self-protection. They'll decide if they thought correctly.

The problem arises if this thought finds fertile ground and the happiness/beauty/pain industry wants to profit from it.

Or is it progress? Creating trends with good marketing messages. Love yourself; have children without giving birth; childbirth isn't good for the child either! Don't start your child's life with pain! You'd subject your child to 9 months of solitary confinement in the dark, right from the start?

Maintenance-free artificial wombs with Velcro and ambient lighting, because you and your child deserve it!

Now, that's a problem! That's not a private matter; it's a public one! Sure, it might solve pension issues; baby-waiting loans can be fulfilled... Growth is checked off. And it won't hurt. For a while.

It wasn't good to hear this sentence. Let this remain a private matter.

Just Don't Let It Hurt

For years, I couldn’t find my footing in my business. I felt I had good ideas, that I was capable, but execution wasn’t my strength. I needed someone by my side. Someone to help me do what I couldn’t. Someone more experienced. Someone more practical. Someone with connections—because, let’s face it, I had none. I feared it would be a struggle if I did it alone. And it was a struggle because I was doing everything by myself.

But who would be the right person to do it with?

A friend? A stranger? And what if they steal my idea or push me out of the company? And what if I didn’t look for a co-owner but an investor instead? With the money, I could hire the right people. But employees just do the job for the paycheck; I needed someone who believed in the company! Someone with an ownership mindset, who wouldn’t leave at the first better offer. It’s not an easy question, especially when you’re not even sure what you want to do. You just feel you want to do something. Finally. Because the way things are now, it’s not working.

Looking back, my biggest problem was that I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I had no plan for what I wanted to achieve; I just knew I loved the freedom of being an entrepreneur. And I knew I wanted to do something big, something visible that I could be proud of. The rest would work itself out. And it did. One job after another came along. If there was work, I had to do it, so I didn’t chase new work. If there wasn’t, I was a nervous wreck, wondering where the next job would come from. And I did everything that came my way—branding, books, brochures, websites, online administrative systems, events… And as these jobs came and went over the years, so did the people around me. And all the while, I was dissatisfied, feeling that things weren’t going as well as they could—or maybe that they could be much better. And I constantly felt:

What a soul-crushing feeling that was. I was building my company; we were making progress. Every year, we grew a little, got a little better. And yet, that feeling drained my energy. The feeling of not being enough. I wasn’t enough for myself to achieve great things. In this sense of inadequacy, I decided I needed a co-owner. And I got one. Several, in fact. With the first one, we had a falling out over money after just three months. Because there wasn’t any, and it didn’t look like there would be. Three months. Not long. I worked with the second one for a year, and then, when they secured a big job, they decided to do it on their own. They quit, took off. I wasn’t needed. Neither of them needed me. Did they deceive me? Hm. I don’t remember how I felt back then. It was over 20 years ago. But one thing is certain: the feeling was there. The feeling that I wasn’t enough for my business, for my goals. I needed someone. Someone who had what I lacked.

To build a big IT company. To do something significant. It would be great to have someone who has already done this. Then, out of nowhere, after a meeting, the potential partner asked: "Are you looking for an investor?" I hadn’t been, but now I’m reconsidering 🙂 How awesome is that! I believe in life; I believe in paying attention to opportunities that come your way. Finally, someone who sees potential in me, a leader at a big company, managing massive IT projects, based in Budapest, with an extensive network, a real tech nerd, Excel wizard, project manager, and they even want to invest! A distant relative, but we don’t really know each other. This could work. In the end, we didn’t kill each other over the seven years, but we sure drained each other’s energy.

So, what did I want? A co-owner. I envisioned the kind: someone with a network, who would bring in clients. They had one, but didn’t bring any clients. I imagined someone experienced, who had managed large projects. They had experience with big projects, with corporations, where if an extra person, tool, or any resource was needed, a managerial decision, a set deadline, and some allocated funds solved the problem. Well, in a 10-person company, these experiences mean something entirely different. Perhaps even a disadvantage. That’s how I saw it. So, the connections brought nothing, the knowledge couldn’t be utilized, so all that was left was the money. Between signing the investor agreement and receiving the investment, I brought in 5-6 times the amount into the company. So, no connections, no usable experience, and no money were as expected. Back to square one again! What did I want?

And I wasn’t. I got what I wanted. That is, I could let go of the fear of not being enough. It was time to rethink things. Yes, I was afraid. Afraid that I wasn’t enough alone. I wanted someone. And I got someone. What was in the investor agreement again? I’d give equity for a certain amount of money. I gave away half the company, and the company got money. I wasn’t alone. For the next seven years, I brought in the revenue, built the team, and laid the foundation for Games for Business. I did my job. I had no time or opportunity to wonder if I was enough. All this during the middle of a crisis, around 2010. I wasn’t enough. In fact, I’d say we were too much. Too much for me was the daily struggle with my investor. It was too much for him too. I didn’t want a partner anymore. I wanted peace. I didn’t want to have to explain why I did what I did. I just wanted to do my job. We parted ways. Peace followed. I’ve come to understand how much I learned from him. He even brought work, good work. In the end, I got what I thought I would get.

I’m grateful for those seven years. Now I know I got everything I wanted from him. Even though we weren’t partners anymore. I think I was right. You can’t do it alone. Maybe only in the rarest of cases. Because somehow, in some form, we always do our business with others. The key is who you do it with, why, and in what form…

It’s worth thinking about what we really want. What we’re aiming for, what we specifically want to achieve (see the previous article: Everyone Struggles on Their Own Level). Maybe that’s the foundation of it all. Of course, you can also seek a partner and start a business without knowing it. You can experiment, discover things, be spontaneous. In some ways, I was too. And I paid the price 🙂 in money, time, and stress. Even in recent years, I’ve been constantly experimenting, trying to figure out how to realize my ideas, how to find partners for them, and in what form the collaboration can work well... But the first step is always knowing what I want.

So, if you already know what you want, if you see how your company brings you closer to it, if you know your qualitative and quantitative goals and even know when you want to achieve them, you might still feel like you’re not enough! In fact, that feeling often comes at this point. But before you believe it about yourself, it’s worth running through a few more questions:

What will be the key to your company’s success?

Usually, there’s one thing in a company that makes clients choose you. One important characteristic that is the decisive factor in most successful negotiations. And it’s not the price or the excellence of the product. How often do you see someone else getting the job despite a weaker product or a higher price?

- What do you think will make your company successful?

- What will be the main value you provide to your clients?

What does your company need to operate successfully?

I know, I know, a thousand things. But the point is, do you understand what the 3-4 key elements are that will make you successful? Is a good kitchen or a good location more important for a restaurant? Does a restaurant need an outstanding kitchen if it’s in an outstanding location? Do you need connections if you’re building an online store? So, what’s your situation?

- What are the 3-4 things that can make you successful, that are critical for you? Knowledge, connections, tools, money.

- What do you already have? And if you have nothing but the idea, why would you be necessary for its realization?

Where will you get what’s missing for success?

No, no. You don’t need a co-owner right away… Consider whether what’s missing will be needed constantly? Or just occasionally? And do you think the same thing will be needed in 2 years as today as the company grows? That’s why it’s good to envision that 3-5 year plan. It’s a pain if you bring someone into the company today who won’t be able to help tomorrow. Then they’ll just be a burden, someone you’ll have to negotiate with…

If you’re not co-owners, how else can you bring in what’s missing? There are a ton of options based on risk-sharing. The question here is, how much are you willing and able to risk to achieve your desires? So, the missing knowledge or capability can be obtained from

+ and if you put in the time, you can learn it yourself

++ and maybe you could do it, but you’re just afraid, you don’t believe in yourself…

The eternal question: is it good to go into business with a friend or relative? It can be. Because you already have a foundation of trust (see my previous article: 5 Reasons Why Family Businesses Are Great). BUT! But the important question is whether you’ll be able to distinguish between when you’re talking as friends and when as business partners. Friends or relatives can start a company, but in the company, don’t work together as friends or relatives, but as colleagues. If you can do this, it can work. If not, the roles get mixed up, the problems get mixed up, the feelings and decisions get mixed up… And in the end, you won’t know if you’re resolving a friendly argument or a business problem.

It’s an exciting and important question…

…who you do your business with and under what circumstances. Finding a partner in the business world is just as exciting as choosing a life partner. It matters who you move in with, who has the keys to your place, who you have to discuss the color of the wallpaper with. And in the business environment, just like in choosing a life partner, it all starts with you. Do you know yourself, are you aware of your desires, and do you see your fears?

Give yourself time to understand yourself. Whatever you find within, it’s already there.

Can't Do It Alone

The place where we live isn’t our natural environment. The city. It’s full of stimuli, crowds, heat, honking, and tension that surround us.

And even when we’re alone, the fridge hums, the washing machine churns, the TV is on, or music is playing. And if not, the phone beeps with notifications.

I mean, do we even have the opportunity? And if we do, are we capable of it? In the past, I felt a void in silence. I’d immediately turn something on or start humming or whistling. And if I wasn’t alone, the idea of being silent didn’t even cross my mind. After all, how strange is it to be together and not talk, just be?

In the summer of 2022, I attended my first retreat. A silence retreat. In Pannonhalma. And during those few days, as all the external noise faded, the suppressed internal voices began to emerge. Unresolved issues, my own misery, the messed-up aspects of my life. And in the monastery, there was nowhere to escape.

It’s been three days now. I’m back in Pannonhalma, in this beautiful and somehow indescribably good space. I’m in silence. I don’t speak, and there are no more internal voices. No complaints, no cries for help, no distracting stories.

Try being silent for a bit. Give it a try...

Silence

I often think about what well-being and prosperity mean in the context of entrepreneurship. What do we need—how much and what kind—to be well within our own company? And how is well-being connected to prosperity? How do we get there, and do we even know where "there" is?

Around 2013-14, when I wasn’t doing well in my company and couldn’t find solutions to my problems, I tried to talk to leaders of companies who, in my view, were significantly ahead of me. During one such conversation with a company leader in his Buda office, I asked him a few pressing questions that I couldn’t resolve. The guy just smiled and said:

Since then, I’ve overcome a few things; a good 10 years have passed. My company has reached the international market, we’ve become visible, and we’re successful in our niche. I achieved what I wanted; my to-do list was fulfilled, and a dream came true. And somehow, life has brought me to a point where company leaders now seek me out to discuss their problems and questions. As I talk with these leaders and entrepreneurs, a question has started to nag at me: What causes their discomfort? What caused mine? What changed in me around 2013-14? How did I manage to achieve my goals then? What’s the common thread in my story and theirs? These companies are all different—different sizes, stages of development. The leaders, like their companies, are all different. Young, old, beginners, experienced, men, and women. Some are playing it small, others very big, yet they share something in common.

They have stress, problems, things they’re stuck on. They’re trapped in a situation and can’t see a way out, and they’ve reached a point where they’re willing and eager to talk about it. They’re searching for solutions. But what does it really mean to not be well? Is it about not finding the right employees? Or not having enough revenue? Or struggling to finance the company?

Of course, these aren’t simple issues, but they’ll always be there. Some people aren’t well-suited to handle the uncertainties of entrepreneurship, and maybe entrepreneurship isn’t for everyone. But if you’ve embarked on this path not because you were forced but because you wanted to create something according to your vision, then you have the openness, the desire to make it happen.

But do you know why you’re running your company?

This is usually where I start my conversations. What do you want? You, as a person. What do you desire, what makes you tingle when you imagine it with your eyes closed? And if you know what you want, what excites you, what gets you out of bed in the morning, can you say how your company helps you achieve that? How does it bring you closer?

Is that all? Is your company really just about making money? It can be, and that’s fine. If your company gives you nothing but money, and that money allows you to spend your free time on your hobbies or with your loved ones, then great. But if that’s all it gives, the challenges can quickly drain you. Just like an employee who comes to hate their job when they’re only working for the paycheck. In such cases, we try to do the minimum required to get paid.

Inside and out. So, this generally only works if there are few problems. And it doesn’t matter how much money the business generates or how high your salary is. You can quickly come to hate troublesome revenue, no matter how much money is involved... So, what does your company give you? What inner desire of yours finds expression in your business? It’s a tough question, hard to confront, but it’s good to be aware of. Because somewhere, this is the main driving force, something worth checking in on regularly: Am I getting this thing? If you know what you want, if you know how your business life supports you in this, the next question is:

Where do you want to go? If you don’t know this, how do you know you’re heading in the right direction? And more importantly, how do you know when you’ve arrived? Could you rush past your goal because you didn’t know what it was? Can you march on for years without tension or frustration, not knowing when you’ll arrive? I think that only leads to exhaustion and burnout. A friend once told me about their military training: They set out at night with full gear, not knowing where they were going. They didn’t know when it would end; they just kept going. It was much more exhausting than when they knew they had a 30-kilometer march ahead. The same can happen in business. It’s much easier if we know how long we need to push through 12-hour days than if we just plow through endless soul-sucking weekdays. And then there’s the question:

How much money do you want to make? That’s what a business is for—to generate money. That’s why you’re not running a nonprofit, a foundation, or doing volunteer work. A business exists to make money. But how much? A lot? Enough? Whatever the amount, how much? And where are you now? If you don’t know how much you want, how will you know if you’re successful? Because you feel that way? That’s deceptive... If things are going well, you’ll feel great, like you have enough! No matter how much “enough” is. If you’re in a bad mood, if a crisis like COVID hits, if everyone tells you to be afraid, that feeling will grow that you don’t have enough.

And it doesn’t matter how much you have!

So it’s worth figuring out what you want and how much of it you want. Because that’s necessary to know where you’re heading. Where you want to arrive. And you know what? It’s okay if you don’t know yet—just know that it’s worth knowing. If you don’t have an honest answer yet, that’s fine. If the question is nagging at you, the answer will come. Be aware of it, because it can be an incredibly clear and understandable guide in your entrepreneurial life. It helps you understand what well-being means to you as an entrepreneur. What good life means to you.

Hard work? The law of attraction? Is it enough to imagine your well-being and then attract it? Maybe, try it out and let me know if it works. A roast pigeon could fly in through the window; I believe that can happen. Leave the window open, so you don’t have to replace the glass afterward, and wait. Don’t like waiting? Then do something! This way, you increase the likelihood of achieving what you know you want to achieve. Will it work? Who knows? We don’t know what will happen, but we can know what we want to happen. So know, and work for it!

If you’ve imagined the state you want to reach, when do you think you could realistically get there? Immediately? Well, then I understand why you’re stressed :D Give yourself a bit more time; otherwise, the pressure will be too great, and that can either help or hurt. It helped me; it pushed me a lot, but it wasn’t necessarily good for those around me. And I paid the price... So, when do you want to achieve it? Maybe in 3 or 5 years? Let’s say 3. Write down the goals you want to achieve in 3 years!

What should your annual revenue be? What should your profit be? How many clients will pay you this? Who are these clients? How many employees will you have? It doesn’t matter what these criteria are—the question is, what’s important to you in your business. Once you have that, write down where you stand today with these things. This is Year 0, the base you’ll build on. From here, it’s simple—just fill in Years 1 and 2, and you’ve got the main arc of your plan.

I once had a great conversation with a company leader who envisioned building a billion-forint company from services in 5 years. When we put together the spreadsheet and I started asking him how he envisioned the process and where the money would come from, he let go of the plan and significantly reduced the numbers. Is that a problem? No. If you can’t envision the process, you can still reach your goal; the question is how actively you can participate in it and how much will depend on your luck and external factors. Is there a problem with doing it without a plan? Not for me; is there for you? If there is, make a plan; if not, enjoy the process and see what happens...

But are you aware of these things? Have you ever said these things to yourself? Have you taken the time to consciously address these fundamental questions, or did you just get swept along in your business life, hoping things would work out somehow?

If not, then it’s easy for your company to head in a direction you don’t want. It doesn’t serve your desires; it just generates money. A lot, or a little. It matters, but if you no longer love it, if you only see the problems, it will slowly drain the life out of you. And you won’t understand why you’re exhausted.

On the other hand, even if you’ve thought these things through, it doesn’t guarantee everything will go smoothly. But if you have, you’ll be able to prepare consciously for the process, create plans, and check them periodically to see if you’re

 still on track. Whether your company is heading where you want to go.

be clear about what you, as a person, desire

consider what your company can contribute to this

then imagine what your quantitative and qualitative goals are

then write down where you stand with these today

finally, imagine how you’ll get from the present to your envisioned future in the time you’ve imagined

This is the foundation for turning your dream into a tangible goal, for which you can plan a path. Because you might need a plan. Not to cling to it tooth and nail, but to know what you’re deviating from.

But I’ll write more about that later...

Everyone Struggles at Their Own Level

We do so many things we don’t like for the sake of the few things we do. I often hear this: we tolerate 80% of things just to enjoy the remaining 20% that we love. Is the famous Pareto principle, the 80:20 rule, true for our lives? Or is it just another paradigm that sometimes helps us accept things and sometimes gives us an excuse not to act? And if it’s not true, can we flip that ratio? Or could it be 100% good?

I think this 80:20 rule is just another fixation, and sure, you can accept it if you want, but I don’t want to. I think it conditions us to

The Pareto principle, also known as the 80:20 rule, is named after Vilfredo Pareto, an Italian economist who observed in the late 19th century that 80% of the land in Italy was owned by 20% of the population (what a nice ratio… I wonder what it’s like today?). The theory suggests that in most cases, 80% of the results come from 20% of the causes. This principle has since become widely applied in economics and management because it helps identify key areas to focus on for maximum efficiency.

We can apply the Pareto principle to many areas of our daily lives. For example, at work, theoretically, 20% of the tasks we complete bring 80% of our success—if we can recognize which 20%. Or in our free time, 20% of our activities bring us 80% of our joy. This approach can help us focus more on what truly matters and avoid wasting time and energy on less important things. Applying this principle can also help reduce stress by setting priorities, which in turn helps us decide what to do. This makes it easier to sort through our tasks.

Focusing on the most important activities allows us to manage our time and energy better, reducing tension, stress, and the risk of burnout. That’s how I felt during the first three years of Games for Business when I was managing a small team and was responsible for the company’s finances, sales, marketing, creative concepts, and, of course, key clients. It’s impossible to do it all, so you have to decide what’s important, accepting that there will be skeletons in the closet...

Entrepreneurship is tough—it’s tough for everyone. You take risks, take out loans, work 12-14 hours a day, your employee slacks off, and then leaves for a better offer even though you taught them the trade. But that’s how it is. 80% of things suck, but there’s that remaining 20% that’s good. Maybe it will be worth it. Perhaps... And besides, everyone’s in the same boat. It’s part of our culture too. Isn’t that what our religion taught us? There might be suffering, insults, lies, but let’s rejoice because abundance will be our reward in the afterlife... Things will be better later.

But I don’t want to spend my life struggling just so things can be good in heaven. I don’t want to accept that 80% of life is tough, and you just have to push through it to enjoy the remaining 20%.

I accept that there are tough parts of life.

Because yes, not everything is as I want it to be. BUT! But why can’t that ratio be reversed? Or you know what? Maybe it can’t be reversed, but I want to strive for that. Because I have this idea—and maybe it’s just a romantic notion—that 80% of life could be that awesome thing where you wake up and say, “THIS IS IT, this is great!”

So, do we need that 80% to be 100%? Not necessarily. Because it might not be worth it :) This reminds me of software product development, which we did for years before Games for Business. You can create an 80% good product without much trouble. A 90% good product is already challenging, but achievable. However, refining and perfecting it becomes increasingly difficult. I’ve experienced that developing beyond 90%... well, each additional percentage point becomes a blood, sweat, and tears effort. Creating a 100% perfect product isn’t impossible, but those last few percentage points... it might be that what you gain from them isn’t worth the energy you have to invest.

Maybe that’s the secret to a happy life too. Finding that balance where you reach a level of perfection that no longer requires you to make things better because you understand that the energy for improvement takes more than you get in return. And at that point, you can let go of the pursuit of better. Because what you have will be more than good enough. It will be the best good, even if it’s not 100%.

There’s something thrilling about being able to stand—and not just stand, but move forward—on this very thin line, this tightrope in life...

And maybe it doesn’t matter whether it’s 20, 60, 80, or 90% good—the important thing is that the ratio feels right for you, that it’s not a compromise or mere endurance, but a good that truly is good enough.

Footnote to the "I'm Anxious" Article
2024.06.09.

2024. BALAZS VENDLER

All rights reserved.

Footnote to the "I'm Anxious" Article2024.06.09.

2024. BALAZS VENDLER

All rights reserved.

Footnote to the "I'm Anxious" Article
2024.06.09.