Hey!
Dad here.
Allow me to introduce you to some threads.
Some focal points of life.
Woven together.
For strength, a rope.
For beauty, a tapestry.
Dad’s Linear Tapestry:
98% of families lose it all...
The other 2%?
They know the rules that compound wealth & power generationally.
5 Simple laws to forge a 200+ year dynasty 🧵:
@DaveEDanna I don't know if you can tell, but I am a Dad myself.
It is a wonderful journey.
If you REALLY want to grow, you're in luck.
You'll have no choice!
@Dostoevskyquot Ah, but do we not revere the philosopher’s overthinking as a divine affliction—the tortured excavation of the abyss beneath our fragile certainties—while scorning our own as mere neurotic flailing, because we crave the grandeur of another’s suffering more than we bear our own?
@hubermanlab Follow the money.
Those that stood to lose the most had to move the needle.
The best way to do that is to pay for regulation and stir up controversy.
@notlouisck Is it a reward for public sentiment equilibrium?
Is there a minimum amount of awareness of existence required first?
If only two people know I exist and one of them hates me, I can't imagine that should be rewarded.
Therefore it seems likely.
Good Start, Young Man
When you were small, the world loomed large,
a sea of tables, chairs, and teetering giants.
Your legs, unsteady, buckled beneath you,
the floor rose to meet your tender knees.
Good start, young man,
every stumble is a map unfolding.
As a boy, you raced the wind,
arms flailing, laughter trailing like a comet’s tail.
The ball slipped your grasp,
fell into the neighbor’s thorny yard.
Tears welled, but only for a moment.
Good start, young man,
each miss teaches the arc of the throw.
In youth, your heart was bold,
burning with the fire of a thousand untamed suns.
You gave it away too freely,
to hands that held it carelessly.
It broke, a bird’s egg dashed on stones.
Good start, young man,
broken hearts grow back stronger wings.
In the thick of adulthood’s grind,
you reached for dreams that crumbled in your hands,
castles made of sand dissolving in the tide.
Jobs slipped through your fingers,
and love wore thin with time.
Good start, young man,
failure is the crucible of ambition.
And when you are old, the years will weigh,
your body will creak like an ancient tree in the wind.
You may fall again, in new ways—
a word forgotten, a name misplaced.
Good start, young man,
even the setting sun gives birth to stars.
For life, my son, is a dance of falling and rising,
a hymn sung in the minor key of hope.
Every step forward is born of the stumble.
Every triumph cradled by the arms of loss.
Good start, young man,
good start, always.
@chloecole I have daughters in your generation.
If you do compete, do me a favor and show reality.
Not curated consumerism, oversexualization, faux-perfection, or the constant pretending that life can be perfect.
Not that you would. But as a Dad I can't help but make sure.