Do you hear, or do you listen?
Do you see, or do you look?
Do you follow, or do you lead?
Do you believe, or do you think?
Do you comply, or do you disrupt?

... and how far would you go? Tweet

Every time I ask these questions, there’s a pause—a short, uneasy silence. They don’t always land well. They provoke. They stir discomfort. Depending on the context and the people, a debate may follow—sometimes thoughtful, sometimes defensive or even aggressive. Some feel offended, personally attacked. Others, thankfully, lean in—and a real conversation begins.

Because each question challenges one of our deepest comforts: confirmation bias—that quiet, persistent urge to seek validation in what we already believe, or in what those around us echo. Just to feel safe. Understood. Accepted. A need deeply rooted in our genetic imprint.

Sometimes, I feel lonely. Still, I keep asking.

Why?

Because I can’t help it. This mindset, this instinct—it’s stronger than me. In a world overloaded with noise, speed, rules and distraction, my mind keeps screaming for one thing worth protecting: the human touch. And I know that I am far from feeling lonely alone … deep inside I know: Thinking is not the enemy. Complacency is.

And yet, we run

Toward distraction.
Toward confirmation.
Toward short-term satisfaction, artificial intelligence, automation, robotisation…

Even though research repeatedly shows that these comforts are quietly making us duller, slower… dumber and dumb.

A call to attention

Recently, I read a book that gave form to this quiet intuition. The Rise and the Fall of the Human Mind by Martin Jan Stránský, MD, FACP—Assistant Clinical Professor of Neurology at Yale.

His work explores how cultural and technological forces reshape not just our behavior, but our brains—and our (d)evolution.

His book is a call to attention.

Though the topic might seem complex, the writing is very accessible to those outside medicine. And it confirms what many of us already sense (if we are among those who truly listen, look, question, and think): Humanity is losing intelligence at an impressive pace—not out of malice, but through comfort.

The brain no longer fights for survival.
Creativity diminishes.
We grow passive. Reliant.
We follow, instead of wonder.
We absorb, instead of reflect.
We eat to fill, not to nourish.

... We keep on scrolling and screaming for likes and external attention.

In this light, Kelvin Kallaugher’s (KAL) iconic 1989 cartoon Buy–Sell still hits home—eerily applicable to today’s trends.

It seems that we’ve traded curiosity for consumption. Nuance for noise. Compliance over common sense. Safety above the benefits of measured risks. Rules above intelligence.

Do we really want this?

I need to believe that we can still choose.

We can choose to think by ourselves.

To question. To stay awake. To to insist on the human touch—on our human intelligence. To do things differently.

To use our innate creativity (which, as it happens, I teach).

To rely on our ability to communicate, to exchange, to hold space for diverse beliefs (which, I also happen to teach).

Whenever people enter my universes—yes, there are many—there’s a reaction.

There’s my home where the most interesting conversations unfold—with the most interesting people.

My office, where reading, reflection and writing take shape.

My boutique where my team embodies the values I stand for—every single day:

They notice the details.
They communicate with presence and care.
They are organised, proactive, flexible, and creative—able to work independently, yet always grounded in respect for the multicultural world we live in.

And then, there is our orchard. A place where people pause—stunned by the beauty, the cruelty, and the wonders of nature. Because in a world rushing toward automation, distraction, and noise, my mind keeps returning to what truly matters: Not the factory. Not the algorithm.

Nature, people and what to do to leave my part of the world a better place.