On Principles
Notes on the things that stay true —
In work, in craft, in time, in life.
1. On Depth
We live in a time that rewards speed.
Everything is built to be consumed, not understood —
fast decisions, fast opinions, fast work.
But the things that matter — the ones that stay — are never built that way.
They come from a different rhythm. A slower one. A deeper one.
Depth is not about slowness; it’s about presence.
showing up fully, giving attention to what’s in front of you,
and staying long enough to see beyond the surface.
The world will keep asking you to move faster, to do more, to chase what’s next.
But depth is the quiet refusal to become shallow.
When something is done deeply, people feel it — even if they can’t explain why.
It carries weight. It feels considered, intentional, real.
That’s what separates something made from something merely produced.
To go deep is to practice humility —
to accept not knowing, to fail, to start again, to stay curious.
Depth has no shortcuts. It asks for patience and for honesty —
especially when no one’s watching.
Depth is not the opposite of simplicity — it’s what gives simplicity its shape.
The things that feel effortless are often the result of long refinement,
of care repeated until there’s nothing left to remove.
Simplicity, when it’s true, is depth made visible.
To pursue depth is to live and work with intention.
That pursuit never really ends — it just becomes the way you move through the world,
with patience, with care, and with enough clarity to keep going deeper.
2. On Simplicity
Simplicity is not the absence of effort — it’s the result of it.
It comes from refinement, from shaping and reshaping until only what’s essential remains.
Most things start complex. The real work begins when you learn what can stay.
It isn’t minimalism for the sake of style.
It’s a pursuit of truth — of removing everything that hides it.
When something is simple, it’s not empty; it’s honest.
It takes care to make something simple.
Each choice must earn its place; every detail must have purpose.
When the pieces are right, they find balance on their own.
It's not about taking things away —
it’s about giving what remains the space to breathe.
When every element serves its role, harmony appears quietly, without force.
3. On Authenticity
Inspiration starts from understanding.
Imitation starts from fear — fear of missing out, of being unseen.
You can copy how something looks, but not why it exists.
The work that lasts always comes from conviction.
It carries the maker’s fingerprints — not just their style, but their care.
You can feel when something was built from belief.
Authenticity is not a performance; it’s alignment.
Between what you think, what you say, and what you make.
When those align, the work speaks honestly for itself.
It's not loud.
It doesn’t try to prove anything.
It just stays — steady, consistent, real.
4. On Balance
Ambition moves you forward; stillness brings you back.
Both are necessary.
One builds momentum; the other gives it meaning.
Without stillness, drive becomes exhaustion.
Without drive, stillness becomes comfort.
Balance lives in the space between — in motion without noise, in rest without guilt.
Stillness isn’t the absence of progress; it keeps you aligned with why you began.
To stay balanced is to remember that rest is part of the rhythm.
You can’t sustain the work if you never pause to feel it.
The pace that lasts is the one that listens —
to time, to self, to silence.