Hey you,

We’re living in a time defined by overlapping crises—floods, wars, climate change, AI—where the constant state of stress doesn’t just weigh on our collective psyche but seeps into our personal lives, affecting how we connect with others. In this “perma-crisis,” (gag) mental health struggles like anxiety, depression, and PTSD can feel like wrecking balls in our relationships. Supportive friendships are crucial, but what happens when these very conditions cause us to retreat or lash out? How do we reconcile causing unintentional harm in a culture that prizes optimized resilience?

I’ve been reflecting on this a lot lately, reconciling years of healing progress with the reality that our wounds can resurface when we least expect it. A depressive episode, a wave of grief, or sudden anxiety can leave even the strongest bonds in ruins, with us holding the metaphorical sledgehammer. It’s a reminder that our nervous systems, often shaped by past traumas, can betray not just us, but those we care about.

Our society, so fixated on individual growth and self-improvement, rarely teaches us how to engage in collective healing. We’re all familiar with rupture, but few of us know the art of repair. This reflects a broader cultural gap—our increasingly insular lives and the digital distance between us make it harder to handle the messy, uncomfortable work of resolving conflict.

Repair begins with acknowledgment—recognizing the rupture, owning our role without defensiveness or blame, and making sincere amends. Apologizing sincerely means focusing on the impact of our actions rather than justifying them, showing that we understand the hurt we’ve caused.

But it’s not just about others; self-compassion is crucial too. Healing is rarely straightforward, and setbacks don’t erase the progress we’ve made. It’s not about achieving perfection but rather about persistence and learning to be kind to ourselves when past wounds resurface.

Sometimes, though, apologies and repair aren’t enough.

The work then becomes about balancing the hope for reconciliation with the acceptance of permanent endings. It’s a tightrope walk between holding space for the possibility of mended connections and the recognition that some endings are final—and within that finality, there can be a kind of freedom. When relationships are meant to endure, people often find their way back to one another, even after periods of distance. But when they don’t, there’s a bittersweet liberation in letting go, a chance to honor what was without needing to hold on forever.

Have you found yourself on either side of this equation? How do you manage that delicate balance between keeping hope alive and letting go when necessary? This is the real work of navigating relationships in a world that constantly demands more from us, yet rarely shows us how to heal together.

Humane Productivity: How to Plan for the Future Without Missing the Present"

As summer winds down, I’m back at my desk, caught between the familiar rhythms of work and the lingering warmth of the season. But summer isn’t quite over for me—I’m hanging on until the Fall Equinox, squeezing in every bit of sunlight I can. It’s that in-between feeling—trying to enjoy the now while gearing up for what’s next—that has me thinking a lot about balance, especially as I plan for the months ahead.

Socioemotional Selectivity Theory (SST) keeps coming to mind. It’s an academic-sounding concept, but it perfectly captures how we experience time: either as expansive or limited. When time feels expansive, we’re willing to invest in the future. We’ll take on new challenges, learn a skill, or work through something difficult, trusting that the payoff will come later. But when time feels limited, we pivot, focusing on what brings us joy right now. We seek immediate gratification, those moments of connection or indulgence that make us feel alive in the present.

The challenge is that both perspectives have their downsides. Too much focus on expansive time, and you risk deferring happiness—staying in the wrong job, putting off your dreams, or missing out on what makes you feel good today. But lean too hard into limited time, and you might find yourself unprepared for the future when it inevitably arrives.

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The real trick is learning to hold both states at once: planning ahead while staying present. It’s something I try to do with my own approach to productivity—setting goals for the end of the year, but also making sure I’m eating well, moving my body, and spending quality time with people I love on a daily basis. I don’t want to get so caught up in what’s next that I forget to enjoy what’s now.

So as we slide into fall, I’m asking myself—and maybe you, too—how can we we keep moving toward our goals while also making room for the good stuff today? What’s one way you can honor your future self without neglecting the person you are right now?

Hit reply and let me know!

Telegram: The Dark Side of Social Networks

I’ve been holding back on commenting about the recent arrest of Telegram CEO Pavel Durov in Paris, waiting for more clarity on the charges against him. Despite the outcry from Silicon Valley tech circles demanding Durov’s release, it was clear that the French authorities—known for their tech-friendly stance—wouldn’t take such a bold step without a compelling reason. Politico was first to break the story: Durov’s arrest stems from Telegram’s refusal to cooperate with a French police inquiry into child sex abuse. Reportedly, arrest warrants were issued after multiple judicial requests to identify a Telegram user suspected of crimes against minors went unanswered.​

Charging the CEO of a social media platform for the content created and circulated on that platform is unprecedented, raising complex questions about responsibility and liability for harmful online content. If Durov can be held accountable, does that mean every other tech CEO—from Musk to Zuckerberg—could also be on the hook? The answer, like everything these days, is far from simple.

Telegram, founded by Durov in 2013 as a defiant response to the Russian government’s crackdown on free expression, has always positioned itself as a bastion of privacy and encrypted communication. It’s a lifeline for activists, dissidents, and everyday users seeking protection from prying eyes. But that same promise of privacy has made it a preferred tool for those with far more sinister agendas. Durov’s hands-off approach to moderation has turned Telegram into a hotbed for gun running, drug trafficking, terrorist activities, child exploitation, and conspiracy theories. As encrypted spaces rise, they bring with them a disturbing complexity: where does private communication end and criminal activity begin?

Recent reports from South Korea highlight just how dark Telegram’s corners can be. University students were found operating illegal chatrooms sharing sexually explicit deepfake content of female classmates. One of these channels had 220,000 members creating and distributing manipulated images of students, teachers, and military personnel. This isn’t just a privacy issue; it’s a harrowing example of technology’s potential to dehumanize and exploit, turning victims into objects of digital abuse. The South Korean government is treating this as a "Deepfake Porn Epidemic."

Across the globe, Telegram’s darker uses continue to grow. In the U.S., Bloomberg reports that far-right groups are using the platform to organize attacks on power grid infrastructure, aiming to incite chaos and societal collapse. This case study documents how ISIS uses Telegram to raise cyrpto-currency funds. In Turkey, a cyber-espionage ring selling data was just uncovered.

In the ongoing Russia-Ukraine war, Telegram has become a critical digital battleground. Ukrainian-run bots like “I Want to Live” help Russian soldiers defect or surrender, while Russian security forces have spun up fake versions of these bots to trap would-be defectors. Both sides leverage the lack of moderation to post graphic, uncensored footage from the front-lines. It’s a stark reminder that modern warfare is no longer confined to the battlefield; it’s also being fought in the encrypted channels of our smartphones.

At the heart of all this is a fundamental question about content moderation—a topic that will only grow more pressing as technology makes it easier to generate, manipulate, and spread all forms of media with a simple click. Who bears the responsibility for policing these digital spaces? Should tech companies step up their regulatory efforts, or is it law enforcement’s job to adapt to this new landscape? Finding a balance between protecting privacy rights and preventing abuse is becoming an increasingly urgent challenge.

Navigating this terrain means rethinking how we safeguard both our freedoms and our security in an era where the lines between protection and exploitation are more blurred than ever.

Visual Truth is Dying - Google's New Phone is Scary

In my last dispatch, I wrote about the end of the “seeing is believing” era, but the Pixel 9’s AI manipulation tools have made it crystal clear: no one is really ready for what’s coming. We’re entering a world where photos and videos, once the gold standard of evidence, are becoming essentially meaningless. The ability to manipulate reality is no longer confined to experts with powerful software; it’s now in everyone’s pocket. And while this technology might seem like just another playful feature to enhance selfies or fix up vacation shots, the implications are far more serious.

The Google Pixel 9 has just hit the market, and with it comes a shiny new set of AI-powered tools that make it easier than ever to manipulate images right from your phone. We’re not just talking about filters or a little touch-up here and there—these are sophisticated, AI-driven features embedded directly into the operating system, allowing users to seamlessly alter photos with a swipe or a tap. You can add objects that were never there, erase people, and completely reshape reality with disturbing ease. Imagine snapping a picture of a colleague at a work event and, with just a few clicks, adding bottles of alcohol to the scene, suggesting something entirely different than what really happened.

This great Verge article sums up this pivotal cultural moment:

We’re on the verge of a reality crisis, where trust in what we see is eroding faster than we can grasp. It’s not just about deepfakes or altered images used maliciously; it’s about the slow, creeping normalization of a world where every image could be a lie. Photos and videos, which have long served as our visual anchors in a digital sea of misinformation, are quickly losing their grounding. When anyone can create a convincing fake with just a few taps, the line between reality and fiction blurs to the point of irrelevance.

The Pixel 9 isn’t just a new smartphone—it’s a harbinger of a future where the very concept of truth in imagery is under siege. And while the tech industry will likely market these AI tools as empowering or creative, the reality is far messier. We’re not prepared for the ways this technology will be abused, whether it’s personal vendettas, disinformation campaigns, or just the simple breakdown of trust in what we see every day. As the tools to manipulate images become more widespread, the “seeing is believing” mantra that has guided us for over a century is not just dying—it’s already dead. The real question is, what do we do in a world where our eyes can no longer be trusted?