#ceremony-behavior

#ceremony-behavior

Mistakes are almighty: you can't ever guarantee that the next moment will host no manifestation of a mistake. According to evolution theory, the diversity of life on Earth entirely emerges from copying mistakes of DNA polymerase.

Part of the answer lies in the visceral nature of the game. Unlike chess, football is physical to the point of absurdity. Grown adults in body armor crash into each other over what is essentially a leather egg. There's drama in every play. You don't need a PhD in physics to appreciate a one-handed catch while somersaulting over a defender like a caffeinated acrobat.

Not every conversation with AI ends in the same place. Some end where they began: I arrive with an idea, the machine agrees, I leave satisfied. No disagreements, plenty of praise. What a delightful conversation. Others end in territory I didn't know existed. I leave with doubts that weren't there when I entered. The difference between these two outcomes is rarely about the tool. It's about the level of awareness I bring into the conversation and the question I decide to ask.

You know that person at the coffee shop who somehow commands the entire room without saying much? Last week, I watched someone transform a chaotic situation at my local café into a moment of calm efficiency. The espresso machine had broken, the line was growing, and tensions were rising. This woman, dressed in simple jeans and a plain white shirt, quietly helped reorganize the queue, offered her spot to someone in a rush, and had everyone feeling better within minutes.

Last month, I found myself at a friend's dinner table, surrounded by strangers. What started as polite small talk about the weather quickly evolved into a fascinating discussion about urban development, the role of art in society, and how different countries approach healthcare. Three hours flew by. Walking home that night, I realized something. The people who seemed most at ease weren't necessarily the ones with the most degrees or the fanciest job titles.

We are living through one of the most disorienting periods in recorded history. The AI race is accelerating toward ever faster, ever more sophisticated automation and optimization. Agentic AI systems are moving from research labs into workplaces, healthcare, and governance. Geopolitical tensions are restructuring alliances faster than institutions can adapt. And planetary systems are signaling, with increasing urgency, that our current trajectory is unsustainable. Amid all this, it is dangerously easy to lose sight of a foundational question: What are we actually optimizing for?

Letting our dogs lick the dishes before we put them in the dishwasher!

I used to think it was just good manners drilled in by strict parents, but after interviewing behavioral researchers for a recent piece on social dynamics, I've discovered there's something much deeper at play here. This seemingly small gesture-waiting for others before diving into your meal-actually reveals a fascinating cluster of personality traits that psychologists link to both personal and professional success. The research suggests these patient diners aren't just being polite; they're demonstrating qualities that make them exceptionally good friends, partners, and colleagues.

Ever notice how some people automatically push their chair back in after standing up from a table, while others just walk away without a second thought? I started paying attention to this after interviewing a startup founder who meticulously tucked in every chair in the conference room after our meeting ended. It got me thinking about what this simple gesture reveals about someone's character.

You get a coffee. The barista tells you how much you need to pay. You say thank you. They take your card for payment. They say thank you. They give you the coffee. You say thank you. They say thank you for your thank you. Then you say thank you for their thank you. By this point, the words thank you have lost all meaning, and both parties are exhausted by the pointless stream of politeness.

You know that moment when you're loading groceries into your car and you see someone just leave their cart in an empty parking space? Or worse, watch it slowly roll toward someone's car? I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially after watching a guy in the pouring rain push his cart all the way back to the corral. No one was watching. No reward waiting. Just him, getting soaked, doing what he thought was right.

My husband Edwin comes from a big Colombian family, which is very different from the kind of environment I grew up in, and it leads to conflict between us. I had one sibling, a brother, but he passed away in a car accident when I was nine. My mum died a couple years ago. I grew up quite detached from my parents and was never that close to my father. As a result, I'm very independent and I like my own space.