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I love my Kindle Paperwhite. It can download any book within seconds, and it goes with me everywhere.

However, a friend recently shared a new way to read that I’m really enjoying.

The Kindle App on mobile allows you to change from swiping to scrolling. This means the book comes one, long, continuous page. You can keep your eyes fixed on a central point and alter the speed of scrolling to suit how fast or slow you’re taking that particular section of the book.

I thought reading by scrolling would feel unnatural—and that it would feel too much like I was on a news or social media app—but it pleasantly surprised me. And although it sounds like a tiny optimisation, it’s amazing not having to move your eyes over the entire real estate of the screen.

Amazon has the largest inventory. AirBnb, the best selection of accommodation. Google Maps, the most detailed information on places of interest.

But there’s an often forgotten signal that’s critical to the success of all these marketplaces: the review.

The review is a heuristic that helps us shortcut our consideration process. We simply don’t have the time to analyse every option, so we rely on the wisdom and experience of the crowd to make decisions about which products to buy, homes to rent, and places to go.

Collected over many years, these vast libraries of detailed, crowd-sourced reviews make these marketplaces insanely helpful.

Although, the media headlines focus on their points of difference, it’s the forgotten signal that underpins their success.

Our Greek holiday comes to an end tomorrow. Maru and I are so grateful to have had a few weeks here at the tail end of summer.

One thing that’s surprised us—and we don’t know if it’s just the islands we chose, or the time of year that we’re traveling—but we’ve heard very little English on this trip.

Of course, we’ve heard a lot of Greek, but we’ve also heard a large range of other languages on the beaches and in the tavernas.

This respite from English has reminded me of that universal language we all share: the smile. No matter what country, language, culture, or custom, there isn’t a single society that doesn’t warmly accept and respond to a smile.

It’s this common and ubiquitous gesture that gives us an immediate connection with someone else—and that’s something worth remembering and celebrating when we’re mixing with languages and cultures that are different to our own.

Do you have anyone to whom you’re immeasurably indebted?

Not indebted in the financial sense, but rather in a they-changed-my-life kind of way.

If you’re lucky to have a few of these people, what else could you do to let them know how much they mean to you?

This post was inspired by someone I know, a successful lawyer in their 60s, who calls their mother every day at the same time without fail.

When Beethoven wrote Symphony No.5 or Mozart his No.40, few people would’ve heard them more than once. The experience of hearing one of their symphonies was literally a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

When the Beatles released their world dominating LPs in the ‘60s, you had to listen to them from beginning to end. This persisted from vinyl, to cassettes, and through to CDs.

We’re now in the age of streaming and sharing. We rarely listen to albums beginning to end. Instead, we listen to playlists shared by friends, Spotify send us personalised recommendations each week, and the shuffle habit takes us from the 2020s to the 1970s and back again within the space of 5 minutes.

And I don’t think we’re stopping here.

The future will see sampling, remixing, sound manipulation, and collaborations between artists and fans at levels we find hard to imagine right now. You just have to look at the remixes of classic song that take off on TikTok to get a glimpse of what could come.

Music is going to look really different in the future, but I think it could also be much more collaborative, creative, and fun.

H/T: Kevin Kelly and his 2016 book, The Inevitable. In it he talks about 12 tech trends that will shape the coming 30 years. He mentions music in a number of chapters and his thoughts on this topic inspired this post. Now that I’m reading it 5 years after publication, a lot of what Kelly wrote about back then feels directionally correct with where we’re heading.

Sky Brown is the 13 year old skateboarder that won bronze for Great Britain in the recent Olympics.

She doesn’t have a coach.

She learns her tricks from YouTube.

I predict Sky is part of the first wave of elite sports people, musicians, and artists that honed their skills from free, online content.

She’s a great example of the democratisation of education. Anyone with an internet connection can learn from the best. And because of this, in the future “self taught” or “online taught” may become as common as “coached”.

There’s no goal, reason, or outcome.

We do it purely because it’s fun.

What a luxury to be able to spend time in this way.

Coming to you today from Tripiti Beach in Paros. Here’s our Andy Goldsworthy inspired rock tower that we built for the sake of it.

Joe Rogan contracted COVID.

This wouldn’t be a big deal if Rogan wasn’t such a big deal.

Rogan is host of the world’s most popular podcast, The Joe Rogan Experience. It has about 190 million downloads per month. And although I’m not a fan or listener, his influence is undeniable.

The problem is Rogan has previously suggested young people should not get the COVID vaccine. And since contracting COVID, he’s pursued a large range of unproven—and even dangerous—treatments, like invermectin, a horse dewormer.

Rogan claims he isn’t an antivaxxer, but his reach and influence demands a higher standard of care. Whether he likes it or not, a non-trivial number of his listeners will be influenced by his opinion.

Although he’s recovering and “feels great,” he’s a single data point. He’s an anecdote. There’s no evidence proving his treatments will work for anyone else. Whereas nearly all COVID deaths in the US are now among the unvaccinated.

Ugh, for all of us, I wish Rogan hadn’t gone rogue.

For the past 4 months, I’ve been writing a reflection each Sunday on one of Seneca’s Moral Letters to Lucilius.

You can see the full list of posts, as well as my ratings for each letter here.

This is a short update to say that I’m going to pause the weekly posting on this topic.

I may return to writing about Seneca’s letters in the future, but it’s likely to be sporadic rather than regular. Although I enjoyed receiving your thoughtful replies, the weekly cadence of reading and writing from a set text started to feel more like a chore than a joy. At this point, I knew I ought to change things up.

Despite Seneca’s accessible writing, philosophy is still a little esoteric, so thank you for going on the journey with me these past 4 months. It’s been fun!

Maru and I have learnt a lesson on this trip: when it comes to dining, the convenient option is often a bad deal.

But it’s easy. And there’s no line. And we’re tired. And the reviews aren’t that bad.

However, once the food arrives, it’s a disappointment.

The effort to take 10 more minutes, to travel a few more metres down the road, to explore a little more, is almost always worth it.

This is a banal example, but the convenience craving spills over into other parts of our lives too. How many opportunities, careers, friendships, and experiences are we saying “no” to because we chose the convenient option?

Maru and I are finding a nice balance between spontaneity and crowd sourcing on this trip.

Spontaneity is not having a set plan and doing whatever looks interesting. See a cafe that looks nice: eat there. See a beach that looks beautiful: hang out there.

In comparison, crowd sourcing is optimised. It’s using Google Maps or Trip Advisor to find the highest rated places and experiences, and planning the day around those things.

Too much spontaneity and you may miss the good stuff. Too much optimisation and the holiday loses its magic.

Yesterday, we went to a town called Pyrgos in the middle of Tinos island. It’s known as the marble town. The streets, walls, stairs, churches, and even the detailing around the doors and windows of every home are carved in marble.

We found our Pyrgos breakfast spot via Google Maps. It was a highly rated cafe that made killer pancakes. Following that we spent an hour getting lost in the streets. Whilst walking around, we found a house-turned-museum of a sculptor from the early 20th century, Yannoulis Chalepas. We loved seeing his home and studio, and learning about his determination to break away from from the family business of being a marble hewer to become an artist. After Pyrgos, we went to a beach that was well rated for its calm, quiet, and crystal clear waters for the rest of the day.

This mix of planning and discovery makes for a day that feels spontaneous, but still allows us to experience the best of what the destination has to offer.

Music streaming (e.g., Spotify) and video streaming (e.g., Netflix) may feel similar, but they’re worlds apart.

A film or television series is typically viewed once. Once you know the end of the story, there’s little need to watch it again.

A song, on the other hand, especially one that catches our ear, is listened to over and over. And the best songs, they stick around for decades.

2 out of every 3 streams is of a song older than 18 months old.

16 of the 30 best selling albums in the UK for 2021 are classics. I’m talking Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, and ABBA.

What does this mean for new artists?

It means that when their song is released—one of 62,000 uploaded to Spotify that day—it’s not only competing against the latest music released, but against all music released in the last 70 years.

That’s why it’s so hard for new artists to break through.

I find this really interesting. Until now, I saw all streaming as the same, but their differences hold significant consequences for budding artists.

If you’re interested to read more, I pulled most of the data for this post from the BBC’s interview with producer, Ryan Tedder.

Maru and I have been taking Hive with us on trips for the past 3 years.

It’s a 2 player game, weighs about 200 grams, fits in a small pouch, has no board, and takes only 15 mins to play a game.

It’s similar in many ways to chess, but it’s easier to learn, and the piece mechanics and the lack of a board make it a really dynamic game.

I love how the advantage can shift multiple times between players each game and it still not feel like chance.

We love playing it in cafes, but it also makes appearances in airports and bus stations too.

If you like board games, and want a lightweight two player, you may want to give Hive a try! Make sure to get the pocket version as that’s the smaller, travel sized version that’s still very comfortable to play.

Close your left eye.

Hold your right index finger out in front of you as far as you can.

Now, whilst looking straight ahead, slowly move your arm to the right.

At about 15 degrees, you’ll lose sight of your index finger.

Move it a little further and it’ll return.

Play around with moving your arm back and forth around 15 degrees and you’ll be able to see your index finger move in and out of your peripheral vision.

This blindspot is easy to find because we all share it, and we now all know the trick.

But most of our blindspots aren’t obvious, replicable, or falsifiable.

And when our eyes are so fixed on what is ahead, there is much we may miss.

I like how this physical blindspot can act as a reminder that we’re all too easily fooled, and to keep watch for the non-obvious blindspots.

We arrived today in Tinos, Greece—an island in the Cyclades, and a quieter cousin to the buzzing Mykonos and Santorini.

It’s been 8 years since Maru and I visited Greece, and all the good memories have come flooding back: the iconic blue and white Cycladic architecture, the winding roads that surprise with horizon after horizon, and the addictive Mediterranean cuisine of the local tavernas.

One thing I love about Greek culture is seeing families, friends, and couples dining together—either in their yards or at restaurants. They take their time; talking, laughing, eating, and drinking for hours on end. Much longer than what’s common in New Zealand or the UK. It’s a way of life that I admire and want to learn from.

Here’s to taking it slow and soaking it all in.