I had lunch with Steve Pratt this week.
We met at Cactus Club with Michael Tippett. Three guys in our mid 50s, all drinking Diet Coke and ordering some version of a healthy bowl.
Somewhere along the way, even lunch became something to optimize.
At one point, a couple of monks walked through the restaurant.
Full robes. Quiet. Completely out of place in a room that felt designed for a very different kind of energy.
It was one of those small moments that sticks with you.
I shared an idea I had for a “Calm Society Gathering” - small, intimate, West Coast vibe, salon-style event. The kind of experience where you bring together thoughtful people for real conversation. No panels, no hype, no agenda beyond exploring ideas that actually matter.
At some point, Steve asked a simple question, challenging one of the groups of potential attendees.
Should you invite tech builders?
It seemed practical. Who do I want in the room?
But it didn’t stay there for long.
Because the question underneath it is more interesting.
If The Calm Society is about helping people live better lives, more calm, more presence, better relationships, then what role do builders play in that?
More specifically:
Can we build our way out of this?
That question has been sitting with me.
Because my instinct, like a lot of people I know, is always the same.
See a problem. Build a solution.
That’s been the pattern for most of my career.
And now, with AI, that instinct is about to get supercharged.
Soon, anyone will be able to build almost anything. Apps, tools, systems, and dashboards on demand.
Which sounds like progress.
But also raises a different question.
If everything can be built, should it be?
I’ve spent the last few weeks writing about how we’re not being ambitious enough with AI. That we’re mostly using it to help us work faster, produce more, optimize output.
And I still believe that.
But this conversation made me realize something.
That might only be half the story.
Because even if we start building more ambitious things, we’re still building more things.
More tools. More inputs. More decisions.
And the problem most people feel right now is not a lack of tools. I know I don’t need another dashboard or another metric to track.
It’s that everything already feels like too much.
There’s another shift happening at the same time.
In a world where tools become abundant and on demand, two things become scarce.
Attention.
And trust.
We can build anything.
But we can’t pay attention to everything.
And we definitely shouldn’t trust everything.
So maybe the question is not just what should we build.
Maybe it starts earlier.
Should we be building anything at all?
And if we are, what earns attention and trust in a world that has very little left to give?
That’s been the shift for me.
Not anti building. Not anti AI.
Just more honest about what problem we’re trying to solve.
There are real problems where building makes sense.
There are places where better tools will genuinely help.
But there are also a lot of situations where the better move is not to add something.
It’s to remove something.
To simplify.
To choose more carefully.
This is also changing how I think about The Calm Society.
Originally, I thought about it partly through the lens of builders. Highlighting teams creating tools that help people live better lives.
That may still be part of it.
But it feels incomplete.
Because if the underlying issue is too much, too much input, too much optimization, too much acceleration, then adding more, even if it’s better, might not be the answer.
Maybe the role is something else.
Not to add to the noise.
But to help people navigate it.
To help them decide what actually deserves their attention.
What to trust.
What to ignore.
I keep coming back to those monks walking through the restaurant. Maybe I should have invited them to the first Calm Society Gathering. I bet they drink classic Coke.
They weren’t building anything.
They weren’t optimizing anything.
They weren’t trying to capture attention.
They just were.
Completely out of place.
And yet, possibly, the most grounded thing in the restaurant.
I’m not suggesting we all become monk, although I have to admit, it has crossed my mind.
But I do think there’s something in that contrast.
A reminder that not everything needs to be solved with another layer of technology.
That some of the answers might come from:
better choices
clearer priorities
less noise
more intention
Not more tools.
I’m still working through this.
But one idea feels clearer.
In a world where anything can be built, the real skill might be knowing what not to build.
And maybe just as important.
Knowing what is actually worth your attention and trust.
Curious how this lands for you.
Do you feel like we need more tools right now.
Or fewer?
Also, what do you think about the idea of participating in small, intimate salon-style gatherings where we explore this stuff and have some fun IRL?
On a different note, I’m heading to Sicily, next week, with my family.
Planning to lean into a bit of “dolce far niente” - the sweetness of doing nothing.
Feels like the right counterbalance to everything I’ve been writing about.
I may be a little slower on the next newsletter because of that.
But I’ll be back with more soon.
Cameron