Mermaids and Japanese bridges

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I’ve been quite busy living, and my mind hadn't chosen a new topic for deep reflection. All my essays are the result of many hours, through days and weeks, of thinking over and over about a topic. However, today, my wife surprised me with a comment that once again reminded me of all that she teaches me with her serenity and the peace of her spirit.

I remembered that I recently visited the Norton Museum in West Palm Beach. On the museum stairs, there is an exhibit that says: “I remember ceramic castles, mermaids & Japanese Bridges.”

The label of this work, created by Rob Wynne, describes it this way: “The museum's proximity to the ocean and the tropics inspired this work. The evocative title and the other shapes glistening throughout the three levels of the space are made of hand-poured, mirrored glass, simultaneously appearing reflective and invisible. The title suggests the description of a child's aquarium and the fascination with creating one's very own exotic world. Or, perhaps, it is the idea of resurrecting the memory of a first magical visit to a location as tropical as South Florida.”

I wonder how it’s possible that she can appreciate the world with the magic of a child, and I find it so hard to do so.

Obviously, I should be able to as well. We live in a place full of things that can amaze us, like the immensity of the sea, the multiple gadgets we have, the possibility of traveling thousands of kilometers in the air in a single day, and the natural wonders the planet offers.

But even recognizing this rationally, it seems to me that the responsibility we take on every day, the seriousness of our jobs, financial commitments, social competition, the pressure not to feel “stuck,” or the concern of raising high-performing humans obstructs our vision of the beautiful, accelerates the moments when we could be present (mindful), and makes us prone to anxiety, bad decisions, and constant insatiability.

I remember Steve Jobs famously stating Apple as being in the intersection of art and technology. And I remember how I, and millions more, inspired by that phrase, have defined ourselves to be at “the intersection of business and technology.”

Looking back, I am far (and you are too if you had or have this in your LinkedIn profile) from the comparison with Apple. And the reason is that art is something to be contemplated and admired, from up close or afar. Art is a soft concept because art awakens emotions, revives memories, and ignites passions. Art is open to interpretation and the subjective taste of whoever appreciates it.

Meanwhile, the world of the intersection of business and technology, though I love it, has none of this. At least not in the same way. Both are hard concepts, with clear and standardized rules. In business and technology, we are guided by the scientific method, statistics, and the latest advances in various disciplines. Finally, I think this description for me or for Alternova is wrong because business and technology in 2024 are symbiotic, while art, even if reproduced in digital media, has more value for its message, technique, and purpose.

So, what would be some good intersections to describe me or Alternova? Maybe “Between philosophy and technology,” “Between empathy and technology,” or “Between humanism and technology.”

All these sound interesting for my profile, but without a doubt, I can conclude that you can’t compete with the intersection between ceramic castles, mermaids, and Japanese bridges. Maybe I just want to be at a point where the innocence and curiosity of a child meet the seriousness and experience of a businessman.