Parts of your reality get turned upside down here.

I have a theory that part of me may have arrived here from a planet a few centuries ahead of Earth.

Another possibility is time travel — maybe I come from the future?

Either explanation would make sense, because I spend an unreasonable amount of my life looking around and thinking:

I look at these things and my brain immediately asks: Why? And shortly afterwards: Can we do this better?

That is basically how this blog began.

I asked unusual questions as a child, and the people around me have been pointing this out ever since.

My brain seems to have a built-in dislike for accepting a process purely because millions of other people already agreed to it.

I want to know what the process actually does.

Do man and woman have to live together? Why, if this makes them less present and curious towards each other? So what is better: living together or apart? I investigated this for years — and tried both for years.

Give me twenty different experiences in one field of life and I will immediately start searching for the one principle that explains all of them.

Give me a complicated system and I want to find the one little answer, that rules the whole system in an easy and understandable way.

Because fixing five consequences individually feels much less elegant than changing the one mechanism that produces all five.

You could call that systems thinking. You could also call it ambitious laziness.

I am comfortable with both.

Very few of these ideas arrived during a serene morning meditation while sunlight fell beautifully across an open notebook.

My research department has traditionally been run by frustration.

My sex life became complicated.

I ate far beyond the point that felt good and couldn’t stop for years.

My partner and I could love each other deeply and still manage to create an impressive amount of emotional distance in twenty minutes.

I carried thoughts about myself that made my own company harder to enjoy.

I spent far too much energy being unhappily in love.

And I suffered being stuck longer than it was healthy.

At a certain point, pain becomes a very effective research grant.

I wanted a better experience, so I began asking better questions.

Then I experimented.

This part matters.

This blog is more than a collection of interesting questions.

Over the years, many of those questions produced real results.

I found principles that changed the way I experience relationships. I discovered ways of changing behaviors that had previously felt stubborn. I developed experiments around connection, emotions, habits and everyday life that produced clear differences. A few questions even turned into inventions, frameworks and practical methods.

The answers have one quality in common: they are usually extremely simple. Often almost irritatingly simple.

The kind of simple where I stare at the answer and think:

Those are my favorite moments.

A whole area of life can feel complicated for years. Then one idea rotates the picture by 180 degrees and suddenly the pieces fit differently.

This has become one of the recurring jokes of my life.

I investigate a problem. I form a sensible theory. I test it.

And eventually I discover that the useful principle points in almost the opposite direction.

Wonderful.

Years of confidently walking east, followed by the realization that the beach was west.

These reversals are also where many of the best ideas on this blog come from.

The things we learn as common sense often contain assumptions that became invisible through repetition.

Familiarity gives an idea enormous authority. A question removes some of that authority.

And then things get interesting.

One of my favorite sentences is:

That sentence gives my brain room to move.

When I think I have found a principle, I try to break it.

I look for another explanation. I test a different variable. I search for the cases where the idea becomes weaker. I ask what evidence would force me to update my view.

I want ideas that survive reality.

A beautiful theory has limited value when it collapses during an argument with your partner at 10:30 p.m.

Real life is an excellent peer reviewer.

Being wrong gives me new information. An idea that survives serious testing becomes much more interesting.

Either result moves the investigation forward.

A huge part of my curiosity keeps returning to connection.

I care about connection because connection changes the texture of life.

A good conversation can change a day. A certain kind of touch can change an evening. A tiny shift in the way two people speak to each other can change a relationship.

Those differences often come from very small mechanisms. I want to find them.

I love theory right up until Tuesday afternoon.

Tuesday afternoon is where every theory eventually has to prove itself.

Can you try it during dinner, during an argument, at a party, in bed, at work or while your brain is running seventeen tabs at once?

That is the standard I care about.

Many posts here will therefore end where your own experiment begins. Your own experience becomes part of the research.

Then watch what happens.

That reaction is part of the process. Imagine somebody asking:

Your brain probably already has several objections queued and ready for deployment.

When a behavior has been repeated since childhood, the behavior starts to feel like part of reality rather than one possible solution.

So when I suggest turning a familiar idea around, your first reaction may be:

“That sounds absurd.”

I understand. Mine often was too.

Give the idea a little room. Then turn it into a safe, small experiment and see what reality says.

You owe every idea exactly zero loyalty. You owe your own experience curiosity.

This blog moves across relationships, sex, emotions, food, behavior, parties, health, communication, technology, AI, friendship, work, spirituality and all the other systems that quietly shape an ordinary day.

The categories change. The mission stays the same.

I look for overlooked principles, test them in real life and turn the useful ones into ideas you can actually try.

Some posts will give you an experiment. Some will give you a mental model. Some will take a familiar part of life, turn it upside down and shake it gently until the hidden assumptions fall out.

The goal is practical:

I want you to test these ideas. Adapt them. Challenge them.

Tell me where they worked, where they changed shape in your life and where your own experiment led somewhere better.

Ask me questions. Send me the questions that keep circling in your own head. Tell me what you discovered.

The best ideas become stronger through contact with other people.

And if one of these principles genuinely improves part of your life, share it.

Perhaps your partner tries it. Perhaps a friend passes it on. Perhaps an idea moves through ten people and changes ten evenings, three relationships, one party and somebody’s Tuesday afternoon.

I like that form of progress. Tiny upgrades spreading between humans.

Welcome to Let’s Rethink Life.

I will bring the strange questions. You bring your own experience.