(Watch or listen to this on Youtube)

I sat down to record a video this week and somebody had just asked me a question: What's your philosophy on AI versus human-made content?

And I started talking. And I couldn't stop.

Not because I had a clean, tidy answer. But because this question lives in the center of something I've been wrestling with for a long time — long before ChatGPT was a thing. Long before AI avatars started flooding our feeds. Long before any of this.

Here's the thing I keep coming back to.

I've spent two decades sitting across from CEOs and founders and leaders, asking them to tell me their story. And almost every single time, the first answer is the canned version. The one they'd give a reporter or a shareholder. We strive for integrity and we want to serve the people that care about our mission and blah, blah, blah.

And then I'd ask the follow-up. The one that actually matters.

OK, but why do you care about that? Take me to the moment. The one where the light bulb went off. Where you realized this was your calling — and if you didn't do it, you'd be going against everything inside of you.

That's when the story gets real. Deep. Authentic. Not canned.

And I think that's the same tension we're all living in right now with AI.

I'll be honest — I use AI. I'm using it right now to help take the chaos and disorganization of my brain and put it into something tighter, something easier to follow, something with a lot less rambling. (You're welcome.)

But here's what's been interesting. Over the last few weeks, I've been showing up differently. Writing newsletters, posting on Instagram and LinkedIn, sharing real stuff — vulnerable stuff. The kind of things I'd normally only say in a small group, on a Zoom with my mastermind, in a room where I can see people's faces and feel the energy shift when something lands.

Putting that online? Where there's no back-and-forth? No chance to read the room?

That's terrifying.

I can trace my hesitation back to the iPhone. (Steve Jobs — I love you and I curse you in the same breath.)

When I started making videos, nobody had good cameras. Nobody had good sound. And as a documentary filmmaker, that was kind of our superpower. We were part of this very small, very select group that could create beautiful content and show up online with something that looked and sounded special.

Then the iPhone got a camera. Then that camera got 4K. Then 24 frames per second, cinematic mode, the whole deal. And suddenly everyone was a content creator.

And honestly? It stopped feeling special to me. I checked out.

Then Instagram gave us filters. Filters that made our skin softer, our lives shinier, everything a little more perfect than reality. And what we ended up doing — all of us — was putting forth the best version of ourselves online. The polished version. The one that doesn't really exist.

So when AI enters the picture, it's really just the next chapter of the same story. We can take something kind of crappy and make it seemingly better. We can generate a newsletter without actually writing it. We can have an avatar say things we'd never say ourselves.

And look — some of that is genuinely useful. Efficiency is real. Convenience is real.

But our souls are going to be starved for connection.

I wrote that sentence and then sat with it for a minute because I really believe it. AI might numb the desire for real human interaction for a while — maybe even a long while. Like a drug that takes the edge off. But some of us are going to go through long stretches of life not really living a full life because we've replaced connection with convenience.

I wrote my senior thesis in 2002 about the importance of face-to-face communication. This was the AOL Instant Messenger era. I had just come back from a trip to Europe where I watched people on a train texting each other instead of talking — heads down, thumbs flying — and I remember thinking, this is where we're headed.

That was over 20 years ago. And I still hold onto that same belief. Real, in-person, messy, awkward, beautiful human connection matters more than we think.

I've had so many small, wonderful interactions with cashiers and strangers over the years. Just trying to be kind. Just being present with another person for 30 seconds. Those moments are disappearing. You can DoorDash your food and never see a human face. Wait till the driver leaves, hide behind the door, grab the bag. (Not that I order food naked. But you know.)

Part of me loves the convenience. But part of me grieves what we're losing.

Here's what's giving me hope though.

Since I started showing up more raw and real online — less polished, less perfect — people have been responding in ways I didn't expect. DMs, emails, comments saying things like: Please keep showing up like this. It's making me want to be more open and honest too.

And I think that's the thing. I'm tired of perfect posts. And apparently, so is everyone else.

As AI avatars flood our feeds and everything starts to look the same, I think it's going to create an even deeper hunger for the real stuff. The analog stuff. The thing you know is a real person, being honest, being imperfect, being human.

For a long time, I convinced myself that my story wasn't special anymore. That I was just adding to the noise. That other people were doing it better — and they weren't even filmmakers. I felt like a total imposter.

But I don't feel that way anymore. My story was never not special. Yours wasn't either.

The question isn't whether AI is good or bad. It's whether we're going to let convenience replace connection. Whether we're going to hide behind the polished version or show up as the real one.

I'm choosing real. Even when it's scary. Even when it's messy.

I hope you do too.

Speaking of not building alone — I'm actively taking applications for my next Mastermind group.

If you're a business owner or entrepreneur and you've ever felt like you're figuring everything out by yourself… this is for you. Think of it like having a small board of advisors — except these people actually get it because they're in the trenches too.

Maybe you've never been in a mastermind before. Maybe you've been curious but never pulled the trigger. Either way, no pressure.

The group will be small (around 12 people), and we'll likely start meeting in mid-March. Doors are open and applications are being taken now.

If you want to know more, just reply to this email. Literally just say "tell me more" and I'll send you the details. No commitments. No pitch. Just info.

I have an idea for an Instagram video that I keep putting off. (Ironic, right? The more content I create, the more ideas I have, and I just can't get to them all.) So I'm just going to share it here instead.

Every morning before my day gets started, I pull up my calendar and then I pull up Siri and set a bunch of alarms and reminders for my meetings.

Here's why: once my day gets going, I get locked in. I'm in the zone. And I will absolutely miss a meeting or show up late if something doesn't physically interrupt me.

So if I have a team meeting at 10:00 AM, I'll set an alarm for 9:58. If it's a client call where I need to review some notes first, I'll set it for 5 or 7 minutes before. If it's just a "close what you're doing and open Zoom" situation, 2 minutes is enough.

I already have calendar notifications set to pop up 10 minutes before events, plus another one at 1 minute before. But the Siri alarms are the thing that actually stops me in my tracks and gets me moving.

I even block off drive time on my calendar so I'm not lying to myself about when I need to leave.

Because if you're anything like me, being early — or even on time — is a real struggle. And I want to respect other people's time as much as (or more than) my own. It's a small thing, but it's made a big difference.

Glad you're here.

Ryan

P.S. Hit reply and let me know if you’re interested in joining my mastermind group that will launch next month.