Balancing Rationality and Ethics
The Night My Life Connected into a Single Line
Lately, things have been really painful. Maybe it's the winter season dragging my mental state down, or perhaps it's because it's finals week. I had a test today, and I have more the day after tomorrow, and the day after that. Honestly, I didn't want to be thinking about things like this at a time like this.
Still, for a while now, I’ve been spinning these worries and questions around in my head constantly. Through that process, "what I am worried about" and "what I am feeling foggy about" became quite clear, and I feel like I've found my own answer to them.
It was a core answer that fits remarkably well when telling the story of my life as a whole. So, I wanted to organize it here once. I intend to compile this properly into writing when I graduate from UBC. This record serves as a draft for that.
Recent Struggles: The "Boredom" of Relationships and My Ethical Views
My recent struggles can be roughly divided into two. In reality, they are closely connected.
The first is my relationship with people I've met recently. I started meeting people I didn't know well within the UBC Japanese community. As we met a few times, I got to know various things about them, and there were times I felt glad we met. There were definitely fun times.
But as time went on, spending time with them started to feel boring. Their goals and thoughts were so different from mine that I increasingly found myself feeling, "This is boring," or even, "How can humans be this dull?"
To be honest, I no longer feel like I want to spend that much time with them. But from their side, they like me and invite me out. I know in my head that I should be grateful, but deep down, there’s a part of me feeling, "It's finals week, and I need to move Laplace forward; this time is a waste."
If that were all, it would be fine. The problem is the conflict with my own policy. I believe in "treating everyone as politely as possible" and "cherishing people," and I think that feeling is genuine. I don't dislike them as people. In fact, I'd say I like them as humans.
However, when I try to prioritize the goals I truly want to achieve or the people I truly want to cherish, I feel that I "must cut" the time spent with them somewhere. I feel torn between "the self that wants to be a good person" and "the self that wants to be rational about my life."
There is a similar structure regarding the Laplace team. While I feel that the surrounding movement is slow and the quality is low, there are also people—very few, but they exist—with whom I can understand each other on a deep level. I want to work with those people. I don't really want to do it with those who aren't like that.
But I can't easily say, "Actually, we don't need you," to someone who has already joined the team. I don't want to say that. Yet, emotionally, there is a part of me that feels, "This person is no longer necessary."
Here, the "rationality" and "ethics" within me are clashing. This was the core of my recent troubles.
Boring People and Those Who "Chase the Light"
The other struggle is the question of why those I find "boring" appear that way to me.
I realized there was a commonality among the people I found "boring." They seemed to be lacking something, and to fill that void, they were chasing "validation," "status," or "vanity." Watching that, I inevitably felt it was dull.
On the other hand, their state of "having something to chase" looked somewhat enviable. I value the idea of "letting your eyes sparkle at the process." When I am chasing something, when my heart is moving, I feel like I am truly living. If that "heart" were to disappear, I believe nothing would remain of me.
I have clearly one "thing I am chasing" inside me. I think of it as something beautiful. However, the people around me seem to place their light outside themselves and chase that. It is blind, yes, but at least there is a "light that seems unextinguishable" on their outside. I thought that was, in its own way, nice.
What if this "inner light" of mine were to go out? That was another deep anxiety.
To summarize, my recent major worries were two-fold:
- How to balance rationality towards people with ethical views.
- Whether my "chasing light (heat of the heart)" might disappear.
The Feeling of Becoming Lonelier the More People I Meet
Here, I looked back on my past.
I feel lonely the more I meet people. Because every time I meet people, I feel that "people who truly understand each other" are incredibly rare in this world.
I had this feeling strongly before COVID and before coming to Canada. Looking back, I realize now, "Ah, that feeling has returned."
Reflecting on this, I was finally able to verbalize "why I decided to come to Canada" and "what I was feeling in my life before coming to Canada." From here, I will organize the experiences that formed the core of my life.
Childhood: The Fun of Hanging Out with Older Kids and the Boredom of Peers
As a child, I often played with my older brother's friends or older kids unrelated to my brother. I think that experience significantly shaped who I am today.
Time spent playing with older kids was simply fun. They were athletic, and the content of their conversation was a bit difficult. In that environment, my default sensation was being in the "little brother position," trying to catch up to them.
On the other hand, when I went to school and interacted with classmates, it was utterly boring. It wasn't limited to academic or athletic ability; daily conversations, dreams for the future, even trivial topics—I felt generally "bored." Of course, times spent joking around with silly talk were fun. But times that weren't that—serious talks or talks about the future—were just boring.
This sensation has continued since childhood and I think it is continuous with the "boredom" I feel now.
Only Baseball Wasn't Boring
In that context, the only thing I felt was truly fun from the bottom of my heart was baseball. Swimming was fun too, but I think I can say baseball shaped my life.
Why was baseball fun? It was because the main focus wasn't "interpersonal communication" itself, but rather everyone facing the sport of "Baseball" and the event of "Tournaments." I didn't have to "match" others; I could exist in a relationship between "myself and baseball."
There were two axes there:
- Improving myself (Ascetic/Hermit-like values)
- Winning as a team (Team play)
I didn't need to match my classmates. Challenging a difficult sport and chasing improvement was the only time I wasn't bored.
It was the same in middle and high school; I kept saying, "Let's beat the strong teams," "Let's conquer the nation," "Let's go to Koshien." Chasing something difficult was the only fun time I had.
I was good at studying and always ranked high in school. Still, studying was boring. If I had seriously aimed for the University of Tokyo back in middle or high school, I might have enjoyed it. But in reality, including conversations with classmates, the feeling of "basically boring" didn't disappear.
It was baseball that filled that void of boredom.
Middle & High School Management Experience: The Difficulty of Facing People
In middle and high school, I took the position of captain or vice-captain. There, for the first time, I had to face the difficulty of "managing people" head-on.
While having an equal relationship with teammates, I had to stand a step ahead and think about how to move the team. The immaturity and powerlessness I felt then were significant. It was painful at the time, and there were parts where I thought, "This is impossible."
However, looking back now, I think that was also a time of "challenging something difficult." It was a time when I encountered a different kind of difficulty: "How to face people," not just clear goals like winning or getting better.
If I hadn't had that experience, I might have only faced baseball as an "object" and never faced humans as "others." In that sense, that management experience was a time that let me grow.
COVID and the "Richness of Being Alone"
COVID hit when I was in my third year of high school. A time was born where I was forced to be alone, and I was in a situation where I had to decide how to use my time and energy allocation all by myself.
While many people felt that period was a "blank in life" or "important events were stolen," I felt rather rich and happy. Because for the first time in my life, I was allowed to "be alone."
Being alone, what I did was study. English study, baseball study, baseball practice. Being told I could use the 24 hours a day freely, the sensation of letting time flow in my own direction at my own pace was very rich.
School studies were slow and boring, and conversations with people often felt "dull." But when I was alone, I wasn't bored. I could face what I liked, entirely at my own pace.
If not for COVID, I might have lived in a world "surrounded by people" forever, enduring boredom. Studying English silently alone, programming, boxing... that time with "freedom" was truly blissful.
When I met people occasionally, the passage of time felt slow, or what we were doing seemed boring, and I couldn't stand the gap anymore. Around that time, I often told my parents, "The people around me aren't interesting," and "It's better to be alone."
The feeling I have now—"Everyone around is boring, but I don't want to hate them"—had already started back then. On the extension of that suffering, the option of "Going to Canada" came into view.
The Driving Force to Canada: Loneliness and Hope
If I were to use a negative word for what moved me, it was "Loneliness."
Until I left for Canada, I feel I hardly met anyone who held values or ways of thinking similar to mine. The sadness of not being understood, the loneliness of not resonating. That is what drove me to Canada.
Through the internet, I learned that interesting people who thought like me existed somewhere in this world. On the other hand, spending a few months at Hosei University, I felt, "At least, they aren't really here" (even if they were, I couldn't meet them easily).
At first, I thought maybe they were in "smart places," like the University of Tokyo. I partly felt, "It's not interesting here because people aren't smart."
However, what I ultimately chose was to "learn at an overseas university." Behind that lies the connection between sports and the world.
Facing the sport of baseball, refining skills, aiming for victory. The sensation of "challenging something difficult" is fun. When I thought about my future, I thought, "The bigger the mountain to climb, the more fun it is." That scale naturally turned toward the "World."
Just around that time, the Tokyo Olympics were happening, and it was the season Shohei Ohtani was hitting home runs in bunches and took the MVP. As someone who played baseball, seeing them made the image of "fighting in the world" become real.
After giving up on the dream of becoming a pro baseball player, I didn't know what to chase. In that situation, the two axes of "challenging something in the world" and "meeting interesting people" directed me toward a Canadian university.
"I want to meet interesting people at UBC." I can now clearly verbalize that this was the reason I came to Canada.
In fact, in the article when I graduated from Langara, I wrote, "I want to meet interesting people at UBC." Back then, I didn't fully understand what I was seeking, but my true feelings were leaking out in those words.
After Entering UBC: Expectations, Disappointment, and Then Oki-san and Matchya
When I entered UBC, my first thought was, "There are no interesting people." Looking back, I realize I just hadn't met enough people yet. In reality, there are interesting people at UBC. However, the ratio is indeed small.
For the first two months after enrolling, I showed up at various events and clubs. But the people there were mostly in the mode of "Let's party and have fun," appearing not much different from ordinary Japanese college students. There was almost none of the "interestingness" I was seeking.
Meanwhile, the existence of Oki-san, whom I had known from before, gradually became special to me. I started thinking, "In the end, Oki-san is the most interesting," and we decided to run a company together. That was the company called Matchya.
My purpose in coming to UBC was "to meet interesting people," but that purpose was fulfilled not inside UBC, but on the outside of it.
Matchya: The Joy of Product and the Feeling of "It Doesn't Have to Be Me"
Through Matchya, I ran a "business" properly for the first time. We didn't hire employees, and it wasn't exactly a "hyper-growth startup," but I significantly installed the flow of making a product, selling it, and the common sense and mindset of startups through this experience.
As an image of myself fighting in the world, I had two axes: "Entrepreneur" and "Researcher." Matchya was a time to test the "Entrepreneur" direction.
The idea of the "AI Interviewer/AI Interview" we were doing back then wasn't bad, even looking back now. Rather, I think it has a high possibility of being popular if done now. In fact, we were technically ahead, and there were almost no companies doing the same thing at the time. The idea of evaluating candidates not just from human code but from "linguistic information" and "visual information" was also early.
However, looking 1-2 years ahead, I felt, "People doing the same thing will definitely emerge." Competitors catching up would appear. In that sense, we were entering a phase where "we should speed up immediately to take the market."
From there, fundraising becomes almost mandatory. At that stage, investors require an attitude of "Full Commitment."
I was a student, and Oki-san was working as an engineer; both of us were doing it part-time. From an investor's perspective, the question becomes, "Will you throw that away to fully commit?"
There were two options.
- I quit university and fully commit.
- Quit the business, or continue at low speed.
Ultimately, I decided to quit the business. Because the phase ahead—the world of going all-in on marketing and scaling while fundraising—hardly stimulated my "excitement." Making the product is fun. But my heart didn't move much for playing the "game of selling" with full force.
Through this sequence, I began to think about "my reason for existence."
"Is there really a reason it has to be me?"
Even if we quit, someone else will appear to do that service. I don't deny Steve Jobs is a genius, but even if he weren't there, I believe products like the iPhone would have likely been created by someone else, even if the timing was slightly off.
Thinking that way, I lost sight of what "one human can give to society." There might be a difference of 10 years, but in the long run, isn't the difference not that significant?
From that conclusion, the sensation that "It doesn't have to be me" and "Maybe my life has no meaning" became strong. Whatever I do, there is no essential meaning in the "change itself" of the world. That kind of nihilism took root in me around that time.
There is No Meaning to Life. But There is a "Reason Not to Choose Death"
After Matchya, I clearly came to think "there is no meaning to living." Even now, that point hasn't changed much.
There is no meaning to my life. Even if I change something, there is no great meaning in the "fact that it changed." Digging into slogan-like words like "Making the world better," they feel somewhat empty inside.
Still, I "do not think of killing myself." While I don't mind dying, I am not unhappy enough to actively choose death. In fact, I think I'm quite happy.
So why don't I choose death? I felt there was an answer in that small yet significant difference, so I thought about it.
The answer I came to was very simple.
- The food is delicious.
- It feels good when I sleep a lot.
- There are times when meeting someone is fun.
Because of these "moment-to-moment pleasures," I keep living. Even if there is no meaning to my life, the "reason not to choose death" lies here.
To summarize, I think I live because "my heart moves." Because my emotions move. Because there are moments I feel good.
To put it in more beautiful words: I can keep living because I am chasing the "heat of the heart."
- I like this person.
- It's fun being with this person.
- It feels best when I am doing this activity.
Because there is this "heat of the heart," I do not choose death. Deconstructing that, I feel it comes down to two things: "Love" and "Dreams." I currently believe this is the reason I am living.
Returning to the Current Questions: Rationality, Ethics, and Anxiety about the Heart's Heat
Looking back this far, the two pillars of my life come into view.
- Relationship with people, which started from "Loneliness"
- "Heat of the Heart" = Love and Dreams
My recent worries stem from facing these two again.
- How to perceive the balance between cherishing people and living rationally.
- The anxiety that my "Heat of the Heart" might disappear someday.
First, about the former.
What is Love? The Desire to Invest Resources
When I thought about "What is love," my definition became this:
The feeling of wanting to invest resources like my time and energy to spend with that person.
For me right now, Keisuke is exactly that kind of existence. I love him as a comrade, it's fun to be with him, and I like the time spent talking with him.
I like other friends, too. However, compared to the "desire to invest resources" in Keisuke or Oki-san, there is a gradation in intensity.
- I want to spend this much time with this person.
- I want to spend more with this person.
- I shouldn't spend that much with this person.
It's just that there are shades of gray.
On the other hand, there is the fact that my energy is finite. That's why it becomes necessary to decide for myself "who to allocate how much to."
That doesn't mean "not cherishing people." Rather, it is the act of drawing a line to ensure I can pour resources into the people I truly want to cherish.
I believe that spending too much of my resources on people I don't cherish that much is, in fact, unethical to the people I truly want to cherish.
Therefore, my conclusion is:
- Cherishing people and being rational do not contradict each other.
- Deciding my resource allocation consciously is, in fact, even ethical.
"Cutting" and "Responsibility" in Laplace Team Management
This thinking applies directly to the Laplace team.
- A-players with whom I think "I want to do this together."
- People with whom I honestly don't feel that strong desire to work together.
This difference is close to the sensation of the "gradation of love," not just business sense.
I believe I need to "cut" people who aren't in the former category to some extent, in order to "cherish those who should be cherished." However, "cutting" doesn't mean just coldly casting them aside.
I have a responsibility to the people I welcomed into the team. Even if I choose the conclusion of having them leave eventually, I believe it is my responsibility to consider the process so that they can move to an environment that "cherishes them."
- I will not waver in the final conclusion of having them leave.
- However, in the process, I will pay as much respect and support as possible.
If I do that, I can be convinced within my own ethical views. Discarding what must be discarded to protect what is precious. In a sense, it is "resignation," but I feel it is a necessary resignation.
Will the "Heart's Heat" Fade? The Desire to Know the Universe
About the second question, "What if the heart's heat disappears?"
Recently, I realized something. I love "thinking about new things" and "knowing what I don't know" immensely.
If I were to define a "smart person," it would be "someone knowledgeable about the universe (the world)." I want to be like that too, and the time spent aiming for that is fun.
Listening to someone, dropping it into my own words, writing it as text, and conveying it to others. I truly love this process. I feel there is no "end" to this.
The motivation to chase huge projects—like Laplace, for example—might change or fade somewhere in the future. But the desire to "want to know the universe," the act of dissecting the world for that purpose, will probably continue for the rest of my life.
Recently, my heart is being shaken by the realms of art and expression. Until now, I have lived in a planar world of "efficiency" and "function." But I am starting to touch the depth of another axis: expression and art.
When I listen to contemporary artists like Takashi Murakami, or creators who have pursued advanced expression, I am surprised, thinking, "Is there such a way of looking at the world?" If I read One Piece again, I think I will see something different from before, and observing what I feel when looking at a painting is akin to discovering a new "dimension of myself."
These experiences all connect to the sensation of "becoming more knowledgeable about the universe." Running Laplace, analyzing people—ultimately, I think it's all heading toward "wanting to understand the universe better."
The universe is too vast to dissect completely while I am alive. That's why this heat of inquiry will probably not disappear. At least, I believe so.
If I die, I cannot continue that inquiry. So, one of the reasons I live can be said to be "because I want to continue becoming knowledgeable about the universe."
The Feeling of Everything Connecting into a Single Line Now
Summarizing what I've talked about, my current position is this:
-
I have precious people.
- I want to pour time and energy into them.
- For that, I need to consciously decide my resource allocation.
-
Even if there is no "meaning" to my life.
- I can live because I have "Heat of the Heart (Love and Dreams)."
- The never-ending inquiry of "becoming knowledgeable about the universe" can be my reason for living.
-
Cherishing people and being rational are compatible.
- Drawing lines to protect the people I truly want to cherish.
- Accepting responsibility for those I brought into the team, and having them leave if necessary.
I don't know if I should be talking about this at this time, in this season. But right now, I have the sensation that my life has connected into a single line inside me. That makes me very happy.