My home growing up is legendary for not having any lights on. From an early age, my parents trained us to turn off the lights the second they’re no longer in use (coincidentally, they always yelled at us for doing things in the dark).

After her first few visits, my wife often joked we must use sonar to get around the house.

It didn’t occur to me that we were so used to every corner, that we no longer needed to turn the lights on to get anywhere or get anything. We just did it all in the dark.

Which can be said for any person who intimately knows their home or their craft.

It’s the professional chef who knows their ingredients so well, they can tell what the dish is going to taste like without ever needing a recipe. They adjust as they go.

It’s the mechanic who can just listen to a car and know what’s wrong.

It’s the writer who doesn’t outline, plan or edit because they know how to make their words sing.

It’s the musician who plays their instrument as an extension of themselves.

We look upon them as real magicians, a wonder to see and appreciate. And yet, we live in a world that continues to look for efficiencies, lower costs and outsourced labour… whether that labour is elsewhere on the planet or technological.

The beauty of the master at work is replaced by the faster imitation that conforms to technical specs.

And yet, the efficiencies can only go so far.

“They don’t make them like they used to,” is now being replaced by, “I’m making them like they used to.”

There’s a resurgence in the skills we were losing and pride being taken at pursuing the craft. There’s a longing for the soul that goes into the work.

Our failed attempt at having the illusion of knowledge about everything is slowly being taken back with the reality of having knowledge about something.

We are using the platforms to share our mentorship with everyone. And for that reason, we are living in the best time to develop sonar for something we love.