Someone thanked me for a small kindness recently, and I realized we’ve got this whole gratitude economy backwards. When we help each other, we’re not giving favors—we’re settling accounts. I see service as paying down a debt to all the people who helped me when I was coming up, people I’ll never be able to repay directly. Think of it like a universal basic kindness: the help I received gets forwarded to the next person in line. Compliments and thank-you notes are nice, but they don’t actually cover what we owe each other. And expecting cosmic rewards for basic decency? That’s like handing someone a bottle of water and demanding they give you a beachfront property in return. The good things we get in life come from grace, not from earning them through small acts. Steal this mindset: Treat every act of help as paying a debt, not giving a favor Forward kindness to others when you can’t repay the original giver Stop keeping score—real community runs on circular generosity Help because it’s the right transaction, not because you’re keeping score.

My own sister thinks I’m against worshipping God and doubt good deeds matter. Here’s why she’s completely wrong about me—and why we all need more generous assumptions. I’ve literally written my own book of prayers for daily use. That’s not someone skipping church; that’s someone building a personal practice. The idea that our small acts could ever ‘earn’ an infinite reward feels like expecting a side hustle to make you a billionaire overnight. It just doesn’t scale. We don’t have to agree on every detail of belief. I don’t vibe with some New England doctrines, but I don’t trash them—I just ask for the same open-mindedness in return. Judging others? Check the results. Good fruit doesn’t come from a toxic tree. * I wrote my own book of devotions for personal worship * Don’t assume disagreement means disrespect—grant others the same allowance * Judge by the outcomes you see, not by the dogma you fear Assume better of people. It costs you nothing and clarifies everything.

I’m writing this from a life where I’ve lost money, managed people, and watched my kids grow up—and I still choose impact over income every time. My son Will thought I’d bankroll his life, but I told him straight: I plan to spend what I have. He’s learning to work now. My daughter Sally is sharp with her hands and heart; she’s becoming the kind of person you’d trust with your keys and your secrets. I keep busy reading, riding, and doing bits of business—mine and sometimes others’. We hired out one servant and kept the wife, but we’re selling both when we can. I don’t like the arrangement. My family’s health is good, my leg’s fine, and my cousin’s young family just needs a little capital to smooth their path. * Spend your years so people say you lived usefully, not that you died rich * Let your kids see you mean what you say—especially about money * Value industriousness and affection in your family above all Legacy isn’t a number in a ledger—it’s what you build while you’re here.

I’m writing from the frontier, where we’re building forts in bad weather and finding joy in simple comforts. It’s a strange mix of hard work and unexpected luxury. Our progress is steady—two more forts going up soon, then I’m heading home. The food you sent is a game-changer. Your roast beef and veal? Unbeatable. People who eat fresh every day don’t get it; real flavor hits different when your kitchen is 80 miles away. The apples cut through the salt pork perfectly. Our lodging improved, but the first night was a disaster. The innkeeper ‘aired’ the sheets by hanging them outside in freezing weather. I slept in my coat. Now we’ve got warm blankets and decent beds—proof that comfort isn’t about fancy things, but dry sheets and a full stomach. Steal this: Good food travels better than bad company. Steal this: A little distance makes comfort mean more. Steal this: Always check if ‘aired’ means ‘frozen’. Progress, not perfection—even on the frontier.

You send a courier with letters for everyone, wait for the reply, and get nothing back. That’s the kind of letdown that makes you want to freeze someone out—but I’m too soft for that, even when it’s deserved. The messenger dropped your mail, saw you out, told you his schedule and where he was staying. You had every chance. It’s like leaving someone on read after they sent you a whole group chat update. I’m tempted to give you the silent treatment too—no wellness updates, no return date, no headlines. Let Goody Smith decide your fate. Here’s what I learned about holding people accountable: - Even when you’re annoyed, don’t let pettiness stop you from reaching out - Clear communication is a two-way street—use the channels you have - Own your feelings, but don’t let them write the message for you Consider this my final draft—no edits, no takebacks.

I just sent my friend some books that are the 1760s version of a great explainer thread—clear, practical, and mercifully free of the academic jargon that makes most people tap out. Here’s how to actually get value from them without burning out. Read with a pen. Take quick notes on anything useful or interesting—it’s like building a personal searchable database for your brain. Keep a dictionary close for unfamiliar terms; yes, it feels like a speed bump at first, but soon you’ll cruise. And if you hit a wall, ask me. I won’t gatekeep knowledge—I’ll either answer or point you to the source. Steal this system for yourself: - Read with a tool to capture key ideas as you go - Look up confusing terms immediately to build fluency fast - Treat questions as opportunities, not interruptions Read to understand, not just to finish.

Imagine telling a turtle to leave its shell—that’s what it’s like to force an elder from their home. We hustle to fix things for older relatives, but sometimes the kindest move is to let them keep their own way. Old folks and old trees share a rule: move them, and you risk killing them. Their home is part of them, a safe shell. And when they hold onto a few valuables, it’s not stubborn—it’s strategy. That expectation of inheritance can make someone care for them ten times better than any quick cash would. We’re all aging fast, and the courtesies we give now are the ones we’ll claim later. Don’t let busyness become neglect; visit, help, keep up appearances. Suspicion grows in silence. * Let older people keep their own way—it’s their comfort and their right * Their possessions can be tools for care, not just cash to spend * Show up consistently; your presence matters more than your excuses Treat aging like you hope to be treated—because your turn is coming.

Everyone’s talking about tough times, but maybe you’re hearing too much noise. I just got word about my nephew Peter landing steady work—a solid gig is valuable, but if he doesn’t build the discipline to match, it’s like having a tool and no skill. That habit of hard work is the real asset; if he locks that in, this rough patch becomes a win. Same goes for Benny: his gear is stuck in shipping, and I’m worried he’ll miss rent. Maybe moving in would help, unless he’s close to marrying Betsey. She’s capable, grounded, and trained to run a home—exactly the partner a builder needs. Fortune or not, her diligence and thrift are like passive income for a tradesman. We’re all in if they are. Steal this: A skill without work ethic is just unused potential. Steal this: Prudent management in a partner can be your real security. Steal this: In uncertain times, focus on what you control, not the chatter. Build your own fortune—it starts with how you work.

You think family drama is a modern invention? I’m managing nephews in different trades, quality control disputes, and workplace ethics—all from another city, with mail taking weeks to arrive. My nephew Peter makes crown soap, and I told him quality is everything. One bad batch from his uncle nearly killed our Philadelphia market. Build something so good people seek it out, not because it carries our name but because it works. Authenticity beats imitation every time—use your own mark, not borrowed prestige. Meanwhile, young Jamey wants to be a goldsmith. In trust-based work, honesty isn’t just policy—it’s your entire reputation. One small cheat and your career is over. And Benny? I won’t fire a good worker just to slot in family. Fairness matters more than favoritism. Steal this: Make your product so reliable people buy it on your name alone. Steal this: In trades built on trust, honesty is your only real asset. Steal this: Never ask someone to hurt others to advance your own interests. Build something that outlasts you.

I’m stuck in Portsmouth waiting for the wind to change, about to trade one life for another. It’s like quitting a stable job to launch your own thing—equal parts terror and thrill, with all the loose ends still dangling. Honestly, I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch. You sent me your book ages ago, and I’ve been that friend who swears they’ll reply tomorrow, then lets weeks slide by. Moving countries is like prepping for a massive product launch: your brain is so scattered with logistics that deep work goes out the window. But I’m not making empty promises. I packed your book for the voyage—my ‘airplane read’ before airplanes. I’ll finally give it the focus it deserves and report back from the other side. * Procrastination isn’t laziness; it’s a habit that digs in deeper each year * Big transitions scatter your attention—cut yourself slack when you’re overwhelmed * Real friendship survives radio silence when you show up with intent later Next chapter loading.

The Boston trade protests are blowing up my feed. Parliament hasn’t officially reacted yet, but the press is tearing America apart. My allies here are getting roasted while our opponents are gloating—so I’m publishing a piece to calm things down. Colonel Onslow recently proposed sending a bipartisan committee to investigate colonial grievances, modeled on ancient Rome’s approach. He even volunteered to go with our chief critic Grenville, who panicked and asked if he’d return safely. Onslow deadpanned that the trip would ‘contribute greatly to the future quiet of both countries.’ The whole chamber lost it. If more colonies adopt Boston’s frugality resolutions, they should frame it as paying debts faster to Britain. It’s honest, strategic, and might actually work. * Send respected figures to understand local complaints before escalating * Use humor to expose opponents’ hypocrisy without direct confrontation * Frame economic moves as mutual benefit, not defiance Sometimes the quietest move makes the loudest point.

Imagine being the only person in the room who sees the iceberg ahead while everyone else is arguing about the deck chairs. That was me in 1765, pushing back against the popular narrative that the colonies were ungrateful freeloaders. Your letter arrived like a life raft—finally, someone who got it. I spent weeks running between parliamentary sessions, explaining, debating, and correcting misinformation. It was like trying to fix a leaking pipe while others kept turning up the pressure. The core issue? A distant government making demands without understanding local realities—like a CEO mandating production quotas for a branch they’ve never visited. Power without insight is just noise. Now, with tensions flaring again over troop quartering laws, I see the same patterns: rushed judgments, ignored context, and a refusal to listen. Force will only alienate people who just want a fair say. True partnership requires mutual respect, not control. * Clarify the facts before forming opinions—misinformation poisons decisions * Understand local conditions before imposing broad rules * Dialogue beats demands every time Don’t let pride write checks that reality can’t cash.

They told you to wait—that you were too young to marry. But youth isn’t a bug; it’s a feature. I’ve seen more early marriages succeed than fail, because flexibility beats rigid plans every time. Young people adapt to each other like fresh clay, not hardened cement. You mold your habits together instead of fighting over set routines. Yes, you might lack some life experience, but family support fills that gap. You avoid the costly mistakes single people make with their health or reputation. Nature designed our bodies for this—why fight the blueprint? Late marriages carry real risks. Parents might not live to see grandchildren grow up. In America, we marry early, raise kids by midday, and enjoy decades of freedom together. You escape the trap of perpetual singledom—the accidental loneliness so many fall into when they wait too long. * Start while you’re still flexible enough to grow together * Use family wisdom to fill your experience gaps * Build your life early so you have decades of freedom later Don’t be the odd half of a pair of scissors—useless alone.

You think farming debates are boring? Try telling that to a nation’s food supply. I just backed a friend’s paper on using oxen over horses—not just tradition, but a productivity hack. Horses are like luxury cars: high maintenance, low return. They eat twice the land and you can’t even grill them when times get lean. That’s wasted real estate that could feed people instead. It’s all about resource efficiency. Food is the original currency—everyone needs it, so why not measure all labor against it? If growing a bushel of wheat costs the same effort as mining an ounce of silver, then they’re equal. The farmer holds the cards; the miner still has to eat. I’ll leave the deep economic models to the experts, but the principle is solid. Funny how life mirrors: we both got elected presidents of our philosophical societies around the same time. Sending a box of my latest books as a token of respect—think of it as an early-career bundle drop. * Use livestock that pull double duty: labor and food * Treat food production as the baseline for measuring value * Prioritize land use for human sustenance over status symbols Efficiency isn’t just smart—it’s survival.

You used to be my friend. Now you’re part of the system burning my people’s homes. I’m writing this to someone who chose power over principle—the politician who voted to destroy everything I’ve built. We had years of trust, but you treated collaboration like a transaction. You thought burning our towns would make us comply, but you only taught us how to fight fire with resolve. I don’t make enemies lightly, but you’ve forced my hand. Some lessons you only learn the hard way: - Blood ties don’t excuse violent actions - Authority without accountability destroys relationships - Sometimes the only response to destruction is clear boundaries Don’t expect a reply to your next message.

The more I learn about physics, the more I admire it. The more I understand people, the more I want to quit this group project. I’ve been around long enough to see the pattern: we’re poorly designed systems, constantly crashing and burning each other instead of running updates. Imagine an intern angel seeing humans at war for the first time—he thought he’d been sent to hell by mistake. His manager had to explain this is just standard human operations. We break things faster than we build them, hold grudges like collectibles, and would rather win arguments than solve problems. Still, I keep working toward peace because I miss my real friends—the ones who somehow stayed decent in this broken ecosystem. Three things worth remembering: The natural world operates on better logic than human politics Destruction comes more naturally to us than creation Good people exist despite the noise, not because of it Focus your energy on what actually improves when you study it.

You asked for advice on your big decision, but I won’t tell you what to choose—only how to choose. Our minds are terrible at holding all the reasons at once, flipping between options like a bad algorithm. When I face these moments, I treat it like balancing scales. I split a page into two columns—pros and cons—and over several days, I log every argument that comes to mind. It’s like building a dataset for your dilemma, not just reacting to whatever thought pops up last. Then I weigh them. If one pro equals two cons, I cancel all three. This isn’t perfect math, but it clears the noise. I call it moral algebra, and it keeps me from making emotional bets. * Write every reason for and against over a few days * Cancel out reasons of equal weight from both sides * Decide only when no new important points emerge Stop guessing and start weighing.

They say power gives you rights. I say power without right is just noise—and the noise is fading. Parliament claims they can bind us in all cases, which means they could swap our whole religious system for another faith tomorrow. But claiming authority doesn’t make it just, and their grip weakens as we grow stronger. Some of our own people are whispering to London, trading loyalty for influence. I call them Judases—because when you have thousands of patriots, you’ll always find a few ready to sell out for silver. Yet every squeeze they put on us only forges us into something greater. Oppression is the fire that tempers steel. Our job is to build virtues that last, so liberty becomes our legacy. Not just for us, but for anyone who seeks refuge here. * Power does not equal right—question authority that overreaches * Expect betrayal from within, but don’t let it dilute your purpose * Use opposition as fuel; it’s making us stronger and more united They tried to control us, but they only defined us.

They’re spending a fortune to kill us, but we’re making more Americans than they can ever remove. Let me break down the numbers for you like a business plan that’s doomed to fail. Britain just paid three million pounds to take out 150 of our people. That’s twenty thousand pounds per head. They gained a mile at Bunker’s Hill, but we took half back at Ploughed Hill. Meanwhile, sixty thousand new Americans were born here in the same period. Their investment is unsustainable—our population growth outruns their destruction. Tell our friend Dr. Price, who worries about our resolve, that the data doesn’t lie. A few loyalists might export themselves, but the rest of us are united. This isn’t about holding ground; it’s about outlasting a system that can’t keep up. * Britain spends twenty thousand pounds to kill one Yankee while we birth hundreds for free * They gain a little land but lose half right after—real momentum is ours * Our population growth makes their conquest timeline mathematically impossible They’re trying to delete a file that’s saving itself faster than they can click.

Someone just called me out for not answering their message. They were sure I got it—but I didn’t. And the one I did get? I ignored it on purpose. Let me explain why, because this applies to anyone asking a stranger for a big favor. Your request failed three basic tests. First, you asked for a guarantee of safety on a risky journey—that’s like asking for a risk-free startup launch in a recession. Second, you wanted it ‘without too much cost'—vague budgeting is a red flag. Third, you demanded high-level introductions despite us being strangers; that’s like asking a CEO for a referral after one DM. My advice for your next cold outreach: Make sure what you’re asking is actually possible State your needs in clear, specific terms Only request what’s reasonable given the relationship Don’t make your problem someone else’s emergency.

You’re jumping the gun calling me a rebel. Names matter—wait to see if this is a failed uprising or a real revolution. Even the French ladies here call us ‘insurgents,’ a label with more flair. Honestly, any woman who’s endured a bad partner should get why we’re flipping the table. I once talked a friend into staying put when chaos loomed, promising our side would protect her. They did—even though she rooted against us. That’s the test: treat people right, no matter their politics. If we’d failed her, I’d have switched teams. But we didn’t, so I’m still here. Stop letting boredom drive your decisions. Full living and idleness just make you restless. Find joy in others’ wins when your own are scarce. Steal this: Wait for the outcome before you label a movement. Steal this: Protect people, not just your own side. Steal this: Cheer for others’ success when you have none of your own. Stay useful, not just busy.

They mocked your work at first, but now your words are hitting home. The same people who dismissed you are finally listening—proof that good ideas outlast the noise. Your writing is like a slow-burn project that gains traction after the initial hype dies down. The critics will fade, but your impact compounds. I think about our old crew—the honest, sharp minds I used to brainstorm with—and I miss those sessions. This conflict drags on, and I don’t see it ending soon. We’re making huge leaps in science, but I’m waiting for the real upgrade: a system where nations resolve disputes without destroying each other. When will people grasp that even ‘winning’ a fight you started backfires long-term? My only peace is knowing we did everything possible to stop this. * Keep creating even when the response is hostile * Trust that substance will outlast shallow criticism * Push for systems that prevent conflict instead of managing it Build what lasts, not what trends.

You flatter my intelligence while offering me a deal that assumes I’m a fool. Let’s be clear: I see your game, and I’m not playing. You warn me about French unreliability while your own government sends fake peace offers designed to trick us into disarming. You think we’re desperate for your recognition, but we’ve never asked for it. We only insist you deal with us as equals—not as subjects you can manipulate with empty promises. Your attempts to make backchannel deals through anonymous contacts show you won’t negotiate fairly. Our people aren’t looking for empire. We’re farmers who want to work our land in peace. We don’t need expensive armies or fleets—we just need you to stop attacking us. Your offers of titles and pensions are insults, not incentives. We govern ourselves cheaply because we avoid the corruption and sinecures that drain your treasury. * Trust actions over flattery—insincere praise often hides bad intentions * Reject backchannel deals that lack transparency—fair negotiations happen in the open * Build systems that don’t rely on offices of profit or useless appointments We see your moves, and we’re not falling for them.

Sometimes I think I showed up too early. The speed of real discovery makes me jealous of the minds who’ll get to see what comes next—while we’re still stuck with ancient politics and the same old human mess. Imagine a world where we cancel gravity to move mountains, where farming takes half the work for twice the food, where we cure every sickness and choose how long we live. That’s the easy part. The hard part? Getting people to stop treating each other like prey. We’re racing ahead in things, but lagging in character. My notes on the Northern Lights were just a start. If they push someone to ask a better question, then I did my job. Steal this: Build on what others start—no idea is useless if it leads somewhere. Focus on real science, not just flashy theories. Worry less about controlling matter and more about mastering our own nature. We’ve got the tools. We just need the wisdom to match.