7 minute read

When the navigation tools we inherit – the well-worn map of expected life paths and the trusty compass pointing towards conventional success – prove insufficient for the terrain of modern life, where do we turn for guidance? Perhaps we need to learn to navigate by the stars. We receive this map and compass from those who came before us, urged to trust these tools against the world’s uncertainty. Yet, these instruments, calibrated for a different time, don’t function as they used to. The paths they show may no longer exist, the terrain having shifted beyond recognition.

Well-intentioned parents and teachers guide us along the routes that they are familiar with: school, good grades, university, the pursuit of a “good job.” We follow these paths, only to realise that the job market is a mess and we’re struggling to find employment in an ultra competitive field that seemed promising 4 years ago. Often, we take the first job offered. If we’re lucky, it’s a good place, with lots of learning opportunities and good mentors. If exceptionally lucky, finding your passion and knowing what you want to do for the rest of your life. More commonly, however, we end up like I did: lost and out of alignment after a year or two, the compass spinning wildly, leaving us wondering, “Is this truly all there is?”1

I felt stuck in my previous job. The relentless cycle of an 8-5 job, commuting through traffic, exercise, cooking, and eating squeezed out any space for meaningful exploration or change. I felt that there was no time for anything that I wanted to do. The pressure built until it reached a breaking point, forcing me to take time away to catch my breath and confront the reality that this wasn’t working. That time away confirmed something fundamental needed to change, launching me into a search for answers – by consulting mentors, peers, and professionals in seemingly desirable roles.

I reached out to Data Scientists, Data Engineers, and Machine Learning Engineers. I tried building an understanding of what different jobs looked like, what the career trajectory was, and asked for direction on studying. The advice was practical and generously given, yet it all felt like variations on the same theme: different maps leading to established destinations. But what I needed wasn’t another borrowed map; it was guidance on how to navigate by the stars of my own values when the compass failed me.

The fundamental block was simple: I didn’t truly know what I wanted. I felt that there were so many options ahead of me. I could list potential roles that leveraged my skills and touched on my interests: machine learning engineer, data scientist, DevOps. Yet, when asked directly about my goals, I’d offer a carefully constructed answer, plausible even to myself, that masked a deeper unrest. Deep down I knew that there was something more keeping me back, a desire to build for myself, a sense of further exploration in traveling the world, a deep connection with nature that was missing from all these plans. These desires felt incompatible with the tech-centric paths I was considering, so I silenced them, dismissing them as mere hobbies to be squeezed into the margins of a conventional career.

So, I remained stuck, consulting the uselessly spinning compass and trying to force the landscape around me to match the outdated map. Each attempt led to the same dead end. I felt trapped in a life that didn’t fit – an experience increasingly common in young adults, which has been labelled the ‘quarter-life crisis’.

The hardest part was realising I couldn’t figure out where to go next without first stepping away. I needed distance to gain perspective before I could even begin experimenting with alternatives.

Exploring a new identity felt impossible without separating from the current one. My professional path, while developing valuable skills, started to feel like a cage precisely because it couldn’t contain the conflicting parts of me: the analytical, problem-solving, tech-oriented side, and the equally strong pull towards nature, the ocean, physical activity, and deeper spiritual questions.

This wasn’t just a matter of scheduling hobbies; it was a fundamental conflict. The tech world was enticing me to dive deeper, yet doing so felt like I was leaving behind essential parts of myself connected to the natural world. Those ‘whispers’ mentioned earlier – the longing for travel, for building something different, for that deep connection with nature – didn’t fade. Instead, they grew louder, highlighting that the current path wasn’t integrating my whole self.

On top of this, my attempts to ‘find myself’ were complicated by my explorations of Buddhism and the ideas of Alan Watts. While I’m still very much learning and experiencing these concepts rather than claiming mastery, their perspective introduced a challenging paradox. Teachings suggesting we let go, accept ourselves as we are, and understand that the ‘self’ isn’t a fixed destination to be ‘found’ but rather an ongoing process, seemed to clash with the urgent, practical need I felt to choose a direction. How do you actively search for a path if the very philosophy resonating with you cautions against the search itself, suggesting it reinforces the feeling of being lost? It didn’t provide answers; rather, it added another layer to the complexity of navigating the uncertainty.

“The self becomes a question rather than an answer and a process rather than a product.” – Oliver Robinson (Robinson, 2013)

The Introduction to Transformative AI course arrived at exactly the right time. I had gone through a lot of self reflection at the time and was performing well at work, which freed up mental energy. I was able to dive into five intensive days of learning and discussion with sharp, motivated individuals. This showed me that there are places where I could make a lot of impact, and that it is possible to carve out my own path, potentially one that could bridge the analytical drive with the desire for meaningful contribution I felt was missing. It inspired me with the possibility of what I could do, how I could contribute and the impact I could make. Discussions with others sparked my curiosity and showed me that there are alternative paths to walk. While my way forward was not crystal clear, I understood that remaining stagnant would teach me nothing and that it was time to start building my skills towards AI and ML. I decided that I had to take a leap of faith and dedicate myself full time to working on AI Safety. What that will end up looking like, is anybody’s best guess, but opportunity won’t arrive if I don’t seek it out.

The true shift had begun subconsciously, with that persistent pull towards nature and making an impact. However, it was discussions with mentors and peers that allowed me to voice ideas and concerns that pushed me to clarify my own desires. They asked the challenging questions about what truly energised me, what problems I felt compelled to solve, and what my fundamental values were. These questions forced introspection and helped me clarify my own thinking.

Looking back, I realise that my compass wasn’t broken; it was being drawn to all the different, valid visions of the future that I desired. Finding that guiding star required synthesising those seemingly disparate parts – the tech mind, the nature lover, the adventurer – into a core vision I now follow, knowing that it will change and grow as I do.

Rather than viewing my different interests and curiosities as a burden or distraction, I decided to commit to the exploring based on my curiosity, while staying true to my evolving vision. Curiosity is now my primary drive with an eye to making a meaningful impact in the world.

Finding this guiding light wasn’t a solo mission, and I owe immense gratitude to the mentors and peers whom I consulted frequently on these issues. Their belief and support were crucial in giving me the courage to take that leap into the unknown.

The journey continues, an ongoing experiment guided by that internal North Star and the terrain unfolding before me. There’s no final destination, only the path created with each step.

“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.” – Joseph Campbell (as cited in Brown, 2017)

Special thanks to Boyd Kane, Tegan Green, Leo Hyams, Rebecca Hofmeyr, Paul Hoft von Hoesslin, and the AI Safety Cape Town writing group chat for reviewing drafts of this post and encouraging me to start my writing journey.

References

  • Robinson, O. (2013). The holistic phase model of early adult crisis. Journal of Adult Development. https://www.academia.edu/3633328
  • Brown, B. (2017). Braving the wilderness: The quest for true belonging and the courage to stand alone (First edition). Random House.

  1. Even though I was fortunate enough to land in a role with supportive mentors and valuable learning opportunities – aspects for which I remain grateful – a deeper sense of misalignment persisted. ↩

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