#50 - Cultivate the ability to be moved by greatness

As I reflect on the wonderful essay "Make Something Heavy" by Anu, I arrive at an interesting conclusion: you cannot create something heavy if you don't know what heaviness feels like. If you haven't read the essay above, I highly recommend checking it out first and then returning to this one. It's a very inspiring piece for those who want to make great products.

In the original essay, the author makes an excellent point about how we naturally associate weight with value in the physical world, yet this sense remains severely underdeveloped in the digital realm. This makes perfect sense. Humanity's relationship with the physical world spans millions of years of evolutionary development, while our engagement with the digital world represents merely a blink of an eye in comparison. Our attunement to the physical world is naturally far more refined.

This poses a challenge for aspiring product builders: how do we develop that same refined sense for digital experiences? Most of us can immediately recognize quality in physical objects - the satisfying weight of a well-crafted tool, the smooth finish of premium materials, or the precise engineering of a mechanical watch. But when it comes to digital products, we often lack this intuitive appreciation for craftsmanship.

If you want to build great digital products, I argue that you shouldn't jump immediately to building, shipping, or vibe-coding, even if they're all the hypes nowadays. Instead, you should begin by cultivating the ability to be moved by greatness. This isn't to say you shouldn't learn to build, just that it's not the highest-order bit to prioritize.

What does being moved mean?

I can still recall one of the earliest computer programs I learned to use: Microsoft Paint, back in middle school. It's a simple tool that enables incredibly complex creations. My younger self would spend hours watching videos of people replicating the Mona Lisa or anime characters in MS Paint. After countless hours of practice, I could decently recreate the Son Goku character from Dragon Ball with proper shading and colors. My process involved sketching the figure in red lines, adding details with black lines, then using the "Fill with color" tool to paint the canvas red and white, effectively erasing the sketch lines.

I was in awe of what I could create and felt proud when friends were blown away, thinking I possessed some special gift. In reality, it was the program that enabled me. I had simply learned to use it well. Even before Corel Draw and Photoshop existed, MS Paint was a remarkable program that moved me.

Fast forward to high school, when I was experiencing an existential crisis and felt isolated from others. Aside from my best friend, YouTube became my companion. Suddenly, I could access knowledge from around the globe. I'll never forget a particular YouTube video featuring an anime soundtrack from Clannad that I played on repeat every night while studying for my university entrance exam. Even now, when I hear that music again, memories from over a decade ago flood back. I can see myself at my study desk, wondering how my life would unfold, trying to imagine the future, wrestling with doubts, aspirations, and optimism.

YouTube helped me connect with the world through the Internet. I wasn't lonely. YouTube is an extraordinary product. While it's difficult to maintain awe for something you use daily, I occasionally marvel at what a remarkable creation it is. It moved me.

After entering the tech industry, I discovered Obsidian, released about five years ago. Certainly, it helped me take notes, but more importantly, it provided a medium for connecting thoughts across seemingly unrelated topics that, upon closer inspection, revealed wonderful interconnections. I didn't merely take notes with Obsidian, I discovered the incredible complexity of our world. I learned how virtually everything connects to everything else, regardless of how subtle those connections might be. When reviewing old notes, I learned about myself and felt as though I was conversing with my past self. It was how I discovered my interests were converging around building great products, which ultimately led me to become a Product Manager. Obsidian moved me and shaped my career.

As a Product Manager, I didn't always consciously articulate the impact these exceptional digital products had on me, but I was undoubtedly influenced. I was deeply moved. This feeling of being moved by greatness has inspired me to help others experience the same sensation. I'm not presumptuous enough to claim I've created great products, but I believe this represents the right spirit.

When you have internalized the sense of being moved, you can apply it to more than just creating digital products, you can host events that move people, listen so deeply that it moves people, or write essays that move people - much how like how "Make Something Heavy" deeply moved me. The form of greatness doesn't matter, the underlying spirit does.

Don't replicate the form of greatness, but embody its spirit. Don't build the next MS Paint, build something that helps people express their creative selves. Don't build the next YouTube, build something that helps people connect, share, and learn from one another. Don't build the next Obsidian, build something that helps people think better and become better. Call into being a better reality for your users.

Don't chase trends or become obsessed with what you can build in two days using the latest tools. Don't let algorithms that reward attention indiscriminately cloud your judgment. As the world becomes a place of diminishing frictions and fast consumption, remind yourself of this: If you want to build something great, cultivate the ability to be moved by greatness. Then maybe you can create things that move others too