“Let’s not rush, but let’s not waste time.”

Breathe.

No hurry, no laziness.

Just presence.

If you’ve made it this far, it’s because you’ve held onto what almost everyone loses along the way: curiosity.

That gentle fire.

That gaze that pokes the obvious and asks, “what if…?”.

I remember.

Years ago, every time I visited my aunt’s house, there was a ritual.

The smell of coffee, cold floor, wind at the window.

And a bookshelf.

On it, a collection of hardcover books, blue with faded gold letters,

with a title that felt like a promise: Treasure of Youth.

It spoke of everything.

Of the sky and the backyard.

Of water-powered rockets (and the courage to wet my aunt’s living room).

Of mathematical enigmas, camels, and impatient siblings.

Of stories, maps, stars, experiments with magnets, light tricks, unanswered questions.

An invitation.

“Come. Experiment. See what happens.”

The treasure of youth?

Curiosity.

And what about old age?

Experience.

Two sides of the same map.

When one meets the other, it connects.

It creates alchemy.

Curiosity with depth.

Experience with a sparkle in the eye.

The Surprising Revelation

There’s something that almost no one notices:

You are not late to the digital revolution.

You are exactly at the right moment.

It’s not too late.

It’s not too early.

It’s now.

While the younger crowd competes with AI for technical dominance, you’re playing a different game.

A game where time is an ally.

Where machines still stumble.

Because there are things that don’t fit into an algorithm:

- Decades of lived (and survived) context

- Intuition honed through thousands of real cases

- Credibility built on relationships, not clicks

- Wisdom that only scars can teach

- Judgment. Timing. Sense of risk.

- Reading the room. Speaking and, most importantly, listening.

- Ethics when no one is watching

- Patience to wait for the right moment (and courage to act the second after)

- The “I don’t know” that opens doors. The “now I know” that closes deals.

Yes, AI runs.

Fast.

But speed without direction is just noise.

Direction is what you have.

History, repertoire, cross-references, memories that still smell of paper and coffee.

That’s not weight. It’s wings.

The digital doesn’t ask you to become someone else.

It asks you to bring who you already are to a new table.

To merge old curiosity with new tools.

To test.

Play.

Ask.

Document what you’ve learned.

Repeat.

Small beginnings matter.

Five minutes of exploration a day. A draft. A conversation. An experiment.

Nothing epic.

Just consistent.

It’s not about beating the machine.

It’s about working with it, without outsourcing what makes you human.

Direction, purpose, care, nuance.

In the end, the phrase comes back and makes sense:

No rush. No wasting time.

Curiosity ahead.

Experience at the wheel.

The rest, maktub… or almost.

Let’s go.