Navigating Worlds: Physicist, Cook, Father, and AI Entrepreneur

I live in many worlds. Sometimes it feels like I’m standing at the center of a constellation, with different stars representing different aspects of my life, each shining with its own unique light. On one side, I’m a physicist, immersed in equations, unraveling the mysteries of the universe. On another, I’m a cook, lost in the warmth of a kitchen, where science gives way to intuition and taste. Then there’s the world where I’m a father, guiding a small hand through the intricacies of life, experiencing the joy of rediscovering the world through a child’s eyes. And finally, I’m an entrepreneur, building AI systems that push the boundaries of what technology can do. Balancing these different aspects of myself isn’t always easy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Each world informs the other, blending together in ways that continually surprise and challenge me.

Let’s start with cooking—perhaps the most unexpected world for a physicist. Most people don’t see the connection between science and the kitchen, but to me, cooking is just another way of experimenting. It’s about balancing ingredients, understanding how heat changes matter, and paying attention to the details in much the same way I would when testing a hypothesis. But there’s also a certain playfulness in cooking that I don’t always get in the lab. In the kitchen, I don’t have to follow the same rigid processes; I can improvise, I can feel my way through. When I’m chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce, there’s a rhythm to it, a flow, that gives me a sense of presence I can’t always find in more abstract pursuits. Cooking has become a way for me to unwind, to step away from the precision of physics and AI, and just enjoy the sensory experience of creating something tangible. 

I didn’t grow up thinking I’d become someone who enjoys the quiet satisfaction of making a perfect meal, but now, in many ways, it’s a way I ground myself. It’s my time to slow down, reconnect with the physical world, and remind myself that life, much like cooking, is as much about savoring the process as it is about the end result.

Then, there’s fatherhood—a world as vast and complex as any I’ve ever explored in physics. Being a father has taught me things no scientific theory ever could. It’s a world full of unknowns, of constant learning, and, more than anything, a lesson in humility. My children see the world with a kind of wonder that I try to emulate, even in my professional life. They ask questions not bound by logic or the limitations of what’s possible—they just want to know, “Why?” Their curiosity mirrors my own, but in a way that feels so pure, so unburdened by years of education or societal expectations. Fatherhood constantly reminds me of the beauty of simple questions and the importance of being present, something I tend to forget when I’m lost in the theoretical landscapes of physics or the fast-moving world of technology.

Raising kids is as much an experiment as anything I’ve done in science, but with far less control over the variables. It’s chaotic, full of surprises, and sometimes frustrating, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. There’s something deeply profound about watching a child grow and learn, about seeing them take their first steps, not just physically, but in understanding the world around them. My children have been some of my greatest teachers, reminding me that while the mind can stretch into abstract concepts and distant futures, the heart finds meaning in the small, everyday moments.

And then there’s the world of AI entrepreneurship. Of all the worlds I inhabit, this one feels the most like a bridge between my identities as a scientist and as someone deeply connected to human experience. AI, like physics, is about understanding patterns—learning how to teach machines to think, to predict, to solve problems. But unlike pure science, entrepreneurship is rooted in the messy reality of human needs and market demands. It’s a world where creativity and practicality must exist side by side, where innovation must be balanced with feasibility, and where you’re constantly navigating between what could be and what is.

Building AI systems is fascinating for many of the same reasons physics is—I’m drawn to the elegance of algorithms, to the way neural networks mimic the brain’s architecture, and to the challenge of solving complex problems. But as an entrepreneur, I also have to think about things like scalability, ethics, and how these technologies will impact the real world. I want to create systems that push the boundaries of what’s possible, but I’m also deeply aware of the moral responsibility that comes with shaping the future of AI. It’s a delicate balance—much like the one I find in physics or in fatherhood—between pursuing something groundbreaking while staying mindful of its real-world implications.

In many ways, I see entrepreneurship as another form of creative expression. Like an artist starting with a blank canvas, I start with an idea, a vision of how technology could change the way we live or solve a specific problem. Then, piece by piece, I work to bring that vision into reality. It requires patience, persistence, and a willingness to fail—skills I’ve honed through years of working as a physicist and a father. And, of course, like any good experiment, there’s always an element of uncertainty. You have to be comfortable with not knowing exactly how things will turn out, but confident enough in your vision to keep moving forward.

The worlds I inhabit—physics, cooking, fatherhood, AI—might seem disjointed to an outsider, but to me, they’re all deeply connected. They all reflect different facets of how I approach life: with curiosity, creativity, and a sense of playfulness. Physics is my way of understanding the universe, cooking is my way of feeling connected to it, fatherhood is how I experience its beauty, and AI is my way of shaping its future. Each world feeds into the other, enriching my understanding and deepening my appreciation for the complexity of life.

At the end of the day, I don’t see myself as just a physicist, or just a father, or just an entrepreneur. I see myself as someone who thrives in the intersections, in the spaces where different worlds collide. I don’t fit neatly into one box, but I’ve come to realize that’s a strength, not a weakness. The threads of physics, cooking, fatherhood, and entrepreneurship are all woven together in a single, ever-evolving tapestry, one that reflects my own journey of exploration, creation, and discovery.

In the many worlds I inhabit, I’m not searching for a single truth, but rather, trying to weave together the many truths that make up a life—full of questions, contradictions, and wonder. And in that, I find my balance.