Young people are freaking out that artificial intelligence may limit their career choices.

While friends debate the pros/cons of imbedding artificial intelligence into everything around us, my mind drifts to AI-proof professions. A world run by robots and algorithms? Maybe. But I know this:

No algorithm can replace the emotional connection we create when we love, serve, or care for another living being.

If you have a graduate about to launch out into the cold, hard universe, (or out of your house!) share this glimmer of hope.

I recently retired. I feel like I know way too much and still, not nearly enough. Let me explain.

If I could load my wagon with hand-picked thoughts, knowledge, and memories, and drop them all off into a bin at my neighborhood Goodwill, I would.

Everything I learned about competitive analysis, I would trade for fluency in French.

Here’s an epic trade: all I know about politics, in exchange for more time in nature.

What I would give to switch religious dogma for techniques in using a telescope like a boss.

Databases and search engines? Delete. While spreadsheets helped with my learning disability, I’d replace many of my tech abilities for skills spinning a potter’s wheel.

In two seconds flat, I would give up all the minutes I listened to gossip, to write one memorable song.

For every meaningless app I downloaded, I’d know how to bake croissants that melt your face.

All the negative self-talk? I’d free up space to learn to play, “three chords and the truth.”

After all these years, I collected so much mental stuff. TOO MUCH stuff. The young scholars I coach or teach, I want to inspire to see their minds as a greenhouse full of of life-giving things that are REAL … not a database stuffed with content, or a dusty basement crammed with shoe boxes of receipts.

If you don’t know where to begin, take action with small steps you can easily repeat. Things that help you feel grounded in things that are real.

I love to read. So anything about the natural world that sparks my imagination, challenges my assumptions, or makes me bust out laughing (or cry my face off.)

Here’s a weird one that worked for me: I deleted Door Dash and started learning the names of people who produce the food I cook for my family.

For many, being “real” means dealing with pain. Know this: grief and loss will always be with us. And the best way to kill pain is by serving others. So show love to everyone who crosses your path.

A child psychologist once told me we get to choose how we suffer. For me, even in tough times, I still want to bring color and spice into my corner of the world, literally and metaphorically. Hone skills that bring joy, peace-of-mind, and security to others.

Today, I listened to “Let Me Take You for a Walk,” by Rikard From. Rikard is a happy Swede who plays the piano like someone who knows the blues. I had it on repeat all day and I ended up writing the best poem I’ve written in my life.

I wonder if Rikard knew the song he was creating would bring light into my life … and that light created more light in me?

I found out this dude didn’t start writing music until just a few years ago. He’s already hit 26-millions streams on Spotify.

The lesson here? We can convey hope in every drop of what we produce.

Just because I am retired from business, it doesn’t mean I am no longer relevant. Quite the opposite.

This is why I want to learn more and know less.

(Now it’s your turn to pass this back to your parents. My guess, they have mental things they could offload in order to make space for things that bring them joy.)

No doubt, the journey ahead will be strange and beautiful, surprising and uncertain. But the peace you will acquire along the way will be equal to the love and dignity you sow into the communities where you put down roots.

Take it to the bank, friend.