Let Me Show You

It’s a picture-perfect Santa Barbara day at Tucker’s Grove. Blue sky, soft breeze, and that warm sun that sinks into your skin like it belongs there. We’re gathered under the trees, catching up—old Wavefront friends. Forty-one years since we launched the company. Most of us are now in our sixties or seventies. The conversation feels familiar: grandkids, travel, the joys of slowing down.

You’ve heard this one before. Where are you living now? Are your kids nearby? Any grandkids? Laughter in the shade. Paper plates on laps. The ultimate Santa Barbara vibe. And then someone pulls out their phone.

The Demo

"Gaussian splatting," they say. It sounds like both a punchline and a promise. I ask, "What’s that?" And just like that, we’re off. It’s a new way to capture and render 3D scenes from regular photos and video. Real-time rendering, smooth motion, light that shimmers and shifts. I’ve seen a lot of animation over the years, but this? This was different.

Not just industry-new. New to me. And that’s rare. They’re the go-to person at their company. You can feel it in the way they explain—fast, clear, lit up. And as I watch, I realize I’ve stopped tracking the technical details. I’m locked in on the energy. The urgency. The joy.

And suddenly I’m back. Not reminiscing, but reliving that old rhythm. Someone shows you something unexpected. You don’t just nod. You lean in. You have to know more. That’s the feeling I didn’t know I came looking for.

The Mirror

Later that afternoon, I asked a few others, “You heard of Gaussian splatting?” Most nodded. A few had read about it. I described the demo, and their eyebrows rose. That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t just a cool piece of tech. It was a mirror.

Because that feeling—being shown something new and full of possibility—is how we used to move through the world. We weren’t just building software. We were living inside discovery. One of us would walk in, say, “Look at this,” and the rest would gather around. We didn’t know where it would lead. We just knew it mattered.

That feeling is back. Not because of the reunion. Because of the moment we’re in. AI hasn’t just joined the conversation. It has kicked the door wide open. I feel it every day. That question: What else can this do? That pull to play, break, build, and explore.

It’s not about doing old things faster. That’s useful, but that’s not what wakes me up. What does? This question: What new thing can we do now that we couldn’t do before?

The Maker’s Thread

That has always been the thread through my work. Make what hasn’t been made. Not to be clever. Because that’s where life lives, I’ve always been a maker. Stories. Meals. Pictures. Tools. Jokes. The form changes. The impulse does not.

During the COVID pandemic, that part of me became quiet. Kymberlee and I were at home, running StorytellingSchool.com and keeping TEDx afloat. Important work. But the spark was dimmed.

Then came AI. I started tinkering. ChatGPT. Image models. Workflows. I wasn’t chasing a revolution. I just wanted to see what it could do. And then I saw it. And then I felt it. That same pulse from four decades ago. A tool that opens a door you didn’t even know was there. Ideas that spill out faster than your hands can catch them. A learning curve so fast you have to sprint to keep up.

This isn’t a second act. Or a comeback. It’s reentry.

The Contrast

That’s what made the reunion feel different. I wasn’t there to look back. I was already in motion. And standing in that grove, I felt the contrast.

Some friends had stepped off the ride. Retired. Content. “I’ve done my time,” one said, smiling. “Just enjoying what’s left.” They’d earned it. Others were still consulting, advising, teaching, and building. But even then, I noticed something different in my energy.

I’m not wired for stillness. At 72, I’m learning faster than I did at 30, when Larry, Bill, and I started Wavefront. Now, I’m writing, cooking, improvising, and experimenting with AI nearly every day. I’ve started a new company, Coastal Intelligence, where we’re not just using AI. We’re exploring what it can become.

When people at the reunion asked what I was up to, they blinked. Not because I hadn’t retired, but because I was in so many different lanes: AI, Podcasting, Cooking, Writing, Improv. Each one feeds the others. Each one keeps me sharp.

It wasn’t a boast. It was a reflection. That spark I saw in the Gaussian demo? I see it in myself. That drive to share what you’ve just discovered. That sense of motion. Of purpose. It’s not age-dependent. It’s spirit-dependent. And mine is fully lit.

Sometimes I wonder if I should want what others want. Slower pace. Less momentum. But then I remember. Curiosity doesn’t check your birth certificate. And creativity doesn’t retire.

Measuring Prog