Finding value in others we discover our own brilliance

While having lunch with my father in a communal dining area, enjoying our takeout Chinese food, I noticed a couple nearby who were fully engrossed with whatever was on their phone screens. They barely looked at their food or each other. I wondered if they were satiated when they got up after finishing. They were there, but not present. What do we lose when we give attention only to our phones – moments whose value we don’t remember until they’re gone.

I grew up when smart phones weren’t around.
The sun rose, and I was set free to bike around the neighbourhood and return home when it set. I used to eat dinner with my parents and two older brothers at the Formica kitchen table under an incandescent light, with nothing but food and understated conversation.

It’s in conversation (and silence) we learn about others, but, more importantly, we also find ourselves. Sometimes we’re validated and sometimes we’re challenged. Like a mirror held up, we see who we are without flattering AI apps to massage our egos. Those lessons about presence followed me into the workplace.

Growth comes from discomfort

Recently, I had a conversation at the job site about how discomfort is the prerequisite to growth. The easy path rarely teaches us anything. On most days I’m learning something new, adding another skill to the repertoire.

Over the past few months, I completed my first fireplace — with some help to get started. I formed and installed my drip caps and flashings. I used a paint sprayer on rods for custom railings. Doing new things as an adult is different. The thought creeps in: What if I screw this up? The pressure rises. The anxiety mounts. There is no delete key on bent metal.

But I did it anyway — because there were more experienced and skilled co-workers who stood with me. There was guidance. Encouragement. Correction when I needed it, but also freedom to learn. At the end of each project, there was a pile of metal offcuts, shattered shards, and repainted rods with my name on them — evidence of my lessons.

Alchemy exists in interactions

It’s in these moments of shared effort that true alchemy happens. Smartphones can’t teach patience, wisdom, or understanding. They can’t turn lead into gold. But people can be a source of rarity, holding value beyond money. This is discovered through extraction, shaped by pressure, and refined with repetition. The same holds true of people. It’s up to us to discover it.

We develop tangible skills in the trades, absorbing knowledge from those who give their time and expertise — things we can’t acquire from a smartphone, but can feel in the encouragement another person provides. It builds efficiency through tried-and-true skills, rather than through trial and error alone.

The mentor gains purpose. The apprentice gains skill, confidence, and perspective. And it all happens because we choose to show up, present, without a phone between us – where the real gold is found.