But taste requires subtraction. It means not participating in every viral moment. It means not resharing something just because it’s getting attention. It means opting out of the churn.

That doesn’t mean being contrarian for the sake of it. It means noticing when the culture’s default setting no longer reflects what’s true for you—and walking away.

“Everything we come into contact with has the potential to influence our taste. So the art of living well includes the art of feeding your input stream.” — Rick Rubin

Underneath all of this is something deeper: taste as a spiritual orientation. Not in the religious sense, but in the felt sense of alignment. Of knowing what your energy wants. Of feeling what’s harmonious and what’s out of tune.

We’re drowning in content.

And that’s what real taste is: a deep internal coherence. A way of filtering the world through intuition that’s been sharpened by attention.

Taste isn’t about having one interest. It’s about threading coherence through your many interests. It’s the connective tissue between the books on your shelf, the music in your car, the way you write emails. It doesn’t mean boring. It means intentional.

Because when abundance is infinite, attention is everything. And what you give your attention to—what you consume, what you engage with, what you amplify—becomes a reflection of how you think.

The internet has flattened information access so thoroughly that hoarding knowledge is no longer impressive. What matters now is what you do with it. How you filter it. How you recognize signal in the noise.

Curation is the new IQ test.

We used to associate intelligence with accumulation. The smartest people were the ones who knew the most. But that model doesn’t hold anymore. AI knows more than anyone. Wikipedia is free. The internet has flattened information access so thoroughly that hoarding knowledge is no longer impressive. What matters now is what you do with it. How you... See more