Living in the Future: Stardust & Stock Exchange
Made of stardust, yet caught in the grind—how do we balance creativity with the demands of business? This week, I’m rethinking entrepreneurship, consumption, and success in the midst of it all.
This week, as I moved through meetings, brainstorms, and Climate Week events, three ideas emerged—challenging how I view entrepreneurship, consumption, and success. Thanks for being here <3
Living in the Future
Over coffee with a fellow founder, who’s developing a product around reusable water systems, we talked about the power of simplicity in business.
Sometimes, the ideas that succeed aren’t the most complex—they’re the ones with clarity, with a model so obvious, that you wonder why it didn’t exist before. Ever since starting TULU, I’ve lost count of the times someone has said, "I had that idea but never did anything with it." If I had a dollar for each one, let’s just say, I’d be richer.
But what about the inefficiencies we see every day—things like waste? Is it because there’s no clear business model? No real incentive to fix it? Thomas Edison once said, "There’s a way to do it better. Find it." And that quote stuck with me.
Then we talked about Marc Andreessen’s idea of “living in the future,” the concept of building for the world five years ahead, not just today. This forward-thinking mindset pushes innovation—but sometimes, it makes me wonder if we’re overlooking the present.
I used to believe you had to live entirely in the future to innovate. But these days, I’m learning it’s about dancing between the present and what’s next. Take this week: in the middle of a Climate Week discussion I so waited for, my mind wandered to the present—what my team was building right now, how we were feeling today.
The real magic happens when we bridge these two worlds. Maybe true innovation isn’t just about imagining the future, but straddling the present moment while peering into what’s to come.
Humanity is a Consumption Machine
This Climate Week, I moderated a panel on consumption—how we can approach it more consciously, culturally, and communally, featuring TULU alongside two incredible companies (Squared Circles & Ghetto Gastro). It was inspiring, yet as I walked to the subway after Shabbat dinner on the Upper West Side, passing piles of garbage bags lining the streets, I realized how much more work remains. The contrast was striking—mountains of waste in one of the world’s most innovative cities. Maybe it's better we see it, rather than pretend it doesn’t exist.
Trash is a metaphor for modern life. We forget—the pain of birth, the lessons of loss, and the cost of our convenience. We’ve replaced banana leaves and bamboo with single-use plastics and fast fashion. We’ve created products that never break down, designed for the short term without considering the long-term consequences.
When I embraced minimalism ten years ago, the realization that I could control my consumption felt liberating. “I have enough,” became a mindset. Don’t get me wrong, I still shop, and I’m far from perfect at letting things go. But consumerism and content consumption often play into a deeper void we’re trying to fill.
We’ve mastered getting what we want but rarely stop to think about the true cost. After my panel, this hit me hard. We talk about building a "better" future, yet the trash bags tell a different story.
That’s why William McDonough’s ["Cradle to Cradle"] philosophy resonates with me. It’s not just about recycling; it’s about reimagining our relationship with stuff. What if everything—like the shirt I’m wearing—could be designed for rebirth, not disposal? Imagine products that evolve, regenerate, and leave the earth better than they found it.
For centuries, the "take-make-waste" model has fueled our economy. We consume at a relentless pace, feeding our need for more—single-use plastics, fast fashion, endless gadgets. But in all this consumption, what are we really seeking? Connection? Validation? A fleeting sense of fulfillment?
We’re addicted to trends and instant gratification. Even as we innovate, we do so with the same consumption-based mindset—creating to sell more and produce faster, without questioning the long-term impact. We satisfy short-term desires but rarely align them with what we truly need as individuals—or as a planet.
One of my favorite visionaries from my time at MIT DesignX in 2018 is Neri Oxman. Her work is deeply inspiring as she challenges the cycle of consumption, urging us to imagine products and systems that not only minimize harm but actually give back to the environment. What if buildings were living organisms that purify the air? What if buses didn’t just burn fuel but generated electricity as they moved? Oxman envisions a world where buildings are grown from organic materials, and clothes biodegrade into the earth once their lifecycle is complete. You can dive deeper into her vision here.
She’s asking: What if everything we created healed instead of harmed? It’s a revolutionary idea—and maybe exactly the kind of thinking we need to escape the cycle of endless consumption and move toward a more regenerative, hopeful future.
Stardust and the Stock Exchange
Sometimes, my inner child laughs at it all—the busy meetings, the endless talk of growth, money, and interest rates. And then I remember Carl Sagan’s words: we are all made of stardust. It’s a thought that feels both whimsical and grounding. Yes, business can be demanding, but it can also be full of awe, wonder, and human connection.
We’re all craving the same thing—purpose. I am eager to build a profitable successful company while preserving the same sense of purpose I have today. I know these two go together - Maybe the most successful businesses will be the ones that remember this balance: the spreadsheets alongside the stardust, the practical alongside the poetic.
In the end, it’s not about how much we accomplish or how far we get ahead. It’s about how deeply we connect to the process, to each other, and to this beautiful, complicated world we’re part of.
As you move through your week, I hope you’ll remember to dance between the present and the future, rethink your relationship with what you consume, and, once in a while, pause to look up at the stars. After all, they’re part of you too.
Until next time, keep questioning, keep creating, and keep stargazing.
With all my wonder and curiosity,
Yaeli