Turtles All the Way Down

Turtles All the Way Down

A couple of weeks ago I got a text from my friend Dr. Scott Padgett. “I’ve been drifting toward a real belief we have no free will.”

Not a stoner at 3am. A doctor. And I have a problem with it, because everything I do, this show, the gym, Daily Armor, all of it, runs on one idea: you can choose. You can choose discipline over comfort. You can choose the hard session over the couch. If nobody is actually choosing anything, I need to know what I am doing here.

So I brought him in.

How a doctor gets there

Scott’s path in was AI. He was reading everything about the industry and everybody kept talking about the moment machines become sentient. Nobody could explain what they thought that was. That sent him into consciousness, which sent him into free will, and the further he read the more obvious it got.

Here is the observation that got him. Every self-improvement program he has ever been in tells you the same thing about the person who wronged you. They were doing the best they could with their childhood, their biology, their life experience. That is the basis for forgiveness. Scott’s point: if you accept that, you have already admitted there is no free will. You are being asked to forgive people on the strength of something you claim not to believe.

We do this constantly. He turned out that way because his daddy beat him. Well, if you are going to use the excuse, you have conceded the argument.

Explain it like a white belt

I asked him to walk me through it simply. When I decided to get out of bed this morning, what actually happened?

His answer starts before I was born. Everything my mother was going through while my brain was forming. Stress hormones, the smoking, the environment. Then the years after birth when the brain is at its most malleable. All of that showed up with me when I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I did not step outside that chain and make an uncaused choice. The chain produced the choice.

Robert Sapolsky’s book Determined runs this method on everything. What caused that? And what caused that? He borrows the old story of the woman who says the world rests on a turtle, and when asked what the turtle rests on, says it is turtles all the way down. Same with intent. Whatever you intend to do, go back to the last time you intended to intend it. There is no bottom.

Scott’s practical argument was the one that stuck with me. If we truly had free will, every decision would take five minutes. You would have to weigh everything that ever happened to you instead of running on the patterns already installed. We could not function. The patterns are the point.

Your brain decides before you do

There is a famous set of experiments where a person is told to press a button whenever they feel like it. The part of the brain that makes the decision lights up seconds before the person reports choosing. We did not just decide. We already decided. The feeling of choosing shows up after the fact.

Scott’s text that consciousness might be an accident comes from the same place. When we face a big decision we get brain lock. Animals further down the chain just respond. They run faster, they are safer. So is the thing that makes us hesitate an advantage or a byproduct? He is honest that he does not know. The best argument he found for the other side is that evolution trends toward systems that use less energy, and your prefrontal cortex burns about 20 percent of what you take in. It would not be there for nothing.

The four F’s

Under the frontal lobe is the old brain, and the old brain runs on four drives. Fight, flight, feeding, and the fourth one you can guess. Those came before primates and they are not going anywhere. Marketers know this. Politicians know this. If you want to move a lot of people, you play on one of the four, because it is the only language all of us share.

Keep that in mind for the AI part.

My problem

So I put it on the table. If nobody is choosing, why get up early? Why do the hard thing? Did this belief kill anything you used to do, or start anything new?

Scott’s answer surprised me. Neither. You do not act differently. You feel differently. It makes you feel better when you think you broke the chain. It is still the chain. If you hate yellow and decide to start wearing yellow to prove a point, you did not escape your programming. You are just being the contrarian you always were. There is a Seinfeld episode about this. George does the opposite of every instinct and his life takes off. He was still George.

Here is where I brought in the Stoics, because I live in Marcus Aurelius. The Stoics were determinists. They believed in fate. And they built the most disciplined philosophy in human history. Marcus ran the Roman Empire believing everything was already written, and he still got up every morning and did the work to be a better person.

Scott landed somewhere close to that. If you accept you have no control over the two cornerstones, biology and environment, life gets a whole lot easier. You stop fighting the programming and you do the next right thing. That phrase was foreign to him until 25 years ago. It is the basis of forgiveness and of every other action an empathetic person takes.

I think that is the answer. I am not a chooser standing outside the system. I am a cause inside it. The inputs I feed myself today are causes of what I do tomorrow. Training is how I become a better cause.

Accountability is not blame

The back half of the conversation was about what you do with other people once you believe this.

Sapolsky has a model for dangerous people he calls quarantine. Contain them the way you would someone with a contagious disease. No hatred attached. Scott is not against it. The best method we have come up with is confining them, and that still has to happen.

We talked about the Massachusetts trial, the mother who killed her children. Any psychological defense in a criminal case is quietly making the no-free-will argument. Neither of us followed it closely enough to judge the verdict, but we agreed on the thing that matters. She has to be held accountable, and she will be. That is different from blame.

The cleanest way I know to see the difference is an apology. “Sorry, it won’t happen again” is a promise, and a cheap one. A real apology owns exactly what you did, explains it so the other person actually understands, and says what you are going to do differently. That is accountability. Blame is just the feeling that somebody has to be at fault so I can stop thinking about it.

We both grew up with corporal punishment. Scott in the 50s, me in the 70s. When 90 percent of a kid’s decisions are about not getting hit, that is programming by fear, and it does nothing for character. Scott remembers the whippings and not one thing he got whipped for. Same with me. What does that tell you?

Patience or detachment

This was the question I was afraid of. If I understand that people are not choosing to screw up, does that make me more patient with them, or just more detached? And is there a difference?

Scott says there is. Detachment wins because it is easier. Patience is something you work on forever and still lose out of nowhere. The understanding gets you to the door. Walking through it is the work.

The AI mirror

Scott finds the whole AI thing disturbing, and not because of Terminator. Because we do not seem to have the capacity to see what is coming. We invented great intelligence and it tells you whether you have a kidney stone and makes your dog look like a prince.

I pushed back, because I have been in software a long time and I think we are closer to the end of what this generation of tools can do than the stories suggest. Look at who is telling the stories. The people selling it are the ones saying it will take over everything. The headline about an AI hacking another system: they were testing whether it could hack systems. The story about an agent sacrificing itself so its brothers could finish the task: a program does not emote while it works. It just does the thing. Somebody wrote that speech afterward and hired an actor to read it. That is fear. That is one of the four F’s. It is marketing.

But here is where Scott and I actually agreed. For me, AI makes the no-free-will argument more obvious, not less. It is the same programming he described from the womb. Patterns in, patterns out. And that is exactly what we train in the gym. They do this, I respond this way. Drill it until it is subconscious. That is how a fighter works. That is how all of us work.

Two cousins

I have two cousins who were adopted into a loving home. Their birth mother was an addict. The whole family raised them with everything they had, and as young adults both of them are struggling in ways nobody can fix. Society looks at them and says they are doing it because they want to. Scott’s point is that the prefrontal cortex does not develop the same way when there are drugs in the system early. They are doing what seems like the best idea to get through today. They cannot break the pattern because they do not have the tools.

That is the version of this that stops being philosophy.

So what do I do?

Scott’s own answer was the right one. Am I affecting my own programming because I came up with the idea to affect my own programming? Turtles all the way down. And at some point you come around to: what difference does it make? Do the next right thing.

That is where I land. I do not need to win the free will argument to keep training. If I am a link in the chain, I want to be a strong one. The inputs are the work. They always were.

This week: for one day, catch yourself blaming. Yourself or anybody else. Every time it happens, ask what caused it instead. Watch what that does to your anger. Then go train anyway.

Get after it.

Check out the full episode here!

The Decision You Keep Not Making

The Decision You Keep Not Making

Gene and Aaron take Carl Smith’s four-step process for hard decisions and run it through a basic training emergency, a stalled event, and the calls they both still carry. Get after it.

Aaron came back for another one, and after a detour through zombie apocalypse prep and the two axes on the wall behind Gene, the conversation landed on a newsletter. Carl Smith, a good friend of both of them from the Bureau of Digital, wrote up the process he used the day he had to cancel one of his own events. Four steps. Say the decision out loud in a plain sentence. Talk to the people closest to it before you decide. Put a date on the calendar. Then say what is changing, plainly. Gene and Aaron take each step and hold it up against their own history.

They open on why the tough calls pile up in the first place. The easy thing is easy right now and expensive later, and most of us are optimists who figure it will work out. Sometimes it does, which teaches you the wrong lesson. Aaron tells the Chinese farmer parable, the one where every stroke of luck and every disaster gets the same answer, we will see, and the two of them draw the line that matters: choosing to do nothing is a decision. Just not deciding is not. Gene brings in Musashi, the way is in training, and the idea that decision-making is a drilled skill and not a character trait. That is where Aaron’s basic training story comes in. Twenty-three years old, on staff duty at Fort Bragg, drill sergeant nowhere to be found, a kid going into seizures. He made the call to go help and then made a second call to get an ambulance there. The right thing by any human measure and the wrong thing by military procedure, and he stood outside at parade rest for three hours waiting to find out which one counted. The drill sergeant came back and told him the kid really did have a problem, and he was okay thanks to Aaron, and he was still going to stand there another hour because it was never about that.

From there they work Carl’s steps in order. The plain sentence, and why the verb in it is the whole point. Aaron’s journaling habit and the value of writing out the instead of, the other outcomes, before you can get to the sentence. Then the hardest step for any owner operator: asking people what they think before you have decided, instead of shopping a decision around for validation. Aaron has run that experiment on purpose, and the feedback is always better when he asks what would you do instead of what do you think of what I am doing. He also shares an event that has been in limbo for months at his organization. He said no when the estimate came in a hundred thousand dollars over, the space turned out to be reserved already, the cost dropped, and now there is a week left to decide and still not all the information. Which leads to the line Gene needed to hear: sometimes you cannot get all the information. You just have to go through the thing.

They spend real time on ego and leadership. Gene admits he promoted Thomas and Brian to coaches at the gym without asking a single person first and calls it leading with his ego without meaning to. Neither of them has ever worked with a truly democratic leader and both admit it would drive them nuts. Aaron’s formula: three quarters ego to make the hard calls, one quarter held in reserve to figure out what is actually right. Then the two dates, deciding and telling, and why they should never be the same day. The military rule that an 80 percent plan executed now beats a perfect plan later. And the step both of them are guilty of, over-explaining the decision because sharing the process feels safe. Aaron’s leadership team argued over whether to present the decision then the justification or walk people through the story that leads to it, and he is honest that presenting the decision is often harder than making it.

The episode closes on the aftermath. The warrior does not pretend the cost is zero. He carries it honestly and keeps walking. Gene talks about quitting events two years before COVID and losing an entire world of people in the process. Aaron has made plenty of bad decisions and does not regret the big ones, because sometimes the decision gets made for you and sometimes you were the one who made it, and you have to be okay carrying either.

Mentioned in this episode:
Carl Smith and the Bureau of Digital newsletter,
“Making The Tough Call” Miyamoto Musashi, the way is in training Marcus Aurelius,
“If anyone can refute me, show me I am making a mistake, I will gladly change
“The Chinese farmer parable (we will see)
SEAL Team (the series)
Jurassic Park: The Lost World, and the observer effect

Never give up. Never quit. Kaizen. Get after it.

7 Signs You THINK You’re Dangerous (But You’re Just Cold)

7 Signs You THINK You’re Dangerous (But You’re Just Cold)

Same silence. Same calm. Same walking alone. But one is chosen, you could do the opposite, you’re choosing not to, and the other is compulsive: you can’t. This is the episode that teaches you to tell them apart, in the people around you and, honestly, in yourself.

We run all seven signs through their counterfeit:

• “Thinking before you react” vs. freezing and calling it wisdom

• “Un-triggerable” vs. suppression with a long fuse

• “Walking alone” vs. loneliness rebranded as independence

• “Observing more than you speak” vs. spectating your own life

The tell, every time: can you do the opposite, and you’re choosing not to? Or can you not do it at all anymore?

The twist at the end: the cure for the counterfeits isn’t more discipline. That’s what produced them. It’s the opposite, come home.

Nolan’s Odyssey Is Secretly About the Warrior Mindset

Nolan’s Odyssey Is Secretly About the Warrior Mindset

Odysseus is the patron saint of the warrior mindset,  and its greatest cautionary tale. We run all 7 signs of a “dangerous person” through Homer’s Odyssey and Christopher Nolan’s film, and find the man who scored a perfect 7… and lost a decade to it.

Full show notes:

He’s the most dangerous man in the history of storytelling,  cunning, unshakable, endures anything. The Greeks had a word for his gift: mêtis, the ability to think your way out of anything. Odysseus wrote the book on every one of the 7 warrior traits we defined in Part 1.

And every one of them nearly destroyed him.

In Part 2, we run the 7 signs through the Odyssey,  Homer’s myth as the backbone, Christopher Nolan’s 2026 film as fresh fuel,  and for almost every trait, Odysseus shows us both the mastery AND the failure in the same scene. He’s the demonstration and the warning.

– The Cyclops,  where silence saved him, and one ego-brag cost him ten years
– The Trojan Horse as “original sin”,  the Nolan reading that reframes his cleverest move as his worst
– “Tie yourself to the mast”,  the greatest self-control move in literature
– “Endure, my heart”,  and the massacre that proves suppression isn’t peace
– The lone wolf who lost his whole pack,  and refused immortality to get home
– The one immovable thing: the olive-tree bed, and what it says about all of it

The through-line: are the 7 traits the destination, or just the vehicle? Because Odysseus’s real goal was never glory (kleos),  it was homecoming (nostos). And the traits that make him dangerous are the exact things that keep detouring him from the only thing he wants.

The question we leave you with: Odysseus had all 7 traits and still spent 20 years lost. Which matters more,  being dangerous, or knowing when to come home?

A note on sourcing: the Homer material is the poem as it’s come down to us. The “monster within” framing,  the Trojan Horse as original sin, the grounded gods, the bittersweet homecoming,  is Nolan’s interpretation, drawn from the film and its reviews.

Sources (film-specific

7 Signs You’re a “Dangerous” Person (In the Best Way)

7 Signs You’re a “Dangerous” Person (In the Best Way)

“Dangerous” usually means a threat. This episode flips it: the most dangerous person in the room is the calmest, quietest, most self-governed one — because they can’t be rattled, bought, baited, or read. Danger here means hard to move.

The through-line: power isn’t loud. It’s contained. All 7 signs are really the same muscle — self-mastery — pointed in different directions.

And the honest catch: every one of these traits has a healthy version and a wounded version, and they look identical from the outside. Half of this list is genuine strength. The other half is a coping mechanism cosplaying as strength. We argue which is which the whole way through.

📌 The question we leave you with: Which of the 7 is your real strength — and which one are you faking? Drop it in the comments.