This suggests we need a fourth principle: "Cultivate discernment about goodness." Not merely as an afterthought, but as an essential companion to creation. Such discernment acknowledges that innovation contains both medicine and poison in the same vessel—and that our capacity to create has outpaced our ability to foresee consequences. And perhaps equally important is recognizing that meaningful contribution isn't always about creating anew, but often about cultivating what already exists: preserving, interpreting, and transmitting knowledge and practices in ways that transform both the cultivator and what is cultivated.
Yet Graham's framing—"What should one do?"—contains a deeper limitation. It positions ethics as an individual pursuit in an age where our greatest challenges are fundamentally collective. "What should one do?" seems personal, but in our connected world, doesn't the answer depend increasingly on what seven billion others are doing? When more people than ever can create or cultivate, our challenge becomes coordinating this massive, parallel work toward flourishing rather than conflict and destruction.
These principles aren't merely personal guideposts but the architecture for civilization's operating system. They point toward our central challenge: how to organize creativity and cultivation at planetary scale; how to balance the brilliant chaos of individual and organizational impetus with the steady hand of collective welfare. This balance requires new forms of governance that can channel our pursuits toward shared flourishing—neither controlling too tightly nor letting things run wild. It calls for institutions that learn and adapt as quickly as the world changes. And it asks us to embrace both freedom of pursuit and responsibility to others, seeing them as two sides of the same coin in a world where what you bring forth may shape my future.
The question isn't just what should I do, but what should we become?