Days ago, a friend triggered this edge I’ve been hiding, saying:
Kendrick won because he made it us versus them.
He went on to explain that winning means someone lost. Duh… tell me more, I said.
Rappers, brands, movements all need an enemy to point at. That moment we all get to pointing is where community ties come alive, then getting people to spend their money on your agenda is easy.
I could feel my blood pressure escalate…
That line of agitation was never considered for VIJN. I’ve been building this community with belief that touch centers us into the now. Designing as a way to help myself and others host more, create more, and do more by the strength of our hands.
Hella wholesome.
As time let me see his argument in dimensions, our enemy made itself clear:
Ease.
Ease is oppy-anna numero uno. Like Riley and Santa, for those (like me) who learned to hate through episodes of The Boondocks.
Not the comfort of relaxation, not the necessary empathy along my journey.
But the ease of instant gratification.
When I’m hungry, I can tap my phone nine times and outside of my door, a meal arrived in a dash. If I hate my couch, nine more taps and Bobois bubbles take up space in my living room. Days later, the dupe sucks and I’m wondering… how ?
Well… I bought a couch with no sweat. The materials and colors are off because I didn’t earn it fr. No swatches, no references, no story. Just air inflating…
My opposition comes from this growing dynasty. A long running era of businesses working to engineering friction out of our lives, selling ease on a subscription model.
As completion of our needs are outsourced to tech, accepting friction becomes this needed antidote. A companion to the fulfillment our bodies are made to pursue.
Our best memories consist of friction, serialized for repeat views. That personal best in the gym. That IKEA table you built yourself, once just lay flat. Your nephew, born early, but healthy mashallah.
Friction creates investment and that investment unearths pride we can hold onto.
Of late, the homies been skipping dinners out, saving money, cooking at home. At first, I saw this as a loss keeping us in isolated bubbles around Los Angeles. Making ease my antagonist flips that idea on its head.
Cooking is nothing but friction.
Grocery lists tee up seasoning, sautéing, and serving potent flavors. Washing dishes becomes this scenic climax of hot water, soap suds, and slippery tableware. A final test we can dominate, getting over that last hump in this circle of consumption.
It’s all real enough for us to remember the joy of completion. The necessity of friction.
With time, we end up developing undervalued skills in an era of gratification. Skills like hosting at home. Either cheffing up or ordering big, then leaving the door open to friends. No splitting bills or tipping, just quality time together curated by friction.
Leaning into friction challenges my point of view daily. From the foods I eat to the objects I use. Moving past annoyance into solutions, I upgrade my tools. Dense ceramics, real silverware. Not just to host, but for me to enjoy daily.
Most objects you can buy in a click simply take up space. Great objects you search for and acquire can make our daily habits meditative, even the messy ones.
As my home reflects this, I end up embracing silence more often. Laying out, with no music, no pods, at least some parts of the day, especially when I want that “accompaniment” the most.
Consistent silence is often all our mental health needs to heal.
My will is getting tested when my space is quiet. I left my phone in the kitchen, so how long can I go without it ? Observing my space and feeling the air flowing through it.
The friction I feel was the peace my body was asking for.
Everything we love—people, objects, feelings—came from effort. Friction is the toll we pay for feeling something real and it’s time we start paying it again.
This sparked a question: Where else can I find meaningful friction in my work, designs, and tasks—beyond just hitting deadlines? Competition is the obvious answer, but it reflects the macro level—the big, external rivals we measure ourselves against. But in life’s micro-moments, the daily grind for work and personal, competition feels less relevant; the friction must come from elsewhere. within?