Intersecting threads

A few days ago I talked to a friend who teaches film theory. She was frustrated because her students seem less interested in theory these days. They just want to make films, which makes sense, it’s a film school after all. But I could see she felt a bit disapointed by it.

I wanted to encourage her to keep going. She’s passionate about what she teaches, the knowledge that she has been acquiring and contesting for years. Because even if the students forget most of her lectures, some parts will stay, somewhere, at the back of their mind. A line, an idea, a small seed. Something that might resurface years later in ways none of us can predict.

I think about that a lot. My own path has never been straight. I’ve studied many different things: design, social innovation, film, art history. I’ve been curious about everything. But when I look back, I often get this strange feeling, like I’ve done nothing, even though I know I’ve done a lot. Everything kind of blends together. Ideas, projects, half-finished thoughts. I wish I could pull those threads apart a bit, see how they connect, how one thing led to another. Maybe then I’d see how they shaped what I think about now, or what I’ll care about later.

Sometimes I wish I could see all those threads clearly. The time I’ve spent thinking, working, pondering about ideas. To see how they overlap and return.

Cadence started partly from that wish. To be able to trace things, not just the big moments but the small ones that don’t seem important at the time. To see how they might mean something later. Through notes and logs I’m slowly noticing patterns, how I spend my time, what keeps coming back, what disappears. Maybe one day I’ll see the full picture.