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2025 Jan 18
Built Together: The Miracle of Human Collaboration
Through my life, I’ve always been amazed by what humanity has built. I
often think to myself that I’m not surrounded by mere objects; I’m
surrounded by ideas, by collaboration, by the combined effort of
countless people. Everything around me hides stories that I can’t stop
wondering about.
When I walk down the street, I am amazed at how the city was
designed—what materials were used to build the roads, who planned the
layout of the neighborhoods, and how it all came together.
When I watch a movie, I don’t just see actors delivering lines. I
imagine how it was directed, what the actors were thinking, who
designed their costumes, and how someone painstakingly wrote the
script.
Even something as simple as a park bench makes me curious—who decided
on its design, chose the wood or metal, and placed it exactly where it
stands?
None of this is the work of one person. And that’s what astonishes me
about humanity: our ability to collaborate on such vast scales that
even the simplest objects carry the invisible fingerprints of
countless hands.
I once read an essay titled I, Pencil, which captured this
feeling perfectly. The essay is written from the perspective of a
pencil, describing its own existence as a miracle. At first glance, a
pencil seems simple—a piece of wood, a graphite core, a bit of metal,
and an eraser. But when you trace its creation, you realize how
extraordinary it really is.
The wood might come from a tree in Oregon, cut down with saws, ropes,
and other specialized tools. The graphite is mined in Sri Lanka, mixed
with clay from Mississippi, treated with wax from Mexico, and
transported across the globe. The metal ferrule is made from zinc and
copper, refined and shaped into shiny brass by skilled hands. The
eraser is crafted from oil sourced in Indonesia, mixed with additives
from Italy. Every material has traveled great distances, passing
through countless hands and processes—all to create a simple pencil.
By now, you understand my point: nobody knows how to make a pencil.
Not entirely. Every person involved contributes just a fraction, and
yet, together, they produce something functional, beautiful, and
universal. It’s a miracle that we can create anything at all.
This system of global cooperation—born not out of a central plan but
from billions of small actions—is what allows us to build
extraordinary things. People are often impressed by the power of the
human brain, but I think what’s even more remarkable is how billions
of brains interact. Across cultures, languages, religions, and
beliefs, we collaborate, sometimes unknowingly, to create a world none
of us could build alone.
Who designed the sidewalk? Who designed the stop sign? The water
fountain? These things are so ubiquitous, their creators are
forgotten.
And perhaps that’s the ultimate goal: to create something so
seamlessly integrated into life that it transcends individual credit.
When no one remembers who made it—only that it exists, working,
serving us all—that’s the purest testament to collaboration.
Back to home
Back to home
2025 Jan 18
Built Together: The Miracle of Human Collaboration
Through my life, I’ve always been amazed by what humanity has built. I often think to myself that I’m not surrounded by mere objects; I’m surrounded by ideas, by collaboration, by the combined effort of countless people. Everything around me hides stories that I can’t stop wondering about.
When I walk down the street, I am amazed at how the city was designed—what materials were used to build the roads, who planned the layout of the neighborhoods, and how it all came together.
When I watch a movie, I don’t just see actors delivering lines. I imagine how it was directed, what the actors were thinking, who designed their costumes, and how someone painstakingly wrote the script.
Even something as simple as a park bench makes me curious—who decided on its design, chose the wood or metal, and placed it exactly where it stands?
None of this is the work of one person. And that’s what astonishes me about humanity: our ability to collaborate on such vast scales that even the simplest objects carry the invisible fingerprints of countless hands.
I once read an essay titled I, Pencil, which captured this feeling perfectly. The essay is written from the perspective of a pencil, describing its own existence as a miracle. At first glance, a pencil seems simple—a piece of wood, a graphite core, a bit of metal, and an eraser. But when you trace its creation, you realize how extraordinary it really is.
The wood might come from a tree in Oregon, cut down with saws, ropes, and other specialized tools. The graphite is mined in Sri Lanka, mixed with clay from Mississippi, treated with wax from Mexico, and transported across the globe. The metal ferrule is made from zinc and copper, refined and shaped into shiny brass by skilled hands. The eraser is crafted from oil sourced in Indonesia, mixed with additives from Italy. Every material has traveled great distances, passing through countless hands and processes—all to create a simple pencil.
By now, you understand my point: nobody knows how to make a pencil. Not entirely. Every person involved contributes just a fraction, and yet, together, they produce something functional, beautiful, and universal. It’s a miracle that we can create anything at all.
This system of global cooperation—born not out of a central plan but from billions of small actions—is what allows us to build extraordinary things. People are often impressed by the power of the human brain, but I think what’s even more remarkable is how billions of brains interact. Across cultures, languages, religions, and beliefs, we collaborate, sometimes unknowingly, to create a world none of us could build alone.
Who designed the sidewalk? Who designed the stop sign? The water fountain? These things are so ubiquitous, their creators are forgotten.
And perhaps that’s the ultimate goal: to create something so seamlessly integrated into life that it transcends individual credit.
When no one remembers who made it—only that it exists, working, serving us all—that’s the purest testament to collaboration.
Back to home