For most of my adult life, I have been maniacally focused on my work. I would answer emails instantly during the day, and even get up twice each night to ensure that all the emails were answered. Yes, I would spend time with my family members—but just so they didn’t complain, and not an hour more.
Then in September 2013, I was diagnosed with fourth-stage lymphoma. I faced the real possibility that my remaining time on Earth would be measured in months. As terrifying as that was, one of my strongest feelings was an instant, irretrievable, and painful regret. As Bronnie Ware’s book about regrets of people on their deathbeds all too accurately describes, I was wracked with remorse over not spending more time sharing love with the people I cared about most.
I am now in remission, so I can write this piece. I am spending much more time with my family. I moved closer to my mother. Whether on business or for pleasure, I travel with my wife. Formerly, when my grown kids came home, I would take two or three days off from work to see them. Now I take two or three weeks. I spend weekends traveling with my best friends. I took my company on a one-week vacation to Silicon Valley—their Mecca. I meet with young people who send me questions on Facebook. I have reached out to people I offended years ago and asked for their forgiveness and friendship.
This near-death experience has not only changed my life and priorities, but also altered my view of artificial intelligence—the field that captured my selfish…Continue Reading