Letter to My Younger Self — From the Vineyard

By Adam Kablanian 

Dear Younger Me,

You’re probably still chasing deadlines — designing the next big thing, flying between cities, living off caffeine and ambition. You believe progress means movement, and movement means success. You’re restless, wired, and confident that you can build your way to happiness.

But one day, you’ll find yourself standing in a vineyard at sunrise, soil between your fingers, and realize that not everything worth building comes from blueprints.

Back then, you thought innovation was the pinnacle of creation — that code, architecture, and systems defined human achievement. You measured impact in terms of speed, scale, and the number of people who used what you created. What you didn’t yet understand was that creation — actual creation — doesn’t just change others. It changes you.

In the vineyard, time slows down. Nature sets the pace. You’ll learn that you can’t rush a vine to grow or force the grapes to ripen. You’ll wait, and worry, and watch — and in that patience, you’ll discover something the boardrooms never taught you: that meaning lives in stillness.

Wine is a quiet teacher. It tells you that beauty isn’t in perfection, but in process. That the soil, with all its flaws and history, gives life its character. That every season has its purpose — even the harsh ones.

You’ll come to understand that innovation without soul is noise. And that creation — real creation — demands humility. Whether you’re designing a building or crafting a Cabernet, you’re not the author of perfection. You’re the collaborator of nature, time, and purpose.

So slow down. Walk through the vineyard. Work less, feel more. The world doesn’t need another genius who can’t sleep. It needs more people who can look at something growing and say, This is enough.

You’ll still love technology and progress. But now you’ll see them as part of a larger harmony — a rhythm that connects the digital with the divine, the structure with the soil.

If I could give you one piece of advice, it’s this: don’t just innovate. Create. Create with patience, with presence, with purpose. The world doesn’t remember the fastest builders. It remembers those who built something that lasts — and something that heals.

With gratitude,

Adam

From the Vineyard