My story

Almost six years ago, at university, I began encountering statistics demonstrating how deeply we humans are dependent on technology, which was originally intended to be a tool for us. One of the statistics I came across is that 79% of smartphone owners check their device within the first 15 minutes of waking up every morning. Perhaps even more shocking is that one-third of Americans say they would rather give up sex than lose their mobile phones. From this, I concluded that the technologies we use foster compulsive behaviors, if not full-fledged addictions.

My background is in economics and psychology, and studying them I got a close look into how large companies use our weakest inner points against us — how they keep us stuck, keep us comparing ourselves to others, keep our attention fixed to a screen, and leave us feeling unfulfilled. Our weakest areas of life became their gain. I also realized that I had a problem with the use of technology, experiencing reduced presence in the moment as a result.

That’s where the question began that I could not let go of: what if we took these same insights into human behavior and turned them toward the opposite purpose? To build technology that genuinely serve them — that move them in the direction they actually want to go. To make people the insiders of their own lives, instead of a tool for someone else to profit from.

This triggered a journey into psychology, which brought awareness to aspects of consciousness I was completely unaware of. Through my exploration of consciousness, I started to draw new connections, and my life changed internally and, as a result, externally. This manifested in the form of increased energy, creativity, and the ability to form deeper relationships with my fellows. I studied Kahneman and came to the understanding that we as humans do not use 100% of our consciousness at all times — a shocking fact for me, and it shifted my understanding of human cognition and its potential. I got the understanding that reprogramming the subconscious was possible — that one was not trapped by the existing program shaping one’s experience of the world. When I accepted this new paradigm, I arrived at a land of possibilities.

It quickly became evident to me that it is not necessarily the technology itself that shapes the problems we experience. It seems to be the way one interacts with the technology that determines whether one is affected negatively or positively. In our modern Western society, we see increases in the number of people experiencing stress, anxiety, depression, and a range of other mental disorders. The fact is that people feel their existence is inadequate in certain parameters, which forms worries — and this obscures the feeling of being, finding joy, and meaning.

I got a job at the company Peopleway, where we worked on integrating psychological insights into software systems and AI that could help businesses accelerate result-creating behavior. Here, I had the opportunity to work on transferring theory into real products and see their impact in the real world. I realized that if technology is used correctly, it can improve lives through health-promoting behavior that enhances our relationships, makes us smarter, and boosts our energy.

So I began to use the tools I had gathered to consciously program my own habits, using myself as a guinea pig in exploring their potential. I optimized my life in every possible way, trying to shape a perfect existence built only from good habits. In this period I experienced great success in programming a series of habits that support the production of happiness hormones in the brain, which led to increased experiences of flow and general energy in my everyday life. However, certain elements seemed somewhat mechanical to me, and the approach itself resembled the movement we see in modern biohacking more than a free flowing life.

From the outside, I had arrived. Everyone in my life saw someone fulfilled — good habits, good job, the dream come true. And I believed it too, for a while. But something inside me wasn’t fulfilled. A day I came home from work and felt drained. I decided to sit down with a piece of paper and truly allow myself to reflect about my situation. I asked myself a simple question: if I were completely free — if I could choose to do anything — where would I go? What would I do? How would I live?

I could also see, by then, that my experiment of constantly chasing better habits had not brought me any real joy. It was a way of controlling life rather than letting it unfold, I had to find my balance between chaos and control.

The answer that I wrote onto the paper that day surprised even myself: I wanted to go to Nepal and India, and stay at least three months. A part of me was genuinely pulled toward these places to the point that I could not neglect it. So I looked at the barriers for what stood in the way — and realized it didn’t have to be a dream at all.

Three months later I was on a plane with a one-way ticket to Nepal. I had sold my furniture, ended my lease, quit my job — swinging from one polarity straight to the other. I’d done no research. All I knew was that I would land in Kathmandu, and that I trusted myself guided by the universe to figure out the rest, one day at a time.

That chaos became a journey that lasted three years. I tested the limits of my life. I stayed in ashrams and monasteries, visited the birthplace of the Buddha, sat in seven-day silent meditation retreats, and taught breathwork across several countries and continents. I became an advanced certified freediver. I met the love of my life. I went through hard stretches with myself and through periods of real joy. I trekked into the Himalayas, made friends who became family, and formed deep connections with people I’d known only for a moment. I stayed in Bedouin camps in the mountains of Egypt and taught ice bath and sauna routines in Sri Lanka. I did yoga retreats. I tried a great deal, and I pushed my own edges.

And after all of it, here’s what I understood: it was never really the places I’d been or the practices I’d done and taught. What had been moving me the whole time was a perspective of life — the love I carried, the intentions I brought with me, and the way I chose to perceive other people. That was the thing propelling me forward.

It’s not being in extraordinary places or doing extraordinary things that grows our consciousness. It’s the simple choice we make every single day — the way we choose to behave, the way we choose to see the world, the way we orient our direction in life. That choice is what determines everything we move toward, and whether we become more joyous, more loving, more courageous, more accepting, more forgiving.

I believe it is one’s responsibility to share it if one discovers something that can alleviate suffering in human existence. So I decided to bring everything I am — technology, AI, economics, psychology — into that one purpose. The result is Osmia.

And the app is only the beginning. I dream of building communities. Spaces that hold consciousness-supporting practices: healthy cafés with nutritious food, good coffee, tea and cacao; co-working spaces; a wellness side with sauna and ice bath; a shala for breathwork, yoga, sound healing, and ceremony. But every beginning needs a first, minimal step, and today that step is the app — a space where you can be sovereign with yourself, and determine your path of life.

Here is what I’m really trying to say. You don’t have to do any particular thing. You don’t have to travel anywhere, sit with “enlightened masters” in India, change your job, or rearrange your life. You are already on your journey. The only thing I’m pointing toward is this: set a direction that is aligned with your heart, move toward it with conscious intention each day, reflect on how you’re actually getting there, and let go of what is no longer serving you.

That is why Osmia exists. We want to take part in your journey — but it is your journey, and yours alone. So try it. If it serves you, use it as much as you like. And if it doesn’t, you are free to leave, and you will never be blamed for it.

Have a good journey.