Fo Kuss

And yes — I deliberately spelled it wrong a minute ago (Fo Kuss means Fo Kiss in German). Why?
Because I was focusing on the sound of the word itself — and it made me laugh.
At least ten minutes ago it did.

Anyway — focus. Let’s concentrate, shall we?

Having focus in your toolkit is one of life’s great advantages.
To concentrate on one thing, to direct attention toward a goal, to resist distraction — that’s the key to doing good work.
And here comes the tricky part: keeping it.

While we humans try to devote our minds to something meaningful, we are constantly under attack.
Gentle, invisible, delicious attacks.
These distractions are experts — too charming to resist.
They come disguised as social media.
Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Social.
If only it still meant what it used to.

Between cat videos, algorithmic sermons and thirty-second bursts of dopamine, “social” has turned antisocial.
TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, Facebook, X — all working overtime to “entertain” us.
To keep us scrolling, not focusing.
And everyone knows: people who lose focus can’t hold a course.
Ask the captain of the Titanic.

A camera lens is the perfect example.
Focus defines what matters.
One point, one moment, one story framed in clarity.
Then click — and the image speaks more than a thousand distracted words.

Without focus, things get messy.
I like it when my dentist focuses on my mouth, not on his playlist.
I rely on my pilot to focus on the route, not the inflight menu.
And I adore conversations where people look into each other’s eyes instead of their phones.
Humans — and other animals, too — deserve undivided attention.
Without “if,” “but,” or TikTok.

My time is limited. So is yours.
So I often ask myself: how do I spend it?
Do I really have enough to waste hours on aimless apps and endless feeds?
Maybe not.

But I do know the rush that comes from total immersion — when my neurons throw a party, and every synapse dances in sync.
When I’m writing, building, thinking — fully absorbed, fully alive.
Time disappears. Focus takes the stage.

Sure, I still get distracted.
Sometimes it’s even relaxing — a soft escape.
But it never replaces the thrill of being lost in a story,
watching my fingers chase my thoughts across the keyboard,
trying to catch them before they vanish.

That half-wild, half-guided act of focusing — it’s one of the brain’s most beautiful talents.
A quiet duet between attention and imagination.

My first two thoughts every morning at five a.m. are always the same:
Coffee. Story.
That’s my daily ritual — to set my fresh, curious mind free,
to let it wander until it finds its rhythm and meaning.

Sometimes I imagine how much creativity and compassion we could unleash
if we, as a species, learned to focus — playfully, deeply, kindly —
on what truly matters:
our partners,
our short, astonishing lives,
and the people (and other creatures) around us.

Focus, you good fellow. You deserve a medal.