Or how an operational philosophy of life ended up forging a hard-headed solopreneur.
Last night, a discussion with a friend set the world on fire. We were talking about honesty: the real kind, the kind that forces you to tell unpleasant truths to people you love. Then we drifted into problem management, as I'd heavily rejected her approach a few days before. Because I don't accept defeatism. Not out of blissful optimism, but because giving up is a luxury I refuse to (allow myself).
Life is too short to give up.
That conversation was the trigger for this article, but the material had been there for a long time. Almost 36 years of experiments, mistakes, corrections and questioning. Over time, without necessarily planning it, I've built up a personal philosophy, forged by experience and analysis of the world, not by books or grand theories.
What I want to do here is decipher my own software. Lay it out flat, explain it and pass it on. I'm certainly not revolutionizing anything. But I think I've put together a coherent system, applicable to our times, that enables me to succeed in what I undertake. Not without flaws, not without micro-failures. But with a consistency and solidity that I couldn't even imagine a few years ago.
This system rests on 3 pillars. First, a foundation: a relationship with reality, critical thinking, the ability to see the world as it is, without kidding ourselves. Then a method: how to act concretely, solve problems, stay honest, optimize time. And finally, a posture: what to do with all this in relation to others, how to create, how to transmit.
It's raw. It's personal. It's a recipe that works for me. Those to whom it speaks are free to pick and choose what they like.
Here are 15 principles that structure the way I think, act and create.
Contents
The foundation: seeing reality as it is
Before talking about methods or postures, we need to start from the ground up. Everything I'm about to describe rests on a single foundation: an honest relationship with reality. No filter, no intellectual comfort, no convenient beliefs. Just the facts.
Sharpening your critical mind, for real
Not just for show. Not just to shine in society. Sharpening your critical mind means constantly asking yourself two questions: do I know, or do I believe ? And do I have any good reasons to think so?
Reality doesn't care what we think. Only the facts count. In engineering, that's a given. In life, strangely enough, it's quickly forgotten.
For me, it all started with religion. I grew up Catholic, and I wanted to believe, sincerely. Then, between the ages of 14 and 16, I began to challenge this belief. I saw inconsistencies, asked questions without ever getting a satisfactory answer. One in particular: if God created us, who created God? I realized that we were simply postponing the problem of creation ad infinitum, and that it didn't hold water for a second. Added to this was the realization of the injustices on earth: if an all-powerful being exists and tolerates all this, he deserves neither prayer nor veneration. I didn't just leave Catholicism. I rejected deism in its entirety, sweeping all religions under the carpet.
But the most interesting thing wasn't leaving religion. It's the question that followed: on what other subjects have I been lied to? I then had a short conspiracy period (about 1 year) where I explored the paranormal, extraterrestrials, ghosts, spirits, and anything that claimed to reveal hidden truths. Every time I dug, I came up empty. Not a shred of solid evidence. Not ever. Back to square one.
So I reset everything. My way of looking at things, sorting information, deciding what I accept as true. I began not to believe without proof. Then, at the age of 24, I discovered zetetics via the Hygiène Mentale channel, then La Tronche en Biais. It became a real mental hygiene routine. Above all, it was a relief: I wasn't alone in my thinking. Others had even formalized a method for doing it better. Become aware of cognitive biases, engage in metacognition (thinking about one's own thinking), i.e. understand why we make mistakes and how to avoid them.
Étienne Klein played a major role in this process. I must have listened to a hundred of his lectures on YouTube. They're sometimes repetitive, but it allowed me to soak up fundamental concepts and really finish rewiring my thinking. His spirit of rigor and wonder at the beauty of physics spoke to me deeply. I even read one of his books, even though I read very little.
In technical terms, critical thinking translates into concrete action. Many people think that paying more means better security, because they're buying Microsoft or AWS. Or that proprietary is more reliable than open source. Commitment bias, sunk cost bias, argument from authority: you're in it without seeing it. Critical thinking is not an intellectual luxury. It's an everyday tool, useful not only in technical matters, but throughout life.
Getting to the bottom of things
Starting from scratch. Start from scratch. Don't be afraid to ask childish questions. Einstein himself said he was asking childlike questions with an adult brain (I know this too, thanks to Etienne Klein). It's a very healthy approach.
I hated school. It was the most profound boredom I'd ever experienced in my life, a veritable torture. I was presented with finite results without the thought process, arbitrary information without an explanation of «why». I knew I had to succeed, but the information didn't sink in, and when I was younger, I couldn't understand why.
In the end, the school system made me believe that I was useless. I managed as best I could, putting in the minimum effort in the face of this torture. But the cause was later obvious: I needed motivation, and full explanations. Not information handed down like truths from heaven.
I then realized that I could learn best on my own, by going through the whole chain of each subject from A to Z, on subjects of concrete use to me. No door was closed: I could learn anything I wanted. But not what I didn't want. Perfect.
For the bac, I took the whole program on my own via the internet to make up for my poorly written and organized lessons. Result: I passed my bac against my teachers' expectations, almost with honors (if I'd reread that proba question correctly, costing me 2.5 points out of 20 with a high coefficient, I'd have got the missing tenth of a point overall).
More precisely, it was during my graduate studies at the SAE Institute that I got the confirmation. I excelled when the speakers were passionate, when the explanations were complete and, above all, when the subject interested me. I was one of the few who graduated without catching up, one of the best. With efforts that came naturally when necessary. I had begun to know myself.
A point to remember here: life isn't a straight line. It can be winding, and sometimes it takes time to get to know yourself and find the recipes that work for you. What you need to move forward. Before that, we can't see clearly what we're worth, what we can do, what life has to offer. Hence the importance of remaining patient.
This approach, that of understanding each subject in depth rather than skimming the surface, applies everywhere. In IT, fully understanding the workings of a PC and each of its components, drawing analogies with the human body, enables me to feel server load and optimize efficiently. When I'm driving, it helps me avoid practices that make the gearbox suffer, or a cold engine suffer. When an RNA vaccine arrives, I quickly understand what it's all about. In short, it helps me every day.
But you also need to know when to stop and think. When you feel you've come full circle, or have enough useful elements for your real need, it's time to decide and move on. Endless analysis is also a trap.
Questioning social codes, traditions and taboos to free yourself
As early as first grade, at around 5 or 6 years of age, I start to notice the artificiality of certain codes. It intrigues me, even annoys me, not to be able to find a logical explanation.
Let's take a basic example: getting dressed. Why do we dress? Why don't we accept our bodies? Why hide what we all have? The question came up again when I learned about naturists. In the end, I judged the clothes to be useful, seeing in practice the perversion that surrounds us, but we're entitled to wonder whether this perversion might not come from the original taboo. The chicken or the egg.
And beyond clothing, why is going to the bathroom, farting and burping taboo? Why is sexuality taboo when it's an almost universal need? This prevailing falseness disturbs me deeply. It's almost a rejection of our humanity. Based on arbitrary codes.
Even as a child, I found the collective craze bizarre. I hated Pokémon when it came out. It took me a long time to accept Harry Potter (and I've never seen the latest films). I was puzzled by marble games and other playground fads, although I eventually got into them out of conformism. I was a child, I forgive myself.
As I grew older, I became more specific. When it comes to music, I've rejected variety in favor of more sophisticated, surprising sounds. Because good music is also about surprise, the opposite of the predictable and easy. I've never understood the massive craze for soccer (to the limit for real regular players, okay, but what about the others?), preferring to watch competitive video game matches that I used to play myself, allowing me to grasp all the subtleties and draw inspiration from them to progress. Fashions, in general, have always annoyed me and I still find them stupid, to the point where I sometimes have trouble finding clothes that suit me as the seasons go by and trends change.
Tattoos, too. I don't understand the need to modify one's skin to display an important message. Especially when most people claim it's «just for them», when in fact they're inevitably sensitive to the image they're projecting and the imaginary they're submitting themselves to.
Then there are all those traditions that have lost their meaning: eating fish on Fridays, forbidding ourselves certain foods, fasting out of obligation, celebrating Christmas all on the same date. We do these things out of habit or fear of change, which makes them rather mind-numbing. It pollutes our attention and makes us forget deeper values like creation and mutual aid.
Even worse: alcohol. In France, it's socially «normal» to drink on every occasion. When I became aware of this injunction, I reduced my consumption by 90%. It is now exceptional, as it should always have been.
And then there's something even more insidious: the culture of laziness. The fact of «settling» 90% for time, of taking pride in it. Pride in not knowing, not being interested, not trying to understand. All this is socially accepted, even encouraged, and I think it's deleterious to society. Passivity is normalized where curiosity and action should be the norm.
All this may seem trivial on its own. But in the end, rejecting these injunctions made me much freer. Some codes are useful. Many are more harmful than you think. The important thing is, at the very least, to ask the question.
The real is already beautiful
Having your feet on the ground, seeing reality as it is, is not a curse. Quite the opposite, in fact.
The world is already impressive without esotericism. You don't need the paranormal to marvel: physics, biology and the complexity of living things are more than enough. The impressive can be found everywhere, without ever needing the supernatural.
To know which way to turn in a world saturated with information, you need a way to sort it.
Ockham's razor is a good place to start: between several explanations, choose the one that requires the fewest assumptions. This doesn't mean it's necessarily correct. What it does mean is that we can avoid polluting our minds with useless considerations, divorced from all reality, and focus instead on what makes sense. And above all, before trying to explain a phenomenon, we need to be sure that it really exists. That's what critical thinking is all about.
Once you've integrated that, the world doesn't become any less interesting. It becomes more interesting, because we marvel at what's real rather than what we imagine.
The method: act with lucidity
Seeing reality is the foundation. But that's not enough. Then you have to know what to do with it on a day-to-day basis. This is the framework I've built up over the years, first in life, then naturally in work.
Always be honest
For better or for worse. Because lying is counterproductive. And yes, I've done the math.
Lying is additional energy. It's constant filter management, it's having to remember your own lies, it's hiding reality from people you're supposed to respect. But respecting someone means believing them capable of understanding and accepting the truth. It also means risking loss of trust, and wasting time circling a problem instead of solving it. All this is clearly calculable.
Yesterday's discussion with my friend was about exactly that: honesty between loved ones also means telling unpleasant truths. It's not always comfortable. But it's the first way to really help someone.
Honesty also has a filtering virtue. I don't bother with people who can't accept what I think. If someone disagrees, argues or tries to change my mind, I encourage it. But you have to accept that I say what I think. Those with whom it doesn't go down well eventually move on, and that's all to the good. The people around me purify themselves naturally.
On the pro side, I've certainly lost contracts by not overselling the dream. And I'll continue to do so. Contracts built on honest promises last longer than those built on hot air.
Integrity
Remain the same person whoever you're talking to. No pretenses. That's what trust is all about.
I've often observed this discrepancy in people: one tone among colleagues, another in «customer call mode». It always struck me as odd. As a solopreneur, I have the luxury of choosing my tone. And the tone I choose is mine, all the time. I talk to my customers like I talk to my friends. We're partners, in the same boat. We know our own and common goals. No need to play a role.
If we can be on first-name terms to break down barriers, all the better. I'm on first-name terms with as many people as possible, because I don't like this artificial hierarchy. I bend to the norm when I really have no choice, but I avoid it whenever possible.
It's hit or miss. But at least I can respect myself when I look in the mirror. Like avoiding lies, integrity is also a guarantee of peace of mind. You avoid mental pollution and optimize your available brain time. Sometimes you can come across as a big jerk, and that's just too bad. I'll take it.
Apply in private what we defend in public, and vice versa, without double talk: this is non-negotiable.
Dealing with problems one by one
Life is full of problems. It's best to solve them methodically.
I've often told myself that I'm not smarter than others, just more persistent. The secret, if there is one, is not to get excited. Stay calm, take things one step at a time, and with enough patience you'll always find a way.
But beware: even secondary problems deserve to be dealt with, otherwise they accumulate and end up forming much bigger problems. Attempting to achieve perfection by methodically solving every problem is an ideal worth pursuing, even if in practice there will always be imperfections. By aiming for perfection, we achieve the «good» we seek. By striving for «good» and leaving problems on every floor, we only achieve mediocrity.
When I set up my first web server under ESXi (Debian VM, IP failover, domain name), all these notions were unknown to me. I made a lot of mistakes, I started again and again until I was satisfied. It took me ~5 days with very little sleep. Without this perseverance, I wouldn't have made my career. But even before that, it was days of dismantling and reassembling PCs, reinstalling and optimizing Windows, testing Linux, doing lots of little experiments without knowing where they would lead me. In the end, it paid off.
Today, as a sysadmin, solving problems is part of everyday life. A bug a developer doesn't understand, a limit reached, a new type of attack. Experience and patience unlock everything.
But our energy is not infinite, and solving problems costs effort, time and attention. We also have to choose our battles. Some situations are out of reach. The depression of people I meet, for example: I'm genuinely saddened by it, but if I dwell on it too long, I end up damaging myself without being able to help any better. We can't deal with all the misery in the world. On the other hand, you can solve your own problems to advance your own objectives, and by extension contribute to those of as many people as possible. It's the principle of specialization: each to his own role, each to his own field, and it's by being solid in your own that you can best help others.
When faced with problems, don't lament, don't panic: just be calm and precise.
Holding on with detachment
Two contradictory notions, and yet...
It's pure stoicism. My high school teacher impressed me with it: take responsibility for what you can control, but accept what you can't. The line between the two is the key to everything. The line between the two is the key to everything.
As long as I have the keys in my hand, I don't give up. Keeping my current business going, for example: I know it's up to me, I know I can do it, and I've been doing it since day one because I live off it. I'll spend the days, nights, weeks, months and years it takes. When I really have something on my mind, no one can take it away from me.
But you don't get something for nothing. If you don't try, you won't succeed. Failure is part of the process. I launched my first self-employed business at the age of 19 without knowing anything about business. I failed. That's all right. 2 years ago, I took on a huge server for Nextcloud offers, oversized in relation to real demand. I had to think smaller. You adjust, you move on, that's it.
But when it's out of my hands, you have to let go. Typically, on a customer's project: I do everything I can to pass on information, advise and warn. But if the customer doesn't follow my recommendations and screws up, I'll be annoyed for 10 seconds, and then I'll move on. Energy invested in something you can't control is wasted energy.
If some people knew the ordeals I've been through in just 3 years, they'd wonder how I managed. I took responsibility, I understood what depended on me. And in doing so, I became, against my own expectations, someone solid and trustworthy, someone you can rely on. I discovered a steadfastness I'd never imagined.
Then there are the inevitable. A failure in love, the death of a loved one. These are the only things that sometimes make me cry. This revolting feeling of injustice in the face of what we can neither prevent nor repair. But even so, I keep going. Because I have to. You hang on to do as much as you can, you don't complain, you correct if you can, and if you can't, you move on to the next thing as quickly as possible.
Life is too short to give up. It's also too short to spend it regretting what we have no control over. Honoring our dead means continuing to live without forgetting them. Honoring life means doing our utmost in every circumstance.
Being in a hurry at the right time
Optimize what can be optimized, to conserve time for what matters.
I'd be the type to walk fast to go and lie down in the grass listening to music... Hurrying to find calm. Because walking, in itself, I find tedious, not very rewarding, so I walk fast. Sometimes I take the car, to maximize the time I spend there. The idea is never to waste time or energy on trivialities, but to keep it on what's of value: human exchanges, reflection and creation. Optimize your time shopping to enjoy more fun tasks. Optimize your choice of clothes to avoid ironing. Optimizing every little action, every minute, ultimately makes a huge difference.
I've always been like that, but turning 35 made it even more so. I realized that, potentially, I was at least halfway through my life. We're mortal. We might as well do as much as we can of what matters.
It's the same with technology. I automate everything that can be automated. IP troubleshooting is automatic. Customers order via a portal with automatic billing. I encourage them to pay on an annual basis with 2 months free, which means 11 fewer invoices per year per customer to manage in the accounts. All this frees up my time for what really matters: solving real problems, taking 1 hour on the phone to discuss business, developments, life and human matters, rather than getting bogged down in technical trivia.
In short, I optimize the tedious to preserve intellectual and human time.
Rigor as security
Gouverner, c'est prévoir.
Lingering on subjects and projects until you're sufficiently sure of yourself is a formidable weapon. Mind you, we're not talking about waiting for perfection before taking action, but taking the time to dig deep enough to avoid major strategic blunders and tricky situations that you could have anticipated.
It's a natural extension of stoicism: planning for the worst, not to paralyze yourself, but to protect yourself from it whenever possible. If I've anticipated failure before I set out, I already know how to react if it happens. If I've checked three times before validating, I sleep well.
A word of warning: this advice is not for everyone. Constantly anticipating the worst can alter the quality of life, pleasure and happiness. It's a real sacrifice. I've been doing it for a long time, because it arms me against life's difficulties and enables me to succeed (or almost succeed) in whatever I set out to do. But it's up to each of us to choose between being carefree and being vigilant. The important thing is to make an informed choice.
Thinking to simplify
Thinking is good. But don't forget to think about simplifying.
Simplification is the culmination of everything else. Because with experience, simplification comes naturally. A new subject seems complex at first, with lots of things to think about. Then, not only does it become natural, but little by little you eliminate the unnecessary details to keep only the essentials. You end up doing complex things like changing your shirt.
I realized this the day I wanted to write my server installation procedure. When I formalized it, I discovered that I had a hundred manual steps to carry out. To me, it was «simple», because I had integrated every notion. But when I put it all down, I realized just how many layers of complexity I'd absorbed without realizing it.
It's the same thing when you sum up a book or a film in a few sentences. Keep the essence, prune, convey a clear message. Whether it's for communicating or for yourself: eat up all the documentation and use only the useful 1%.
AI can help with this, by speeding up the sorting and synthesis process. But beware: if you haven't gone through the simplification process yourself, you'll skip the critical step of absorbing the essence of the information.
Simplification is proof that we understand a subject. And it's the bridge between reflection and effective day-to-day action.
Posture: creating and transmitting
After all that, central questions arise: what is our relationship with others? And what trace do we leave behind?
Making it possible
Is making others dance more fun than dancing yourself?
I like simple things, but I'm impervious to some of them. Dancing gives me no pleasure. When I travel, I prefer to go to creative spaces or out in nature, just to discover and listen. That's what makes me feel alive.
For me, pleasure is first and foremost an inner pleasure. Creating, offering and sharing things with others surpasses the simple fact of enjoying things myself. I don't choose it, it's just the way I am. It's almost a form of altruism.
I trained as a sound engineer: the man behind the scenes who makes a good concert happen. I'm also a musician, mainly a drummer. I love making people dance, whether on stage or behind the console. Giving that pleasure to those who appreciate it gives me great satisfaction. But me dancing? No, thanks, I don't. When I listen to music, it's an inner jubilation that takes me on a mental journey rather than a physical one. (It's a different story behind the drums, of course.) Conversely, when the music's bad, it's a real torture.
I like being a facilitator. The one who makes the hammer rather than the one who uses it. Today, my web hosting business follows the same logic: I provide the tools that enable agencies, associations and freelancers to bring their projects to fruition. I give them the means, and they build.
Basically, living for myself isn't enough. On the scale of a single person, you're not worth much. The goal is to build something bigger than oneself. Every tool I make transparent, every explanation I take the time to give, contributes to something bigger. Some people say there's no such thing as pure altruism: even in giving, there's something in it for everyone. I tend to agree, and that doesn't bother me at all.
Sharing knowledge
Knowledge is only worthwhile if it's shared. I'm not stingy with explanations for those who want to learn.
It all starts with curiosity. It's not an ugly flaw, it's the basis of our thirst for knowledge and progress. It's the only thing that can move us forward. Without progress, I wouldn't be telling my vision to an artificial intelligence to improve its shape (I admit it all, Claude went through this... but it's really me who spent hours putting my ideas down).
Everything you learn in life comes in handy one day. Years ago, I contributed to LinuxGSM, a set of scripts for managing game servers. I became the 2nd contributor, voluntarily. Who'd have thought I'd use it professionally? And yet, it's also what shaped my career today.
In my business, transparency is a cornerstone. The tools I use are documented, the security measures are detailed, and I communicate on everything. It reassures customers, it's a change from opaque solutions, and it's also a way of proving your competence. Personally, I hate mystery. Do you want to know how I do it? I explain the principle to you, sometimes even if you're a competitor, because I prefer a healthy ecosystem to one in which I dominate alone.
I train people on WordPress, Plesk, Nextcloud, Docker. Autonomy makes sense when it's quicker to do it yourself than to ask someone else. Basic site editing, creating email addresses, using a collaborative suite: customers can do all this themselves in no time. My role is to guide, not to do everything for them.
Over time, I've also come to see the limits. DNS management, for example: very few manage to understand it, so I just do it, because it's quicker for rare, one-off needs. Some people don't want to learn certain subjects, and that's normal. That's what delegation is for, and the aim is to help each other.
Doing with passion
Passion is a source of infinite energy, not weakness.
I'm passionate about many subjects: science, anthropology, computing, music, cinema, to name but a few. When a subject speaks to me, I naturally immerse myself in it, the effort comes on its own, and the results follow. Passion allows for peaks in productivity, which I exploit, and helps me through the difficult times. It's a fuel that nothing can replace.
Conversely, admitting that a subject doesn't interest you isn't an admission of failure. It's an opportunity to stay focused on what you're good at. I'm not interested in history, collections of any kind, or anything that doesn't have an immediate or potential impact on my life. I can be interested in a historical fact that sheds light on concrete realities, but not in the subject as a whole «on principle». This is neither closed-mindedness nor laziness; it's my natural way of functioning, which I've accentuated for one simple reason: focus.
Sometimes life projects, professional projects and passions can intertwine or conflict, and choices have to be made. For example, music is my deepest passion. But you almost have to be bored to create well. But since I've started my own business, I've become so busy that I've almost stopped creating music, and that makes me a little sad. But all is not lost, I still play music in my corner or in jam sessions, and deep down I still want to free up time to get back to creating. The «music» project could come back to the fore (literally), who knows. A passion doesn't go away that easily, and when it provides usefulness and even pleasure, all the better!
Cultivating difference (not indifference)
Breaking away from the norm is often beneficial. It's an opportunity to raise the bar. Yes, it's borderline haughty. And I don't care. If I'm accused of being arrogant, I'll take it.
Because the real issue isn't height, it's the standard. The norm sucks. It's not a model, it's precisely what we should be running away from. Not to mention everything below it. Knowing your faults, identifying the ones you want to correct and the ones you have to live with, doing your best: that should be the basis. It isn't.
A fundamental idea I've learned is that you should always compare yourself with the best, not with the norm or the worst. That's how you progress. And yes, the people around us play a big part in determining our final result. Surround yourself with ambitious people, people who resemble what you want to be, that's how you'll progress together.
Most of what I've described in this article seems obvious to me, and will speak to many. But how many of us actually apply these precepts rigorously? That's where the difference lies.
Perhaps you have to be a little different to be an entrepreneur. To dare to go it alone against the behemoths. I provide more secure, faster hosting, with better support than giants weighing billions.
The standard is zero. And those who refuse to conform to it are the ones who rise above it. Stay atypical, cultivate your difference, as long as it's thought out to be better than the norm.
Conclusion: Rigor, focus, curiosity: unclog your mind
Rereading all this, a common thread jumps out: clean up your mind. Lies pollute, double talk pollutes, useless social codes pollute, laziness pollutes, unverified beliefs pollute. Each of these precepts, in its own way, comes down to eliminate noise to keep the signal. Free up brain time for what really matters.
This is not a philosophy of renunciation. Quite the opposite: by simplifying what can be simplified, we give ourselves the means to go further on what is worthwhile. We don't try to add, we remove the superfluous. And we really dig into the issues, because simplicity after complexity is not the same as simplicity before. It's more solid, more conscious, more useful. It's the simplicity of someone who has gone through complexity and emerged with what's essential.
Étienne Klein said, in a May 2016 interview: "Things you've never thought about are always obvious. It's when you think about them that they become more complex."
True enough. But what's missing is the next step: once you've got through the complexity, you're back to simplicity. And no one can take that away from us.
If all this seems obvious to you, think again. And if it's still obvious to you, maybe you're ready to apply it.
I wish you every success.
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