I spent a Deeply Human evening and found the metrics for my soul

I arrived at the Deeply Human Evening with the familiar end-of-day mixture of weariness and openness, the sense that something has been lived, and something else is quietly asking to be named. It wasn’t a night about performance or pretence. It was about proximity. About what happens when we allow ourselves to be seen, not as job titles or university degrees, but as humans whose lives have edges, histories, and beating hearts.

The room felt intentionally warm, as if the organisers understood that ambience is not created by dim lights, white space and candles alone, but by permeant permission. Permission to speak plainly. Permission to feel. Permission to be interrupted by the good and the bad of life itself.

Friction was one of the first to arrive, and it arrived bravely.

Singer-songwriter and AI ethicist Tess Buckley explained why friction is her choice of word, “I was born with a facial difference, which results in asymmetry in my face, specifically my smile.” The simplicity of her statement was its power.

How rare is it for us to be invited to sit with discomfort without rushing to resolve it. Tess didn’t ask for reassurance. She didn’t smooth the edges for us. She let the friction exist, and in doing so, made space for an utterly honest kind of beauty. The kind that doesn’t beg to be liked, because it knows it is real. As Tess broke into song, I wondered how much energy we all expend trying to sand ourselves down, instead of letting the asymmetries in ourselves to lead us to courage.

When impact entered the room, it did so quite literally in arms.

Art entrepreneur Marine Tanguy of MTArt Agency spoke with her baby in her lap. A baby who, at one point, decided to swap its pacifier for the microphone. The audience laughed, but there was something profoundly symbolic unfolding. Impact wasn’t being simply being described as a lofty mission. It was embodied and it was generational. Marine showed us that impact is shaping culture while actively caring for the next person who will inherit it.

And then came incommensurability. What are your metrics with a soul?

Alina Kukarina, one-half of Deeply Human Innovation, offered a quiet recalibration to the room. She said that some measurements won’t matter next year, while others will. How do we know that we are measuring the right things? In a data-driven world obsessed with growth curves and dashboards, she reminded us that not everything meaningful is easily quantifiable. I thought of relationships, integrity, mental wealth. These are harder to measure but are part of what makes us deeply human.

Pride was the unexpected guest of the evening who arrived with a bang.

As Caro Ames took to the stage, I heard the timeless roar of maternal pride. From one row behind me, her mother clapped with abandon, calling out, “That’s my daughter!” It was unscripted, slightly chaotic, and to me utterly perfect. I felt my chest expand with second degree pride.

How often do we celebrate achievement without acknowledging the invisible scaffolding behind it? The parents, mentors, friends who believed in us first. That evening, pride wasn’t ego - it was relational. Pride came into the room to remind us that that none of us arrive anywhere alone.

Last came togetherness, and the room melted together.

Connector of the dots Simona Barbieri was effervescent in the truest sense with contagious, joyful energy. But I could sense that beneath the sparkle was something grounded. Togetherness, in her world is about showing up with curiosity and giving to people rather than taking from them.

I reflected how togetherness doesn’t equate consensus. And when it’s real, togetherness doesn’t erase difference but rather holds it playfully and generously.

I was reminded that community isn’t built through grand gestures alone, but through repeated, deeply human ones: inviting, listening, staying, and singing.

As the evening closed, I realised that what made it deeply human wasn’t any single story, but the collective willingness to share and to be deliciously interrupted by music, by children, by applause, by emotions. It was a reminder that technological and societal progress do not require us to harden. If anything, progress asks for groups to meld together.

I left feeling softer, and also stronger. I left with a renewed commitment to choose the right metrics for my life. I will embrace friction, celebrate shamelessly and collaborate. I will live every day that comes next being simply, human.

Thank you, Iliana Grosse-Buening, for the invitation, the exquisite piano performance that opened the evening, and bringing all of us together.

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