What the Heck is Friction-Maxxing (and Do We Really Need to Do It)?

As the age of AI dawns, how do you hold on to your capacity to think, write, focus, empathize, and do all the things proper to human persons? According to some folks, the answer is friction-maxxing — otherwise known as going out of your way to do human things the old-fashioned way. This week, we’re chatting about the nature and benefits of friction-maxxing … and whether it’s actually necessary for parents of small children. Show Notes:“In 2026, We Are Friction-Maxxing,” by Kathryn Jezer-Morton“Can Friction-Maxxing Fix Your Focus” by Alexandra Patillo“I Balked at the Idea of Friction-Maxxing, But There’s More to It Than Meets the Eye,” by Gaby HinsliffThe World As We Know It Is Falling Away by Jane GreerLove Like a Conflagration by Jane GreerMicha-el By Jane Greer You lull yourselves with dimple-handed cherubs simpering in your étagère half-naked; small-breasted maidens, tissue-winged and swooning there on your desktop; all those complacent fleshy pastel eunuchs posing with harp or horn on the Christmas mantel: you underestimate to your own peril Whom we have come from, Whom we are acting for, and it’s too late now: suddenly it’s too late to ask for mercy. Mercy is what you’ll get—His wide-armed mercy— but you won’t like it. He has been with you, at your elbow, lovesick, down the millennia. He knows you deeply, yet still encumbers your black hearts with blessings. Willing unwillful swain, He has wept and waited while you mocked Him. Finally, now, the muscles of His jawline clench and unclench beneath that holy shadow: ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ Enough is enough. Don’t act as though some game’s been played unfairly: He’s never skimped on prophets since He breathed you out of the mud and on your way to Heaven— yours for the asking— but you were too intent on what you’d crawled from. You can’t begin to dream what you’ve rejected, what we would give to need His fierce salvation, require His dying …. Love like a conflagration shall be yours now; love like an April river, like a temblor; love like an avalanche, a midnight bomb-blast, finding you hidden, shrieking the air with shards of stained-glass windows; love like a sunstorm, sweeping before it nations, continents, galaxies, and all your hubris. Yes, say your prayers now. This is your Precious Moment, I its angel, angry and dark and terrible. God With Us, Emmanu-el, comes bearing yet more mercy, but you won’t like it. Help keep the conversation going. Become a subscriber today. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit visitationsessions.substack.com/subscribe