Read the first part here: Post #1035258 at Stacker News

I found the conversation started by @Undisciplined really interesting, especially the honest question about what gives us that little push on platforms like Stacker News (SN) and other decentralized spaces. As I was reading through the thread, a video came to mind that really helped me articulate this more clearly—something I had only briefly touched on before when talking about value-for-value, but it’s deeply connected to this same issue.

This new essay is an attempt to understand why Stacker News—and similar communities where a zap is a like—feels like home. What do we all have in common that makes us happy to be here and wanting more people to join us? What’s holding back the growth of Stacker News and NOSTR? You may have more questions, but let’s start with this one.

The norm today is dopamine: fast, digestible, entertaining. It's like going to the supermarket looking for food, only to find aisles full of ultra-processed products scientifically engineered to trick our taste buds without giving anything to our bodies. Social media and streaming platforms offer a menu of viral memes, manipulated headlines, and addictive videos that make us laugh uncontrollably—until we stop, stare into nothing, and think, why did I even do all this?

You’ve binged on content but feel empty. That’s me.

The internet isn’t the problem. Neither are people who don’t read or who scroll endlessly. The first is just a tool—no technology is inherently bad. And the second? People do read, they want to learn, and scrolling is part of their search for something meaningful. The problem—if we go back to the nutrition metaphor—is that we’re not looking for steak; we’re craving Ranch Doritos. Our minds and eyes can’t tell the difference between being entertained and being truly nourished. We’ve been programmed by ads to desire and depend on the superficial.

I used to work in public relations. The editor would call us researchers and say, “find something trashy, or at least a good recycled piece.” The boss wanted something irresistible—like a Dorito—that people would consume without thinking. Not because it was meaningful, but because it satisfied that drunk 5 a.m. craving. We became addicted to consuming without knowing why. I’ve realized it’s not that you or I are incapable of making good decisions. It’s that we live in a system optimized for immediate attention and for turning that attention into a profitable product.

Nutritious doesn’t sell. If you stop consuming, the system loses money. So we make small combos, with cheap fries and cheddar. There’s no time for anything else. Just consume—and dopamine will come. We've lost that kind of content (books, films, theater) that stays with you all day, that makes you take a deep breath and look at the sun with closed eyes, crying or laughing. The kind of content that moves you.

We need to relearn how to eat. How to choose again. To stop clicking on junk and start looking for what truly matters in our lives. Again, I return to the idea of being vital instead of viral. Shoutout to Nathanology for this—it all comes back to studying Latin. Viral comes from virus—poison. Vital comes from vita—life. And this isn’t just a linguistic coincidence. Let me explain why.

Viral is like cancer—it replicates without awareness. It spreads without asking whether it helps or harms the body. Viral is about quantity, not quality. If we talk about content, viral chases views—not truth. It seeks to be shared, not understood. It chases likes. And slowly, invisibly, like a silent toxin, it divides us, distracts us, disconnects us.

Vital, on the other hand, is a healthy habit. It sustains life. It creates and strengthens relationships so that ideas can collide without imposing, like roots weaving together underground. Vital doesn’t go viral—it plants seeds. Seeds that touch the core of the earth and invite transformation.

Now pause for a moment. Let me ask you something, dear Bitcoiner: Are you vital to life, or viral in mine? What is it you’re offering?

Me? I try to offer thoughts to this community—through my newsletter, my books, or writing here. I've learned so much from you. And though I hope my contravalue comes through monetarily, it’s also in how I amplify and support others who inspire me.

So I ask again:

You don’t have to choose between them. That’s where value-for-value comes in.

So, back to the question—why are we so happy in these communities like SN or NOSTR? First and foremost: good ideas don’t come from marketing; they come from honesty. If something feeds my mind, I give back. If something transforms me, I show gratitude—through a zap, a comment, or sharing it with someone else. No one forces us to share, but we do it anyway. That’s real connection.

These are tools that allow us to build authentic peer-to-peer relationships. Writers (@denlillaapan, @dergigi), visual artists (@plebpoet), podcasters (@lunaticoin), or meme creators (@corndalorian) can finally get the recognition they deserve—not from heartless Instagram likes, but through zaps. A human validating another human’s work with value. Money—the oldest way we say this matters.

That’s why Bitcoin, SN, and NOSTR aren’t some alchemical dream—they’re infrastructures that enable real exchange. Where an artist can feel my affirmation: “thank you for your work, it fed my soul. Keep cooking.” Bitcoin and Lightning are recognition without middlemen. No one interferes with my desire to support. There’s no friction between the art, the artist, and me. I don’t rely on algorithms. You don’t need to scream (clickbait) to get my attention. You can create from your center—and I’ll hear you. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll build value together.

This isn’t just economics. This is my spirit, laid bare—seeking life through art, thought, and community.

We forget sometimes that decentralization is more than technical structure—it’s a way of being. Let me show you: every Bitcoiner holds an existential stance: "I will no longer outsource my money or my attention to some external power that claims to know what’s good for me or my children.” Sound familiar?

Centralized platforms are the supermarket of junk content. What I hear, see, and choose is dictated by someone else. I’m a passive consumer eating what’s on the shelf. “Does it make me sick? Who cares. It tastes good. How long are you even gonna live anyway?” We’re addicted to our own harm.

And here comes Bitcoin, Lightning, and NOSTR. Every time you zap a creator, you’re casting a vote. You’re voting for vital content. Content that resonates. Content where the soul speaks.

I learned this as a reader. As a listener. As a viewer. I’m part of this nutrition network. I am the change. That zap I send to an artist on Fountain, that article I zap here on SN—“thank you to my inspirers, please pass this meal forward.” And in doing so, I support the author. I make it possible for others to do the same. I inspire someone else to create value.

You’re either fed—or you’re emptied. There’s no in-between.

Today we have courses on how to go viral. Imagine that. We're being sold the idea that fast, massive, filterless content is good. But my body wasn’t made to replicate—it was made to coordinate, to harmonize, to cooperate. The artist on NOSTR (writer, musician, speaker) is like a spider weaving meaning. The NOSTR reader is seeking connection—seeking something to zap, something to grow. What we’re forming is a decentralized synapse, not a hall of mirrors.

A nourishing media diet is possible. You can feed your mind and soul with ideas, music, plays, and books that vitalize—not viralize—your life. If your body were made of information:

And the brain and heart? Believe it or not, it’s you. You’re the one who decides what lives and what doesn’t. Are we hungry? Are we lost? I don’t know. You tell me. But I’ll say this: it’s time to start cooking with love again.

As I said in another essay: content creators are treated like products, and our attention is the mine that extracts them. But that’s not the point. Creating is weaving. And weaving takes time. That’s why this piece you’re reading won’t go viral. My words were written with intention—not to be viral, but to be vital. So they stay with you, even if you read this years from now. Today, creating context feels like a wild idea—something only a few do. But the community around value-for-value (us) isn’t just an audience. We’re neighbors. And the zap isn’t payment—it’s well-being in motion.

The zap is bread and applause. The zap is gratitude and energy. The zap is impact, regardless of reach.

To be vital is to cook again—with meaning. To give without expecting likes. To sustain with what little we have, because it’s worth everything. A zap is a yes, simply because it says: “this nourished me.” Once you receive a zap for your meme—it’s a one-way street. The poison’s days are numbered.

That’s why we need Bitcoin, Lightning, and NOSTR. They are the fires burning in the digital night. The cast-iron pot where homemade digital meals simmer. Where nothing is measured in calories, but in care. Where a cut of meat isn’t a product—it’s a ritual. Where every bite has a story—and we all sit at the same table to listen.

You take your seat. The artist is the chef. They no longer need to disguise themselves or shout to be heard. Their kitchen is their essence. And we, the community, are the embrace that nurtures the creator’s soul—no noise, no filters, no algorithm.

To zap is to sit down and say, “this meal was amazing—thank you.” To accept that food isn’t just taste—it’s art. It’s not about swallowing. It’s about savoring.

Value-for-value returns us to communion. A single sat makes the next album possible.

And so, dear reader, we build community—through presence, vitality, and care.

The rest? Let others do what they will.