Private notes, made public. · 9th Oct, 2026

Hey, it’s Gabriel.

These are my private notes this week on building wealth, raising my family, and breaking generational patterns.

This week
⚡ My AI remembered an idea I forgot
❤️ Love gives
💰 We’re not in an AI bubble
🧬 My power breakfast for the next week

For a year I’ve called it my AI Second Brain. I’m renaming it. It’s an AI Super Brain now, because it does something it couldn’t do before. It gives me insights.

Most people see my setup and think it’s an Obsidian folder full of notes. Obsidian is just the window. What matters is the piping underneath it.

Two pieces of that piping changed this month.

The first is a proper retriever. When I or one of my agents asks a question, it searches by meaning across everything I’ve written down, and comes back with the notes that matter, with the source attached.

The second is what I call dreaming mode. Once a week, while I’m not looking, the brain takes something new I’ve written and pairs it with two or three notes from a completely different part of my life. Then it asks one question: what do these suggest together? Each answer comes back as a guess, with its sources and a simple test to check it.

The first run gave me three. I kept all three.

Here’s the one that got me.

On 1 October I wrote down an idea. My own small sales system, built for AI agents from day one: pages, forms, contacts, email and a WhatsApp inbox, all things an agent can read and act on. I wrote the memo, filed it, and moved on with my week. I honestly forgot about it.

A week before that, we’d had a funnel tracking problem. A webinar I ran with a partner, and Zoom couldn’t tell us properly who on our list had actually shown up. We were also stuck waiting on access to the CRM. Annoying. We fixed it and I forgot it.

The brain put those two notes side by side. Its read: every one of those funnel problems came from a tool that neither people nor agents could easily read or control. That’s exactly the problem your forgotten idea solves. Your own funnel failures are its first spec. Log every one, and if three or more trace back to a tool your agents couldn’t touch, you have your reason to build.

I hadn’t seen it. My brain had.

The other two were just as practical. It noticed a setup pack I’d already built and sold to a client matched, almost line for line, a product two partners wanted to sell under a government grant, so I didn’t need to write a new one. And it spotted that a new member had joined Two Hour CEO on an existing member’s referral, with no push from me, and suggested a referral reminder before doors close.

None of those were in any single note. They lived in the gap between notes, in different corners of my life, and only something reading all of it at once could see them.

This is where I think we’re heading. Picture two founders pitching for the same client. One walks in with a brain that remembers every call, every idea and every mistake, and keeps connecting them while they sleep. The other is working from memory. Without an AI Super Brain, you won’t be able to compete in that room.

How many good ideas are sitting in your notes right now, waiting for the one problem that would make them obvious?

Final chance before doors close. Two Hour CEO is where I hand members the AI Super Brain I run my business on, and the skills that sit on top of it. Doors are open until Monday, 12 October. Then they close. As I write this, 40 of the 100 seats are taken, so 60 are left. Take one of the 60 seats here.

One morning this week I walked past our whiteboard and saw a drawing.

A huge face in red marker. Big eyes, a wide smile, rays coming out in every direction. Above it, in her own wobbly handwriting, one word: happysun.

I stood there smiling. Then my eyes filled up.

It took me a while to work out why. I wasn’t sad. I was happy. But underneath the happy was an ache. This version of my daughter, the one who draws happy suns on the whiteboard, is a version I’ll never get back. And she has no idea. She’s just busy being a kid. I’m the only one standing there remembering her childhood while it’s still happening.

Then my mind ran twenty years ahead, to the day I might walk her down an aisle and hand her to someone else. And that’s when I really cried.

What’s the point, I asked God. Why make something this beautiful if I can’t keep it?

The answer that came didn’t take the ache away. It changed what I thought love was for.

For most of my life, I’ve known love mostly as something I receive. From my parents, from my wife, from God. Fatherhood is teaching me the other side. Love gives. It wants the other person’s good so much that it slowly makes room for a life that isn’t built around you.

If I could freeze her at this age forever, I’d be stopping the girl, the teenager and the woman she’s going to become from ever arriving. I can’t keep this season and receive the next one at the same time.

And I don’t need to live her wedding day today. Today’s gift is today’s daughter. Right now, love looks like stopping at a whiteboard, smiling, crying a little, and being grateful I was there to see it.

And then I saw the other half of it. Letting go isn’t only losing something. It’s making room to receive something new.

That’s how grace works. God gives a gift. You receive it. You open your hands and let it go. And then He gives something bigger. Then bigger again. Grace after grace. Wave after wave of grace.

The little girl drawing happy suns is a gift. So is the teenager coming after her, and the woman after that. I don’t have to hold on to this one to be sure the next one comes.

What are you holding on to so tightly that you can’t receive the next gift?

The Setup: Everywhere I look this month, someone is calling AI the new dot-com bubble. I’ve been reading the numbers side by side, and I don’t buy it.

The Data: The number that matters is the forward P/E: the share price divided by what the company is expected to earn over the next year. Put simply, how many dollars you pay for each dollar of profit coming.

The Verdict: We’re at the height of the AI boom, and this time the revenue and the profits are already here. In 2000, prices were paying for profits that didn’t exist. Today they’re paying for profits these companies are already banking.

The Honest Part: That doesn’t rule out a correction. The market has had a very good run, and a pullback wouldn’t surprise me. What I don’t see is a dot-com style crash that takes a decade and a half to recover from.

Why I’m going back: I eat breakfast now. And when breakfast has carbs, I crash. By the afternoon I hit a heavy blood sugar slump and I’m tired right when I need to be sharp.

I’m busier than I’ve ever been. A new startup, and Two Hour CEO opening its doors. I need energy that lasts the whole day.

I used to drink Bulletproof coffee and I loved how it felt. I felt steady and clear, and I stayed full for hours. The only downside was that it kept me so full I barely ate, and I lost a lot of weight. So this time I’ve rebuilt it.

My recipe:

Blend it all. That’s breakfast.

Why C8: MCT oil is a blend of medium-chain fats, usually C8 and C10. C8 is the one that turns into ketones, the clean fuel your brain runs on when it isn’t burning sugar. In a 2017 study that compared them head to head in healthy adults, pure C8 raised ketones more than any other oil tested: about 3.4 times more than coconut oil across the day, and more than the standard C8 and C10 blend. C8 costs more. Get it anyway. It’s the part doing the work.

The plan: I’m drinking this every morning for at least the next week. Next issue, I’ll tell you what happened to my afternoons.

As promised, my private notes. No fluff.

See you next week,

Gabriel Judah

P.S. Two Hour CEO closes on Monday, 12 October. Inside, I hand you the AI Super Brain I run my business on, dreaming mode included, so it starts connecting your ideas for you. As I write this, 60 of the 100 seats are still open. After Monday, the doors shut. Join Two Hour CEO here.