About
The person behind Metis, and the path that built it.
Sam
I was an IDF combat medic before I was a rabbi. I was a rabbi in London, officiating at roughly a hundred funerals, before I was an executive communications coach. I was a communications coach before I started building AI systems.
The gap between knowing what matters and being able to deliver it when it counts is wider than almost anyone appreciates. On the battlefield, in a room full of grief, in a boardroom where the next sentence determines the next twelve months — the constraint is never capability. It's the ability to be fully present, fully prepared, and fully human under pressure.
That's what Metis is.
Why Metis
I started Pathos Labs to work on the communication problem — helping founders and executives close the distance between what they know and how others experience them. You could call it Presence Architecture. The structure behind how someone thinks, speaks, and how it's received when it matters.
Then I saw the same pattern from a different angle. The firms I worked with weren't just struggling to communicate — they were drowning in operational detritus that kept their best people from the craft work that got them there in the first place. AI could fix that, but not the way most people were deploying it. Not in a tab or window, and definitely not as a replacement for human beings.
As an exoskeleton, an augmenter, a level-up.
Milo was built to solve that: AI-native implementation from the inside out, systems that multiply craft instead of eroding it.
Craft multiplied by leverage.
That's the thesis. That's Metis.
How I Think
I'm a synthesist. The thread between a combat medic, a rabbi, and an AI builder is the same thread: people under pressure, trying to do something that matters, held back by a gap they can feel but can't name.
I think in analogies. I read across attachment theory, complex systems, Talmud, and philosophy of craft — and the connections between them are where the real insight lives. Not knowing a little about a lot. Seeing the invisible threads between everything.
I also write. Every day. Project365 — one essay a day for a year, with a pledge of zero AI assistance. Not because AI can't write, but because the discipline of wrestling my own thoughts into language is the thing that keeps my thinking sharp.
The craft of thinking clearly is not something I'm willing to automate.