“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
Khalil Gibran
My name is Adrian Rosebrock.
Some of you may know me already.
I have a PhD in computer science with a focus in computer vision and machine learning.
From January 2014 to December 2021, I was founder and CEO of PyImageSearch, one of the largest (if not the largest) computer vision, deep learning, and OpenCV education website online.
During my time at PyImageSearch, I authored 9 books, 2 courses, and over 500 tutorials to help developers, students, and researchers master computer vision and deep learning.
PyImageSearch was acquired in 2021, nearly two years to the day.
A lot has happened since then:
But the story doesn’t end there.
In fact, it’s just starting.
Table of Contents
“The act of creation is an attempt to enter a mysterious realm. A longing to transcend. What we create allows us to share glimpses of an inner landscape, one that is beyond our understanding. Art is our portal to the unseen world.”
Rick Rubin, The Creative Act
This blog is not what you think it is.
NaturalDisasters.ai is not a teaching blog…at least not in the traditional sense of what PyImageSearch was where I published tutorials to help you learn a particular artificial intelligence concept.
Instead, I think of NaturalDisasters.ai as a personal blog.
This time around I’m teaching myself a topic that’s always interested me…and artificial intelligence makes up only a small part of my own self-education.
I’m documenting my learnings along the way, in real-time, for no other reason than I want a living record of the path taken; one that I can refer back to as a reference (as I have a feeling this journey is going to lead somewhere special).
The rest of what I’m teaching myself…well, that involves the mystical art of self-healing through the sacred practice of creation and emergence.
What does that mean?
You’ll find out if you stick around.
But first, a story.
Aftermath of Hurricane Andrew in Florida (August, 1992) (image credit)
It all started in August, 1992.
Hurricane Andrew had just ripped through the eastern part of the United States, stripping houses down to nothing but their cement foundations, causing catastrophic flooding across the vast majority of the eastern part of the United States.
Luckily, my family was safe.
Our house was a few hours from the Maryland coastline.
But despite being ~150 miles inland, the storm was still damaging enough for us to feel its effects – flooded roads, washed out bridges, no power for days as the electric company scrambled to get the grid back online.
Soon after the storm had passed, my dad gathered my mother and I into the car to drive around the county and survey the damage.
It was the first time I had seen catastrophic destruction at that level.
Creeks and rivers overflowing their banks into farmers’ fields, ruining crops, drowning livestock, and wiping out homes with a dirty muck of sepia and grit that coated the floors and walls like cement.
It was terrifying to see devastation at that scale…
…and if I’m being brutally honest, little-kid-me also found it extremely exciting at the same time.
There was some part of me that genuinely wanted to see the chaos – to not only bear witness to the macabre, but also be part of it as well.
More poignantly, I remember being insatiably curious about the emotions of others during such a terrible event:
You see, I was a highly sensitive kid.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I could read energy, just by looking at a person.
Some sort of invisible cosmic wisdom told me everything I needed to know.
The sensitivity was more powerful than I realized.
I now understand what I was experiencing was more on the “empathic” level – I could quite literally feel what others were feeling, just by being in their presence.
As a curious kid, I wanted to know what all the emotions felt like.
Particularly the darker emotions, those steeped in shadow energy; those feelings seemed extra powerful to me, and I wanted to understand them completely.
The stories and events surrounding natural disasters became a sort of drug for my little mind – an obsession, a window into emotions so raw and unbridled that I couldn’t un-see or un-feel them for days, weeks, or even months at a time.
At 5 years old, natural disasters had become my first addiction.
After Hurricane Andrew in 1992, I continued exploring natural disasters through film, media, and books.
Growing up, some of my favorite movies included:
…just to name a few.
The trend continued as an adult, only now I’ve spent time reading obscure recountings of natural disasters and tornados:
Natural disasters have been a common theme in my life, and as an adult, I’ve never really knew how to bridge the gap between my childhood obsession and nostalgic intrigue.
Until now.
Approximately 2 months after my divorce was finalized. Turning a corner, feeling magnetic.
In many ways, the first 34 years of my life were filled with “personal natural disasters” due to a highly unstable home environment.
However, the past two years have been exceptionally rough.
My ex-wife (Tara) and I divorced after 14 years of being together.
We got together when I was 20 and she was 18.
Our entire twenties were spent in a relationship.
Even though it was an amicable divorce, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t emotionally traumatic.
I learned a lot about myself through the ensuing divorce process.
My failures as a husband, as a man, as a responsible steward of this world.
It was humbling to say the least.
Within a week of us deciding to get divorced, I packed up my two door coupe with what little possessions I had (I sold/donated over 90% of my possessions in January-March 2022 after fufilling a life-long goal of becoming a minimalist), and drove from New York to Toronto, Canada.
Leaving the same town wasn’t enough.
Neither was leaving the same state.
I needed to leave the country.
Soon after arriving in Canada, my relatives in the United States started dying from cancer and other illnesses, reducing my father’s side of the family to a fraction of what it once was.
Death came after my father too – his cancer returned after a few year hiatus. Luckily, he’s survived his latest bout with the reaper.
And on top of all that, my mother suffered a severe psychotic break (one of many over the course of her life) – within six months she went from the psychiatric ward to assisted living.
My mom has struggled with grievous, dreadful psychological disorders her whole life.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that her illness will one day take her life (which is also a painful realization I had to process over the past two years).
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
More details on these events, and others, will come out in time.
Sharing, especially through the vulnerability and artistic expression, is part of the healing process.
Despite the chaos of the past two years, I’m genuinely happy.
Happier than I’ve ever been, in fact.
I credit my state of mind to the tremendous amount of inner work I’ve done over the past two years, learning the skills and tools necessary to process grief at what I jokingly call a “professional level”.
Years ago, I lacked these tools.
Nearly every night, I used alcohol and prescription medication to numb out.
I effectively had zero skill in processing grief.
When you see someone suffering, when they’re angry, if you sit with them long enough, the anger will pass and you’ll see the true monster they’re fighting…and it’s almost alway grief.
And while I wouldn’t call myself an “expert” at managing grief now, I think I’m well into the “intermediate” and “advanced” skill set.
But I didn’t do it alone.
I had some incredible teachers along the way, one of which I consider a mentor and second mother.
Through this process, I’ve discovered life’s beautiful cycle of chaos, recovery, and resilience.
This process is built into us.
We all have it.
It’s as old as time itself.
And if you tap into it, you can overcome anything.
The past two years have been tough, and while I’m proud of my level of resiliency, the work isn’t finished.
It never is.
I’m aware that the next stage of my life journey requires me to document my healing process.
I can’t tell you exactly how I know this…
…but I can tell you that it feels like some sort of cosmic energy is being channeled through me, and as a result, I feel a responsibility to let the work have its say.
My intention is for NaturalDisasters.ai to be art.
Sacred, healing art through the creative process.
I’m sharing my healing journey in hopes that it helps and inspires you.
And perhaps, we can all heal together.
Adrian Rosebrock. “NaturalDisasters.ai - My Self-Healing Journey by Helping Others Through Data Science”, NaturalDisasters.ai, 2023, https://naturaldisasters.ai/posts/welcome-to-natural-disasters-ai/.
@incollection{ARosebrock_WelcomeToNaturalDisastersAI,
author = {Adrian Rosebrock},
title = {NaturalDisasters.ai - My Self-Healing Journey by Helping Others Through Data Science},
booktitle = {NaturalDisasters.ai},
year = {2023},
url = {https://naturaldisasters.ai/posts/welcome-to-natural-disasters-ai/},
}
The young, child version of myself was capable of intense, profound love, but I lost the ability to love with such potency before my 10th birthday. Join me as I rekindle it, and learn to love authentically and completely once again.
Dive into my intimate journey of love and EDM, exploring deep connection and the sacred temple my partner and I have built together.
Recommended by Andrew Huberman and Rick Rubin, laying down and not moving for 30-60 minutes during the middle of the work day can help boost creativity and reset your nervous system.
