The AI Boom: When Money Goes Around in Circles

I recently read about the financial relationships developing within the AI industry and thought of spreading awareness of why this boom resembles a bubble.

AI companies are increasingly involved in what is known as circular financing. Chipmakers such as Nvidia invest in AI companies and data-centre builders, who then use that money to buy Nvidia chips. In some cases, these companies also rent computing capacity back to Nvidia or its partners. The result is a cycle in which investment helps generate sales, while those sales, in turn, support further growth and investment.

This arrangement helps accelerate AI development, but it also raises an important question: how much of this growth comes from genuine customer demand, and how much comes from money circulating within the same group of companies?

Nvidia's deals involving OpenAI, Anthropic, CoreWeave and Australia's Firmus illustrate how deeply it is involved in the AI ecosystem, acting as a supplier, investor and, in some cases, customer too.

The danger lies in how interconnected these relationships have become. If one major AI company runs into financial trouble, the consequences could spread to its suppliers, investors and business partners. When companies depend on one another to sustain their growth, a setback in one part of the network can affect the others.

Australia's Reserve Bank has also raised concerns about opaque financing arrangements creating pockets of higher financial risk in the AI boom.

The excitement surrounding AI is understandable, and its potential is enormous. I am not questioning the technology or the possibilities it offers. What concerns me is the financial structure supporting some of the growth we see today. When companies invest in one another and the money flows back to the same suppliers, reported growth alone does not tell us the whole story.

A boom driven by genuine demand is one thing. A cycle in which money keeps circulating within the same ecosystem is another. The two can look remarkably similar—until the money stops flowing.

Whispers

Responding to today's prompt Friday Writings #248: Noisy!, my initial thoughts were to write about the bangs that are happening above our skies these days—missiles and the interceptors. But then decided to stay with whispers

“This is about shadows and spirits of dead people, I am guessing,” Ana said, keenly.

“Somewhat, but not exactly,” Ron continued.

“And then?” Ana said, impatient.

A few years back I had an assignment in a city close to where my sister Anita had relocated, and I grabbed the first long weekend.

“Let’s move to the sofa,” Ana suggested, grabbing a bottle of water.

I reached Anita’s on a Thursday but had to spend the evening alone, as she and her husband were unable to cancel a prearranged engagement.

I took to the couch, multi-tasking between watching TV, reading and dozing off, an art I have mastered over time. By 10:05 I was very hungry.

Anita had left my dinner on the table arranged in bowls, with detailed instructions on how long to warm each in the microwave.

Once the television was off, silence descended on the apartment except for the mild humming of the air conditioner. Sitting at the table, I wondered if I missed the noise of constantly moving vehicles and their sporadic honking back home.

Then I had an uncanny feeling that someone else was sitting at the table. Even thinking of it makes my hair stand on end.

I tried to ignore it and concentrated on the delicious food.

It sounded like a man and a woman were talking at the far end, whispering in a language I could not recognise. Every time I looked in their direction, it stopped. I resumed dinner and so did the whispering, until an irritated “argh” came, followed by an extended pause.

Trying not to panic, I kept gulping the food, planning to wander outside till Anita returned. Then I heard them faintly from the sofa. They had moved to avoid my stare.

I was on the verge of collapse when Anita walked in.

Laughing, she said, “I should have told you about the non-intrusive couple living with us since we moved here. A very peaceful coexistence, and no need to be scared. You know, here people bury their dead, and many a soul hangs around, unable to detach from the body they cared for so long!”

Fortunately, the station chief called the next morning, asking me to return immediately because of an emergency. Never in my life was I so happy to get the holiday curtailed.

Living With What Cannot Be Changed

Our society wishes us to believe that, given enough time, everything eventually heals. Pain is expected to soften, memories are supposed to lose their sharpness, and the scars left by difficult experiences are expected to fade away as life moves forward. 

But this is not how our universe shaped us over the millennia.

There are experiences from which we can never completely recover. The grief of losing someone we deeply loved may remain with us as long as we remain conscious. 

A betrayal may permanently alter the way we look at a relationship, while a failure or humiliation may continue to occupy a small corner of our memory long after the event itself has lost its relevance.

Yet the permanence of a wound does not necessarily mean that our life has to remain defined by it.

Accepting that it has become part of our story is perhaps a more difficult form of healing than making the pain disappear. We can never return to being the person we were before a particular loss or disappointment, and trying to do so may simply keep us looking backwards when life has already moved forward.

Life has moved on, and so have we.

Acceptance does not mean giving in or simply putting the experience out of our mind. Rather, it means refusing to let the event—or the person involved—continue to control or affect our lives. Something can remain important without remaining in control of our lives.

Some things are simply painful, unfair or irreversible. Accepting that reality can nevertheless free us from the exhausting expectation that we must somehow repair what cannot be repaired.

In that sense, acceptance can become a form of moksha: a kind of liberation, a breaking free from the cycle of pain and attachment.

An authentic life is not one in which everything has been healed. It is one in which we recognise what cannot be changed.

This is in response to the prompt: Friday Writings #247: Reframing Negative Concepts

1,000 Days of Showing Up

Last month, my phone buzzed with a small celebration.

“1,000 Move Goals — You earned this award for reaching your daily Move goal 1,000 times.”

On the screen, it was just another badge in the Fitness app. But I found myself looking at it for a little longer than usual.

One thousand.

That number represents 1,000 separate days when I managed to show up and move enough to close my Move ring. It represents 1,000 decisions—some big, many very small—made over a period of more than three years.

My first closed Move ring was on 7 June 2023, after a few half-complete and semi-complete days. The 1,000th came on 28 September 2026.

That is 1,209 days in between.

So, clearly, there is still room for improvement. There were 209 days when I did not reach the target. Some were travel days, busy days, tired days, bad-weather days, or simply days when exercise was not on my mind.

There were days when I could complete my walking routine, and days when I just didn't feel like starting.

The Move ring does not ask whether we ran a personal best or completed an impressive workout. It asks a much simpler question:

Did we move enough today?

Over time, I realised that the answer does not always have to come from something dramatic.

Taking the stairs counts. A short workout counts. So does deciding to walk a little farther instead of stopping where we normally would.

And somehow, all those ordinary decisions accumulated into 1,000.

Across those 1,209 days, I have consistently completed the Move ring at least five times a week.

It is not a record of perfection. There were plenty of days when I didn't make it. What it represents instead is something much more ordinary, and perhaps more important: the habit of returning to the effort.

Because that is how real life works.

The real challenge is not in never missing a day. It is starting again when you do.

The achievement, if there is one, is not really the number 1,000. It is the 1,000th time I made the choice to show up.

And tomorrow, there is another ring waiting.