Goat

 https://youtube.com/shorts/Ax_u6imutGs?si=puxxyEk6pzpvngna

NVFP4

Keep the original full-precision model frozen as a teacher, then train the quantized NVFP4 model as a student to match the teacher’s output distributions using KL-divergence, rather than retraining the entire model with task losses.

Distillation from the teacher model is the key point.

Tamashii

Tamashii 魂 is usually translated as “soul,” but in Japanese practice it is less about an inner, metaphysical essence and more about a way of being present in action. When people speak of doing something “with tamashii,” they are not talking about emotion or passion alone. They are pointing to a form of moral and technical alignment, where intention, effort, and execution are inseparable.

In the context of doing things right, tamashii refers to the seriousness with which a task is taken, regardless of scale or audience. It is the refusal to treat any action as trivial. Whether polishing a floor, writing a line of code, forging a blade, or serving tea, the act is approached as complete in itself. Nothing is deferred to later. There is no shortcut justified by invisibility. The work carries the worker’s name, even if no one ever sees it.

This is why tamashii is often discussed alongside craft rather than belief. A sword with tamashii is not one imbued with mysticism, but one made without compromise. The smith did not rush cooling, did not accept a minor flaw, did not say “good enough.” Over time, this attitude becomes visible in the object. The result feels right, balanced, trustworthy. That feeling is not magic. It is accumulated care.

Tamashii also implies accountability beyond rules. Rules can be followed mechanically. Tamashii requires judgment. It asks, “Is this correct?” not “Is this permitted?” In Japanese workplaces and dojos, this distinction matters. Someone may technically meet requirements yet still be told their work lacks tamashii. What is missing is sincerity of effort, awareness of impact, or respect for the lineage of the task itself.

There is a quiet ethical dimension here. To act with tamashii is to acknowledge that actions shape the self. You are not only producing an outcome, you are becoming the kind of person who does things a certain way. Cutting corners is not just a practical decision, it is a formative one. Over time, habits harden. Tamashii resists that erosion by insisting on care even when tired, unseen, or under pressure.

In martial arts, this shows up as consistency rather than intensity. A strike done with tamashii is not the hardest strike, but the most correct one, aligned body, breath, timing, and intent. Power emerges as a byproduct of correctness. The same principle applies outside the dojo. When the process is right, results follow naturally. When the process is compromised, results become fragile.

Importantly, tamashii is not perfectionism. Perfectionism is anxious and self-referential. Tamashii is calm. It accepts human limitation but refuses indifference. Mistakes can happen, but care must be evident. The difference is felt immediately by others, especially those trained in the same discipline.

In modern contexts, tamashii often survives quietly. It appears in engineers who document systems for the next person, writers who revise for clarity rather than praise, parents who keep small promises, even when inconvenient. These acts are rarely celebrated, but they build trust. Over time, people learn who can be relied on. That reputation is not built on claims, but on repeated, unglamorous correctness.

So when tamashii is invoked in relation to doing things right, it is not a poetic flourish. It is a practical standard. Do the thing fully. Respect the work. Leave no residue of laziness or excuse. Let the quality of attention be visible in the result. That is tamashii in action, not as an abstract soul, but as a lived discipline.

iRobot

 https://youtu.be/mTpkV7xZln0?si=VeegpjphTO0MoqHF

Clock

 https://youtube.com/shorts/slTmWbaungY?si=idd1TFyRJzIdk9W_