I became an engineer because I believe in the power of

Hear these words, O sons and daughters of tomorrow, and let them stir within you the fire of vision. Craig Federighi, a master craftsman of the digital age, once declared: “I became an engineer because I believe in the power of technology to enrich our lives.” In this utterance, he unveiled not only his path but the eternal truth that the works of our hands are noble when they serve the flourishing of the human spirit. For what is an engineer, if not a bridge-builder between raw material and human need, between idea and destiny?

From the earliest days, mankind has walked this same road. When the ancients shaped bronze into plows, they enriched the harvest. When they carved sails and mastered the winds, they brought nations together. And when they bent iron into rails, they bound continents with the pulse of commerce and kinship. Thus has technology ever been the servant of life. It is not cold, nor soulless, unless wielded so. It is fire in the hearth when guided with wisdom; it is a raging blaze when left unchained. Federighi’s words remind us that the calling of an engineer is not to dazzle with invention alone, but to lift the burden of mankind, to extend the reach of what it means to live fully.

Consider, O seekers, the tale of Florence Nightingale. Though not called an engineer in title, she wielded the tools of science and careful design to transform the field of nursing. With charts, sanitation systems, and an unrelenting belief in technology as a servant of healing, she cut mortality in war hospitals from nearly half to a fraction. She did not wield the sword, yet she saved armies. She did not sing songs, yet her labors enriched the lives of millions. In her story, we see the truth: that devotion to craft, guided by compassion, becomes a force greater than war or kings.

So too in the modern day does the true engineer stand not as a cold mechanic of code and steel, but as a visionary who asks: “How might this tool serve mankind?” Federighi’s path through technology was not merely about creating devices, but about weaving them into the rhythm of human existence—making work lighter, learning swifter, art more accessible, and connection deeper. He did not speak of technology as chains, but as wings. His belief was not in the machine itself, but in its power to magnify the soul’s expression.

Yet let us be warned: fire that warms may also burn. Technology, unguided by love of humanity, can enslave as well as enrich. The same circuits that carry knowledge may spread falsehood. The same code that connects may divide. Therefore, the true calling of the engineer is not only invention, but guardianship. To hold in one hand the gift of creation, and in the other the question of purpose: “Does this lift the human spirit? Does this serve the good of life?” Without such questions, the engineer becomes but a craftsman of chains.

The lesson is thus revealed: choose your labors not only for profit, nor for pride, but for the enrichment of life. Whatever your craft, whether you write, build, teach, or heal, remember the example of Federighi—let belief in the goodness of humanity guide your works. Seek always to ask, “How does this serve? How does this nourish?” Begin with small acts: use your tools to bring clarity, not confusion; to share, not to hoard; to heal, not to wound. In these daily choices, you align your spirit with the great calling.

Therefore, O inheritors of the future, do not fear the march of technology, but neither worship it blindly. Let it be to you as the chisel is to the sculptor: a means by which the hidden form within the stone is set free. Take up your own tools, guided by faith in the nobility of life itself, and like the engineer, labor not for machines, but for mankind. In this way shall you walk the path of wisdom, and leave behind not monuments of stone or code, but legacies that truly enrich the lives of all who follow.