Learn for the sake of learning

Learn so you can more easily change careers and life paths and become more self-actualized.

But learn also for the sake of learning.

Learn because it’s fun. There doesn’t need to be utility involved. If you want to pick up Latin but wonder when you might ever get to use it, the answer is — maybe never. But should that stop you from learning it?

Pick up a skill if it’s something you’re curious about and if it’s fun and you’re enjoying yourself.

It doesn’t have to be complicated.

You can learn anything


“Nobody’s born smart. We all start at zero. Can’t talk, can’t walk, certainly can’t do algebra. Adding, reading, writing, riding a bike, nobody’s good at anything at first. There was a time when Einstein couldn’t count to 10 and Shakespeare had to learn his ABCs just like the rest of us. Thankfully, we’re born to learn. Slowly, surely, you stumble, slip, crawl, fall, and fail, and fall. Frustrating, confusing, trying, struggling, until one day, you walk. One foot in front of the other. One idea on top of the next. Each wrong answer making your brain a little bit stronger. Failing is just another word for growing. And you keep going. This is learning. Knowing that you’ll get it, even if you haven’t got it yet. Because the most beautiful, complex concepts in the whole universe are built on basic ideas that anyone anywhere can understand. Whoever you are, wherever you are, you only have to know one thing, you can learn anything.”

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The world is constantly changing, and sometimes the changes are seismic and overwhelming.

At times like these, it can be helpful to remember we are an incredibly adaptable species. We have dominated the world in such a dramatic fashion precisely because we can adapt to almost any environment.

The heart of being adaptable is the ability to learn new things. It’s comforting to know that I am hardwired to learn, because this means — in theory — that I can survive anything this world throws at me, as long as I keep adapting and learning new skills.

No matter what problems we have, it is my deep belief that we can learn our way out of them.

If we are chronically unhappy, we might want to learn about our mind and our brain. David Eagleman has written wonderfully accessible books about neuroscience that will open your eyes to the “tremendous magic” of the three-pound tofu encased in our skull. From our studies about the brain, we might learn that we are not always “the ones driving the boat of our behaviour”. When we understand that, we might no longer be so hard on ourselves whenever we feel bad or angry or anxious.

If we want to learn how to thrive mentally, we can pick up meditation or dive into the research that’s being done across psychology, neuroscience and contemplative practices like Buddhism. We might learn about the conclusions by scientists that “when your mind changes, your brain changes”. Learning about these ideas — that we don’t always have to be a puppet to our emotions — might convince us to commit to training our minds in the direction of more peace and happiness.

If we are stuck in a dead-end job or don’t enjoy our career, we can choose to learn new skills — we can add new knowledge to what we already know or reinvent ourselves entirely. Then we can use these new skills to get out of our dead-end job. Or start a business. Or pursue a new career path. We might think that our brains can no longer change now that we’re older, or that we might not be able to learn anything of much value with our older and slower brains, but research has shown that our brain is a muscle that grows stronger the more we use it.

So eventually it is not our lack of ability (or the lack of neurons) but often our misguided belief that we are doomed to be stagnant that causes so much of our suffering.

In short, we can learn anything, and use the skills we learn to change our lives, no matter what age we are and at which stage of life we find ourselves in, but first we have to believe that we can.

the few things that we care about

Hug them close. Look at them. Turn them over, again and again, this way and that way, examining them as if this were the first time you were really looking. And then keep looking.

Discovered Robin’s “Fish: a tap essay” by way of Patrick Rhone, and I’m most grateful. And so moved.

I already believe in his message of the need to love fewer things more deeply, but his quirky little story-app really drives the message home.

“There is a path from like to love and I’m trying to follow it again.” – Robin Sloan

Small commitments, big results

Comment ça va?

I’m on day 13 of my streak on Duolingo (I’m learning French!) but someone on the forum just posted about their 5-year streak, which is nothing but inspiring!

He or she writes on the forum:

“I remember when I hit 365 days…then one year became two, then two became three, and now here we are at FIVE years. it blows my mind! I’ve come close to losing my streak due to a lack of internet in some places during my travels. In fact, I distinctly remember only a few months into my streak, on one vacation, I had only an hour of internet access a day, and you better believe the first thing I did was Duolingo!!

The act of making a commitment to something small can have other effects in your life, that cause you to be committed to other things…whether it’s exercise, eating healthier, drinking more water, etc…these goals are all achievable if you start with small commitments. Do not commit to to a five year streak at day 1. Commit to one day. Then two. Then a week. Then a month.”

A very good reminder that a strong commitment to small things over a sustained period can lead to big results. Oh and the beautiful idea of a keystone habit.

PS: What a nice and thoughtfully written blog.

Enjoy the quiet

It’s the easiest thing to get inspired on the internet. I open up my email and there are a dozen great newsletters in there, waiting to inspire me. My Google Bookmarks is bursting with links to my favorite blogs. Every time I get on social media I find new things to bookmark, new links to collect, new videos to watch, new stuff to check out. I have so many interests after all — I like music, photography, interior design, books, traveling, technology, etc. So I get easily whipped into a frenzy every time I’m online, thinking to myself, I’ll get to this link one day, and I’ll check out that app another day.

It’s too much for my brain.

In order to rest my brain — and to give myself space and time to really look at and enjoy the things and books and websites I already like — I realise I have to limit the amount of external input that comes in every day. That means not looking at social media for a few days on end. This includes deleting all the social media apps from my phone. No Facebook, no Instagram, no Reddit. And hence no noise. Life is much quieter. I love it.

It also means not mindlessly web-surfing and holding off on reading blogs and newsletters for a few days. I have serious gripes about social media and I’d love nothing more than to permanently quit them, but I love my blogs and newsletters. Most of them are wonderfully and lovingly maintained by people who truly love making and sharing things on the internet, and I’m inspired by them on a daily basis. But once in awhile, for the sake of giving my brain a rest, doing a short blog/newsletter fast can be beneficial.

So you cut down on the noise and the endless stimulation. Life ironically begins to expand. Suddenly you find that you have quite a bit of extra time.

You can choose to do one of the few things you already really enjoy doing. You can take the time to go deeper. To improving your craft. To demolishing your to-read list. Or you can choose to rest. Do nothing. Either way, the quiet is a welcome respite for your brain.

Enjoy it.

(I actually would like to further try a full information/technology fast. Maybe for three days or so. I’ll definitely write about it if that ever happens. Haha!)

You’re so far away


“Daddy, are you out there?
Daddy, won’t you come and play?
Daddy, do you not care?
Is there nothing that you wanna say?

I know
You’re hurting too
But I need you, I do
Daddy, if you’re out there
Daddy, all I want to say

You’re so far away
Oh, you’re so far away
That’s okay, it’s okay
I’m okay

Daddy, are you out there?
Daddy, why’d you run away?
Daddy, are you okay?
Look, Dad, we got the same hair
And Daddy, it’s my birthday
And all I wanna say

Is you’re so far away
Oh, and you’re so far away
That’s okay, it’s okay
It’s okay

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
(Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) You’re so far away

Won’t you come and won’t you stay?
Please stay, oh, please stay
Won’t you come and won’t you stay?
One day, just one day”

There is no reward


Human beings are at our core deeply creative; it seems, even if we don’t fully understand why, that we are here to make things, conjure stuff from out of nowhere. The energy that arises from the act of doing creative work is life-giving, joyful, pure.

Some of us of course desire to be recognised for our creative work. We attach our identity, even our happiness, to the reception of our creative work by the outside world.

Nick Drake was a very talented singer-songwriter who was active in the 60s and 70s, but during his lifetime, neither of his records sold more than 5,000 copies. This lack of success drove him to a dark, unrelenting depression. He died of an overdose of antidepressant medication in 1976, at the young age of 26, his talent buried, his name barely known.

In 2000, “Pink Moon” — the title track of one of his albums — was used in a Volkswagen advertisement and his songs began to explode in popularity. Posthumous sales of his records far exceeded those in his lifetime. He had made it. His talent was finally being recognised. But he was now dead for 24 years.

If Nick had become popular during his lifetime, would he have continued to be depressed? Does being popular, being accepted by the mainstream, have any bearing on whether he made good or bad music? Should he have stopped making music while he was still alive, since the reception was so bad (or rather, nonexistent)?

These questions are mostly unanswerable today but they are good food for thought. They help us to ask ourselves similarly difficult and confronting questions about art-making, success, money, public opinion, and the meaning of life.

We are made to create — I believe this is a self-evident truth. (And remember, “create” is a word that spans categories; one can create songs and paintings and novels as much as one can create connections, create spreadsheets, create businesses.) But must we connect our creativity to success? To financial rewards? To our self-esteem?

Is it possible to create in the purest sense of the word, which is to create for the sake of creating, without hoping for any reward to come our way?

This is what I propose, that we — creators of all stripes — learn to move forward on our creative paths with a sort of harmonic duality.

We create because we want to, because we are made to do it, because it is our calling.

If it is our desire to be conventionally recognised for our work, we must then be willing to treat our creative work as a profession, as a business even, and learn to market ourselves, do consistent work, connect with our audience, build visibility and relationships, etc.

However, if it becomes apparent after some years that our desire to create doesn’t seem to square with public recognition or any kind of viable financial reward, we must learn to be at peace with it and realise that not every singer becomes a Lady Gaga, not every painter becomes a Picasso, not every writer becomes a Neil Gaiman.

Maybe we are more of a Nick Drake — talented but without an audience in our lifetime. And it’s fine. (It’s interesting to note though that Nick Drake was famously resistant towards self-promotion and would shy away from performing his songs on TV, hence losing many opportunities to grow his fan base while he was still alive.) Our work might find an appreciative audience 24 years after we’re six feet under. But that doesn’t mean we’re not doing good work NOW. The joy, the life-giving force, the meaning of creative work — that is all already present every day in our lives, as we work to make things from out of nothing.

There might be no reward from the outside world, but there is already a reward, in and of itself, in the act of doing the work we are called to do. And that must not be taken lightly. This internal reward is a great gift, since it is self-sustaining and independent of external forces. It is real, rooted, and most importantly, ours.

I want to add a quick footnote: Creative work doesn’t need to be our profession in order for it to be valid. We can be a banker by day and painter by night. We can be a tuition teacher who writes in the mornings. We can be working a boring admin job but lead a wild life online as an indie app developer. But that doesn’t stop us from thinking and seeing ourselves as a painter, a writer, an indie web developer. If very few people are willing to pay us to create, we can still pay ourselves to do it by working a day job.

Another footnote: Chances are, if you really enjoy the creative work you do and you do it in a consistent manner and you are willing to put your work out there for people to see, an audience will build over time. It is almost a law. You might not end up becoming world-famous, but it’s not hard to eventually have 1,000 true fans. And that, most of the time, is more than enough.

And enough is plenty.