bones
I’ve read more knowledge-filled books in the last six years than I did in the previous forty. It’s not even close. But here’s the thing, a cursory knowledge of something is often not that helpful in the real world.
For example, could you explain how helicopters work? According to the fluency effect (bias), countless people think they could without much effort. Then, they’d start down the path of explaining something about the main propeller and how it causes lift. But when probed to go a bit deeper they get lost in the multiple functions of the rear propeller, importance of blade angles, and what it actually takes to maneuver one.
Most of us have no idea how helicopters actually work. Why would we?
I read that there’s a Papua New Guinea saying that goes, “Knowledge is only rumor until it lives in the bones.” And so that’s the thing with so many of these books I’ve read — this didn’t start with helicopters, I swear — reading them isn’t enough. The initial learning is only part of the journey. I read something on LinkedIn awhile back where the post said most non-fiction books aren’t worth reading past the first fifty pages.
I don’t know about all that…
Marcus Aurelius writes in Meditations “To read attentively… not to be satisfied with ‘just getting the gist of it.’” When reading non-fiction, the throughline from beginning to end, combined with the examples given, strengthen the concepts and make it all a bit stickier in the mind. I am personally a fan of an audiobook paired with a strong summary. When done right, it’s like having personal notes to refer back to after attending a great lecture. But oftentimes, even that isn’t enough to really understand something.
“That’s why the philosophers warn us not to be satisfied with mere learning, but to add practice and then training. For as time passes we forget what we learned and end up doing the opposite, and hold opinions the opposite of what we should.”
So I work to get past the gist of something, but without putting things into practice, it doesn’t quite live in the bones. It’s one of the reasons I write. It’s one of the reasons I refer to books so often when talking to others. It’s one of the reasons I like the idea of personal and professional development. I want to imbed the concepts I connect with into my actual life. That takes intention. I’m interested in actively working to become the person I want to be, doing the things I want to do, being present with the lessons being taught to me.
With some of my default wiring, there’s a risk of burnout, of endless disappointment in falling short of my own expectations, of being borderline unbearable at times. It’s all good, a great life is quite literally always being a work in progress. But damn, I want to feel the fundamental truths in my bones. I want to connect with ideas and concepts. I want to engage with work — not to be read as career — that matters. I want the wisdom that comes from a healthy, active, and well-examined life to sink into my being.