Highlights:
So I was thinking about how long it would take to learn how to cook really well. I recalled a chef telling me that the real test is doing something simple—like making a perfect omelet. Everything you know about cooking comes out in this simple dish. So I decided to switch the order around. Instead of spending 10,000 hours learning the basics of cookery and then showing my expertise in omelet making, I’d start with just making an omelet. I really focused on making that omelet. I separated it from the basic need that cooking usually fulfills—filling my stomach—so that it now occupied a special, singular place in my life. It had become a micromastery. A micromastery is a self-contained unit of doing, complete in itself but connected to a greater field. You can perfect that single thing or move on to bigger things—or you can do both. A micromastery is repeatable and has a success payoff. It is pleasing in and of itself. You can experiment with the micromastery because it has a certain elasticity—you can bend it and stretch it, and as you do you learn in a three-dimensional way that appeals to the multisensory neurons in our brain.
Do you know the feeling of doing an introductory course on something, which you give up on, and then a few years later you try to tell others what you learned, but you can’t remember? A micromastery isn’t like that. It’s with you forever—and it’s nice to have something to show others. For instance if you learn a martial art you need something to shut people up with when they say, “Go on, show us a move.”
A chef gave me the tip about using the fork to bulk up the omelet. I kept practicing. I went online and found more tips. Then a French woman told me about separating the yolk from the white, which allows your omelet to double in thickness and softness. When it’s served, people simply go: “Wow!” This is what I call the “entry trick.” Every micromastery has one. It is a way, in one stroke, to elevate your performance at that task and get an immediate payoff—a rush of rewarding neurochemicals, which is a nice warm feeling. In some micromasteries, the entry trick is huge, an integral part of the whole thing. In others it just gives you enough of a push to get you going. There are lots of big-shot learners out there boasting of their ability to master foreign languages, get calculus down, or absorb C++ programming, but they all seem to miss this point. Learning must not be like school; it must not be boring. It doesn’t need to be silly fun, but it mustn’t be deadening or dull or too hard. The entry trick, in one fell swoop, sweeps all that away.
Rule 3: Go three-dimensional, go multisensory The latest research into neurological function reveals that much of our brain is composed of multisensory neurons. There isn’t one type of brain cell for smell, another separate one for sight—all these inputs can be handled by the same cell. We learn better the more dimensions and senses we involve.
Hebb’s Law (“what fires together, wires together”) is a basic observation of neuroscience. If it rains while you take a first trip to Paris, the two will always be connected. But its broader implication is that the greater the variety of experience, the wider the sensory impact, the stronger the trace in the brain, and the greater the connectivity. This not only aids memory but also guards against senility. One wonders at the current epidemic in dementia and must concur with Dr. Merzenich—whose brain-training company treats patients suffering from cognitive decay—that we have made life too lacking in variety and multisensory demand. It is easy to live on autopilot, but do it for too long and basic cognitive abilities fall away. Instead, live polymathically and boost your brain.
Merely doing what one has always done, such as a specialist does, strengthens existing networks but builds no new ones in the brain. It also means that short- and medium-term memory are used less and less. The lesson—an intuitive one only recently supported by scientific research—is simple: if you do not use your memory, it will atrophy. If you don’t visit new places where you are required to orientate yourself by, for example, learning where the shops are, finding the way back to your hotel, or even remembering where you parked your car, then you’ll gradually lose even this basic skill. And it does help to think of memory as a skill.
Neuroscientists now believe there is a “superstimulus” effect, a sort of mental synergy that can be produced when we combine different senses as we really study something. This embeds deeper connections in the brain, producing faster and better learning and also enabling us to connect to other areas we are interested in. Micromastery, by seeking out tasks that require us to use more than one sense, realigns us with this better and more natural way of operating.
Micromastery enhanced by deeper looking
The eighteenth-century German writer and philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe believed that we learned as much from deeply looking at something as we did from the usual scientific method of taking it apart and noting its constituent elements. Goethe saw that by noting the connections between the thing looked at and its environment, its rich context, we gained insights of great value.
The eighteenth-century German writer and philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe believed that we learned as much from deeply looking at something as we did from the usual scientific method of taking it apart and noting its constituent elements. Goethe saw that by noting the connections between the thing looked at and its environment, its rich context, we gained insights of great value. I think the key is not to be in a rush. Before visiting a country I often hang its map on the wall. I don’t ever really study it, I just kind of live with it, peering at it from time to time. All kinds of ideas for travel and writing about travel have come from this simple activity. Artists have long considered “deep looking” a way of capturing in the mind’s eye the essence of a thing. The writer Bruce Chatwin, who had previously been a director at Sotheby’s auction house, believed that having one art object on display which you lived with and slowly consumed with all your senses—eyes, hands, everything—if you could, would, after a while, reveal all its secrets to you. When it was fully digested you sold the piece and obtained another.
How many of us learned math, French, geography, chemistry at school and, having never used what we learned, now recall almost nothing? When you learn the basics it never sticks, unless you keep going to achieve something permanent like a micromastery—a distinct and recognizable unit of skill. Since most people never get past the basics except in their specialism, most people lose most of what they learn. All of which would be supremely depressing if we didn’t naturally accumulate micromasteries, even if the formal academic culture is against them or refuses to take them seriously.
Micromastery can be a small thing, a simple thing—but it can lead you into previously unimagined realms of happiness. Producing is more satisfying than consuming. Consuming is what is eating up the planet’s resources and polluting the sea. Of course, a nice meal is enjoyable—there is no need to scarf down cans of baked beans and suffer. But micromastery switches us to a more productive view of life. We come to see that making things is simply better. Happiness comes from inside—it’s a decision. Enjoyment comes from outside—it has to be sniffed out. Enjoyment gets you out of bed in the morning, but happiness helps you sleep at night. In general, the enjoyment derived from production is far more durable than the enjoyment we get from consuming.
Lack of confidence is connected to not liking to be watched or on display. People who lack confidence can feel a reluctance even to say their own names loudly in public and they rather dread those little intro speeches you have to do at seminars and courses.
No one likes to be judged, but a micromastery puts you outside the judging zone because it is only one of many versions. Doing the task badly matters less. When I make an omelet for someone I could get nervous—what if I fail? But then I remember that the whole point is that I am on the path to mastery, not one-off success. This is just one more step, and if they say it is less than perfect I’ll try hard to thank them sincerely for deigning to eat my food. And my next one will be better.
Refine and reboot your bucket list
The problem with the wish list is that it can become a list of consumables rather than real achievements. And it is a little weird to do things solely to “look back on them.” Surely they should be good at the time too? There needs to be balance. By making a wish list of micromasteries you have something that is interesting to do, useful forever, and nice to look back on.
Doing the same thing every day of your life will kill you with boredom; doing the same thing every day for a period of time while you aim to master something is a proven and effective learning strategy. You then switch to something new, maybe a new micromastery. Be on track until you find yourself in a rut, then switch tracks. Micromastery makes switching tracks pain-free, easy, and part of the program. We aren’t meant to be specialists. As we mentioned earlier, one study showed that only 3.4 percent of the population are naturally inclined to specialization. If you are part of the rest of the population, read on, and even if you aren’t, read on. According to extensive research for UNESCO by Dr. Robert Root-Bernstein: We found that compared with typical scientists, Nobel laureates are at least 2 times more likely to be photographers; 4 times more likely to be musicians; 17 times more likely to be artists, 15 times more likely to be craftsmen; 25 times more likely to be writers of non-professional writing, such as poetry or fiction and 22 times more likely to be performers, such as actors, dancers or magicians.*
These Nobel Prize–winning scientists are specialists, but they enhance their specialty with outside interests, thus gaining new perspectives. There is informal recognition of the advantage of a polymathic background: 82 percent of scientists and engineers surveyed by Robert Root-Bernstein answered “Yes” to the question “Would you recommend an arts-and-crafts education as a useful or even essential background for a scientific innovator?”* Arts and crafts are the natural home of micromastery—self-contained, scalable, repeatable, defined.
Synergy between different areas of knowledge (not just academic but also practical) is little studied. After all, what field would it come under? One of the few to have studied it is Carl Gombrich of University College London. He has found that students who study sciences and arts at A Level (a minority in the UK) are later more likely to have positions of responsibility and leadership—by six orders of standard deviation, a hugely positive correlation.* The more you know, and the greater number of different perspectives you have on things, the exponentially better it is for you. Fields of knowledge cross-fertilize in many, often surprising, ways. The kernel of creativity is, after all, putting together things that have never been put together before.
Masters keep going at what they do. They bend before opposition but do not break; they take the path of least resistance, as long as it still is the path. Masters use ritual instead of repetition to achieve long-term, maybe even dimly conceived, goals. Ritual is making repetition into something fun that you look forward to, or at least tolerate. You can make a ritual out of anything—even checking e-mails. You have your special e-mail-checking chair, a cup of Ethiopian coffee best drunk at 116°F, your e-mail-checking hat . . . you get the picture.
Our culture pimps and peddles this pessimism—it wants us to be passive consumers rather than superhuman producers. Look at those McDonald’s ads—the world is portrayed as a crappy place where a Big Mac is the best you can aspire to. I’m lovin’ it.