Practical thought #5
Phase 1 (continued): Laying the foundation – meaningful skill takes meaningful time.
In this section, I’d like to share two ideas that I’ve found to hold true so far. First: there are no shortcuts. Hard work, done consistently over time, is the only reliable path to mastery. Second: your process must evolve as your skill level increases. What got you started won’t be what gets you to the next stage.
No shortcuts: Let’s return to the six-pack example. For a simple, physical goal like that, a diet and workout plan might be enough. But even then, you can’t shortcut the process or rush to the finish line like I often tried to do. You can’t do 200 sit-ups with a 20kg vest on day one. You start with 20. Then 30. Then 40. The volume and intensity builds slowly over time.
And that's when the formula is already known. For a goal like ours, you’re still figuring out what the path even looks like. That’s why the slow, layered progression matters even more. You’re learning how to learn while you’re doing the thing. Research suggests it takes, on average, 10,000 hours of deliberate practice to reach mastery—not a rule, but a useful benchmark.
I once read a great analogy for mastery. It’s like how we first learned language—specifically English. You didn’t start by writing essays. You started with the alphabet. Then you learned the sounds each letter made. Then you formed words. Then you learned how to structure sentences. Only after all of that could you understand grammar, nuance, and storytelling. You couldn’t skip straight to fluency. That same principle applies to everything worth mastering.
Your process must evolve: A good example of the body of work and evolving process is Novak Djokovic. He won his first Grand Slam at 20, but he had already been training for 16 years. He was young, but how many of us have already dedicated 16 years to our craft? Further, what he was doing at 20 looked nothing like what he did at age four. But you can’t reverse-engineer without building the fundamentals. Similarly, his routine now can’t still be what it was back then, or he wouldn’t have improved much at all. You have to lay the layers. Start small, build deliberately, and stay the course.
For me, the hardest part wasn’t the work—it was the wait. You put in the hours. You study. You practice, seemingly it feels like you are doing the same thing every day. And yet, sometimes it feels like nothing happens. I’ve come to think of it like filling a bucket with drops of water. Each drop feels like nothing. But keep going, and eventually, the bucket overflows. Suddenly, it clicks. The “aha” moment comes and all the pieces of the puzzle fall together.
And that’s why passion—or at least a deep hunger—is so important. There will be long stretches where it feels like nothing’s working. No rewards. No breakthroughs. Just effort. If you don’t have a deep internal reason—a love for the craft, a chip on your shoulder, or something to prove—you’ll burn out.
We’ve all seen the iceberg metaphor: people see the tip—fame, money, mastery—but miss what’s underneath. Years of invisible work. Early mornings. Rejected drafts. No applause. That’s the body of work that greatness rests on. The results only show after years of effort.
There are countless examples that illustrate this point. Bruce Lee once said, "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times." The same principle applies across fields. People often question why master craftsmen or tradespeople earn significantly more per hour than beginners—but they’re not being paid just for their time. They’re being paid for their years of accumulated skill, judgement, and the consistent quality they can deliver.
I’m sure many of you have had experiences where opting for the cheaper alternative ended up costing more in the long run. The same lesson applies to careers. While I have a lot of empathy for those who change paths—there are many valid reasons to do so—some people switch professions every few years simply because they get bored. And while there’s nothing wrong with exploring, it’s difficult to reach true mastery without a sustained focus. If you’re moving on because you’ve outgrown a role or are chasing a bigger goal, that’s growth. But if it’s change for the sake of change, mastery becomes elusive.
So now ask yourself: how long have you truly been dedicated to your craft? And are you willing to keep showing up before it starts to show?
Learn to Learn – Knowledge Compounds
Now that we’ve covered the importance of building foundational skills and putting yourself in the right environment, I want to focus on two ideas that have been especially powerful for me: knowledge compounds, and how you learn matters.
Let me start with an example. Imagine I, a finance professional, sit in on a medical lecture alongside a seasoned doctor. We’re both exposed to the exact same content—but the doctor walks away with 1,000 times more insight than I do. I may have learned more new information—because almost everything was unfamiliar—but their understanding runs far deeper. Why? Because they’ve spent years building the foundational knowledge needed to interpret, connect, and apply that information. Same input, vastly different output.
Another thought I’ve had was this: across everything I’ve done—whether in sports, games, or investing—I’ve often reached the “above average” level but struggled to break through to the elite. At the same time, I’ve noticed that people who master one field often replicate that success in completely different areas. One day, I asked myself – what if it was the way I learned? Maybe it wasn’t a talent issue. Maybe it was a learning issue. And if I could improve that—if I could learn more efficiently— Could I become better at everything I do?
The point is: knowledge compounds. The more you know, the easier it becomes to learn more. You can accelerate the process by learning smarter. Here are a couple of things that worked for me:
The Power of Why
I’ve said this before, the brain is like a muscle: the more you train it, the stronger it gets. One way I’ve trained my brain over the years is by constantly asking why, both to myself and to others. Early in my career, my main focus was simple: How do I get better at analysing businesses? And then: What job will help me build that skill?
My first role was in audit at a Big Four accounting firm. It was an interesting place to begin. On one hand, it formally taught me core technical skills—how to read financial statements and understand how large, complex businesses operate across different industries. But it didn’t teach me directly how to evaluate them. That part I had to figure out on my own.
So, I treated every engagement as a learning opportunity. I constantly asked questions. Why do customers choose this product over a competitor? Why is one company growing while another is shrinking? What role do culture, leadership, and execution play? I talked to colleagues, clients—anyone who would share a perspective. I paid close attention to business models, strategy, incentives, and customer behaviour. Over time, I began building patterns in my head.
If someone asked me to do something I didn’t fully understand, I wouldn’t just follow instructions blindly. I’d ask why—not to be difficult, but to understand the logic behind it. People who rely on instructions alone can execute when things go as expected—but when the situation shifts, they fail to adapt. If you understand the reason, you can adapt. You can think better, faster, and with more confidence.
Similarly, when I don’t understand something, I don’t just ask for the answer. I try to figure it out myself first and present a solution. I’ll say, “I’m not totally sure, but here’s what I think. Am I on the right track?” That small change turns every question into an active learning opportunity—and it’s been one of the most powerful accelerators of my growth.
Eventually, I’d walk into a new client and start forming early hypotheses: I think this business will do well because of X, Y, and Z. And since I often stayed with clients over multiple years, I could test those ideas. If I was right, great. If I was wrong, I’d ask myself: What did I miss? What flawed assumption led me there? Was it a one-off event, or should I have seen it coming?
Later, I transitioned into a role as a sell-side equity analyst—where analysing businesses was the job. By then, I had already built the habit of going deeper than the surface. I wasn’t just interested in what was happening—I wanted to understand why it was happening.
That principle—always ask why—has stuck with me ever since. And I’ve noticed that applying it early and often has made me better at forming conclusions from incomplete or disparate data, which is a valuable life skill, especially for investing.
Stop learning the hard way
I won’t dive too deep into the science here, but ask yourself:
Could I learn faster, better, and more deeply with a better method? In a world where knowledge compounds, learning how to learn might be the highest-return investment you ever make.
I once read a book by Jim Kwik called Limitless, which explores a powerful idea: your brain’s capacity for learning and performance isn’t fixed—it can be dramatically improved through the right techniques. I encourage anyone interested to read his book, but in summary, Kwik's core premise is that learning is a skill, and like any skill, it can be developed.
His approach is built around three foundational elements that make up the "Limitless Model": Mindset, Motivation, and Methods. The key insight I want to share here is that many people unknowingly use outdated, ineffective learning techniques that don’t align with how the brain actually works.
Ineffective Learning Techniques Identified by Jim Kwik:
Passive Reading: Simply reading material without engagement or active processing.
Cramming: Last-minute studying that may help short-term memory but fails to support long-term retention.
Multitasking: Dividing attention across tasks, which reduces comprehension and weakens focus.
Digital Distractions: Notifications and constant connectivity that interrupt deep concentration.
Rote Memorisation: Repetition without understanding or context.
One-Size-Fits-All Approaches: Using generic methods instead of tailoring learning to your personal style.
Better Alternatives:
Active Recall: Regularly testing yourself to reinforce memory.
Spaced Repetition: Revisiting information at strategic intervals to cement it into long-term memory.
Speed Reading: Training yourself to read in phrases, reduce sub-vocalisation, and improve overall comprehension.
Visualisation & Association: Creating mental images or links between concepts to aid memory (e.g., memory palaces).
Focused, Distraction-Free Study: Deep, uninterrupted work using systems like the Pomodoro Technique.
Purpose-Driven Learning: Tying what you learn to personal meaning or goals to boost motivation and retention.
Everyone’s brain works a bit differently, so discovering the learning strategies that suit you best can be incredibly empowering.
Reflecting on my own education, I realise now that I relied too heavily on rote memorisation. I’d re-read textbooks endlessly, hoping something would stick. I could pass exams, but I retained very little. The same pattern showed up in meetings—I would write everything down verbatim, creating a perfect record but often failing to truly understand the material.
What I do now is different: I listen, process the information in my own words—often using examples I come up with myself—and note that down instead. Over time, I’ve found that these self-created examples stick far better. Months later, I can still recall them and apply and connect it to new information, creating a deeper level insight. Just like the doctor in the medical lecture, I’ve started to build the kind of pattern recognition that allows me to make faster, deeper connections.
These traditional techniques aren’t entirely useless, but they’re far from optimal. Small tweaks in how you approach learning can result in major improvements in retention, comprehension, and long-term mastery.
The Thinking Habit
One similarity I’ve consistently noticed in the people I admire is this: they don’t just work hard—they make time to think. It’s not about constantly consuming more information or filling every minute with productivity. It’s about pausing, reflecting and giving it time to come together.
I once read that both Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton were known for taking long walks—not for fitness, but for clarity. These walks gave their minds room to wander. Many creatives did the same. So I tried it.
I began walking home in silence—no music, no podcasts—just me and my thoughts. It turned out to be game-changing. That quiet space became one of my most productive habits. Ideas connected more easily. Problems untangled themselves. In fact, the idea for this book was born during one of those silent walks.
We often think productivity is about doing more. But some of the most valuable breakthroughs come when we step back and simply allow ourselves the space to think. Give it a try. You might be surprised how many answers you already have—if you’d only give yourself the silence to hear them.
The Evolving Nature of Motivation
Since we've covered some of the more difficult aspects of growth, I want to highlight something that actually felt natural in the beginning: motivation.
At the start, staying motivated came easily. I was beginning from zero—no money, no credentials, and everything to prove. The hunger to succeed, to show myself what I was capable of, and to prove others wrong, was an intense fuel. I didn’t need discipline tricks or outside pressure. The fire was already burning.
But motivation isn’t just about being driven—it’s about understanding why you're driven. That question—Why do I want this? —is worth revisiting regularly because it will change.
I want you to think about this now - because it becomes a bigger problem later. I’ll explore that transformation more deeply in the next phase. For now, just recognise that motivation is a huge advantage when you're starting out. That early hunger is real, and it can carry you far. The key is understanding that your motivations will change, so do the hard stuff now, you’ll thank yourself later—and prepare yourself to keep going for the right reasons, long after the initial fire has burned down.
Looking Back: What I Could Have Done Better
Overall, I’m proud of my progress so far. But I believe in the power of reflection, so I often ask myself: What could I have done better? While I can’t know how things would’ve turned out if I’d done these differently, there are a few things I think about often:
Moving on from stale learning sooner – I underestimated the value of time. In my first two roles, I had developed all the technical skills I needed from those places by year three, but I stayed two more years because I genuinely enjoyed the people and the work. In hindsight, that extra time cost me. Your years matter a lot, especially year on. I also didn’t realise how staying too long made lateral moves harder.
Prioritising skill development over job performance – I focused heavily on being good at the job in front of me, but not enough on building the deeper, portable skills that would benefit me long-term. I’ll explore this more in the next section, but this shift in mindset changed everything for me.
Reading more, earlier – Learning from your own mistakes is powerful. But learning from others' mistakes is even better. Books are one of the highest-leverage tools for accelerated learning, and I wish I had leaned into that sooner.
Applying everything I just shared—sooner – Every insight in this chapter is something I learned through experience. Some of them only clicked this year. If I had understood and applied these lessons 10 or 15 years ago, I believe the compounding effects would have been exponential.
Set a bigger goal - One of the big mistakes I think I made was setting my original goal a little too low. My original goal was to work in, and be good at equities. I set the goal in university, and it took me about 6-7 years to eventually get there, and another five to become ‘good’ at it. Although it took longer than 10 years, on reflection, those 10 years went by in the blink of an eye and once I had achieved it, it felt like I achieved my life goal and staying motivated to keep doing more became very difficult. I will go more in-depth on this in phase 2.
