Eric Tian

You know those what ifs that keep you up at night?

Those moments where you see something extraordinary and think, I wonder if I could do that?

Dear reader, if you’re in doubt about something that’s not in your life, try it. Often, the worst possible outcome is it doesn’t work out, in which you’d go back to your current life having learnt something new.

It’s the things I’ve tried in the last few years – things that most of my colleagues don’t do – that have made my life memorable. Some of these include:

• Starting a business
• Starting a YouTube channel
• Starting this blog
• Learning to code
• Asking out my partner
• Building a PC

I must confess, a lot of these have failed. But that’s okay – now I know first-hand, instead of always wondering. The ones that have sticked, however, have utterly transformed my life.

And if you’re interested, here are some secret callings that still remain to be tried:

• Finish a triathalon (eventual iron man)
• Give a TED talk
• Write a book
• Move across the world

As Abraham Maslow wrote, Life is an ongoing process of choosing between safety (out of fear and need for defense) and risk (for the sake of progress and growth).

Make the growth choice a dozen times a day.

One of my favourite songs of all time is Farmer Refuted from the musical Hamilton. It begins with a farmer singing a simple melody criticising the American Revolution:

Heed not the rabble who scream revolution
They have not your interests at heart

Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution
Don’t let them lead you astray

This Congress does not speak for me
They’re playing a dangerous game

I pray the king shows you his mercy
For shame, for shame

In response, American founding father Alexander Hamilton interrupts with a counter-melody over the farmer. The dialogue between the two is quite spectacular:

By itself, the farmer’s melody is linear and uninspiring. The song is slow, repetitive and simplistic. It is only when Hamilton jumps in with the counter-melody, where the song’s genius reveals itself. You begin to see different perspectives of similar issues and some criticisms of the other side. Each singer’s lyrics gives the other’s meaning.

In other domains, seeing multiple stories of the same issue can be extremely interesting. Even if some voices are wrong or unpopular, the net result of all these counter-melodies often paints a wonderful, nuanced picture.

We’re often quick to filter out paradoxical ideas in the name of consistency. Yet, things are usually more special when you break free from the accepted melody, and look for the counter-melodies.

Who knows? You might love the song even more.

Dear friend,

Think of all the billions of doors you closed just to take one step; all the destinations you didn’t buy a ticket to; all the possible futures you narrowly avoided.

Everything you’ve sacrificed to get to now.

Isn’t it strange to think how different your life would be if fate just tipped you into some other course, surrounded by new friends, mentors and soulmates? Maybe you’d tell them that it was all meant to be; that you knew all along that your paths would cross. That there could be no other way.

We never know how many things had to happen just right for them to occur the way they did. Perhaps a nobody who passed you by is a soulmate who simply missed their cue; after all, your soulmates now were once unknown too. It’s hard not to glance at a stranger in the crowd and imagine the life you could’ve shared.

Maybe we’ll look back on our lives and realise that it was all just a great coincidence. It’s a big world, after all.

You never know.

Some paradoxes I’ve come to love and accept:

1. The more you know, the more you realize how little you know.

Every time I feel myself taking one step forward in mastering a new domain, I suddenly see ten more steps revealed to me. The dumbest years of my life are when I’ve felt the smartest.

Related: the Dunning-Kruger effect

2. The more choices you have, the less satisfied you are with each one.

From psychologist Barry Schwartz:

“Autonomy and freedom of choice are critical to our well being, and choice is critical to freedom and autonomy. Nonetheless, though modern Americans have more choice than any group of people ever has before, and thus, presumably, more freedom and autonomy, we don’t seem to be benefiting from it psychologically.”

Related: The Paradox of Choice

3. Every good creates a potential evil.

Providing clean water is good but it also creates inequality for people with dirty water.

When you raise the standard, you also invent opportunities to hit below the standard.

4. The more you fail, the more likely you’ll succeed.

It is ironic that one of the key ingredients to success is its exact opposite, failure. Yet, in defence of failure, J.K. Rowling writes:

“It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.”

Related: The Parable of the Pottery Class

5. The highest highs have the lowest lows.

The relationship that you treasure the most can also destroy you the most.

The more you gain, the more you have to lose.

If you asked me what my best purchase of 2019 was, I would unequivocally say my bike(s). Here are five reasons why:

1. Reminder on valuing your life

If you know how to cycle, riding a bike is generally safe. However, if you ever need the occasional reminder that your life is fragile, cycling can be great for that too.

Whether it’s a precarious car just brushing past you, an anxious pedestrian running across the road, or unaware drivers opening their door right when you’re passing them, your next momento mori encounter is just around the corner (literally).

2. The importance of insurance

Getting a bike is great because it also teaches you the importance of insurance. If you have a fancy bike, the first thing you should do is to get an even better lock. If you tie up your bike with a cheap lock, you’re practically screaming for it to get stolen.

If you were ever angry at school for not teaching you about insurance, fear not – allow your (stolen) bikes to educate thee.

3. Low-impact exercise

Exercise beats a sedentary lifestyle in almost every possible measure.

Cycling is great because it’s both fun as you can go out and explore new sights; and it’s low-impact for your lower body. Unless you’re unable bend your hips (in which you should really get that checked out), practically anyone with basic coordination is fit to cycle.

4. Making commuting interesting

If you have the luxury of being within cycling distance of your work, riding your bike as commuting can be great fun. Here are some things you can do:

• Chase down a tram/bus/car;
• Enjoy the breeze as you whiz past people, buildings and traffic lights;
• Race some fellow cyclists;
• See how many tight spots you can navigate through without stepping off the pedal;
• Chat to other cyclists before you race them again.

The possibilities are endless.

5. Freedom

Freedom is high on my list of values and cycling is the epitome of freedom. To explain, let us consider the limitations of alternative forms of transport – walking and driving – and see why cycling has the best of both worlds.

Driving is great because you can go fast, and fast is fun. However, driving sucks because you consistently have to stop at traffic lights, you can’t pass other cars in the same lane as you and the cost of insurance, fuel and general maintenance can really add up.

On the other hand, walking is great because it’s liberating – you can generally walk wherever you like, whenever you like. If you want to overtake a slow walker, walk on the grass instead of the footpath or jaywalk (safely), go ahead! Yet, walking sucks because it’s slow. Walking over 10km for one trip is generally out of the question, because it would be both too slow and tiring.

Now, back to cycling. Cycling essentially has the best of both worlds, because:

• It’s fast like a car, easily averaging 20km/h, meaning you can travel practically everywhere (unless you’re going for a long roadtrip, in which case you’d need a car for luggage anyway); and
• It’s just as free as walking, because you can walk your bike! I know, crazy right?

Bikes are great.

If you say, “I’m never eating chocolate ever again”, that’s a rule. It’s also not a very good one. You could last a few hours, perhaps even days or weeks, but if you see your favourite chocolate on sale after a long day of work, you might give in.

Rules can be very powerful. Rules govern how society runs, how people treat one another, and even how we behave ourselves. Unnegotiable rules like drinking water every day, or to never smoke can alleviate mental space for harder problems. But the problem is, like the chocolate rule, people change. So, how can a rule be followed when the person the rule is for continuously changes?

The explanation for this shifting and paradoxical behaviour is called the empathy gap: a cognitive bias where people underestimate the influences of visceral drives on their attitudes, preferences and behaviours. This explains why one day, you detest chocolate, whereas another day you want nothing more than chocolate. Our hormones can quite literally dictate our mood.

So, how does one make lasting, effective with such shifting personalities? Professor Sendhil Mullainathan, in an interview with The Knowledge Project, suggests we treat ourselves like a democracy:

A lot of people I’ve seen pick rules willy-nilly. That’s just handing over power to the person in that moment who thought that was a good idea…you really want to protract the process of picking a rule.

Suppose you want to implement a rule, like “no dessert after meals”. That’s not a rule that’s been decided; that’s a rule that’s been proposed. Over the next week, ask every self that emerges how they feel about this rule. If by the end, every self agrees with this rule.. our confederacy of selves are all in agreement.

Well thought-out rules have the property that they are ones many parts of our selves subscribe to.

It’s not inaccurate to see ourselves as mini-democracies. How we behave when we’re rested and full is completely different to when we’re tired and hungry. This means that for the sustainability of a rule, get permission from all selves. Because all it takes to destroy a rule is one rebellious person emerging.

To set effective rules, make sure all your parts agree first.

A few days ago, I came across a pretty sad fact.

According to Google, there’s about 130 million books in existence. And that was written in 2010, so now the number’s probably close to 150 million. And there’s an unimaginable number of books that have been lost into the cosmos, so the real number is probably way higher.

Suppose some brilliant person reads one book a day for 100 years. That person will read 36,525 books. Which is impossible, because firstly nobody reads a book a day, and secondly you only start reading when you’re 6 or 7. But even this fictional person will read less than 0.03% of all the books in the world (assuming 130 million in existence, which is a low estimate).

So that’s why I’m a little sad. There are so many books in the world that I’ll never read; in fact, I’ll probably read less than 0.001% of all the books out there. How many beautiful ideas, poetry and stories will I never know in this life? The thought is heartbreaking.

And this is just books – let us not forget places, people and activities that will pass us by.

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows has a word on this: Onism. It’s defined as:

n. the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people’s passwords, each representing one more thing you’ll never get to see before you die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here.

A few weeks ago, I approached strangers around Melbourne University and asked them questions on their life. It was a beautiful day and hearing the stories behind different people was amazing. I think it’s one of my best videos yet.

My biggest surprise that day though, was that people are often really willing to have a chat.

When you see a stranger, it’s easy to assume they’re preoccupied in whatever they’re doing. Yet, many times that day I found myself surprised at how friendly people were. People who looked busy on approach responded to my invitation with curiosity and excitement, rather than a swift rejection. There was one gentleman who was eating lunch and who I felt guilty for interrupting; he ended up asking me to send me the raw footage for his grandkids. Even my barista, who I’ve found a little intimidating for a while, said yes with a laugh.

I guess we know a lot less about strangers than we think. Which makes sense, of course – they’re strangers. But there’s a beauty behind every individual, should we only give them the opportunity to show it. Perhaps more than we think.

I find it profoundly interesting when one reaches a destination in an unexpected way. For example:

• As a tutor, my favourite moments are when a student reaches the answer in an unconventional way.
• As a student, my favourite moments are when someone with an unorthodox path to medical school teaches me something random.
• As an explorer, my favourite moments are when I marry together two completely unrelated ideas.

When we have our eyes on a goal, it’s easy to think of any deviations from it as being failures. Perhaps you didn’t get that score you wanted. Perhaps a lifelong friend disappointed you. Perhaps a dream you’ve been working for, at the final step, crumbled right before your eyes.

It’s okay! Straight paths are kind of boring. As long as you know what your key back in is, enjoy the temporary tangent. It’s way more interesting to treat each day as a new experience and go in whatever direction you want.

The best way to remain mediocre is to follow the status quo.

A parable from the priest and psychotherapist Anthony de Mello, on the stories we tell ourselves:

“A man found an eagle’s egg and put it in a nest of a barnyard hen. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chickens and grew up with them.

All his life the eagle did what the barnyard chicks did, thinking he was a barnyard chicken. He scratched the earth for worms and insects. He clucked and cackled. And he would thrash his wings and fly a few feet into the air.

Years passed and the eagle grew very old. One day he saw a magnificent bird above him in the cloudless sky. It glided in graceful majesty among the powerful wind currents, with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings.

The old eagle looked up in awe. “Who’s that?” he asked.

“That’s the eagle, the king of the birds,” said his neighbor. “He belongs to the sky. We belong to the earth—we’re chickens.”

So the eagle lived and died a chicken, for that’s what he thought he was.”