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I’ve learned a lot over the years. I take in a steady stream of information on all kinds of topics from people, books, articles, podcasts, YouTube videos. I'd say learning is one of if not my very favorite things to do. But lately I’ve started to notice something frustrating. As much as I know, I don’t always feel more competent or capable. Even when I feel I understand how things should work, I’m not always much better at doing them. That’s because learning information and developing skills are not the same. One fills your mind; the other develops actual expertise. If I want to turn what I know into what I can do, I need a better approach. An approach that helps me build real ability through practice.
Consuming information feels like progress. It’s quick, accessible, and often inspiring. But understanding how something works isn’t the same as being able to do it. I’ve seen this in my penmanship practice. I learned from watching videos and reading my workbook that letters written in Spencerian script should follow a 52-degree slant. I know that fact. I could even repeat it to someone else. But after pages of drills, my slants are still all over the place. That’s the difference between knowing about a technique and actually developing the skill to apply it. I've also seen this in my professional work as a manager. I've read countless books about how to manage employee performance, but at the end of the day the only way to get better at having difficult conversations is to have a lot of difficult conversations. Information creates beginners. Practice, feedback, and time create experts.
This difference between knowing and doing became even more obvious after I watched a long YouTube video about how to start a career in information technology. The video was well-structured, clearly explained, and full of practical advice. By the end, I felt motivated and ready to act, as if I had found a new path forward. But then I stepped back and realized that I had no real interest in pursuing a career in IT. I had been caught in the feeling of learning something new, not a genuine desire to develop skill in that area. This turning point showed me how easily I confuse mental stimulation with meaningful direction.
After that realization, I started to think more seriously about what I actually want to get better at. I looked for areas of interest I’ve returned to again and again over the years. I landed on two categories of interests. First, the foundational areas: physical fitness and spiritual strength. These aren’t hobbies; they’re essential. The second category consists of the hobbies that consistently bring me joy and a sense of identity: photography, playing the violin, building my personal website, and enriching my relationships with others. These are the areas where I want to build real skill and expertise. Instead of consuming broadly, I want to focus my learning around these interests and create a path for intentional practice.
I’m still going to learn from videos, books, and other resources. But I want to spend the majority of my hobby time and energy building experience instead of consuming information. That means narrowing my focus, practicing regularly, and giving myself time to grow through experience. Watching a video on composition might give me ideas, but reviewing a batch of my own photos and deciding which ones are worth editing is where I actually improve. Reading about the ideal slant in cursive won’t train my hand. Filling a page with deliberate, awkward strokes will. Turning knowledge into skill requires more than understanding. It requires repetition, feedback, and time. And the only way to get those is by doing the work.