Eric Tian

A few months ago, I was listening to a podcast episode whilst preparing dinner. The host, Tom, was talking to Irwin Winkler, a well-renowned film producer and director. Though the whole conversation was interesting, one dialogue caught me off guard when Tom asked,

“What has 50 years in the business taught you about life?”

Irwin’s response (edited for clarity):

“That you can have great successes, you can have terrible failures, and both are really the same. You can never let the successes make you think that you’re better than anybody else and the same thing about your failures. You shouldn’t think that your failures make you any less of a person than the next. You are who you are. You have to pursue your goals the way you have always pursued them, through success and failures, and if you keep trying, you are going to have some failures. You’re also going to have some successes. When you give up, you’re going to have neither. And that itself is failure.”

Irwin’s idea of the dangers of success was fascinating to me: that praise or success might lead to something akin to arrogance, which may actually cause one to stumble and stop doing the things which brought them success in the first place. For instance, a sprinter who has just won a big race may begin to internalise, “Wow, look at me! I’m so fast – nobody can match me.” After this, that champion sprinter might skip workouts, throw out their diet and stay up late, disrupting their sleeping routine. If so, I would be surprised if this athlete could perform at the same level in the next race. Success, when left unchecked, has the potential to become a negative feedback loop.

Perhaps that example may have been a bit extreme, but I’ve personally been guilty of this in my studies recently, whereby my laziness and reliance on ‘intellect’ to cram and learn things quickly has gotten me into trouble this semester. What I really should’ve done was to remember how I previously studied – with slow deliberation and spaced repetition – and to build on these principles.

This idea of being wary of praise and success is applicable to many different areas. In my faith, it means not to be complacent about being saved by grace. In my running, it means not to stop training after a big PB. In my relationships, it means not to stop investing effort into them when things feel smooth. That in all things, when I succeed or someone compliments me, to not let it get to my head.

One of my more useful rituals is to use my birthday to reflect on my life’s journey so far and see what I’ve learnt, overcome or struggled with. Since I just turned 21 just over a week ago, I’ll use this as an excuse to remind myself of 3 big takeaways from the last 21 years.

1) Relationships matter

This is probably the biggest lesson, and is one which I’ve only truly appreciated in the last few months. Typically, I’d run away from spending quality time with people, using my introversion or ‘lack of time’ as excuses to isolate myself. However, I’ve learnt that genuine relationships are beautiful and knowing I have people I can freely talk to is liberating. Healthy relationships have the potential to ground, improve and comfort me in ways I could never achieve alone. It’s difficult to put into words. Of course, the converse applies for toxic relationships. Though it has been a struggle at times, being able to build healthy relationships through University, running or road-trips has been 100% worth it.  

2) I really don’t know that much

Young Eric’s proclivity to give unwarranted advice, make up answers to questions he didn’t know and avoid admitting he was wrong revealed a serious fault: profound arrogance. It’s taken many mistakes and difficult conversations for me to realise that I really don’t know as much as I think. This applies to more than just University, whereby I now realise every biological process I study is severely simplified, but to many other facets – especially to people. It is perhaps through reading fiction that I realised everyone has their own story, prejudices and beliefs and are much more complicated than I could’ve imagined. If anything, being older has made me realise how little I know about anything – this is both an exciting and challenging thought to grasp.

3) Consistency beats motivation

The idea here is that little things done consistently over time produce big results, and the main word is consistency. I could write my own spiel about this, but I think this article by James Clear summarises this concept pretty well:

I have a friend named Nathan Barry who recently finished writing three books in just 9 months.

How did he do it?

By following a simple strategy. He wrote 1,000 words per day. (That’s about 2 to 3 pages.) And he did it every day for 253 straight days.

Now, compare that strategy to the classic image of a writer hiding out in a cabin for weeks and writing like a madman to finish their book.

The maniac in the cabin has a high “maximum speed” — maybe 20 or even 30 pages per day. But after a few weeks at that unsustainable pace, either the book is finished or the author is.

By comparison, Nathan’s maximum speed never reached the peak levels of the crazy writer in the cabin. However, over the course of a year or two his average speed was much higher.

This lesson extends far beyond writing.

Indeed, it applies far beyond writing. This concept of consistency has played a huge role in my development as a Christian (with devotions), student (with studying), athlete (with training) and friend (with catch-ups). When I’m consistent, I tend to do better. When I’m not, I pay for it later on (e.g. cramming for Uni, playing catch-up with relationships).

And that’s it! Other notable lessons from the last two decades and a bit include the importance of sleep and how legit books/audiobooks/podcasts are as learning resources. I look forward to seeing how my perceptions of these lessons evolve over time but for now, this is what I’ve gained from my time here.