Eric Tian

A few months ago, a friend was expressing his recent love for Murakami. He asked me if I had read his works before.

I smiled and told him to tell me all about him.

He proceeded to express his admiration for Norweigian Wood and Kafka on the Shore. “I don’t know how he does it,” he said. “It’s like living in a dream; a beautiful, chaotic dream.”

The truth was, I had read Murakami before. He was my favourite Japanese author. But because I let my friend talk that day, I found my passion for literature reignited. His enthusiasm was intoxicating.

That day, I resolved that if I knew less than 90% on a topic, I would say I don’t know. Although I had read Murakami before, I was no expert and hadn’t analysed his works or style. I had much I could still learn. And when I listened, it was very refreshing to listen to someone with valuable insights to share. The beginner’s mindset is open to new possibilities and inspirations.

This rule also allows others to express themselves more freely. Imagine how discouraging it would be if I said, “Oh yeah, I’ve read those too.” My friend may feel disappointed at not being able to share his treasure. The magic is lost. The power of inspiration is gone.

What I’ve found since then is world becomes more interesting in general. If you start from the premise that you know nothing rather than you know a bit, your task becomes discovery rather than recall. You becomes curious rather than stressed.

If what you learn aligns with what you already know, then great! That is reassurance of your knowledge. But if it is different, then suddenly you have a challenge; and challenges are seeds for growth.

A few days ago, I received my end of year exam results. I achieved a 84%.

This result surprised me for two reasons.

1: It was one of the best scores I had ever achieved in medical school. Given this year was pass/fail, I found myself aiming no higher than 60-70%, and being content scoring here.

2: I studied with minimal intensity in preparation. For this exam, which covered material from the whole year’s lectures, tutorials and practicals, I rarely studied more than three hours a day. This was in stark contrast to how I traditionally studied, which involved high intensity cramming the week before. 12-hour study days, coffee naps, all-nighters, you name it – that was me.

So what happened?

I realised that intensity is overrated. Consistency matters more.

For the last three months, I committed myself to doing 300 Anki cards a day. If this sounds like a lot, it isn’t – this rarely exceeded one hour, and I felt quite able to do more if I needed to. Watching lectures, attending class and doing practice exams made up the other three hours per day.

The key was doing this consistently. Day in and day out. I made a deal with my partner: if I ever failed to study 300 cards per day, I would pay her $50. And since I didn’t want to lose money this way, it held me accountable.

In the beginning, I didn’t feel like I was learning much. I watched my colleagues study harder, longer and I wondered if I was keeping up.

But within a few weeks, the consistency began to pay off. I had more energy each day to study, found a routine for my revision and felt my knowledge slowly compound. I began to contribute more to tutorial discussions and felt prepared for every class. All of this was largely new to me, where burning out before an exam was standard practice.

The problem with high intensity work is that it’s rarely sustainable. Which is fine for a once-off deadline like a thesis: once it’s over, it’s over. But for lifelong excellence, consistency is what pays off in the long term. Daily writing beats short bursts of inspiration. Consistent exercise beats one enormous workout. Frequent study beats cramming. What looks like skill is often just consistent discipline.

Intensity is overrated and consistency is underrated. Anybody can show up one day and smash out an enormous workout or study load. The real high achievers are the ones who show up each day, put in a good amount of work and repeat tomorrow. Believe me: I’ve seen them.

I don’t write this to brag. There are people who scored higher than me and objectively know more about medicine.

But in a world where “I studied 10 hours today” is sexier than “I started studying 10 weeks ago”, I cannot help but wonder if we are sending the wrong message.

A few weeks ago, I smashed a hole through my bathroom sink. I was applying deodorant when it slipped from my hand – when I looked down, there was a gaping 5cm hole in the corner of the white ceramic.

I was very annoyed. Firstly, how could my deodorant smash a hole through a sink? It barely weighed 200g and was the size of my palm. Secondly, how much would it cost to fix this? My mind ran to the worst possible scenario: getting it replaced. Which would cost close to $100.

This mood plagued me for a few days until I shared this to my family and partner. Chatting to them revealed a different way of framing the situation: by treating this as an opportunity, not a setback. They suggested that I could try fixing the sink myself, or use this event to teach myself something about sinks.

Framing my situation as an opportunity rather than a setback changed everything. I became less moody and more curious. The thought of the sink made me excited rather than guilty. It turned the whole situation around.

Our attitudes to circumstances are everything. A “setback” mentality sets one up for misery and wallowing. An “opportunity” mentality makes one excited and curious for any challenge.

The choice is yours.