Eric Tian

We tend to only notice the bad ones. Injuries. Death. A stroke of terrible luck.

But we’re surrounded by plenty of good accidents as well. And often, we neglect them for these grim ones.

To be born where we were. To have had the parents we had. To be able to read and imagine. To have friends to connect and laugh with. These are all accidents with amazingly good outcomes.

A few days ago, I landed a new job. It’s one I’m excited for as it’s related to my interest in oncology, has many learning opportunities and pays well.

It’s also one that resulted from the most absurd circumstances, involving me moving from Perth to Melbourne, taking a gap year, meeting my partner, and having my clinical placement at one particular hospital.

There are many accidents we could rage at. But also many to be thankful for.

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.

Over this year, I’ve realised that most medical students don’t read books.

When I ask why, the most common answer is I don’t have time. Instead, their time is spent doing other things like working, watching lectures or exercising.

What’s the common denominator between these other activities? They are productive. Let me explain.

Productivity, in its most basic form, is more output per given input. If factory A produces five boxes per hour and factory B produces fifty per hour, factory B is more productive than A. There is more output (=boxes) per hour of input (=work).

Working, watching lectures and exercising are productive exercises. They all have a product, such as money, good grades, or better health, and this improves with time. The more you work, the more you’ll eventually get paid. The more you study, the better grades you’ll get. The more you exercise, the better health you’ll achieve.

Importantly, these parameters are measurable. Systems are in place to track how these parameters change with time.

Reading, or art generally speaking, is the complete opposite.

What happens when you read a book?

Nothing.

You have nothing measurable to show that you have improved as a person. If a spy watched you through secret cameras, they couldn’t see anything tangible happen to you at all. They would see you pick up a book, flip some pages, then put it down when you’re finished.

Art is not productive. There are no outcomes that can be measured; no way to track productivity. You look the same, your social standing is the same and your net worth hasn’t changed. And since we live in a hyper-efficient society,, art is largely forgotten.

But art, dear reader, is still seriously important. It teaches us to feel, think and imagine. It reveals grand, spectacular worlds to us – ones better than our own. It teaches us that we are not alone. It paints our world with colour.

Just because it is not productive, does not mean it is useless. Art is a most priceless gift.

My favourite phrase in a conversation is, “but at the same time…”.

It shows that the speaker is able to hold multiple views simultaneously, which is something terribly difficult to do. We love to ensure our beliefs are as strong and correct as possible. Holding an opposing view can disrupt this goal.

But holding conflicting opinions is so important.

Holding one opinion is easy. The internet and world feeds opinions to us every day. You need to buy this. These books are great. Believe our political views. A parrot can absorb these ideas and regurgitate them.

To hold multiple views at the same time shows critical thought, openness and creativity. It also makes for a much more interesting conversation, as debates get longer and deeper, more windy and complex. The insight of having your belief shaken is difficult, but liberating.

“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” – Scott F. Fitzgerald

I finished my exams today. It felt great, having studied consistently for half a year now, but afterwards a part of me asked what now?

When you focus so much energy on something, it does some interesting things. It might bring stress and anxiety, sure, but it also gives provides guidance and a mission. The worst parts of a journey beat not having it at all.

When it’s over, it’s easy to feel lost. Empty.

From The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:

etterath

the feeling of emptiness after a long and arduous pro- cess is finally complete—having finished school, recovered from surgery, or gone home at the end of your wedding— which leaves you relieved that it’s over but missing the stress that organized your life into a mission.

The teacher’s primary goal is not to teach. That is done far better by libraries and the internet.

Instead, the teacher’s primary goal is to:

1. Instil a deep curiosity for learning in the student’s mind.

2. Convince the student of their limitless potential.

3. Reassure the student of #2. even when – especially when – things seem the contrary.

The best teachers I’ve had were rarely the most knowledgeable. Instead, they were patient, enthusiastic and possessed a belief in my ability that far surpassed my own.

And now, as a tutor, the most important part of my lessons is never explaining a concept. It’s to let the student know that they are far more intelligent and capable than they imagine.

It is a precious gift to give.

Name a book. What’s the first one that comes to mind?

If you’re into classics, it might be War and Peace, The Little Prince, or The Catcher in the Rye.

If you’re into non-fiction, it might be Atomic Habits, Sapiens, or How to Win Friends and Influence People.

If you’re into fantasy, it might be Harry Potter, The Hobbit, or The Hunger Games.

You probably didn’t think of a memoir. They’re just not that popular. And for a long time, I didn’t read any simply because nobody talked about them.

But recently, I’ve discovered the potential of memoirs. And now I’m addicted.

The short reason is this: reading another’s life helps shape our own. When we read childhood trauma, we inherit part of that trauma. When we read the struggles of alcoholism, we inherit those struggles as well. When we follow someone’s life, their story gradually moulds into ours.

This statement might be too much, one might argue. One’s lived experience outweighs a second hand recount. But I disagree.

The purpose of a memoir is to give others the gift of a story. It’s to offer them your childhood, your struggles, your hopes, your desires, with the goal that others may inherit some of these for themselves. What a beautiful achievement – sharing a part of oneself with others.

Nowadays, most of the audiobooks I listen to are memoirs. It’s amazing how another person’s crazy story immediately improves yours as well.

In September last year, I was on a Zoom call with a student. I had been coaching him on the GAMSAT (the medical school entrance exam) and it was our last session before his sitting.

“Before we finish,” I added, aware we had run overtime, “I just wanted to say that you should believe in yourself. You know more than you think and are more capable than you imagine. You can do this.” I smiled, trying to look as genuine as possible. He smiled back, said thanks and the call ended.

After his exam, I didn’t hear from him for over a year. I had no idea how he went, or where he was now. I assumed he didn’t do as well as he hoped and was reluctant to let me know.

To my surprise, he reached out to me last month.

Firstly, he did well in the GAMSAT and was due to sit medical school interviews very soon. I was glad to hear of his success and the small role I had to play in it.

But more importantly, he revealed his struggles outside of tutoring. How for most of his life, he felt worthless at school, was belittled by his parents and often struggled with depression. He was dealing with all this during our Zoom calls together.

I was blown away. I remembered him as a clever, studious student with a witty sense of humour. He always presented himself neatly and never arrived late. A part of me doubted this was the same person.

Then he told me that the last thing I said to him was the first time he had ever been affirmed. That the idea that somebody believed in him meant a lot – more than any amount of tutoring could’ve ever achieved. His self esteem was now at an all time high, and wanted to thank me for my encouragement.

I had never thought much about my final message – it was something I told all my students before their exam. It was a small act of kindness and effortless to say. But it helped change my friend’s life around.

The fun thing about words is we never know how they will be received. Abundant praise may do nothing for a person, yet a tiny piece of encouragement may turn another’s life around (this is also true for destructive language). What we hope one understands is rarely what one interprets.

Many people wonder how they can do good in the world. Here’s one suggestion. Default to small acts of kindness whenever and wherever you can. It doesn’t matter how small you perceive them to be. You never know what good might turn out.