Tag: knowledge

Imperfect Information

The graph lit up the projector in the front of the classroom.

A left triangle was the star attraction. A dizzying array of shading, dotted lines and math formulas balkanized its interior.

This diagram was supposed to illustrate pricing power. But to me, it resembled an eye chart.

My economics professor worked his way through the triangle. The top left corner represented the most that a company could feasibly charge for its services. But it was a price that they’d never actually set.

They couldn’t.

The professor explained that companies are saddled with imperfect information. They don’t know every move their competitors will make. They don’t understand which price is at the top of each consumer’s budget. And they have no concrete idea how financial markets will react.

Given that gumbo of uncertainty, companies needed to figure out the next best thing. They need to determine which price would maximize upside and minimize risk.

That’s what the various formulas and lines on this graph were for. And that’s what I’d need to master on the upcoming exam.

I did ultimately master the concept. Then I promptly forgot it.

But the term imperfect information? That was unforgettable.

I’ve found it odd that ambiguity is an indelible part of economic models.

But perhaps I shouldn’t.

What do you do with your free time?

It’s a question I hear bandied about now and then.

Friends and acquaintances tend to have the common responses. Binging TV shows. Gardening. Baking bread.

My answer is a little less traditional. I’ll go down a Wikipedia rabbit hole.

You see, I have a thirst for information. There is always more to be gleaned. And when I get started, it’s hard to stop.

I don’t embark on this quest to win game shows or stand out at parties. I do it out of genuine interest.

I lament all that I don’t know. And I wish to bridge that gap.

Others also seek to scratch this itch. It’s why so many people take continuing education courses online. And it’s why companies have robust research departments.

Still, this appetite for learning is not infinite. Many of us readily accept that a knowledge gap will persist.

But what if we didn’t?

What if more of us went down Wikipedia rabbit holes? What if we left no stone unturned in our quest for knowledge?

At first pass, this sounds idyllic. With a full tank of information, we’d never make an error of ignorance again. We’d be able to put our best foot forward every time.

If only it were that simple.

In finance, there is a concept called arbitrage.

This represents the gap between an asset’s true value and its sticker price. The bigger the gap, the more the seller can make on the margin — and the more the buyer is a sucker.

I’ve long despised arbitrage for this exact reason. Any practice that involves exploiting others seems immoral to me.

But arbitrage does have its advantages.

In a capitalist market, it offers incentives for both sellers and buyers. The sellers are motivated to offer up goods when there’s an opportunity for profit. And the buyers are motivated to uncover options with the least hefty gap.

This motivation drives action, keeping the economic engine turning. It spurs innovation, dangling a hefty reward for displacing quo. And it inspires branding, redefining the notion of value.

These developments have made us better as a society. Even if the individuals who make up our society have gotten fleeced along the way.

Perhaps that Gordon Gekko line from Wall Street wasn’t an indictment on our collective nature. Perhaps greed actually is good.

Arbitrage is, by nature, an invention of imperfect information. If both parties in a deal had the same intel, there would be no invisible tension. The buyer and seller would exchange money and goods, and that would be that.

But such exchanges would happen far less often.

With so little incentive to leverage an advantage, buyers and sellers would only make a deal at the time of highest need. And with such little marketplace activity, there would be little room for our culture to evolve and grow.

We would effectively become Amish. All while hoarding a war chest of facts in our heads.

Information without a practical purpose.

No, arbitrage isn’t perfect. But it’s hardly the opposite of the ideal.

In ancient times, much of the world’s information could be found in one location.

That location was a massive library on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

The library of Alexandria was a marvel. The first great repository of the written word, it offered its visitors a unique opportunity. The chance to accumulate more knowledge than their ancestors ever could.

Then, all that information went up in flames.

So much of this event remains an enigma. There’s no way to know for sure why the library burned, or what its demise meant to those who lived in its shadow.

But the modern-day response to the burning of Alexandria’s library is nearly unilateral. We treat the conflagration as a wrong that must be righted. And a great many of us — from scholars to wealthy connoisseurs to the founders of Google — have sought to recreate what once towered over the sea.

Selfishly, I admire this ethos. After all, it provides me endless fodder for my Wikipedia rabbit holes.

But I often wonder if we got the story of Alexandria all wrong.

Maybe the fire wasn’t an unvarnished tragedy. Maybe it was a warning of the dangers of our hubris.

One not unlike the tale of Icarus.

Our quest to collect perfect information is as misguided as our quest to fly close to the sun. Just as gravity keeps us grounded, imperfect information keeps us yearning for more.

This is a blessing, not a curse. And we should start acting like it.

That is what I’m beginning to do.

I no longer yearn to know everything. I’m content with learning a little bit more, each day.

I hope others follow my lead.

Imperfect information might not seem ideal. But it provides us what we need to thrive.

How Little We Know

I stood in the shadow of the Hotel Sam Houston, trying not to shiver.

Corral A of the Aramco Houston Half Marathon was packed. Half marathoners brimmed with anticipation.

And then, there was me.

I had never run a half marathon before. I had no idea what I should have been doing or thinking. I hadn’t even brought throwaway clothes to protect me against the 33-degree temperatures.

Fortunately, I didn’t have too long to dwell on these details. The clock reached the top of the hour, and suddenly I was off.

It took about a few blocks for me to recognize that I was actually doing it. I was running a half marathon.

And it took a few miles for me to realize that I was running it a lot faster than anticipated.

I thought about dialing back and saving my energy. But I felt good running in the crisp morning air and decided to keep at it.

I passed a pace group and dozens of other runners, and I didn’t even start to fade until the last mile. I rallied to cross the finish line just over 90 minutes after I started running. My time was a full 10 minutes ahead of my goal.

As I caught my breath and headed over to claim my finisher medal, I was still in disbelief. I had never run that distance in that time before. It must have been a fluke.

But it was no fluke.

I bested my time at another half marathon in Fort Worth six weeks later. And then I went to Oregon two months after that and set yet another personal best.

It turned out I had a knack for distance running. But I had no idea this power lay within me as I waited in the frigid corral that morning in Houston.

How little we know.

That memory from Corral A in Houston seems distant — a sepia-toned postcard from another era.

In truth, it occurred less than a year before I put these words to paper.

Yes, a year ago, I had no idea I’d become an accomplished distance runner. I was just hoping I’d cross the finish line without running out of gas.

These days, I’m hoping for the same thing.

A rash of injuries has put my running adventures on pause. And after a series of interventions to help those maladies heal, I’m hoping I can return to form someday.

Many in my circle are bullish about my chances. They’ve seen what I’ve accomplished and have no doubt I can do it again.

But I’m far less confident.

This sport can bring you to new heights, but it can also break your heart. I’ve experienced both outcomes in less than twelve months’ time. And what comes next is anyone’s guess.

I hope my will remains strong and my body gets stronger. I hope to make it through the grueling rehab cycle without major setbacks. I hope to fly again, my strides gliding over the pavement with a burst of speed.

But I expect none of that.

How little we know.

As I write this, the world is preparing for one of my least favorite rituals.

The calendar is set to turn over again. And we’re set to stay up until midnight, watch fireworks, and pour champagne. Again.

New Year’s Eve is always quite the party. But it’s also something of a last hurrah.

We might speak broad platitudes about the year to come. We might erroneously muse about how we’ll be different when the clock strikes 12. (Seriously, stop that nonsense!) We might put on a brave face, sharing tidings and cheer.

But deep down inside, we’re terrified.

There’s no clue what’s to come in the next chapter. There’s no proof to validate our gut instincts.

The road ahead is shrouded with fog, and there’s nothing to clear it away.

We hope for favorable outcomes. But we cannot count on them. Millenia of history prove as much.

How little we know.

This New Year’s seems more fraught than many.

Spiking interest rates, rising prices, and a spate of high-profile layoffs have many Americans concerned. Violence and divisiveness continue to hound our society. And a spate of health crises remains ever present.

It certainly feels like we’re up against it. The pessimistic responses to various opinion surveys certainly bears that out.

But there are others who remain cheery and optimistic. Even amidst the spate of dark clouds, they see brighter days ahead — and soon.

It’s a classic conundrum — glass half-empty vs. glass half-full. But both sides are wrong.

For the mindset we bring into the upcoming year won’t impact our fortunes. The future writes itself the same way, whether we approach it with a smile or a frown.

We might think we have a peek around the bend. But these thoughts are nothing more than false prophecies.

How little we know.

I was obviously ill-prepared for the Aramco Houston Half Marathon. But it wasn’t for a lack of information.

All week, I’d checked the weather forecast. I’d looked at the hour-by-hour conditions, and I’d brought a variety of athletic clothes with me to Houston.

Yet, in the moment of truth, such prognostication meant little. As I dressed for the race, I had little confidence that the forecast would hold. And even if it did, I had no idea what those temperatures, wind speeds, and humidity measures would feel like as I ran.

So, I scrapped any plans to predict what came next. I committed to embracing the gray.

And while that left me underdressed at the starting line, it didn’t cost me at the finish.

Perhaps I can repeat this feat as I stare down the future. Perhaps we all can.

It might not make the events that lie ahead of us any rosier. It might not make the outcome any clearer. And it surely won’t leave us any readier to hit the ground running when they occur.

But it will save us the disappointment of dashed predictions. It will spare those around us the toxic effects of pessimism. And it will shield all of us from the futile temptation to write tomorrow today.

We gain acuity through our experience, not our musings. And the best way to gain that experience is with an open mind, a full heart, and a courageous spirit.

How little we know today. How much we are yet to know.

Let’s make it happen.

The Ambiguity Trinity

There’s an old adage: You never forget your first professional moment of crisis.

I can still remember mine.

I was fresh into my first post-college job, working as a news producer in Midland, Texas.

My job was to put together the 5 PM and 10 PM newscasts — which made me a jack-of-all-trades.

I organized each newscast, determining which stories would run where. I coordinated with the reporters and made sure their full-length reports ran on-air as planned. I wrote news scripts for the anchors to read. And I contacted the authorities to confirm developing information as it arose.

These last two responsibilities were the most critical. For they helped get fresh information on the airwaves, while adhering to the three principles of news: Be First. Be Right. Be Best.

At first, I had no trouble with this part of my job. This was years ahead of the era of toxic anti-media sentiment, and Midland had something of a small-town feel.

The officials I talked to would generally confirm the information I was asking about instantly. And I was able to get most stories on the air with little to no trouble.

One day, that changed.

I can’t remember the story I was working on covering that day. A shooting perhaps. Or maybe a car accident. Whatever it was, I’d heard about it on the police scanner that sat by my desk.

I sent our cameraman to the scene to get some footage. But it was getting perilously close to 5 PM, and there was no way that footage was making the early newscast. So, I would need to write a short summary of the situation for the anchors to read on the air.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number for my police contact. But when I asked them about what I’d heard over the scanner, I got an unexpected reply.

“All we can confirm is that we have officers on the scene,” they said. “We have nothing more we can share at this time.”

I descended into a panic.

I couldn’t run the story. For I couldn’t confirm that what I had heard over the scanner frequency was accurate.

Yet, I couldn’t not run the story. If I did that, our viewers would be denied important information — and our competition would get the edge on us.

What was I to do?

My boss — who was both the news director and an anchor — overheard my dilemma and gave me some quick advice.

“Tell the viewers three things,” he said. “What you know, what you don’t know, and what you’re working to get more information on.”

It was a simple, straightforward tip. Yet, hearing it lifted a weight off my shoulders.

I got back to work, quickly typing out a news script that looked something like this:

Police are on scene investigating an incident in West Midland. We don’t know at this point if anyone has been injured in the incident. We have a crew on the scene and will bring you more information as we get it.

With three short sentences, I covered all three points of emphasis. And even without assistance from the authorities, I was able to get accurate, fresh information on the air.

What happened that day might seem like a small win. But it left a lasting impact on my life.

Since then, I’ve encountered many moments of uncertainty. Many times where I’m on the spot and I don’t have all the answers.

It’s no fun at all to be in this spot. To be caught off-guard. To feel trapped and dumbfounded.

But fortunately, I have the antidote. For I know there are three questions I can for sure answer:

  • What I know
  • What I don’t know.
  • What I’m working to get more information on.

Yes, I’ve made those same three questions I used to get that story on the air into a blueprint.

I call these questions The Ambiguity Trinity.

The Ambiguity Trinity helped me plenty of times in my TV news career. But it’s helped even more in the years since I left the media behind.

In fact, it’s gotten me out of more tough spots than I care to count.

I’m no longer dumbfounded when a client calls me out of the blue to go over something out of left field. I no longer freeze when facing a gauntlet of questions after giving a presentation.

The Ambiguity Trinity is like a security blanket. It keeps me from losing my poise or getting exposed.

And unlike the art of shooting bull, The Ambiguity Trinity stands the test of truth.

There are no fancy elaborations required. Just the simple facts that are at hand at the moment.

It might not be a perfect solution. But it’s darn close to it.

The Ambiguity Trinity can help us out in a pinch. But could we be selling it short?

After all, what we know, what we don’t know and what we’re working to learn more about are the three fundamental pillars of our lives.

In a world where knowledge is power, expanding our knowledge base is critical. So is the act of reducing our unknowns.

Indeed, the quest to learn mirrors the directive to grow. It’s imperative.

So, why are we relying on these principles only in times of crisis? Why do we only aspire to answer these questions in times of crisis?

Is it because of our hubris? Our ego? Our misplaced self-assuredness?

Perhaps.

In a culture built on confidence, sharing what we don’t know is generally considered unwise. It reflects doubt and vulnerability. And each is a principle the confidence movement seeks to banish.

So we hide what we don’t know from the world until we figure it out. Unless the world calls our bluff, and we have to show our cards.

Then, and only then, The Ambiguity Trinity is our ace in the hole.

It need not be like this.

We can get much more mileage out of The Ambiguity Trinity. And we can glean so much more from the world as a result.

Sharing what we know, what we don’t know and what we’re working to learn more about can make us seem honest and self-aware. That transparency can breed trust. And trust can forge connections.

Yes, a little more openness can go a long way.

So, let’s stop hiding from the unknowns. Let’s embrace them head-on, with The Ambiguity Trinity as our guide.

For uncertainty might await. But so might opportunity.

Let’s seize it.

What We Know And What We Discover

Knowledge.

It’s all powerful. And all essential.

We can’t get far without knowing much of anything.

But just how far we do go does not necessarily depend on how much knowledge we accrue.

Yes, knowledge is a paradox. Its importance can only be measured through its applicability.

In other words, what we know is far less important that what we do with that knowledge.

Several years ago, I took an online assessment.

Much like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, it measured my personal traits and classified them. But unlike the Myers-Briggs test, it only focused on strengths.

After the assessment was complete, I analyzed the results. Two stuck out — Input and Learner.

I was confused at first. Weren’t both of those terms the same thing?

But the more I thought about it, the more this bifurcation made sense.

You see, it’s one thing to rack up oodles of facts and figures. It’s another to use that knowledge to make the world a better place. And to make our own lives more fulfilling at the same time.

In other words, the process of learning is a more applicably useful skill than the process of absorption. All things being equal, it’s better to have the skills of a learner than to simply make one’s brain a pure input mechanism of the world’s amassed knowledge.

This is not an absolute rule, of course. There are notable exceptions.

Jeopardy contestants can make a fortune simply by amassing a wealth of data within their brains, and withdrawing from that memory bank instantaneously when prompted. Baseball statisticians have had a prominent place within the realms of TV telecasts and newspaper box scores for years. And now, their data is being used to impact the strategy of the game.

Still, each of these examples required more than pure recall. Each, in its own way, required application.

The Jeopardy contestants had to know the steps to take and people to contact to make it to the show’s auditions in the first place. They had to adapt their knowledge recall skills to the rules of the game instantaneously in those auditions, simply to show up on our TV screens and smartphones.

Baseball statisticians had to get to know the whims of sports media members — the newspaper writers, radio hosts and TV commentators who asked for the data statisticians had at hand. These media members were focused on telling stories to a captive audience, not reading lists of facts. The statisticians had to learn to serve up the data in a manner that fit into those narratives as seamlessly as Cinderella’s foot fit into the glass slipper.

Yes, even in the environments primed for pure retention and recall, learning is essential.

The Input vs. Learner split is not a matter of opinion. It has its roots in Information Theory.

Information Theory conveys how we build our knowledge repositories. Yet, perhaps most critically, it describes how we organize it.

According to a prevalent Information Theory framework, all that we know can be split into three terms: Data, Information and Knowledge.

Data are the bits and bytes of raw information. Think of data as the Excel spreadsheet you’ve yet to open. In other words, data on their own are unintelligible — aside from our recognition of their existence.

Information is a surprise. The unexpected nature of the information shakes us from our routine. The shock to our system makes us hyper-aware of what’s been thrown at us. It aids our ability to remember.

And Knowledge is simply the repository of information we’ve accumulated over time. The novelty is long gone. Yet, it remains in our memory banks, ready for recall when needed.

This framework favors what’s new over what’s known. It states that we feed off of novelty, and that our yearning for that sensation fuels our growth.

This is bad news for those whose brains are configured for Knowledge Input — as I am. Most of the time, our talents are as useless as the wings on a penguin.

Yet, I believe this framework is spot on. From the time we are young, pushing our boundaries stimulates us. Novelty drives us to take our first steps and say our first words. It helps us overcome Stranger Danger and grow into independent personalities. It keeps us engaged through more than a decade of schooling — even as our bodies and our interactions with our peers evolve.

Even after adolescence, novelty reigns supreme. It’s what convinces us to apply to that job, to go on that date, to take the plunge and get hitched, to buy that house, to adopt that pet or to have kids of our own. With each step, we learn and grow — by necessity, if not by sheer willpower.

Discovery is second nature to us. It’s been passed intuitively from generation to generation for eons. From Eve’s first bite of the forbidden apple all the way to modern day, we’ve put a premium on discovery over knowledge.

Our world is built around this paradigm. How could it not be?

Everything from financial markets to academic research is about finding that new bit of insight. About getting that adrenaline rush from the pure bliss of novelty. About going where we haven’t been before.

We speak glowingly of the dreamers, marvel at the innovators and laud the risk-takers. In a world primed for discovery, these brave souls do more than inspire us. They light the way.

Knowledge is just the base in this construct. It’s the foundation from which new discoveries can be made.

Knowledge certainly has value. Why else would we mourn the burning of the library at Alexandria, more than 2,000 years after the blaze turned the great repository of knowledge to ash?

Yet, the value of knowledge is not infinite. In the societies we’ve built, facts and figures can only get us so far.

The implication is simple.

To grow our potential, we must expand our perspective.

We must be open to discovery, to novelty. To learning what’s possible and making it reality — even if it takes us away from the cocoon of what we already know.

Of course, in practice, it’s not that simple.

It’s a challenge for us to keep pushing the envelope. To motivate ourselves to keep finding what’s new and surprising. To embrace the continuum of change.
It’s all too easy to get comfortable. To settle into familiar patterns. To ease off the throttle.

There’s less resistance this way. Life is more of a breeze and less of a grind.

The siren song is calling. Calling for us to circle the wagons around what we know and call it a day.

We must not heed these cries. We must push forward.

Our growth depends on it. So do the betterment of ourselves and the world around us.

There is no time to take a shortcut on this mission. Not yesterday. Not today. Not tomorrow.

The next chapter in our journey awaits. And what we know is just the start.

Discover on.

The Value in Sharing Knowledge

What value does knowledge hold?

Some would say it holds infinite value. That the more knowledge one accrues, the better off they are.

They may be right. But only to a point.

You see, the true value in knowledge lies not in how much of it one can gain. No, it lies in how much of it one can share.

Sharing represents full utilization of knowledge. It represents taking what one has gained and using it to help others. To bridge gaps, build communities and make the world a better place.

This is where value is created. This is where legends are made.

If you don’t believe me, consider how few rewards are given simply for accruing knowledge.

It might get us into Harvard, give us the grand prize in Jeopardy or help us ace the exam.

But then what?

We won’t be remembered for how much we can remember. And we likely won’t be able to make a career out of what we retain in our heads.

We need to do more to leave our mark. We need to be actionable with what we’ve learned. To use our knowledge to solve real world problems.

This is what the world expects of us. And it’s what we must expect of ourselves.

Yes, collaboration a fundamental attribute of humanity. Our society is built upon the value of sharing knowledge. Of taking ideas, building upon them and maximizing their impact.

It’s how we’ve evolved from caves to computers. It’s how we’ve gone from walking through jungles amongst saber-toothed tigers to flying above the clouds in jumbo jets.

If the minds behind these innovations hadn’t shared them, we’d still be in the Stone Age. Or maybe even extinct.

In fact, if we hadn’t shared our accrued knowledge, our entire existence would be anonymous. History, after all, is solely the result of shared knowledge.

Fortunately, those before us have taken on the burden of sharing their ideas. And, in doing so, they’ve provided us with previously unimaginable luxuries.

We can now live longer than our ancestors did. And we can now live in greater comfort than previous generations could ever have imagined.

But we cannot drop the ball.

In an era where endless information is available in our pockets, we cannot afford to act as if our brains are intake valves.

We must remember the importance of taking it in to share it out.

We must share what we know.

We must advance the conversation.

We must leave the world a better place than we found it.

This is our purpose. And our responsibility.

So, let’s commit to it. Together.

Be Informed

There’s a message I see each time I put on my dress shoes.

It’s written right on the shoe trees I keep inside them when they’re not on my feet. And it reads, An educated consumer is our best customer.

Now, at first glance, this might seem more than a bit pretentious. Especially when it’s written on an accessory to formalwear — one of the ultimate indicators of elitism.

Yet, I think the message resonates for all of us — regardless of our attire choices or discretionary income.

There is always more we can do to stay informed. In our society, knowledge is power. And regardless of our economic standing, we have access to it.

The ability to stay informed is a gift we shouldn’t pass up. Because it wasn’t always available to everyone.

In years past, it was much more difficult for many people to access information. There were illiteracy barriers, access barriers and financial barriers — all of which prevented a large segment of society from staying informed.

These barriers drove a wedge within society. Not only did the elite have more power, influence and money, but they also had the ability to continually stay up to date. And they could use the information they gleaned to maintain their privileged position.

As the generations passed, this wedge only widened. And it led to the sizable income and opportunity inequalities present in virtually every country.

Yet today, things are different. Technology has provided billions of people access to real time information. Smartphones and high-speed Internet — futuristic fantasies when I was a child — are now globally mainstream.

And the way we gather information has changed as well. Literacy is recommended, yet not required. Videos and images are ever more popular, and the Internet allows people to access them on-demand, without paying for a TV.

But with the power of access comes added responsibility. The responsibility of staying informed.

We must be educated consumers of the information at our fingertips in order to be the best customers of our society.

No, our society is not a department store. And aside from taxes, we don’t pay for its services.

But it is a marketplace of ideas, connection and opportunity.

We have an opportunity to leverage this marketplace for our betterment. To close the gap the longstanding informational divide between Haves and Have Nots.

Taking advantage of that opportunity starts with being informed.

It starts with being actively curious. With taking the time to seek out a diverse range of perspectives. To avoid relying solely on the biased bubbles of our sphere of influence.

It starts with being deliberate. With taking in all the relevant information we can in order to make the best decisions.

And it starts with being intentional. With making self-education part of our daily routine, and our identity.

Yes, information is one of the best tools in the shed. But it only works for us if we pick it up and use it.

Make the commitment.

Be informed.

The Light Bulb Moment

What happens when it all clicks?

When something that was once difficult to grasp suddenly makes sense. When what was once murky becomes crystal clear in our mind.

It’s pretty magical, ain’t it?

I call this instance “The Light Bulb Moment.”

Just like electric light, it can illuminate at the flip of a switch. And just like many other significant moments in life, it can be difficult to fully explain the sensation we feel when this happens.

Why is that? Well, there are a mix of emotions at play each time that switch is flipped.

On one hand, there’s a heightened sense of relief. Something that was one frustrating and exhausting for us to comprehend — such as a math principle or a business operation — suddenly requires far less effort, and we can step back take a deep breath.

But on the other hand, there’s often a desire to act upon what we can now comprehend — and quickly. This is inspired by both the excitement of testing our newfound understanding and the fear of it disappearing from our mind, should we fail to take immediate action.

It’s the balance between these conflicting triggers — one encouraging us to relax, the other spurring us further into the fray — that gives us those warm fuzzies that are hard to articulate with words. It’s what sends us into mad scientist mode, tinkering with that newly understood concept with a smile glued to our face.

And while this all might seem a bit odd and contrarian, The Light Bulb Moment reflects the human condition better than nearly every other situation.

You see, there’s a misconception that people just want everything to be easy and require little work. A misconception that we all want our version of the Staples Easy Button (y’all remember those, right?) in all walks of life.

Thing is, this is not entirely true. As a whole, humans are not lazy or averse to a challenge. We’re happy to put in the work, provided we understand what it is we’re doing and what the outcome of it will be.

Essentially, we just want everything to be clear. To not have to spend a ton of effort trying to grasp a concept or purpose.

This will make us more efficient and less flustered as we take on the myriad tasks life puts in our path. Both of these attributes allow us to be at our best. After all, frustration is hardly humanity’s best look.

This is why we devote ourselves to training and education. Why we value communication and teamwork. For the less time we spend trying to catch up, the more time we can spend in getting ahead.

That’s far more valuable.

So, we should cherish these light bulb moments. We should continue to seek them out and learn from them. But most importantly, we should continue to act on them.

For the more we do, the brighter our future becomes.