Lately, I’ve been questioning the way I consume knowledge.
Most days, I skim articles, listen to podcasts, and sometimes watch a YouTube video promising some new insight. Maybe it is a fresh take on productivity, a summary of a book I probably will not get around to reading, or an analysis of an economic trend that may or may not matter to my actual life. It feels productive. It feels like learning.
But is it? More importantly, does this constant trickle of information actually contribute to a good life?
At its core, the pursuit of knowledge is deeply human. Socrates argued that the only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing, which pushes toward humility and curiosity. Francis Bacon went a step further and claimed that knowledge itself is power, implying that understanding the world allows us to shape it. For a long time, I largely bought into that idea, that more knowledge naturally leads to a better, richer, more fulfilled life.
To some degree, I still think that is true.
But the more I consume an endless stream of information, the more I wonder whether I am actually learning anything meaningful. Worse, I feel the pressure of not having enough time. Not enough time to read all the books I want to read. Not enough time to study history the way it deserves. Not enough time to sit with the ideas that I know would actually stretch me. Human knowledge is vast, and I am constantly aware of how little of it I will ever grasp.
That is where the struggle starts.
I am deeply curious. I want to learn about all sorts of things, all the time. I want to understand the rise and fall of civilizations, economic systems, physics, philosophy, and history. If I could, I would happily spend a lifetime pulling on those threads and seeing where they go.
I’m still waiting on the lottery to hit so I can spend the rest of my life doing exactly that.
But I can’t.
There is not enough time, and that realization bothers me more than I would like to admit.
Maybe this is my version of the abyss. Not some dramatic existential void, but the simple, frustrating fact that I will never know everything I want to know. The books I do not read will always outnumber the ones I do. For every period of history I study, there are a hundred more left untouched.
So how do I make peace with that? How do I orient my time so I am learning in a meaningful way rather than just consuming endlessly?
I think the answer has something to do with structure.
If time is finite and curiosity is effectively infinite, then what matters is how I direct my attention. I do not want to just be informed. I want to be changed by what I learn. The reality of limited time means I need to be more deliberate.
That raises another question though. Does the knowledge I pursue actually align with the parts of life I most care about?
A while back, I heard Tim Ferriss use an analogy about thinking of priorities like the chambers of a revolver. The image stuck with me. It captures the fact that we can only hold a limited number of core focuses at once, but each one is ready when it is needed.
Research suggests most people can actively manage about 3 to 5 major life focuses before effectiveness starts to break down. I stretched that a bit, because of course I did, and landed on six:
Relationships Job (Water/Wastewater Engineering) Financial Independence Natural State Run Club Flying Systems Thinking and Decision-Making
Some of these have been stable for a while. Others shift in intensity depending on the season.
Recently, I realized that Real Estate was not actually a core focus for me. It was really just one tool in service of Financial Independence. I enjoy some parts of it, especially the problem-solving and the physical work, but I do not feel much desire to keep repeating the same kinds of projects over and over. I especially do not enjoy the management side. What still interests me are the more unique pieces: efficient buildings, unusual locations, and development ideas I have not tried before. Otherwise, I would rather outsource the repetitive or boring parts when possible.
That shift helped clarify things. Financial Independence belongs on the list. Real estate does not. And Systems Thinking and Decision-Making earned its place too. Financial independence creates freedom. Systems thinking ties together a lot of how I already like to move through the world, whether in investing, running, flying, or just making better choices.
Even within these six, there is plenty to explore.
Flying could mean refining my piloting skills, learning different aircraft and airports, or digging into aviation history.
Running could mean coaching, fueling for endurance, or sports psychology.
Systems Thinking and Decision-Making could mean forecasting, Brier scoring, investment models, and decision frameworks.
There is no shortage of depth available even within the things that already matter to me.
And that may be the point.
If I chase everything at once, I risk learning nothing deeply. So maybe the answer is not reducing curiosity. Maybe it is aiming curiosity more carefully.
A few thoughts keep surfacing for me.
First, I should prioritize depth over breadth within the areas that actually matter most. If I have identified six major focuses, why am I spending so much time consuming random information that, while interesting, does not meaningfully connect to any of them? I could structure my learning around the things I actually want my life to be about.
Second, entertainment is fine, but I should not pretend it is education. I like being entertained. I like good stories, good films, and light reading. There is nothing wrong with that. But I do need to be honest with myself when something is merely interesting or enjoyable rather than meaningfully formative.
A documentary can feel educational, but if I do not reflect on it, discuss it, or connect it to anything deeper, then maybe it was just entertainment with better branding.
A podcast can give me an overview of a historical event, but if I really want understanding, the overview is only a starting point.
Not everything has to be serious or useful. But I do want to stop giving myself too much credit for passive consumption.
Third, I need more reflection and application. Deep learning does not happen only when I take information in. It happens when I wrestle with it. Writing about an idea, discussing it, teaching it, applying it, or even letting it challenge something I previously believed. That is where knowledge starts becoming part of me rather than just passing through.
Fourth, I probably need to accept that I cannot know everything and stop acting like I might somehow pull it off if I optimize hard enough. This is the hardest one. I am going to die with unread books, unanswered questions, and entire fields of knowledge barely touched. That is not a personal failure. That is just part of being human.
I think that is the tension I keep coming back to. I do not need to stop consuming knowledge. I just need to be more intentional about it.
Does this information contribute to one of my six key focuses?
If something keeps pulling at me from outside those six, is that a sign that the list itself should change?
What is worth engaging with deeply?
What is just noise?
Where am I mistaking entertainment for education?
I do not have a final answer. But I am increasingly convinced that knowledge, by itself, does not guarantee a good life. What matters more is what I do with it, how I integrate it, and whether it actually changes the way I live.
Maybe the better path is not more input. Maybe it is less, but deeper. Less grazing. More digestion. Less chasing every interesting thing. More returning, again and again, to the few things that matter most.