Lessons

The original draft of this essay was titled: “Lessons from My Biological Father”.

I wrote it during the winter of 2021, and it was the heaviest thing I had ever written, to the point where, as you can tell, I decided to not share it.

It made Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment seem like a feel-good love story in comparison.¹

Why? Well, I don’t have a relationship with my father and haven’t for several years (this is a good thing!). There is a lot of darkness to be found in my personal history with my father. I can trace many of my present struggles right back into that darkness. Plus, more dark things.

Hence the overall heaviness in that original draft.

However, as of this writing, during the summer of 2022: I’m in a great mood!

So, hey, why not keep it light and fun and educational?

Maybe, someday, if and when it feels right, I’ll share the heavier lessons.

For now, here are seven ultra-light, ultra-positive lessons I learned from my father:

Oh, and I removed the word “Biological” from the title because it implied that I had or have an adoptive father, which is not the case. Growing up, I did have my maternal grandfather, a dog, and my Fender Stratocaster electric guitar, and I think these elements add up to a stable father figure. Right? Right?

Right?

Anyhow, yes, the lessons:

Lesson 1: Work ahead.
Lesson 2: Habitually follow up.
Lesson 3: Maintain a contacts database.
Lesson 4: Yawn imperceptibly.
Lesson 5: Exercise each day.
Lesson 6: Embrace irreverence.
Lesson 7: Sometimes, don’t color the wall.

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Lesson 1: Work ahead.

When I was in primary school, my father always encouraged me to work ahead.

I vividly remember him driving me to a movie theatre on a Monday night in Panama City, Republic of Panama (where I grew up). During the drive, he asked me, in English, whether I had any homework coming up for the week.

“Yes,” I said. “I have a math assignment due on Thursday.”

“When are you planning to work on it?” he asked.

“Probably on Wednesday,” I said, “or maybe even on Thursday before class. It’s pretty easy.”

“Why don’t you work on it tonight? Or tomorrow?”

“Tonight? Tomorrow? It’s not due until Thursday!”

“I know, but if it’s really that easy, you can get it done sooner. If you get it done sooner, you’ll be free to do whatever you want to do on Wednesday and Thursday before class. You can even work ahead and finish the homework for future weeks. Imagine: You could finish all the homework for the entire semester in just a few weeks! Then, while your friends are still working on weekly homework, you will be free. The work will be done.”

“Good point. So what movie are we watching?”

This short conversation, for some reason, permanently shaped my approach to work. I always work ahead. Always.

Years later, when I was in college and graduate school, I often did the homework for a given class during or right after class. I then invested my newfound free time swimming, doing stand-up comedy, learning, sharing time with friends, going on dates, watching a movie, visiting a museum, playing music, writing, reading, resting, or doing whatever else I wanted to do. It was awesome. All thanks to this lesson.

Guidelines are suggestions, not limits.

This is worth repeating: Guidelines are suggestions, not limits.

If a professor assigns you homework that’s due in two weeks, know that you can work on it that same day if you so wish.

If your boss wants you to finish a task before the end of the week, know that you can report back at the end of the day having finished that task and a few others.

If someone says to you, “There is no way you can heal trauma, learn a new language, learn how to sing, reinvent your entire existence, make new friends, get in great physical shape, learn how to fight, improve your diet, process a painful loss, or do anything in a shorter timespan than most people,” please know that their perspective is shaped by their limited experiences, their limited observations, and the law of averages.

You are not average. There is no need for you to limit yourself.

Work ahead!

Lesson 2: Habitually follow up.

My father taught me to follow up with people and to make it a habit.

Whenever he met anyone he connected with, he would ask for their contact information. If they also connected with him and chose to share their information, he always followed up with a note thanking them for their time, for an enjoyable conversation, or for whatever he was genuinely grateful for.

I learned this lesson early in my life, and I have been applying it ever since.

Habitually follow up!

Following up should be your default setting. In other words, you don’t need a reason to follow up; you would need a clear reason to not follow up. If there’s no reason to not follow up, just do it. This has nothing to do with being an extrovert, socially bold, or “good at networking.” It’s simply a considerate habit, like greeting someone with a handshake.

Follow up with people you just connected with.

Follow up with people you connected with years ago.

Try to follow up as humanly as you feel is appropriate.

A handwritten letter is more human than an email, a gifted book with a handwritten note is more human than an online book recommendation, a call or voice note is more human than a text, and a face-to-face conversation is most human of all.

Accept that the other person might want a less human interaction than what you would prefer (or no interaction at all), and adjust accordingly.

Don’t feel bad about not following up with everyone you meet or have ever met. Just do your best; there’s no need to force anything. Remember to have fun.

Caution: If you habitually follow up, prepare to be dismissed or ignored. Prepare also to have unique, rich, diverse, wide, positive, fascinating, and international personal and professional networks. The apparent rejections are well worth it.

Habitually follow up!

P.S.: Do not be afraid to follow up with people you admire. It doesn’t matter if they’re great artists or award-winners or celebrities or billionaires or CEOs or whatever. They’re just people.

I have received email responses from Isabel Allende and the incomparable Derek Sivers. At a festival, I spoke with Shakey Graves about how he learned to play the guitar, and I told John Paul White that he gave me hope for the future of country music. At a Q&A, Jerry Seinfeld gave me some stand-up comedy advice. Marc Maron directly responded on his podcast to a question I had emailed him. Tomo Fujita, a fantastic musician and John Mayer’s guitar teacher at Berklee College of Music, made a full video responding to a letter I wrote him. After a showcase, I talked to Niko Moon about vocal harmonies and the Eagles. At a music industry event, I had a conversation with Natalia Lafourcade about how she perceives and interprets music. I have many more examples.

I am not special. I’m just polite, I say hi, and I follow up, regardless of whether I’m supposed to be intimidated. That is it.

By the way, I have been completely dismissed or ignored by some people I admire (and by some people in general), and that is okay, and it’s actually kind of funny. It’s all part of following up!

Lesson 3: Maintain a contacts database.

My father learned this from his father, who was a brilliant salesman.

According to my father, his father had a notebook where he would jot down all the names of friends and potential clients. He didn’t only jot down their names, though. He included their birthdays, where they worked, for whom, what they wanted, what they liked, how he’d met them, and anything else he considered to be important.

No wonder my paternal grandfather was a brilliant salesman!

Thankfully, he passed down this knowledge to my father, who then passed it down to me.

Few things (if any) have had a more positive impact on my social life than maintaining a contacts database. The best part about it is that this positive impact is readily available to you! All you have to do is maintain a contacts database. Easy.

If you already have a database, great; keep at it. If you don’t, that’s okay; you can start now.

It can be a spreadsheet (this is what I do), a notebook (I have a special calendar notebook where I keep the birthdays of many people I know), a Customer Relationship Management software, or anything else that works for you.

Let go of the notion that this is cold and calculating; it’s actually considerate, especially now that most people treat most other people as disposable digital products.

One caveat: Social media does not count.

You don’t own any information on social media; the platform does, and it sells it to advertisers for profit.

Moreover, social media is too convenient.

It requires little to no investment from others. It’s easy for them to tap on a screen and “connect” with or “follow” you. But can you actually have a conversation with them? Have lunch? Ask them for advice? Share time together? Have them respond to a call, text, or email? If you can’t have a real, direct interaction with them, then you don’t actually know them, and they’re not your contacts; they’re just witnesses or removed acquaintances.

Social media also requires little to no investment from you. It is much easier to “connect” with or “follow” someone than it is to have a real interaction with them, come to learn their birthday and write it down, discover what they want and what excites them, write down how you met and what you like about them, and actually make an effort to connect.

Plus, many awesome people don’t use social media!

So: Maintain a contacts database that isn’t a social media platform, and use it to follow up (see Lesson 2). This can only enrich your life.

P.S.: I do not wish to create the illusion that I am the perfect networker. My favorite mistakes are that time when I congratulated someone for doing something they didn’t actually do (there’s more context here, but still, wow, that was embarrassing) and that other time when I thought I could have a conversation while simultaneously sending an email, and I called the email person by the name of the conversation person and vice versa. Amazing. At least I learned my lessons, and I have amusing anecdotes.

Lesson 4: Yawn imperceptibly.

At the 2013 Panama Jazz Festival, I received a small but meaningful scholarship from Berklee College of Music.

After I went up on stage to collect the award, my father and a reporter from a Boston newspaper (I think it was The Boston Globe) were waiting for me backstage.

The reporter started to ask me basic questions like what my name was, how I felt about the festival and the award, and so on. The problem was that, back in those days, I had terrible insomnia. So, I was tired. Very tired. And I began to yawn. All throughout the interview, I yawned, and yawned, and yawned.

You may now take a few seconds to yawn.

After the interview, my father scolded me for yawning. I would have liked for him to also congratulate me on the award, but to each their own!

He told me how disrespectful my yawning was and how it made the reporter feel like he was boring. He proceeded to teach me the simple art of how to yawn imperceptibly: Close your mouth and take a deep, silent breath through your nose.

Oh, and no Boston newspaper ever published a piece about me, probably because I yawned. My father was right.

So: Yawn imperceptibly!

Most people can’t help but take yawns personally.

If you yawn during a work meeting, your boss will probably think you’re not interested.

If you yawn during a date, your date will probably feel uninteresting.

It doesn’t matter that you’re tired or truly bored. Close your mouth, take a deep, silent breath through your nose, and yawn imperceptibly.

Also, do your best to take care of your sleep.

I hope all this writing about yawning didn’t make you yawn perceptibly …

Lesson 5: Exercise each day.

My father taught me to exercise each day.

Change your mind about exercise.

It is not something you do occasionally to relieve stress or look more attractive.

Exercise is literally part of your responsibility as a human.

Our species did not evolve to sit down and stare at screens.

Try to do some physical activity each day, however briefly. If you can’t do a hundred push-ups, do ten. Do five. You can literally start doing just one or two, and then build up from there. As long as you do some exercise during the day, you will have won the day, so celebrate!

Exercise for yourself and not to impress anyone.

If possible, find a coach who will help you make sure that you’re exercising with proper technique. This will save you from avoidable injuries (been there).

And here’s the secret to consistent exercising: Make sure you’re enjoying it!

For example, I don’t like the gym. I don’t like the music they play, I don’t like the posturing, I don’t like the selfies, I don’t like the culture, and I don’t like the overall vibe. If I were to force myself to go to the gym each day, I would do it for a week, and then I would stop exercising forever.

But I love to swim. I love to hike. I love to bike. I love yoga. I love strength-training in my room while listening to music I actually enjoy (special thanks to AC/DC, Eminem, and Rage Against the Machine). Since I enjoy what I do for exercise, it’s easy for me to do it each day, which helps keep me happy and healthy.

Exercise each day.

It’s pleasurable, and it’s good for you.

Enjoy!

P.S.: The whole “no pain, no gain” thing is mostly nonsense. If you exercise in a constant state of pain, stress, suffering, and straining, you will end up with a body that is pained, stressed, suffering, and strained, and you might even provoke a serious injury. You deserve to enjoy what you do for exercise. Of course there’s effort involved, but enjoyable effort and pain are very different things. In the long term, enjoyable effort is healthier and more effective.

Lesson 6: Embrace irreverence.

One of the few real bonding opportunities I had with my father was when we’d go to the movies. I always loved movies (still do), and we always had a great time.

There was, however, something about going to the movies with him that I sometimes enjoyed even more than the movies themselves.

Allow me to introduce you to humanity’s most noble creation: “The chemical fart,” known most commonly in English as “the stink bomb.”

A stink bomb, or peo químico in Spanish, is an incredible wonder of science. It is a small sealed glass ampoule that holds a liquid that smells, well, like a fart. Some might say it smells worse, way worse. Genius.

So, my father, being who he was, would sometimes enjoy releasing a stink bomb. Inside a closed movie theatre. In the middle of a movie.

This was his strategy: We would sit up front, close to the screen. Some minutes into the film, my father would inconspicuously crush the glass stink bomb under his shoe. At that moment, we would get up and find new seats in the theatre’s back rows. We would then chuckle as we observed entire families get out of their seats in order to escape the putrid smell.

I would like to use this sentence to apologize to all my friends in the film industry.

While this particular example of irreverence is borderline punishable by law, I do think that embracing irreverence is vital for life.

There are so many rules for so many things. So many. All of them are made up, many don’t make sense, and many are too rigid, e.g., not being allowed to laugh in a library, which makes it my favorite place for a good laugh.

So, if you’re not really hurting yourself or anyone else, maybe consider breaking a few rules.

It’s a lot of fun, and it’s liberating.

Embrace irreverence. And do it responsibly. Please don’t get sued.

Lesson 7: Sometimes, don’t color the wall.

One of my earliest childhood memories is of me coloring the walls in my maternal grandparents’ house in Panama with my diverse collection of crayons.

I loved coloring that wall. I loved the feeling of seeing the wall be transformed from beige and boring into wild and colorful, all because of my crayons, my vision, my will, and my action. I loved being the cause of an effect in the world.

My mom always encouraged me to color that wall, and my dad always discouraged me. This would later become a metaphor of my life.

In a future essay, I will write about what I learned from my mom’s encouragement. In this lesson, however, I’d like to share what my father taught me through his discouragement: Sometimes, don’t color the wall.

Based on some things my father would say to discourage me, here is a short list of times when it might be better to not color the wall:

1. If it’s not your wall: If you’re an actor in a play that you agreed to be in, and if you think the play should have a different ending, this is the best course of action: Quit the play, or accept the current ending. It’s not your play; it’s the writer’s, and in other ways, it’s the director’s. Your job is to bring their vision to life, not rewrite the story. Trying to color someone else’s wall might come off as invasive or disrespectful.
2. If you don’t have permission: I cannot go into a presentation slide approved by my boss and change all of its design elements, just because I had a flash of inspiration. While the new slide might have great visuals, and it might be a wonderful expression of my creativity, it might also get me fired. If you don’t have permission to color a wall, consider the option of not doing so. You can always make your own wall and do with it as you wish.
3. If it’s not worth the trouble: Even if a wall is yours and you have permission to color it, sometimes it’s not worth the trouble. One example is the fact that I decided to not share the original draft of this essay. Coloring that wall in that way would not have been worth the trouble. Sometimes, it’s better to keep your colors to yourself, because the cons of expressing them can outweigh the pros.

There are countless other examples of this lesson, but the principle remains: Sometimes, it’s better to not color the wall.

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Let’s review these seven ultra-light, ultra-positive lessons:

Lesson 1: Work ahead.
Lesson 2: Habitually follow up.
Lesson 3: Maintain a contacts database.
Lesson 4: Yawn imperceptibly.
Lesson 5: Exercise each day.
Lesson 6: Embrace irreverence.
Lesson 7: Sometimes, don’t color the wall.

Given the darkness that makes up much of my personal history with my father, it is a joy to be able to rescue some rays of light.

I am grateful for these positive lessons, and I am grateful for the opportunity I have to share them.

Thank you, Lessons from my Father — Volume I!

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Notes

1. A part of me would like to be perceived as dark, profound, and intelligent, all because I have read Crime and Punishment. The truth is, it’s one of my least favorite books of all time. I thought it was so bad. Would never recommend it. My favorite Russian writer is Anton Chekhov. Now that guy was something else!
2. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam (Vincent van Gogh Foundation).
3. Good times.

Mychildhood nanny, Paulina, is one of my favorite people ever. Those who did not grow up in Latin America as I did might not know just how important one’s nanny can be.

I hope the following lessons can help illustrate it.

Because when your school bus drops you off at home, and your mom is at work, and your maternal grandparents who live in the same house aren’t home or are busy, and you’re an only child, and your dog is devoid of any personality (sorry, Tiger; rest in peace) … guess who is home and available. That’s right: Paulina.

So, as far as I’m concerned, she is family.

Here are four lessons I learned from my childhood nanny, Paulina:

Lesson 1: Lying isn’t always bad.
Lesson 2: Assert your self.
Lesson 3: Novelty is overrated.
Lesson 4: Nurture the loves of people you love.

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Lesson 1: Lying isn’t always bad.

When I was a kid, my biological father was, well, how to put it? “A little bit aggressive.” I think that’s a fair, diplomatic description.

Frankly, I deserve a diplomacy award for that.

Anyhow, for mysterious reasons, my biological father hated when I had café con leche, also known as coffee with milk. He hated it. I truly still don’t know why; he never gave any reason, which, in hindsight … is kind of funny. It’s like if I were to lose my temper and want to break stuff whenever my biological father eats a cookie.

One afternoon, I was enjoying a perfect cup of Panamanian café con leche that had been prepared by Paulina.¹ From my room, where she and I were hanging out, we heard the rumble of my biological father’s pickup truck followed by the metallic sound of the main door opening. Let’s put it this way: In those moments, “joy” was not the most present emotion.

Diplomacy award?

Paulina promptly took the half-full cup of café con leche from me and gave me a mint from the pack she always had on her.

My biological father entered the room as his best self, all smiles and charm. He mentioned he had to leave again and was just stopping by to say hi.

Then, he noticed the cup of café con leche in Paulina’s hand. His expression morphed. I felt doomed.

He asked Paulina, in Spanish: “He hasn’t been drinking any, has he?”

She replied, also in Spanish, as it would’ve been weird if she’d spoken in a language foreign to her: “No, no, ha, of course not. I’m drinking it! It’s been a long day. He just had lunch, and we were just talking.”

My biological father looked at her like an interrogator trying to figure out whether he was being lied to.

Thankfully … he was fooled.

He hugged me goodbye as my minty breath further fooled him, and he left.

First: I know professional actors who would not be able to match Paulina’s performance. It’s hard to transmit via the written word, but think of Al Pacino in the last scene of The Godfather, except female and significantly more Latin American.

Second, and most important: That was a good lie. As in, it was ethically good.

Any religion or moral code that claims lying is always bad is a religion or moral code that is unaware of the real world.

What would’ve happened had Paulina been honest? I would’ve been yelled at and insulted, or worse … but at least she would’ve been honest, and [insert deity or moral leader here] would have approved of her honesty! This is, of course, ridiculous.

I’m not implying it’s okay to lie any time the truth might have a negative consequence. Most times, the truth is the right path, regardless of how painful it might be. Sometimes, however, to tell the truth is to be naïve and inconsiderate, or even unethical.

Lying isn’t always bad. If done to protect someone, for example, it can actually be good.

Gracias, Mima.

Lesson 2: Assert your self.

One early morning, when I was 12 years old, I awoke to screams.

At the time, I was living with my mom in the lower level of a two-level house, and the screams were coming from the upper level, where my grandparents and Paulina lived.

Oh, and someone else had recently moved into the upper level: María Elena [cue thunder and spooky church organ].

María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ] was a polite Colombian lady who had moved into my grandparents’ home to temporarily help with chores, but she managed to stay on as “second nanny” despite her complete lack of nanny skills.

She was not a good nanny, but she was something my grandma adored: Deeply, dogmatically, fanatically religious. So, she got the job. Who said the nanny world was a meritocracy?

Back to the screams: It was Paulina versus María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ]. The screams were unintelligible but so loud that I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. So, I exited the lower level of the house and stepped onto the backyard to try to understand why I was awoken from yet another wonderful dream involving Shania Twain (it was a purely romantic dream, and I stand by it; Shania was my first and only celebrity crush).

From the backyard, I could finally understand the screams. This remains one of the most intrinsically comedic situations I have ever witnessed: Paulina was insulting María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ], while María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ] was trying to exorcise … yes … exorcise Paulina.

What follows is a PG-13 summary of what I heard. Each line is written in its original Spanish and is followed by its English translation. For a more realistic experience, simply add to Paulina’s lines as many curse words as you can:

Paulina: ¡Vieja loca, bruja, cállate la boca, cocobola, lárgate de aquí!

(Crazy old woman, witch, shut your mouth, bald-headed woman, get out of here!)

María Elena: ¡Sal, demonio; sal, sal y libera el alma perdida de esta mujer!

(Begone, demon; begone, begone, and free the lost soul of this woman!)

Paulina: ¡Sal tú misma, idiota; piérdete, diabla loca!

(You begone yourself, idiot; get lost, crazy female devil!)

What a life this is. Good times.

I later learned what had triggered this situation. Since María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ] was better at playing the politics game and manipulating my grandma via Bible verses, she was subtly trying to oust Paulina from the house.

Paulina would have none of it.

Hence, the screams and the exorcism.

The best part of it all? After this incident, María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ] never again messed with Paulina.

The lesson here is not necessarily that you should scream at people who try to exorcise you.

The lesson is that you should assert your self.

You are not doing anyone any favors if you enable disrespectful behavior. In fact, you are teaching your self how to be disrespected, and you are teaching other people that it’s okay to disrespect you and others, when it clearly isn’t.

Instead, you can calmly communicate and enforce your boundaries. You can rant in your journal, and then prepare to act in a more strategic manner. You might choose to distance your self from someone. You might internally assert that the most intelligent thing to do per your self’s long-term goals is to do nothing in the short term. You might have to use immediate physical force.

Whatever you choose to do or not do, you have to assert your self. Teach your self how to be respected, and teach others that being disrespectful is not okay.

Assert your self.

Gracias, Mima.

Sorry, María Elena … [thunder and spooky church organ].

Lesson 3: Novelty is overrated.

Up until I graduated from secondary school in 2012,² each weekday, I would come home from school to Paulina and her classic pollo guisado con arroz, frijoles y tajadas, my favorite of her dishes.

By “my favorite of her dishes” I mean “her only dish.”

I think Paulina knew how to cook a total of three dishes, and those other two were usually for my grandpa, so 99% of the times I ate a Paulina dish, I ate the exact same one.

Yet … I never got bored with eating the same dish, over and over again, through weeks, months, years.

Why? Simple: I loved that dish. It was so good.

Paulina’s extremely limited cooking repertoire can teach us a lesson: Novelty is overrated! Her classic dish was tasty and healthy. Why would I need to try anything else?

I’ve applied this lesson to other realms of life:

• In my artistic life, I am often tempted to begin a new project instead of continuing to discover one I’ve already begun. There is nothing wrong with trying new things, especially in the arts, but I’ve learned that whenever I feel a compulsion for novelty in this realm, it usually means I’m either afraid of facing what I’m already working on or have forgotten to enjoy what I’m doing. The solution, then, is often to go deeper into what I’m already doing … and to remember to have fun!
• I’m a one-woman man and have always been at heart. I’m a romantic. If we ever watch the film Midnight in Paris together, prepare to see me weep.³ However, due to adverse childhood experiences, I became convinced and for years believed and embodied that being a one-woman man, i.e., myself, would’ve made me a not-real man, which would’ve made my biological father be ashamed of me, which would’ve made me unworthy of being alive. Ah, yes, the wonders of manhood! Fortunately, thanks to distance from my biological father, therapy, and more, I was able to let go of this inauthentic cognitive-behavioral pattern years ago, and I don’t feel like I miss out on anything by choosing to only be in meaningful, committed relationships.
• I had the opportunity to attend graduate school, and, as part of my graduate program, I had to find and complete three internships. I did all three with the same company, Sony Music Entertainment. Some career advisors said I was making a mistake. They said I should experiment and take risks instead of “settling” for one company. Their intentions were good, but they were missing the point: If I’m happy at work and enjoy the company and people I’m working with, why would I leave, just to see what’s out there? That makes no sense to me.

In most realms of life, “new” isn’t necessarily better than “good.”

Novelty is overrated.

Gracias, Mima.

Lesson 4: Nurture the loves of people you love.

Growing up in Panama City, Republic of Panama, my favorite TV show was Disney’s Art Attack.

Art Attack was an interactive TV show where Mexican host and one of my childhood heroes, Rui Torres, would teach, step-by-step, how to make arts and crafts.⁵

I loved Art Attack and would work on its projects all through the day and into the night with the help of my co-creator: Paulina.

This woman was not getting paid to help a kid make arts and crafts off a TV show. She could have easily chosen to take a nap instead of helping me paint a walrus (true story). Yet, she didn’t. She chose to go out of her way to nurture this love of mine, in part because I think she could see how much it meant to me.

After one particular episode of Art Attack, my sole purpose in life became to create a dinosaur fossil like the one I had just seen Rui Torres create. To achieve this, I needed cardboard, a pencil, scissors, tape, water, glue, and … sand.

Where was I to find large quantities of sand in the outskirts of Panama City, far from either ocean? I don’t know … and I still don’t know. All I know is that Paulina, having learned of my quest, showed up one afternoon with a bag of sand.

Like a mafia boss, I asked no questions.

She then helped me create the fossil. We cut out the fossil shapes I had drawn onto cardboard, taped them together as needed, glued them onto a large and uncut piece of cardboard, covered the surface of the emerging fossil with watered-down glue, and, gloriously, dropped the sand on the sticky surface. We carried the sand-filled fossil to the backyard, shook it, the extra sand fell away, and voilà: Art!

I have certainly made mistakes as a family member, friend, student, boyfriend, collaborator, colleague, and, well, as a human being. There is, however, at least one thing I’m sure I have always done right: I have always nurtured the loves of people I’ve loved.

If someone I care about is passionate about something, I will go out of my way to buy them a class, a book, tickets, or whatever I feel will most nurture their love, while wholly supporting and helping them in any way I can.

I’d like to think I do this because I’m super special and blessed by the heavens. The truth is I do this because, early in life, I learned how to. I learned from my mom, from my maternal grandparents, and, of course: I learned from Paulina.

So, nurture the loves of people you love. You have no concept of how much it might mean to them.

Gracias, Mima.

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To review, here are four lessons I learned from my childhood nanny, Paulina:

Lesson 1: Lying isn’t always bad.
Lesson 2: Assert your self.
Lesson 3: Novelty is overrated.
Lesson 4: Nurture the loves of people you love.

As of this writing, Paulina is, thankfully, still alive. Though we live in separate countries, we often speak on the phone. She has been struggling with health issues for the past few years, and, since she sometimes can’t afford to have a doctor check on her, my mom and I do our best to help her.

You see, Paulina comes from an extremely humble background in Panama. In Panamanian society and most other societies, including the United States, she might be described as “lower-class.”

I take issue with this terminology because it implicitly equates social or economic “status” with “class.”

For example, Paulina was always good to me, and my biological father was often abusive towards me.⁶ In fact, she often protected me from him. Yet, since my biological father has a pretty surname and always knew how to wear a suit, he was bizarrely perceived as a respectable, “upper-class” member of society, whereas Paulina, who is a beautiful human being, was always perceived as “lower-class.” Cool, right?⁷

Bonus lesson: Social or economic “status” have nothing to do with “class.”

I am not claiming that everyone who is perceived as “lower-class” is classy and everyone who is perceived as “upper-class” is not; such a claim would be as extreme and untrue as its opposite.

I do assert this: Paulina is pure class.

She is living proof that true class has nothing to do with status, appearance, prestige, money, rhetoric, or formal education. It has to do with being the best human being one can be, moment to moment; making inevitable mistakes but owning and learning from them, and doing as much good as one can, with love, compassion for oneself and others, and the best possible intentions.

I will continue to help Paulina in any way I can, though I have no idea how I could ever repay all she has done for me.

Perhaps I can start by translating this essay into Spanish and finding a way to have her read or listen to it, so at least she’s aware of how much she means to me.

Gracias, Mima.

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Notes

1. I no longer drink coffee (anxiety don’t need no help!), but if I did, I wouldn’t drink it from any of the popular coffee chains in the United States, where I live as of this writing. Why? Panamanian coffee in general and Paulina’s coffee in particular is just too good. When it comes to coffee, I was spoiled.
2. Special thanks to the school I attended for pre-kinder, kinder, primary school, and secondary school: Colegio Episcopal de Panamá, where I learned so much and so little, both in the best way.
3. Midnight in Paris is a perfect film (and script). It is at once funny and beautiful. The ending gets me every time.
4. For more on this, research “the halo effect” and stop making important personal and professional decisions based on limited positive impressions, e.g., charm, beauty, a particular skill, attractiveness, prestige, a single personality trait, reputation, etc. I have made these mistakes so that you don’t have to!
5. I don’t mean to play the grumpy old man, but what happened to positive screen-based entertainment for children? I’m grateful to have been a kid in the 1990s and 2000s, right before the internet and media got out of control.
6. I have made these factual references to my biological father and my relationship with him because they’re important to this essay and to why I’m so grateful for Paulina, not because I want to trash him. By the way, his childhood was arguably worse than mine. Also: Why do so many people make so many mistakes so often? Are they all born dumb, crazy, or evil? Do they develop in a vacuum? All of them? Really? Does a society share no responsibility in the sins of so many of its members? How many Fast & Furious movies can they possibly make? These are the important questions.
7. Way too much of our societal value system is derived from the questionable “science” of economics, but that’s a fun topic for another time!
8. … María Elena [thunder and spooky church organ].

Professor Anders Ericsson was an earned genius, and his research on learning and expertise changed my life.

I used to have countless limiting beliefs about my abilities and potential, all of which have disappeared thanks to Professor Ericsson’s work.

So, when I learned of his passing, I decided to write this piece as a tribute to him, and so that perhaps his work could also change someone else’s life.

Here are five lessons in learning from Professor Anders Ericsson:

Lesson 1: Forget about talent. Focus on the work.
Lesson 2: The only practice that counts is deliberate practice.
Lesson 3: Studying over doing.
Lesson 4: Mental representations over memorization.
Lesson 5: The “10,000-Hour Rule” is not a thing.

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Lesson 1: Forget about talent. Focus on the work.

Professor Ericsson taught me to forget about talent and focus on the work.

His research shows that our romantic (and limiting) idea of talent, as in a certain skill that’s bestowed onto someone at birth by the gods and cannot be otherwise earned…is not a thing.

Here’s his take on how experts actually develop extraordinary abilities:

Expert performers develop their extraordinary abilities through years and years of dedicated practice, improving step by step in a long, laborious process. There are no shortcuts.²

No shortcuts…and no mention of talent.

The chapter in Professor Ericsson’s book from which I pulled this quote is aptly titled “But What About Natural Talent?” and, in it, he explains away our romantic idea of talent, Mozart included. If you can, it’s a must-read.

Since I love the arts, I’d like to support Professor Ericsson’s expert research with the help of two creative masters I admire.

First, arguably the creative person I most admire: author, stand-up comedian, actor, novelist, musician, scriptwriter, songwriter, and playwright…Steve Martin. Here’s Steve’s perspective:

You may think, “I don’t have any talent.” I guarantee you: I had no talent. None. I didn’t know how — I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t dance, I couldn’t act. I didn’t know how to think up jokes, or tell jokes, or do anything. I just started doing it because I — I liked it…so don’t be intimidated starting with nothing. In fact, if you start with nothing, the workaround can lead you to originality.³

Steve Martin is a true Renaissance Man. Thanks, Steve.

Second, Peruvian Nobel Laureate in Literature and perhaps my favorite fiction writer ever…Mario Vargas Llosa.⁴ Here’s Vargas Llosa on his perception of his own ability and on Gustave Flaubert, the French writer who helped him forget about our romantic idea of talent:

I felt that I was not a genius at all, that I wanted to write good books — I had to work. And Flaubert was a great inspiration because he was a writer that had built his talent, his genius, through very, very hard work, through a very deep commitment with his vocation, with what he wanted to achieve.⁵

Forget about talent. Focus on the work.

I blame the word “talent” for a huge amount of waste in human potential:

• “I would love to learn French, but I have no ‘talent’ for languages…”
• “I adore the theater and daydream about acting…if only I had ‘talent’.”
• “That person who’s been doing this for 50 years is ‘talented’. If only I, who just started doing this, had been born with ‘talent’. I guess I’ll quit…”

It’s worth repeating: Forget about talent. Focus on the work.

If the word “talent” is holding you back, permanently erase it from your vocabulary. Don’t use or think the word again. When someone else uses the word, ignore it.

Some people have natural dispositions that drive them to develop a certain skill, sure. Some others have grown up in an environment that was conducive to the development of a certain skill, sure. Some have slight genetic advantages that give them slightly more potential for the development of a certain skill (e.g., height in basketball), sure.

Say what you will. Just forget about talent. And focus on the work.

Thank you for this lesson, Professor Ericsson.

Note: Stay away from people who will say you cannot learn whatever it is you want to learn. Science says you can do it.

Lesson 2: The only practice that counts is deliberate practice.

Professor Ericsson taught me that the only practice that counts is deliberate practice.

Here’s a succinct definition of deliberate practice from journalist Steven Kurutz:

Professor Ericsson focused on what he called “deliberate practice,” which entails immediate feedback, clear goals and focus on technique. According to his research, the lack of deliberate practice explained why so many people reach only basic proficiency at something, whether it be a sport, pastime or profession, without ever attaining elite status.⁶

If your practice doesn’t entail immediate feedback, clear goals, and a focus on technique…it doesn’t count.

My tennis game improved more in one month of tennis lessons with an expert coach than in the one year I had previously spent “practicing” tennis. Now we know why:

• Immediate feedback: My expert coach was right by me and would correct me if I made a mistake in my forehand or footwork.
• Clear goals: After warming up, each lesson had a clear goal, whether it be polishing my backhand, increasing my agility, or improving my serve.
• Focus on technique: Each lesson was, at its core, about improving my technique, not about randomly playing tennis.

Remember: The only practice that counts is deliberate practice.

Thank you, Professor Ericsson.

Note: If possible, hire an expert coach. This will help you learn and, in the long run, will save you time and money.

Lesson 3: Studying over doing.

Professor Ericsson taught me that studying is more important than doing.

There’s a widespread misconception that “doing” something repeatedly is the way to improve:

• “Want to be a better tennis player? Play tennis every day!”
• “Want to polish your French pronunciation? Speak French every day!”
• “Want to be a better musician? Play music every day!”

Except…this doesn’t work. Doing something repeatedly doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get better at it, at least not past a certain point. Plus, if you’re doing something wrong, repeatedly, then you’ll actually get worse at it.

Here’s Professor Ericsson:

Research has shown that, generally speaking, once a person reaches that level of “acceptable” performance and automaticity, the additional years of “practice” don’t lead to improvement. If anything, the doctor or the teacher or the driver who’s been at it for twenty years is likely to be a bit worse than the one who’s been doing it for only five, and the reason is that these automated abilities gradually deteriorate in the absence of deliberate efforts to improve.⁷

Thanks, Professor Ericsson.

Studying something deliberately helps you improve, whereas just doing something repeatedly may not.

With this new understanding, let’s rewrite those three examples, from doing, to studying:

• “Want to be a better tennis player? Study proper technique with the help of an expert coach and grow as a player, through deliberate practice!”
• “Want to improve your French pronunciation? Study the sounds of the French language that don’t exist in your first language and train your vocal apparatus to make those sounds, through deliberate practice!”
• “Want to be a better musician? Study the music you love and internalize the elements that make you love it…through deliberate practice!”

Remember: Studying over doing.

Thank you, Professor Ericsson.

Lesson 4: Mental representations over memorization.

Professor Ericsson taught me that building mental representations is more important than rote memorization.

We all have some concept of what memorization is. But what are mental representations? Here’s Professor Ericsson:

Because the details of mental representations can differ dramatically from field to field, it’s hard to offer an overarching definition that is not too vague, but in essence these representations are preexisting patterns of information — facts, images, rules, relationships, and so on — that are held in long-term memory and that can be used to respond quickly and effectively in certain types of situations.

The thing all mental representations have in common is that they make it possible to process large amounts of information quickly, despite the limitations of short-term memory. Indeed, one could define a mental representation as a conceptual structure designed to sidestep the usual restrictions that short-term memory places on mental processing.⁹

Thanks, Professor Ericsson.

Ask yourself: What is the underlying structure of the thing I want to learn? How do experts conceive of that structure in their mind?

It’s not enough to just memorize parts of something. If you truly want to learn, you have to go deeper.

To help illustrate this lesson, here’s John Mayer’s master advice on how people can “find the promised land for themselves on the guitar”:

My advice might sound a little unfun, but it’s that, everything you learn, learn the thing that is the building block for the thing you just learned. And that might be scales, you know, instead of just parts of songs. Trace back why you like the thing and learn the thing that made the thing you like, and you will be five times better every time you do that.¹⁰

Yes, the guy who wrote “Your Body Is A Wonderland” just gave perfect advice on how to build mental representations…

Learn the structure, not just the instance. Learn the framework, not just the example. Learn scales and musical relationships, not just parts of songs.

Remember: Mental representations over memorization.

Thank you, Professor Ericsson.

P.S. Remember my transcription of Don McLean’s “Vincent” from Lesson 3? Notice how I didn’t transcribe the exact names of notes and chords, but rather the musical relationships between them. Mental representations over memorization!

Lesson 5: The “10,000-Hour Rule” is not a thing.

Malcolm Gladwell’s “10,000-Hour Rule” from his book Outliers has become a cultural cliché. If you’re unfamiliar with the rule, it basically states that in order to master a skill, you need to practice it for about 10,000 hours, which should take you about 10 years to do.

Professor Ericsson’s work (which Gladwell misinterpreted in coining the 10,000-Hour Rule) has taught me that this rule…is not a thing.

My experience has taught me the same.

I started swimming when I was three. I’ve been swimming regularly ever since. I’m writing this being twenty-five. I’ve easily swum for more than 10,000 hours. Easily. And I’m a good swimmer. But I’m not even close to being a great swimmer. Why? Because it’s not how much I’ve swum. It’s how:

• I haven’t built mental representations (see Lesson 4): I’ve memorized tips and tricks here and there and repeated them for years, instead of learning and internalizing the principles of swimming.
• I’ve done a lot but studied little (see Lesson 3): Most of the hours I’ve invested into swimming have gone into just swimming, not into studying how to be a better swimmer.
• I haven’t done much deliberate practice (see Lesson 2): I have rarely focused on my technique, I have rarely set clear goals, and I haven’t received that much expert feedback.

So, inspired by Professor Ericsson’s work, here’s a new rule for mastery, which I expect will go viral due to how catchy it is: The 1,000-Hours-of-Deliberate-Practice-Are-Better-than-10,000-Hours-of-Haphazard-Practice Rule!

1,000 Hours of Deliberate Practice Are Better than 10,000 Hours of Haphazard Practice.

The 10,000-Hour Rule is not a thing. It’s not how much you practice. It’s how.

Thank you, Professor Ericsson.

Let’s recap. Here are five lessons in learning from Professor Anders Ericsson:

Lesson 1: Forget about talent. Focus on the work.
Lesson 2: The only practice that counts is deliberate practice.
Lesson 3: Studying over doing.
Lesson 4: Mental representations over memorization.
Lesson 5: The “10,000-Hour Rule” is not a thing.

When I discovered Professor Ericsson’s work, I had just begun my last semester as an undergraduate Accounting student at Florida State University.

I randomly discovered his book, Peak: Secrets from the New Science of Expertise, which I read carefully for a month, making copious notes and implementing its insights into my classes and my regular practice of creative disciplines.

By the time finals week came around, I had A’s in all my classes (no gods-given talent here; I failed algebra in the 8th grade) and had improved as a stand-up, writer, and musician way more than I thought would’ve been possible in one semester, all while having plenty of free time.

So, filled with gratitude and admiration, I did more research on Professor Ericsson, and I learned that…he taught at Florida State University!

His office was in a building I walked by every morning!

I knew I had to visit him during office hours to thank him for changing my life…but I didn’t. Why? Because I thought he would be busy with finals week, and I didn’t want to bother him.

Now, I can’t thank him.

What is the point of this anecdote? To introduce a bonus lesson:

Bonus Lesson: If you want to reach out to someone…do it. Always.

Still, better late than never: Thank you, Professor Ericsson.

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Notes

1. Psychology Professor Anders Ericsson — the World’s Top Expert on Expertise — Dies (Florida State University News, June 24, 2020), https://news.fsu.edu/news/2020/06/24/fsu-psychology-professor-anders-ericsson-the-worlds-top-expert-on-expertises-dies/.
2. Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, “But What About Natural Talent?,” in Peak: Secrets from the New Science of Expertise (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016), Kindle.
3. Steve Martin, “Getting Started in Comedy,” MasterClass (MasterClass, December 19, 2018).
4. If possible, read Mario Vargas Llosa’s work in its original Spanish.
5. Nobel Prize. “‘Flaubert’s talent was achieved through discipline and hard work.’ Mario Vargas Llosa’s inspiration.” YouTube video, 2:51, June 17, 2014. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5bGWoyzG0U.
6. Steven Kurutz, “Anders Ericsson, Psychologist and ‘Expert on Experts,’ Dies at 72,” The New York Times (The New York Times, July 1, 2020), https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/01/science/anders-ericsson-dead.html.
7. Ericsson and Pool, “The Power of Purposeful Practice,” in Peak.
8. Don McLean, “Vincent,” track 3 on American Pie (Deluxe Edition),
   Capitol Records, 2003, compact disc.
9. Ericsson and Pool, “Mental Representations,” in Peak.
10. Guitar Center. “John Mayer | Guitar Musings with the PRS Silver Sky.” YouTube video, 4:15, April 9, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JO5SfbucSX0.