I really like this! Thanks for writing it. In particular I like this as a description of curiosity:
Ideas moved through my head as freely as the wind. I shuffled through subjects the way some people move through rooms. Everything felt connected. I didn’t understand why I was supposed to stay in one place.
I think there's a common script where people:
1. Follow their many interests
2. Notice they're falling behind specialists in legible achievement
3. Try to specialize (now permanently behind the specialists)
4. Are legibly mediocre
Hello! Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I don’t come here often, so it makes me really happy to see someone reading or liking my writing.
I started writing this because I noticed a pattern: many famous polymaths and scientists often found answers outside their primary field. Isaac Newton, for example, is known not just for math and physics, but for observing simple things in nature like apples, falling leaves, and the motion of celestial bodies. In a way, they were all polymaths.
But the modern world isn’t really designed to let polymaths thrive. When a child is a multipotentialite or excels in multiple things, parents often push them toward a “safe” option like engineering or medicine. Even later in life, we’re told to pick a single major if we want to pursue higher studies. There’s very little space for polymaths to exist.
Back in the day, scientists were also philosophers. They used science to explain life and our place in the world. Now, scientists are primarily experimenters: they use science to advance their specific field and apply it in practical ways. Neither approach is bad.
When you think like the old scientists, you see that everything is connected and you work across a huge canvas. When you think like modern specialists, you can change the world with targeted, incremental improvements. The problem is that we don’t have room for modern polymaths to flourish.
As a result, many opportunities to connect ideas across different fields are wasted. And these polymaths often don’t realize how smart they are. As you said, they try to follow specialists and end up living a mediocre life.
"The modern world isn't really designed to let polymaths thrive" means something, but society is not necessarily designed at all. Reality arbitrates what works and what doesn't, even if locally it feels like someone's in charge. The success rate of curiosity is related to whether the low-hanging fruit has been picked, the symmetries have been noticed, and the ideas have been spread. This doesn't have much to do with anyone's design.
My experience as a generalist has been searching around in the dark, against the local economic gradient, deriving things for myself, then finding my "new" ideas written up over and over in the history books. Humbling! There's no guarantee that process will yield huge economic returns before you die. What if parents know this, and want something else for their kids? Or at least want their kids to be able to step off the treadmill to the upper middle class after they know what they're giving up?
Think about what matters, try to solve problems, get better, repeat. It feels like work, because it is. One guaranteed benefit - the process of figuring things out for yourself means you're quicker at solving all the little puzzles that pop up in your life. That has enormous value. If you're willing to bet you've found an improvement in the world, send it.
FYI - Scanning what I wrote, it looks pessimistic, but what I really am pointing at is that it helps if you love the game.
Do you ever wanna be Leonardo Da Vinci for a day?
You know, I was a Leo once…I died.
See, some people aren’t made for the world. The world is made for you. Not for Tesla. Not for Newton. Not for Einstein. Just you.
Once, A mother asked Einstein what her child should read. He said fairy tales. When she asked what comes after, he said more fairy tales.
I used to read fairy tales. I used to imagine things before they had names. Ask questions without expecting answers. I thought that was how you learned to see.
Ideas moved through my head as freely as the wind. I shuffled through subjects the way some people move through rooms. Everything felt connected. I didn’t understand why I was supposed to stay in one place.
But the world doesn’t like that. It likes clarity. It likes labels. It likes knowing what you are before you finish becoming it.
It didn’t matter what I could do; I could have cured cancer, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t choose one thing. And not choosing was treated like a failure.
People kept asking what I was going to be. Why I kept moving. Whether I was bored or scared. I wasn’t. I just didn’t see borders the way they did.
I won a hundred times. I failed once. Once. I failed to choose.
That was enough; enough for me to forever be the issue, the one without a future. They made me sink down into myself. They made me believe their words, to see the world they picked.
That’s how he died, the Leo in me.
I grew older, learned how to focus. I studied. I did well. I picked a path that made sense to other people. I stopped looking around more than necessary.
In tenth grade, my mother saw my results and smiled. She was glowing with pride. She asked me what I wanted as a reward.
I said nothing.
Turns out, when you lose everything, you have nothing left to ask for. Even if the world learns to accept you, you can never go back. You can only go on. For them, for the world, in the path that was picked for you.