Learn. Improve. Master (Book Sample)
The first two chapters of my book
Here are the first two chapters of my book “Learn, Improve, Master: How to Develop Any Skill and Excel at It”
INTRODUCTION
“In the case of everything perfect, we are accustomed to abstain from asking how it became: We rejoice in the present fact as though it came out of the ground by magic.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche
A young mother holds the body of her dead child across her lap. She looks down at him in a moment of overwhelming love and sorrow, her grief forever captured in stone by one of the greatest artists that’s ever lived, Michelangelo Buonarroti. The details of this sculptural masterpiece, the Pietà, make us forget we are looking at marble. What we see instead are figures of flesh and drapery so vivid they keep our gaze fixed, awaiting their movement. It is one of the most beautiful works of art ever created.1
In response to people’s admiration of his Pietà, Michelangelo is supposed to have said, “If people knew how hard I had to work to gain my mastery, it would not seem so wonderful at all.” What seemed like the product of pure genius was the result of years of labor and many more learning his craft. We tend to think of mastery as something magical or the consequence of raw “talent,” but it comes from effort and dedication over many years—in most cases, a lifetime.
We usually see a master’s polished performance or the refined final product of their efforts, but not the process behind it, and so we believe that what they do is beyond our capabilities. We think we don’t have the talent or special abilities to do what they do. It’s like watching a magic illusion. A magician vanishes a card and makes it reappear in an impossible location. As spectators, we see the end result and are amazed by it. But we do not get a glimpse at the mechanics that made it possible. If we could peek behind the illusion, we would find a process anyone can replicate through the study and practice of sleight of hand.
The same is true when watching a great quarterback playing a championship game, a virtuoso cellist giving a concert, or an inspiring speaker commanding the stage. We look at their performance, not how they developed their skills through a process that we could follow too.
This book is about that process: how to learn, improve, and master any skill. We’ll look past the “smoke and mirrors” and study the method that creates the magic. We’ll begin by exploring the principles of learning and common misconceptions (Foundation). Then, we’ll discuss how to learn anything (part I). After that, we’ll move into improving our abilities and overcoming common challenges (part II). And finally, we’ll get into mastery and the path to pursue it (part III).
While everything we’ll cover throughout the book stands on science, this is not a science book. I’ll keep the scientific explanations, research, and studies to a minimum and present them in their simplest form. We can think of it this way: racecar drivers don’t need to know all the mechanics or engineering of their cars; their focus is on mastering how to drive them. This will be our approach. We’ll cover some science of how our mind works, but our main interest will be how to use it. For those interested in going deeper into the science, see the “Selected Bibliography” section at the end for referenced material.
I divided most chapters into principles and strategies, with each of these sections laid out one major point at a time. The principles are the essence behind the strategies, and once you understand them, you won’t be limited to the strategies I give you—you’ll be able to come up with your own. As pioneer efficiency engineer and management theorist Harrington Emerson noted, “As to methods, there may be a million and then some, but principles are few. The man who grasps principles can successfully select his own methods. The man who tries methods, ignoring principles, is sure to have trouble.” That said, you’ll still find many strategies and tactics to have immediate actionable steps.
Whether you are taking on a new skill or already working on one, these pages will serve as a companion guide to help you learn and master your craft. I’ll share with you everything I’ve learned through years researching and studying cognitive science, top performance, and mastery. I’ll show you how to optimize your process and give you the tools to make your dream of excelling at a sport, music, art, (or anything else) a reality.
Nick Velasquez
Tokyo, Japan
Chapter 1
Principles of Learning
“Learning proceeds until death and only then does it stop…Its purpose cannot be given up for even a moment. To pursue it is to be human, to give it up to be a beast.”—Xun Kuang
Learning is the greatest power of the human mind. Everything we’ve built, everything we’ve created, everything we’ve become has been the result of our ability to learn. And this great power is inherent in all of us. We are made to learn.
Throughout millennia of evolution, we developed two primary systems to adapt to our environment. One is our genes, a transgenerational long-term memory encoded in our DNA. Genes carry the instructions for our physiology (and some behavioral traits) and are an inflexible system that evolves over many generations. The other is our learning brain, a flexible system that learns from our environment and adapts to changing circumstances.
Our learning brain allows us to develop skills based on specific needs and wants within our lifetime. Consider reading and writing. Written language is too recent for humans to have evolved a brain structure designed for it. We can read and write because our brain can learn. And the same goes for playing a sport, a musical instrument, or a board game. Without a learning brain, we couldn’t take on any of those skills, or the thousands that exist as hobbies and professions. But how does the brain learn? What’s behind the greatest of our powers? Let’s delve into the principles of learning.
Neuroplasticity and Specialization
The first principle we’ll discuss is our brain’s capacity to adapt, known in scientific terms as “neuroplasticity.” Instead of being a fixed structure, our brain can change itself depending on circumstances and redirect functions to different regions to optimize the neural pathways we frequently use. The implication of neuroplasticity in learning skills is that our brain changes as we learn them. If we take on the cello, for instance, the area of our brain responsible for finger movement in our fingering hand will enlarge and become more active. With extensive practice, our brain will recruit more neurons for the task, strengthening connections and building complex networks that specialize in playing the instrument.
This principle is illustrated by the results of brain scans done on musicians. A study led by Thomas Elbert from the University of Konstanz in Germany showed that the brain area responsible for left-hand movement in violinists and other string instrument musicians, their fingering hand, was larger than in non-string instrument players.
At the same time, the results showed that the brain area responsible for right-hand movement in the same string instrument musicians, the bow hand, was similar to that of non-string instrument players. In other words, the brain area controlling the fingering hand of violinists, cellists, and bassists was overdeveloped, while the one responsible for the bow was average.
The results indicate that the string instrument musicians were not born with more complex brain structures for using their hands—had that been the case, they would have shown larger brain areas for both of them and not just one—but instead, that their brain had changed in response to the demands and use of their fingering hand, directing more energy and resources to the area responsible for its movement.
Our brain’s capacity to change itself also applies to mental skills. Professor of Cognitive Neuroscience Eleanor Maguire and her colleagues examined the brain structure of London cab drivers and compared them to non-cab drivers of the same age group. Cab drivers in London must go through extensive training to navigate the city. They need to memorize streets, buildings, routes, and by the time they complete their training, they should know the fastest way from any point in the city to another. Their skill is impressive, and so is the way developing it changed their brain. Maguire and her team found that the cabbies’ posterior hippocampi, responsible for spatial navigation skills, was much larger than in non-cab drivers.
Their study also revealed a direct correlation between the time spent working as a cab driver and the size of the brain area recruited for spatial navigation skills. The longer their career behind the wheel, the bigger the area used for the task. This brings us to a fundamental principle of learning and mastering skills. When we practice, our brain changes to specialize, and the more we practice, the more pronounced the effect. Let’s take a closer look at how this specialization is built and strengthened.
Imagine you are on a hike, and you come across a field of high grass. There’s no path ahead, so you have to make your way through this grass to cross to the other side. The next day, you go on the same hike and face the field again, but this time you see a trail of tamped-down grass made by the steps you took the day before. You follow the same route, and in doing so, you make it more accessible to walk next time. If you keep doing this for several days, that rough trail will turn into a smooth path.
Neural pathways work in a similar way. First, we create a primary neural connection for a behavior or thought process, the rough trail going from one neuron or group of neurons to another. But as we keep using the connections, they become faster and stronger, allowing information to move more efficiently from one side to the other.
Without getting too technical, this efficiency builds as a substance called myelin surrounds the neural connections we repeatedly use—a process called myelination. Myelin works as an insulator that supports stronger and faster signal exchange between neurons. The amount of myelin surrounding neural connections depends on the frequency of use. The more we use them, the more layers of myelin they get.
Myelination is the internal process for getting better at anything: through practice, we build layer upon layer of myelin on the neural pathways related to our skill, making them robust and specialized, the neural equivalent of turning a rough trail into a path. And if we continue our practice over the years, that path evolves into a speedway.
So far, we’ve discussed how learning promotes physical changes in our brain. Now let’s see how learning changes the way we think.
Association
Learning is about making connections. Neurologically, these happen when neurons get excited simultaneously, making them bond to each other—a process first described by neuropsychologist Donald Hebb as “neurons that fire together wire together.” Cognitively, they happen when we associate ideas, concepts, patterns of thinking, and behavior.
Let’s take speaking a language as an example. We started learning our native language by making associations between sounds and our environment. The sound “mom” (or “mamá,” or “maman,” in Spanish and French respectively) was just noise, but after training from our parents, we began to associate the noise with our mother. Over time, the connection got reinforced and turned both the word and its meaning into a single unit. “Mom” stopped being noise and became permanently linked to what it represents.
Throughout life, we make thousands of these associations between noises and concepts, developing fluency in our native language. These connections become so strong we can’t separate them. If someone is talking to us in our native language, we can’t help but interpret concepts and meaning instead of hearing noises.
Association plays a primary role in developing skills. When learning to play the piano, for instance, we create connections between finger movements and sounds we want to produce. In hockey, we associate how we hit the puck with where we want it to go. And the same applies for other sports, arts, or anything else. We build our abilities by creating connections and reinforcing them over time.
Chunking
When associations grow complex, they lead to chunking. This is when our brain groups and processes several pieces of information as a unit instead of individually. When reading, for instance, we look at letters but process them in groups as words. Two associations are at play here: one between each letter and its sound, and a larger one for what they mean and sound like when put together to form words. Taken one step further, we chunk words together and interpret them as sentences.
When learning to drive, making a turn seems like a long list of tasks that need to happen in close succession: use the flasher to signal the turn, reduce your speed, check your mirrors, verify the road is clear, rotate the steering wheel, adjust speed as you turn. At first, each step stands on its own—one, two, three—and we create separate connections between each step and how our body should move. But with practice, we chunk the steps together until turning becomes one fluid sequence. We no longer process all the steps of the turn individually but see them as part of a larger action.
The same principle applies to all other learning. We start by making individual associations between concepts and behavior and then group them to form more complex, larger chunks. As we get better at processing these associations, they move from our conscious awareness into our subconscious (we no longer read letters but see words instead, and we pay little attention to our body movements as we drive). Let’s take a look.
Automatic Processing
When we reinforce connections between thinking patterns or behavior, they start becoming automatic. Consider walking, a skill we learned early in life. At the time, it was difficult for us, but we don’t pay attention to it now. Walking became a seemingly automatic process. We no longer think of how or in what order to move our legs and balance our body.
With enough practice, we can automate tasks, or parts of them, and reduce the conscious awareness we give to their execution. This automation is valuable in learning because it frees up conscious energy to work on other things and build on top of what we already know.
Masters take this process to the extreme. They practice their craft to a point where they can execute outstanding technique without thinking much about it. Their conscious mind is not occupied with the mechanics of the task and can instead focus on higher-order thinking, such as expression, creativity, or strategy.
Consider the speed of professional violinists. They move four fingers from one hand through the fingerboard, landing on the right position at the right time, while the other hand moves the bow at the correct angle with the right speed to get the desired sounds. That’s too complex for the conscious mind to process.
Professional violinists can play fast because they have reinforced the neural connections associated with the mental and physical tasks of playing the instrument to the point of automation. They no longer focus on where to put their fingers or what angle to move the bow to hit the right notes. With the subconscious handling those parts, the violinists’ conscious energy can be directed to their interpretation and other areas of their performance.
An important note to keep in mind is that automatic processing (aka automaticity) does not discriminate between desired behaviors and undesired ones. If we repeat bad habits or keep making the same mistakes, that’s what we’ll reinforce and automate—and they will be harder to correct later on. We must be careful, then, of what we automate to avoid transferring the wrong things into our subconscious.
The principles we’ve covered—neuroplasticity, specialization, association, chunking, and automation—are the foundation of all learning. Our brain rewires itself through practice, creating clusters of neural connections composed of associations between thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that specialize in what we repeatedly do. When reinforced, these connections move from our conscious awareness to our subconscious, becoming almost automatic. Then, our conscious mind is free again to process new tasks and add complexity to our growing abilities. Whether we go into French cooking, sculpting, or golf, these are the processes taking place behind the scenes as we learn. And they change the way we think as much as they change the physical structures of our brain.
Let’s move on now to dispel the popular myths and misconceptions surrounding learning and mastering skills.
Chapter 2
Myths and Misconceptions
“Repetition does not transform a lie into a truth.”
—Franklin D. Roosevelt
“Learning should be fun.” “Old dogs can’t learn new tricks.” “You either have it or you don’t.” “It takes ten thousand hours of practice to master any skill.” These ideas have been repeated so often they are now accepted as truth. But they are myths and misconceptions, and believing them can hurt our progress, give us a poor perception of our capabilities, and even keep us from learning something in the first place. Let’s take a moment, then, to dispel the most popular but false beliefs about how we learn and what it takes to master a craft.
“Left-Brained vs. Right-Brained Learners”
Our first stop is the idea that each brain hemisphere is responsible for specific thinking modes. It’s common belief that the “left brain” is responsible for logical tasks while the “right brain” is in charge of creativity. That’s not exactly the case. Though one hemisphere may take priority over the other in certain thinking processes, we use both sides of our brain for almost everything, including learning. That means none of us are “left-brained” or “right-brained,” and we shouldn’t buy into learning “techniques” that target our “dominant” side or block our “non-dominant” one.
And as long as we are discussing the brain, let’s get rid of another myth that’s been a part of pop psychology for decades: “We only use 10 percent of our brain.” It’s a fantasy idea that makes for a good story, but it’s not true. Brain scans, neuroimaging, and research on brain damage, among other studies, have proved time and again that we use all brain areas and that they are often active.
“Learning Styles”
This is the idea that each of us has a primary learning style, and that we learn best when material is presented in alignment with it. Many theories have stemmed from this concept. Without getting into details, for they are beyond our discussion, a well-known example is the “VAK/VARK learning styles” theory, which categorizes learners into either visual, auditory, (reading), or kinesthetic. Another one is the Honey-Mumford model, which divides learners into activists, reflectors, theorists, and pragmatists. While all these theories propose different “styles,” they share the idea that we learn best if we study based on our dominant one, a premise unsupported by research.
These theories come from observation and “experience” in classrooms, not from rigorous testing. There’s no evidence that we learn better if new material is presented in what we think is our style of learning. When psychologist and cognitive scientist Harold Pashler and colleagues set out to test the claims of different “learning styles” theories, they couldn’t find any supporting studies, and instead found ones that contradicted them.
What’s true is that we do have preferences in the way we learn, though this doesn’t mean our preferred style makes the most difference in our learning. Other factors, such as the type of subject we are studying, how we perceive ourselves and our capabilities, prior knowledge, and our ability to extract underlying principles from the material, play a far more important role in how we learn.
Limited research exists on learning style theories, so even if some have validity, there’s currently no thorough research to support them. In that sense, we cannot write them off as a myth, but we cannot structure our learning based on them either, much less define ourselves by their categories.
“Old Dogs Can’t Learn New Tricks”
Years ago, it was thought that the brain was flexible during our development years, (childhood and early teens), and mostly rigid throughout adulthood. In other words, that we were better learners early in life. This old idea has been proven wrong. Though our brain’s flexibility does decrease with age, it keeps its ability to learn and rewire itself throughout our entire lives.
What does get worse with age, however, is how good we are at rote learning, repeating information over and over until we commit it to memory. But rote learning is inefficient for memorizing in the first place—more on this in chapter 6. We’ll explore more effective memory strategies that aren’t age dependent, so we shouldn’t be concerned with our diminished ability to rote learn later in life.
Despite the scientific findings, it still seems like young people learn faster. But the explanations are found in psychology and behavior rather than biological differences in age. One factor has to do with our mindset: if we believe we are too old to learn, it will have an adverse placebo effect, aka “nocebo effect,” hurting our confidence and progress as long as we believe it to be true.
Another explanation has to do with our priorities and motivation. For most adults, learning comes behind work, family, finances, and other responsibilities. But for many young people their hobbies come first—be it skateboarding, playing drums, or video games—and they dedicate them as much time as possible. That extra study, practice, and attention accounts for a great part of what seems like better learning capabilities.
A different comparison we often make is with kids. We believe them to be great learners, but considering that it is their main, if not the only, responsibility and that they spend all their time learning both at home and in school, they are not better at it than adults.
The example most people like to bring up is how “quickly” they learn a language. But in reality, it takes kids several years of life to develop fluency in their primary language. And keep in mind that they are surrounded by it all day every day, and that they need to learn it to get by in life. That timeframe is not different for adults. With proper teaching, dedication, and a supportive environment, adults can learn even the most difficult languages in under two years.
None of this is to say that age doesn’t play any part in learning. It does. Depending on how far you want to take certain skills, you’d better start early, when your body and mind are more adaptable. If you want to be a top ballet dancer, for instance, it makes a difference to start as a kid. You can still learn the skill at any age, even become great at it—within the boundaries of your physicality—just don’t expect to grace the stage of the Bolshoi Theater if you start late in life.
“Learning Should Be Fun”
Many books and articles on learning claim that learning should be fun. Not true. Learning can be fun, but it’s not required to be so. Learning is challenging; it makes the mind work hard, and that isn’t always enjoyable.
At different points, the learning process will be dull, frustrating, and even discouraging. As Aristotle once noted, “Youths are not to be instructed with a view to their amusement, for learning is no amusement, but is accompanied with pain.” That’s the process. We have to embrace it and strive forward with perseverance, even when it’s painful. In that sense, the condition we should be after is enthusiasm, not fun. We must be eager to learn, accepting the hardships that will come with it.
This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy learning. Have fun learning your craft, but don’t rely on it being enjoyable to stick to it, and don’t get discouraged when it’s not. Struggle is a normal part of the process, and as we’ll discuss later, it even strengthens our learning.
“You Either Have It or You Don’t”
We like to think that potential is determined by innate traits, that top athletes and performers got to their level because of natural advantages, and that we could do the same if we had them too. This belief protects our ego. We get to blame our shortcomings on factors beyond our control. But talent and intrinsic traits play a limited role in learning and mastering skills. How far we go in our craft is mostly under our control if we are willing to work for it.
This doesn’t mean you can be anything you want. I can’t tell you that. But I also can’t tell you where your limits lie based on your aptitudes and perceived talents (or lack of them). No one can. What’s certain is that passion and perseverance, what psychologist Angela Duckworth calls “grit,” will make you great at your craft regardless of innate traits. How great? The only way to find out is by going through the process and putting in the work. In the words of the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, “There exists in the world a single path along which no one can go except you: whither does it lead? Do not ask, go along it.”
An example to follow is that of Demosthenes, the great statesman and orator of ancient Athens. He was afraid of public speaking and had a speech impediment earlier in life. But through years of dedicated practice, he honed his speaking skills and became one of the best orators of his time, despite what seemed like crippling disadvantages.
Like Demosthenes, all masters had to spend countless hours learning and refining their craft regardless of their aptitudes or “talents.” No exception. None. Ever. Even Mozart, who has been popularized as a born musical genius, had to work hard to develop his skills. “It is a mistake to think that the practice of my art has become easy to me.” Mozart said to the conductor leading rehearsals for Don Giovanni, “I assure you, dear friend, no one has given so much care to the study of composition as I. There is scarcely a famous master in music whose works I have not frequently and diligently studied.” Attributing Mozart’s mastery to innate abilities is a disrespect to the lifetime of dedication he put into his craft.
Expertise and expert performance studies in many fields show that innate traits and abilities have limited effect in developing excellence.* The exceptions are physical qualities such as height and body structure, but they only matter in a few areas—mostly specific sports—and only to an extent. And even in those domains, people with natural advantages still have to work hard to become great. In other words, masters are made, not born. As German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe put it, “Everyone holds his fortune in his own hands, like a sculptor the raw material he will fashion into a figure. But it’s the same with that type of artistic activity as with all others: We are merely born with the capability to do it. The skill to mold the material into what we want must be learned and attentively cultivated.”
Let’s take basketball as an example, one of the few fields in which natural traits have a larger influence. The game gives an advantage to tall players, but being tall does not mean you are automatically good at it, nor are the tallest players the best ones. A good reference is Stephen Curry, who is several inches shorter than the average NBA player and yet one of the best to step onto the court.
Learning and mastering basketball takes years of dedicated training, not just height. Basketball skills like ball-handling, shooting, passing, and rebounding have little to do with being tall. A seven-foot stature may be an advantage, but it’s not necessary for developing the skills that make up the game. Those can be learned by anyone. And if basketball had height divisions, like fighting sports have weight classes to account for physical advantages, there would be top-ranked players of all heights for any playing position. They would just belong to different divisions.
Whether we’re talking about basketball, public speaking, or any other skill, the most relevant impact that talent and natural abilities may have in our development is how thinking about them affects our psychology. In the book Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, one of the most influential works in personal development, Carol Dweck discusses how a “fixed mindset,” the belief that we are born with certain qualities that can’t be altered, creates a mental block that limits our thinking and our progress. But embracing a “growth mindset,” the realization that we can change and get better regardless of our qualities, will motivate us to take on more significant challenges and help us improve faster.
Our mindset toward our natural abilities (or lack thereof) is crucial early in the learning process. Many people quit a new skill within weeks, believing they lack aptitude for it and can’t do anything about it. They buy into the “you either have it or you don’t’’ myth. But showing early ability is not a guarantee of anything. Some people learn faster at the beginning and then slow down. Others go through it in reverse: they have a hard time at first and progress quickly later. Learning and mastering a skill is a long-term process; a fast or slow start doesn’t determine how far we’ll go.
We must also keep in mind that natural abilities come in different forms. We don’t know how our strengths and their combination will shape our development. Maybe we are not suited for some parts of our craft, but we may compensate in others. A musician with an average technical aptitude for classical interpretation can excel at composing or improvising. Or in the case of Steph Curry, his shooting skills—which are among the best in the game’s history—more than make up for his height disadvantages in other parts of the sport.
Like basketball, most domains are composed of several parts and sub-skills, and a lacking aptitude for some doesn’t mean we can’t excel at the craft in general. Talent in areas like
strategy, leadership, and creativity to name a few can compensate for our lack in others, including technical prowess.
All points considered, we should stop obsessing about natural abilities and focus on the things within our control, which incidentally matter most: the dedication and perseverance we put into improving our skills. “I wasn’t naturally gifted in terms of size and speed; everything I did in hockey I worked for,” says hockey great Wayne Gretzky.
And from the intellectual domain, we can turn to the words of Alexander Hamilton, “Men give me credit for some genius. All the genius I have lies in this, when I have a subject in hand, I study it profoundly,” he said. “Day and night it is before me. My mind becomes pervaded with it. Then the effort that I have made is what people are pleased to call the fruit of genius. It is the fruit of labor and thought.” In the search for mastery, being talented or suited for a craft is an advantage, but in most cases, it’s not a requirement.
“The 10,000-Hour Rule”
The 10,000-hour rule is a misconception popularized and echoed by high-profile authors in recent years. The idea is that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to reach mastery in any field. It makes for a marketable soundbite, but it’s not true. The “rule” is a misrepresentation of research findings from K. Anders Ericsson, an authority on deliberate practice and expert performance. Ericsson himself wrote about his dissatisfaction with how these authors presented his findings. What his study focused on was the practice habits of a group of musicians (violinists to be precise) from a prestigious music school, revealing that, on average, the amount of deliberate practice accumulated by the best of them was close to 10.000 hours.
Let’s take it one piece at a time. First, the study was done on a particular skill, not across many. Second, it reported an average; it did not intend to set a universal mastery timeline. Third, it looked at deliberate practice, a form of training requiring focus and pushing one’s limits—not to be confused with mere repetition, or mindlessly going through the motions. Fourth, the study did not imply that it takes 10,000 hours to become a master—even if the time is spent in deliberate practice. Ten thousand hours was the average that the best musicians had spent in solitary, deliberate practice by the time they were twenty years old. They were excellent and likely on their way to becoming the best in their field, but they still had a long way to go. Last and most importantly, Ericsson’s conclusions focused on the fact that all the best musicians in the study had gone through extensive hours of deliberate practice, suggesting that talent had little to do with developing their exceptional skills.
Let’s set the record straight. What the study found was not that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become a master in any field, but that it takes massive amounts of deliberate practice to become very good at a craft—with or without “natural advantages.” People talking about the 10,000-hour rule as a mark for reaching mastery are not only misinterpreting Ericsson’s findings but also focusing on the wrong thing. It’s not about how long it takes; it’s about how far deliberate practice can take us. In Ericsson’s words, “There is no reason not to follow your dream. Deliberate practice can open the door to a world of possibilities that you may have been convinced were out of reach. Open that door.”
In this chapter, we discussed some popular myths and misconceptions about learning and mastery—from the misguided expectation that learning should be fun to the limited part that age and innate traits play in developing our skills. These false beliefs won’t hold us back anymore. We are now ready to learn, improve, and ultimately master our craft. So, how do we do it? Let’s find out.
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