The post argues that movies offer only fleeting, oversimplified lessons, while true wisdom comes from self‑directed learning and deep reflection on life’s choices.

The author argues that true growth comes from self‑driven learning rather than formal schooling, urging readers to seek out the works of great thinkers and keep a steady stream of reading in order to build knowledge and wisdom. Books are described as essential fuel for the mind—like oxygen for the brain—and the accumulation of what is learned will eventually transform one into a “great being.” The post stresses that learning should follow one’s own sequence and pace, with pauses and revisits as needed, so that ideas connect naturally. By immersing oneself in real adventure books written by clear‑thinking authors, one can inherit culture and skills that allow problem solving and decision making to evolve organically. In short, the message is: read widely, learn independently, and let wisdom grow like an operating‑system upgrade.

The post argues that false beliefs spread through two intertwined mechanisms: first, we tend to accept whatever we are born into; second, those who have been indoctrinated feel compelled to pass their convictions on as “family advice.” These inherited truths often block useful knowledge and hinder the growth of real wisdom. The author illustrates this with examples ranging from simple “why‑we‑are‑here” answers (“the universe is vast”) to more elaborate cases like dolphins returning to the sea, showing how easily accepted explanations can mask deeper reality. He further claims that top‑level handlers—political leaders, religious figures, even teachers—can reinforce these false ideas and that education itself may become an indoctrinating force. The remedy proposed is continuous reading and listening to books, which break the invisible walls of pre‑set beliefs and let us rise as independent thinkers.

Wisdom is presented as an “operating‑system upgrade” that lifts our observations to a higher level, with books serving as the primary source of this new knowledge—read not just on paper but heard in the mind. When we fail to grasp what is whispered by the books, it signals overwork and stress; healing comes from taking a transformative vacation that renews thinking, perception, and character. Reaching a “plateau” pushes us beyond philosophy into all sciences, revealing our tools as inadequate and prompting self‑education in programming: starting with JavaScript and moving to more powerful languages, we learn to simulate, visualize, and create digital products (apps, games, utilities) that generate value and income. By selling these programs one can escape poverty; the process is guided by Sun Tzu’s idea of winning before war. The post also suggests visual programming tools for customers and notes that real education is self‑directed, paced, and unconfined by classes or graduations. While other crafts (drones, CAD, AI art) are mentioned, they require physical logistics, whereas digital creation offers infinite copies, memberships, and flexibility across all sciences. Finally, the culture of great authors transfers to us, encouraging the building of a lasting legacy that outlives our own life.

The post argues that effective, enabling education is still missing and that standardized schooling remains largely unchanged because of its inherent simplicity and low effort; it explains this “clustered corruption” as a result of easy, automatic feeding mechanisms rather than genetic predispositions, and suggests that the real solution lies in starting from scratch—using narrated books and new technologies to create a pipeline of wisdom that can be transferred by intellectuals worldwide. The author believes that only through such an innovative, story‑driven approach can young people move from stress to serenity and enjoy a life of adventure, while traditional schools and religion rely on momentum, miracles, and the illusion of saints or geniuses to keep their power.

The post argues that conventional classroom schooling is rigid and stifling, with punishment‑based motivation, fixed schedules, and isolated subjects that lead to memorisation rather than real understanding. It proposes self‑directed learning driven by individual curiosity: when one interest naturally leads to another—such as a student moving from 3D printing to visual programming and finally generative design—the knowledge flow becomes continuous and deep. By allowing students to follow their own curiosity chains, teachers act only as guides, not enforcers, so that each new concept sparks the next and the learner can tackle complex projects independently, ultimately building his own future through self‑initiated projects.

The author argues that true learning is a personal, curiosity‑driven process rather than a rote bridge built by teachers; only by genuinely mastering subjects can we apply them in life. Choosing a career should arise naturally from the interests that spark our curiosity, not imposed goals; this path—whether it leads to becoming a doctor or any other field—cultivates unique wisdom and lets us revisit many disciplines repeatedly. The ultimate aim is to leave a lasting legacy through writing, capturing all of our joys, struggles, and discoveries so that others can feel and remember our spirit.

I spent my teenage days exploring Michigan’s highways, where I discovered a tiny trail along I‑275 that eventually became known as the i275 Bicycle Trail; after camping at Nordhouse Wilderness and craving adventure again, I bought an old aluminum bike from a garage sale, packed bread, and set off for the trail. My journey was filled with mishaps—mud, a punctured tire, a squeaking pedal—and a series of repairs that taught me to carry tools, a tire repair kit, and even a handlebar bag; along the way I experimented with different bikes (a mountain

Gym sessions are described as precious and unique, encouraging continuous movement rather than long rests. The writer suggests beginning with light weights, gradually increasing load, and switching to different exercises when an arm or body part tires—never sitting or lying down unless injured, then focusing on other muscle groups. The routine is organized by a sequence of muscle groups (biceps, shoulders, chest, abdominals) that rely on intervals, music tempo, and rhythmic movement—sometimes even dancing with dumbbells for hours—to keep the body balanced, integrated, and youthful.

The post celebrates the beauty of both sunrise and sunset, urging readers to experience them actively—by walking or cycling into new places, setting up tents, gathering firewood, and enjoying nature’s colors—all while appreciating the simple pleasures of breakfast under the sun, the quiet moments at twilight, and the rhythm of daily life that balances work, stress, and books. It encourages a mindful, adventurous spirit: preparing a backpack, exploring trails, and recognizing oneself as part of the universe, so that each sunrise and sunset becomes a celebration rather than just an event.

The post argues that true education is self‑directed and deeply personal rather than the rote, standardized learning imposed by schools; it urges readers to let their own curiosity guide them through carefully chosen books, to build a “memory palace” of knowledge, and to avoid being manipulated by politics, celebrity rhetoric, or religious indoctrination. By walking long trails and listening to narrated books, one can internalize the lessons, grow continuously, and become an authentic thinker who leaves a lasting legacy for future generations.

The post argues that true learning comes from visualizing and experiencing concepts—like the apple’s fall or Lorentz transformations—rather than rote memorization, using historical examples such as Newton, Cavendish, and Einstein to illustrate how insight emerges from observation and experimentation; it critiques conventional schooling for presenting formulas in a fixed sequence that often misses the “inner‑most” curiosity of each student, while praising fieldwork and narrative books (e.g., Appalachian, Pacific Crest, Continental Divide trails) as vehicles for inheriting wisdom, thus encouraging learners to follow their own path toward greatness.

After a first jog that ends with a stop and return home, the post explains how to treat that as a baseline measurement, gradually extending the duration by adding rest intervals and recording times over a month. It then praises walking—especially for larger people—as an art that uses only feet, reduces car dependence, strengthens muscles, and makes jogging easier. The author recommends training on trails such as the Appalachian, Pacific Crest, and Continental Divide, with practical tips like bringing satellite communicators and water filters, while noting weather and concrete surfaces as factors. He links walking to nutrition, family legacy, stress relief, and wisdom, concluding that young people need trails to understand life, and that one should bring books and perhaps walk half‑way up Mount Katahdin.

A brief guide on preparing for a forest trip that stresses careful tent placement, weather awareness, essential gear like waterproof bags and saws, and the importance of audio books to keep you entertained during rainy or stormy conditions.

The author argues that today’s schooling is adult‑centric and underdelivers, so it should become a hands‑on, self‑directed experience: biology classes would let students rent microscopes, art rooms would provide projectors and canvas, and outdoor trails like the Appalachian Trail would be part of learning. Textbooks should turn into interactive visualizations; students need room and time to absorb wise books and exchange programs. High school should function as a start‑up accelerator, ending with launching a small business, while achievements are monetized through allowances. Programming is presented as the core language of modern education, and schools must provide home labs, computers, tutors, and guidance into startups for students to become powerful, capable learners.

The post argues that true education comes from free, self‑directed learning rather than rote memorization imposed by schools, and that students must reclaim their intellectual inheritance to achieve personal growth and societal improvement.

The post explains that hair should be treated as a three‑dimensional object, so artists must first sketch its 3D shape—using sharp edges and mid‑tones to define volume—and then add shadows and highlights to give depth. It stresses that many beginners skip this step, directly painting colors without the underlying 3D structure, which leads to flat results. By visualizing hair as a bundle of tubes or rolls, artists can more easily plan its form; once the basic shape is set, adding mid‑tones, shadows, and subtle highlights completes the rendering, allowing faster, more accurate techniques for both simple and complex hairstyles.

The post argues that continuous motion and proper pacing are the keys to an effective workout: short bursts of heavy lifts alone aren’t enough, so beginners—especially middle‑aged adults who want to emulate youthful energy—should start with low intensity, gradually increase endurance, and use interval timers to structure work and rest. Pairing this rhythm with music or dance not only motivates but also provides the beat that drives consistent effort; monitoring electrolytes and blood pressure and consulting a doctor are advised for safety. Altogether, the piece presents a simple, accessible routine—slow start, timed intervals, musical accompaniment—that can transform the body into a more athletic state over time.

The post reflects on human life as a fragile yet enduring miracle shaped by physics, chemistry, and evolution, urging readers to pursue greatness through continuous growth, memory preservation, and intellectual inheritance. It likens our journey to that of rivers or slime molds—following unique paths amid chaos—and emphasizes the importance of learning from giants, staying rooted in concrete foundations, and seeking knowledge in libraries. By reconnecting with the universe at moments of reflection, one can find wisdom, power, and a precious mind that ultimately blooms endlessly.

The post argues that our school systems are built more for show than substance—students spend years taking courses and filling out resumes while teachers prioritize rote memorization over true understanding. The author feels the experience of being “faked” into believing one is competent, only to be let down by a curriculum that offers little real knowledge or practical skills. He stresses that this educational failure leaves students stressed, underprepared for work, and vulnerable to repeated cycles of debt and misemployment. To break out of the cycle he suggests returning to books (especially narrated audio‑books), walking long trails for clarity, and letting stress become a catalyst rather than a curse; in short, it’s a call to reclaim authentic learning and personal growth so that future success is earned by real knowledge, not by an inflated transcript.

The post outlines a three‑step workflow for quickly creating art: first, lock in shapes using either a wall projector or a grid method (the former being especially easy when the projector is linked to a computer); second, nail the colors by overlaying a transparent reference image—an approach that G’MIC’s color picker and filters such as vibrance or posterize make precise—and mixing paint accordingly; third, refine details by studying favorite works. It recommends free tools like Krita for digital painting (with a stylus rather than a mouse) and G’MIC for color sampling, arguing that working through a portrait is an effective way to master hue, tone, and the subtleties of skin tones beyond what a simple color wheel offers. The article concludes that digital techniques give painters an easy ramp to grasp color theory and can be translated back into physical mixing if desired.

The post argues that true learning is self‑directed and deeply interconnected, whereas “fake” education merely gives an illusion of choice and often relies on rote memorisation. It contends that real study involves adventurous, cross‑linked experiences that let learners internalise knowledge (“knowing the city by heart”), a process best facilitated by science popularisers who weave clear narratives that tie facts together across fields. By presenting stories that link concepts to everyday life, these popularisers spark curiosity and lead students toward independent exploration, which is further empowered by programming skills that provide precise tools for simulation and discovery.

The post presents art creation as a progressive journey beginning with simple doodles, moving through pencils, brushes, and other tools such as blending stumps and painting knives, each technique—like impasto—that adds texture and detail; it stresses learning from masters, practicing portraits to internalize flows and shadows before synthesizing new faces, and claims that being an artist is innate, with good art “changing lives,” while referencing camera‑obscura tradition to underscore the legacy of mastery.

The post argues that true greatness comes from a blend of knowledge, wisdom, and culture (or “class”), rather than simple memorization or grades. It explains that knowledge is an active skill like programming, while wisdom allows one to apply that skill creatively to solve real problems—moving from understanding the theory to building useful applications. The author stresses that learning from great works and people “on whose shoulders we stand” enriches our culture and mindset, and that self‑education completes this trio by letting us pursue knowledge and wisdom independently when we are calm enough to absorb it. In short, greatness is achieved through a continuous cycle of acquiring knowledge, applying it wisely, absorbing cultural influences, and finally mastering self‑learning.