In Praise of the Scenic Route

I’ve always been curious about many things. Currently, I work in international development, but I’ve had prior careers in consulting, entrepreneurship and corporate. I’ve studied science, law and business, and am now pursuing a certificate in Futures Thinking. I’ve dabbled in drawing, painting, coding, musical instruments and juggling; I’ve immersed myself in coaching, ancient philosophy, psychology and storytelling.

For a long time, I wondered whether my interests diluted my impact, scattering my focus and preventing me from going too deep in any one subject. The modern world pressures us to pick a lane and stay in it. We’re taught from an early age that the path to success is paved with focus, specialisation, and deep domain expertise. Choose a field. Become the expert. Stake your claim.

Specialisation is powerful, and often essential. The world needs specialists. But what if that’s only half the story? What if broad experience isn’t a distraction, but a superpower of its own?

A few years ago, I read David Epstein’s book Range, and it lit a spark within me. The core premise is that, in complex and unpredictable environments, generalists with broad, diverse experiences are often better equipped to navigate uncertainty than narrow specialists. They see connections others miss. They borrow tools from one field and apply them in another. They learn slowly, but deeply.

Reading that felt like a validation of something I had always sensed, but struggled to articulate. And, over time, I began to notice something. When I studied systems thinking, it made me better at designing HR workflows. When I learned about Stoic philosophy, it equipped me to handle difficult situations. When I practiced yoga, lifted weights or walked around barefoot, it cultivated a deeper confidence that shows up in how I write, speak and think.

Looking back, I saw how each domain fed the others in ways I couldn’t have predicted. It was like taking the scenic route, winding and varied, full of unexpected intersections. Over time, patterns emerged. Insights deepened. Seemingly unrelated experiences began forming a subtle web of wisdom beneath the surface of my life.

When we live in only one world, we inherit that world’s assumptions. But when we cross worlds like science and story, structure and soul, the practical and the philosophical, we begin to see that every system has blind spots. Every paradigm leaves something out. And sometimes, the missing piece of a puzzle lies in another discipline entirely.

That, I realised, is the gift of range. It’s being pattern-aware. Not just dabbling, but synthesising. It’s the ability to hold multiple perspectives at once, to stay open to learning from different disciplines, people, and life itself. And, in doing so, often discovering solutions that might otherwise be overlooked.

This ability has never been more needed. We live in a world of complexity and rapid change. Solving the problems of today requires more than deep knowledge. It requires deep integration. It also requires humility, asking us to continuously step out of the comfort of expertise and into the discomfort of being a beginner. It’s not always efficient, but it is powerful.

So if, like me, dear reader, you've ever felt behind because you’ve changed careers several times, explored many interests or taken the scenic route, this is your reminder: you’re not behind. You’re exactly on track. You’re becoming someone who can see what others miss.

That is the wisdom of range.

Until next week,

Ric