What’s Obvious to You Might Be Life Changing to Someone Else

This week I’ve been reminded of a bias that shows up anytime you spend a long time with an idea: the curse of knowledge.

When you live with a concept for months, wrestling with it, rewriting it, exploring every angle, your relationship with it changes. What once felt profound slowly becomes familiar. You take it for granted, as if it’s no longer as valuable. You don’t doubt the truth of the idea, but it loses its spark in your mind.

That’s been happening for me lately as I write and now re-write my first book.

I’ve spent almost two years fine-tuning the same set of ideas. I’ll finish a section, sit back, and my mind quietly says, “Well, of course. Everyone already knows this.” It feels almost too obvious.

But then I’ll share a passage with someone and they’ll light up and say, "This is really good.”

And in that moment, I’m almost surprised. Not surprised at them, but surprised at myself for forgetting that new ideas do not stay new forever, not even the life changing ones.

When you spend enough time with a concept, it becomes engrained into how you see things.

You forget how long it took you to reach that understanding and how important it was. But for someone else, reading it for the first time, it could be the exact perspective they’ve been waiting for.

The Curse of Knowledge

Once you deeply understand something, it becomes hard to remember what it was like not to know it.

This is a cognitive bias called the curse of knowledge or curse of expertise.

You lose touch with the beginner’s mind you once had. The curiosity, the confusion, the small breakthroughs that used to light you up.

You also assume others have acquired the same knowledge as you.

I notice myself doing this all the time.

Having studied Sports Science and prioritised health and fitness for over twenty-five years, I forget that for many people, even the basics of nutrition and exercise can feel confusing.

After a decade of meditating daily, I often forget how hard it can be just to sit still. How restless the mind feels when you first start, or how difficult it is to hold your attention for even a few breaths.

After speaking with thousands of poker players about mindset and performance, I catch myself forgetting that some of the mental traps I see so clearly — tilt, entitlement, fear of failure — aren’t even visible to them yet.

It’s not arrogance. It’s empathy lost through familiarity.

The more proficient you become at something, the easier it is to forget what it was like to be a beginner.

Why Familiarity Feels Like Boredom

There’s another trap hidden inside the curse of knowledge: we mistake familiarity for lack of value.

When you live inside an idea long enough, your mind stops getting the dopamine hit of novelty. It’s not that the insight is less powerful, it’s just less stimulating to you.

And this is where boredom creeps in.

It’s the same reason people stop doing what was working.

• You start hitting the gym and begin to see progress, then suddenly you lose interest.

• You eat well for a few months, start feeling better, then drift back to old habits.

• You meditate daily, notice you’re calmer and less reactive, and then stop altogether.

Not because it stopped working, but because it stopped feeling new. Boredom tricks you into thinking you need something different, when in reality, you just need to keep going.

A lot of success is gained by doing the same “boring” things over and over.

The difference between those who grow and those who stall often comes down to who can stay faithful to what works long after the excitement fades.

So the work isn’t to keep finding new ideas. The work is to remember why the old ones mattered.

Because what feels obvious to you now was once the insight that changed everything.

It took years of trial, reflection, and integration to see the world this way.

You earned that clarity through experience. And that clarity might be exactly what someone else needs right now.

The Real Job of a Writer (or Teacher, or Creator)

As I write my book, I’m realising my job isn’t to entertain myself with novelty.

It's to bring clarity to others.

To take ideas that have become second nature to me and translate them back into the language of experience. Through stories, examples, and metaphors that help someone else feel what I once felt when I first discovered them.

That’s what good writing does. It reawakens what’s been forgotten. It makes the familiar feel alive again.

And maybe that’s true in every craft.

The best teachers don’t seek to impress. They seek to spark insight.

The best coaches don’t rush to the advanced lesson. They return to the basics, again and again, until they’re embodied.

Mastery isn’t about knowing more, it’s about understanding the fundamentals more clearly than anyone else.

A Simple Reminder

So this is the reminder I’m carrying with me as I keep writing:

My job isn’t to chase novelty for my own stimulation. It's to articulate timeless truths in ways that bring someone else clarity and actionable insights in their life.

Even if I think, “Everyone already knows this.” Even if it feels too simple, too obvious, too familiar.

Because what’s obvious to us is often the wisdom someone else has been waiting for.

And if my words can give them that moment of recognition, that shift in how they see themselves, then it’s worth writing.

Adam