My Favourite Way to Sharpen my Thinking

I am often surprised when I come across people who claim they don’t read. I’m not referring to people who are illiterate or uneducated. Some of them have higher-level educations and are perfectly capable of reading, but they seem to choose not to.

What’s surprising about this is that reading, especially when paired with writing, is one of the most effective ways to improve our greatest human superpower: language. Allow me to explain.

Of all the tools, skills, and abilities human beings possess, the ability to generate meaning through language is arguably the most powerful. Language is how we communicate ideas, persuade others, build relationships, navigate conflict, create art, and make sense of life itself. It's what allows us to collaborate, compete, and coexist.

So it makes sense that in a world where language plays such a central role, the strength of a person’s linguistic skills would directly impact their ability to succeed—however they define success. Any path you choose will involve, at some level, other human beings. Whether you're trying to influence them, understand them, or work alongside them, your ability to use language precisely and effectively will shape the outcome. And even when other people aren’t involved, you’ll often find yourself wrestling with complex ideas that require clear, structured thinking.

Watching videos or listening to someone explain a topic can be helpful, but it doesn’t foster the same kind of depth. Deep understanding usually requires sustained attention and active engagement—something that reading invites almost by default. And why is depth important? Not because you necessarily need to know every topic inside and out—though in some cases, you might, for your work or well-being—but because understanding one thing deeply helps you think more clearly in general.

Another way to put it is that depth in one area builds your capacity for depth in other areas. It strengthens your thinking overall.

Writing takes it a step further.

Our thoughts are often ephemeral, illogical, and incomplete—but we don’t usually notice that. They feel coherent in our minds because we haven’t tried to articulate them. But the moment you start to write down something you thought you understood, you may realize there are holes in your logic or gaps in your knowledge. Writing makes those gaps visible. It lets you scrutinize your own thinking in a way that’s hard to do otherwise.

It also invites others to do the same. Once your ideas are out there—on a screen, on a page—they’re open to challenge, interpretation, and response. That can be uncomfortable, but it’s valuable. It gives your thinking room to evolve.

And so I come back to my original point. It’s still surprising to me that so many people don’t read. It’s one of the easiest and most powerful ways to improve our language skills—and for many of us, also one of the most pleasurable.

I don’t share any of this to tell people what they should or shouldn’t do. That’s not really my role. But I do think it’s worth noticing what might be lost when reading and writing are absent. For me, they’ve become tools not just for communication, but for clarity, depth, and discovery.