There is a subtle truth in human communication that often goes unnoticed:
explaining something too much can defeat the purpose.
Sometimes the goal is not to teach — it is simply to solve the problem.
Teaching is beautiful, but time is finite.
When Experience Looks Like Magic
In fields like IT, this truth becomes especially visible.
People may say:
“You move too fast.”
“You don’t teach us what you’re doing.”
But the actions that look effortless today were shaped through countless invisible hours —
late nights, failed attempts, long tutorials, experimentation, and reflection.
What seems like intuition is really experience crystallized into instinct.
To someone untrained, an expert’s steps can feel strange or unpredictable:
opening one window before another,
running a command only after a specific prerequisite,
navigating menus in an order that makes no sense to a beginner.
Explaining every tiny decision is not always feasible —
and often, it will only confuse the listener further.
The Mirage of the Shortcut
Sometimes, explanations create a paradox:
the more you explain, the more the beginner believes they’ve spotted a shortcut.
But beginners often chase mirages —
little shiny treasures glimmering in the desert,
promising ease, promising efficiency,
yet disappearing the moment you reach for them.
The expert remembers these illusions —
because they once chased them too.
The novice does not yet know they are illusions.
This creates a quiet tension:
The beginner thinks the expert is dismissing their ideas.
The expert sees the beginner reaching for something that looks safe,
like a live wire that seems harmless —
but will shock the one who touches it.
Seeing Small Highs vs. Seeing the True Peak
This difference in perception is natural.
Beginners often see many small wins ahead —
the local highs that sparkle like treasure but lead nowhere.
But the expert, standing on a higher vantage point,
sees the one true peak —
the global maximum that actually solves the problem.
Where others see inviting little hills,
the expert sees the mountain.
Where others see shiny shortcuts,
the expert sees deserts and dead-ends.
Where others see a wire that looks calm and safe,
the expert sees the current running underneath.
Learning the Hard Way Isn’t Always Necessary
It is true that many lessons in life are only understood after making mistakes.
But not every mistake needs to be lived personally —
some can be avoided by trusting someone who has already walked that path.
Not everyone must become an expert in everything —
that is neither practical nor wise.
This is why direction often makes more sense than explanation.
Direction respects:
the urgency of the moment,
the limits of time,
and the reality that deep understanding cannot be downloaded instantly.
You do not become what someone else is by watching them once.
You become it by traveling the long, slow road they traveled.
Trust the People Who Know the Terrain
Sometimes, the request is simple:
Trust the IT person.
Trust the engineer.
Trust the doctor, the mechanic, the guide.
They are not rejecting your thoughts.
They have already seen the illusions you’re tempted to believe.
They know the shiny treasures in the desert that vanish upon approach.
They recognize the beautifully silent wire that carries danger unseen.
They know the shortcuts that are not real,
and the long path that actually leads somewhere.
The Quiet Nature of Expertise
True expertise is quiet.
It does not boast.
It does not argue endlessly.
It stands at a higher viewpoint,
sees farther than the beginner can see,
and guides not by force,
but by pointing toward the real horizon
