parallels I'm obsessed with

There's an old Samurai saying: "Once you know the way broadly, you will begin to see it in all things." This ancient wisdom encapsulates a concept I've become increasingly fascinated with: the recurring patterns that seemingly connect everything—from art to athletics, sailing to design. These parallels are not just surface-level; there are fundamental principles that reveal themselves across many unrelated disciplines I have come across.

Take the concept of foundations, for example. In art, every masterpiece begins with an underpainting or a preliminary sketch—a base upon which layers of complexity are built. The same principle holds in architecture, where structures rise from carefully laid foundations supported by temporary scaffolding. Even in nature, we observe this: organisms develop from basic frameworks, evolving complexity through layers of systems and specialized functions. It's as though the universe has a preferred blueprint: begin with the essential and grow toward the intricate.

Another parallel emerges in the concept of "stepping back" – a principle famously emphasized by John Singer Sargent in painting but one that resonates far beyond the canvas for me. In art, stepping back allows us to see the whole composition, to understand how each brushstroke contributes to the greater picture rather than getting lost in the minutiae of detail. This same principle proves invaluable across disciplines: in design, it's about viewing the entire user journey rather than fixating on individual elements; in personal development, it means taking time to assess our life's broader trajectory rather than getting caught up in daily struggles. The physical act of stepping away from a canvas teaches us the universal value of perspective – how distance, whether literal or metaphorical, can reveal patterns and relationships that remain invisible when we're too close to the subject. Whether laying down an underpainting, building a foundation, or developing a new skill, these universal patterns serve as guides, showing us that the path to mastery, while never easy, follows familiar and proven principles.

Speaking of Sargent the most striking parallel lies in the nature of mastery itself in my opinion. Excellence, in any field, appears to stem from a unique kind of obsession—an all-consuming dedication that often disguises itself as natural talent. I've witnessed this firsthand in competitive sailing. While many of us practiced regularly, one sailor stood out. He approached the craft with uncommon intensity: meticulously taking notes after every race, seeking insights from veterans of the club we belonged to, and practicing relentlessly on his own not just with class and with us all on our own after class. While I might win a race here and there, his consistent dominance wasn't merely a result of innate talent—it was the product of an unstoppable drive.

These obsessed individuals often demonstrate another fascinating parallel: once they master one domain, they seem to grasp complex principles in others more readily. The strategic thinking developed in sailboat racing—understanding timing, reading conditions, knowing when to make bold moves—translates surprisingly well to fields like design and user experience. Mastering any discipline deeply enough often reveals universal principles about how things work, how people think, and how success is achieved.

This pattern recognition became more apparent to me during the transition from high school to college. Studying anatomy and philosophy helped me step back and see these connections more clearly. The universe seems to operate on consistent principles, and once you start noticing them, they appear everywhere. Like a code hidden in plain sight, these parallels suggest that while surface details may change, the underlying rules of mastery, growth, and excellence remain remarkably consistent.

Recognizing these parallels offers more than just interesting observations—it provides a framework for understanding and achieving excellence in any field. Whether laying down an underpainting, building a foundation, or developing a new skill, these universal patterns serve as guides. They show us that while the path to mastery is never easy, it follows familiar and proven principles.