My friend recently shared their struggles, lamenting that they felt "too old" to pursue new things, detailing the various obstacles they faced. Their experience resonated with a common saying I once heard: "年過三十不學藝" – essentially, "One doesn't learn new trades after thirty."
Is there truth to this? Is there an age limit on acquiring fundamentally new skills, especially those outside our established expertise?
I first encountered this phrase back in 2005. I was transitioning from a technical role as a systems architect in 2009 to leading the team for a startup. Knowing very little about startup, my CEO hired an experienced mentor to guide me. One colleague, who had worked in over thirty countries, mentioned the saying during a drive to meet a client.
Initially, I didn't quite grasp it. As someone with a programming background, I knew plenty of developers over thirty who were constantly learning new technologies. But my colleague clarified: he meant learning something completely new, crossing professional or industry boundaries. That's the real challenge.
Thinking back, my own "career change" in 2009 wasn't as drastic a leap as it seemed. Having been a systems architect, I already knew the industry landscape, key figures, the technology, and even the entire supply chain bosses. Despite my lack of direct experience, these existing connections and knowledge acted as a bridge. I wasn't starting from absolute zero.
However, a much earlier transition, back in 2002 – moving from coding into the world of supply chain – involved a wider gap. It wasn't necessarily the easiest path, but it was the one with a bridge for me. Supply Chain Management sits at the intersection of operations and computer science. As a coder, it offered a familiar entry point, a way to connect my existing skills to a new domain. Traditional trading methods felt alien, lacking that bridge, creating a psychological barrier even if they might have seemed simpler later. My mentor at the time was a traditional trader who knew nothing about SCM and advised against it, yet I pursued it anyway – it felt like the natural path for me.
It’s like traveling abroad; you naturally feel closer to someone who speaks your native language. We find it hard to step completely out of our comfort zone without some kind of bridge connecting the old and the new.
So, if there's no natural bridge, does learning truly become harder after a certain age? And why doesn't this seem to apply when we're younger?
The difference, I believe, lies in our learning habits. From a young age, we are conditioned to "learn upwards" – seeking knowledge from those more experienced or knowledgeable than us ("見賢思齊焉" - emulate the virtuous). When you're a child, everyone seems more knowledgeable, so you can learn from anyone, anywhere.
But as you progress and specialize, the people "above" you become established experts, leaders, and figures like Warren Buffett. Imagine getting a lunch with Buffett – would you ask him basic questions a bank teller could answer? Unlikely. You know he wouldn't have the patience for it. This isn't limited to billionaires; even seasoned professionals in everyday workplaces often won't spoon-feed basic information they expect you to figure out yourself. My own graduate school professor listened patiently to my questions but rarely answered directly, likely because he knew I could find the answers with a bit more effort. He was a mentor, not a babysitter.
This "upward learning" habit eventually hits a wall. There comes a point where the guidance from experts is high-level, while your immediate need might be embarrassingly basic. The gap can often only be filled by "不恥下問" – not being ashamed to ask those seemingly "below" you (in rank or perceived expertise). And that's where the ego often gets in the way.
This brings us back to the "over 30" challenge. We are used to asking "up," but sometimes the gap between the expert advice we seek and the fundamental step we need to take is vast. You might ask a master chef for secrets, but your real problem is not knowing how to turn on the gas stove. Ask the chef that, and they might walk away disgusted. Your options are to fumble around yourself or ask someone like the cleaning staff.
If you can't bring yourself to ask the cleaning staff, or you can't bear to look incompetent fumbling alone, you retreat. You pull back into your comfort zone. And then, you might conclude, "Ah, you really can't learn new things after 30."
This conclusion is often just an excuse, a self-soothing justification born from current comfort. It works as long as things are stable. But crises reveal fragility. The tree with only one main root ("獨根不活") gets easily uprooted when the storm hits.
Developing new "roots" – new skills, new knowledge domains – takes time. Think of it like a tree growing connections; each significant link might take three years to establish. You need to start growing these auxiliary roots while the main root is still strong. By the time the storm arrives and threatens your primary source of stability, you need those other roots already in place to switch seamlessly.
The problem is, when the main root feels secure, the motivation to branch out often belongs to the young. They have less baggage, fewer established "faces" to lose, and their concept of "learning upwards" still includes people closer to the ground level who can teach fundamentals.
Once you're older, unless you can embrace the discomfort of "不恥下問," endure the potentially awkward glances when asking basic questions, and push past your own ego, truly branching out and making your "root system" resilient becomes psychologically difficult.
It’s not that learning itself is impossible after 30. It’s about whether you can navigate the internal hurdles – the fear of looking foolish, the pride, the reluctance to step down from your perceived pedestal to grasp the first rung of a new ladder. That’s the real barrier.
