In programming, you start by defining classes: their properties, their methods, their purpose. Only then do you instantiate and use them.

Buying something works the same way. Before you pay, you already know roughly what it’s for. You might read a few reviews, skim the manual to fill in the blanks, and test it yourself. Purpose comes first and defines the use.

Now look at our own lives. Did we start with a clear idea of what life is for? Obviously not. We arrive without a manual, and honestly, nobody expects a baby to have it all figured out. Ignorance is the starting point, not the problem. It’s natural to assume that part of life’s purpose is figuring out what it’s for. The danger is settling for the temporary byproducts of that search (a job title, comfort, approval) and ceasing to look further.

I’ve definitely been there with products. You buy something, discover maybe 30% of what it can do, and use that slice every day for years. Then one day you stumble on a feature and think, “Wow, I didn’t know it could do that!” It’s a wonderful surprise. The real waste would be letting it wear out before we’ve had a fair chance at a good number of those surprises.

The same goes for us. Discovering our own built-in capacities should happen early enough to enjoy them, not on the last page. Ideally our society and culture would encourage that exploration instead of rewarding us for collecting byproducts.

Maybe the most interesting features are the ones we haven’t even thought to look for. Some traditions say the manual exists, and that it’s meant to be read with the heart as much as the mind.