In today’s world, where software dominates much of our interaction with both work and leisure, it’s easy to see why we might expect quick, noticeable payoffs for our efforts. After all, software and its network effects often produce immediate and tangible rewards—think of the dopamine rush of a viral post or the convenience of an app streamlining a once-complicated task. Yet, as enticing as this is, it reveals a fundamental difference between finite and infinite rewards, and how the pursuit of one often blinds us to the other.
Software: Finite Rewards and Diminishing Returns
Software represents a system of finite rewards, characterized by rapid progress early on but diminishing returns over time. When you begin learning software development, the learning curve is steep at first, with large, immediate payoffs. In mathematical terms, this can be modeled as a logarithmic curve:
Here, represents time spent learning, and is the perceived reward. Early in the learning process, there are large rewards for relatively little effort. But as time progresses, the curve flattens, and the returns for additional effort diminish significantly. This is why maintaining software—debugging, updating, and improving existing code—feels like a grind, with each new improvement offering less and less in return.
While this initial phase can be exciting, the structure of software learning means the rewards are finite and immediate, but eventually taper off. The more you work at it, the fewer thrills it provides, and the harder it is to extract satisfaction from it.
Classical Music: Incremental Growth and Infinite Rewards
Contrast this with something like learning classical music, particularly Baroque music from composers like Johann Sebastian Bach. The learning curve for classical music may start slower, but it offers a more sustainable and rewarding structure over the long term. In the beginning, you’re learning basic scales, fingerings, and techniques, which may not give you the immediate gratification that software can offer. However, the linear growth structure of classical music provides steady, incremental rewards:
In this case, the more time you put in, the more proportional your improvement. The rewards continue at a steady pace, and unlike software, they don’t diminish. As you advance, your technical skills build upon each other, creating a solid foundation for deeper exploration.
Over time, learning classical music shifts from linear growth to compound growth, where previously learned skills start to combine in ways that produce exponential rewards. The learning curve now resembles something more akin to:
Here, each new skill enhances your ability to learn and interpret more complex pieces, offering deeper and richer rewards. You discover layers of nuance, emotion, and technique that you couldn’t access earlier on. This creates a sense of endless discovery, making the pursuit feel infinite in terms of its rewards.
Why Classical Music Feels More Infinite
The structure of learning classical music offers a sense of infinite rewards because it continually deepens. Even when technical mastery is achieved, there is always more to explore in terms of musical interpretation, emotional expression, and stylistic nuance. The process doesn’t taper off but rather accelerates as skills compound on one another, allowing for continual growth and discovery.
In this sense, classical music feels like an infinite game—there is always another level of mastery, always a new depth to explore, making the rewards feel endless. In contrast, software feels like a finite game, where the rewards eventually run dry as the curve flattens out.
Calibrating Expectations for Infinite Rewards
This is where expectation plays a critical role. When we expect big, immediate rewards—like the kind software can give us—we inadvertently cut ourselves off from the infinite possibilities of smaller, sustained rewards. We become wired for the short-term rush and lose sight of the long game. The only way to unlock infinite rewards is to adjust our reward calibration: to find satisfaction in the small, the subtle, and the slow. It’s a shift in mindset from seeking large, obvious gains to appreciating incremental, often intangible, progress.
In a culture obsessed with efficiency and instant gratification, it’s easy to get trapped in a cycle of chasing big rewards. But the key to tapping into infinite rewards—whether through art, learning, or any other form of long-term pursuit—is in our ability to recalibrate our expectations. By learning to embrace the small, slow wins, we open ourselves up to a system of rewards that, while less flashy, can sustain us indefinitely.