From Strength to Strength: Fluid / Crystal - Part 2

In a previous article, I wrote about my unexpected introduction to the concept of fluid and crystallized intelligence - the trade between fast-moving innovation and slower, deeper wisdom that happens, apparently inevitably, as we age. I wrote that article as knee-jerk reaction, ending with a promise that I’d follow up after I had a chance to dig deeper into the topic. So I picked up Arthur C. Brooks’ From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life and ended up devouring it over a single weekend.

Not to sound dramatic, but this book could not have come into my life at a better time. It’s illuminated my relationships, my art, my faith and even a deeper purpose of this Juxtapost series, reaching beyond what I first imagined.

What I found is that Brooks explains this shift with remarkable clarity. “Fluid intelligence,” he writes, “tends to decline in one’s thirties and forties, while crystallized intelligence tends to increase through one’s forties, fifties, and sixties.” That transition, which he describes as jumping from your first curve to your second curve, is less about decline than about opportunity - the chance to reorient life around depth and discernment rather than speed and striving.

These ideas aren’t just abstract theory; they’re helping me make sense of the stage of life I’m stepping into right now.

A Second Curve Crash Course

From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life by Arthur C. Brooks may very well become the book that best represents my purpose for this whole Juxtapost project.

The second curve, as Brooks describes it, is more than a shift in brainpower - it’s a shift in purpose. On the first curve, fluid intelligence thrives: flexibility, speed, chasing opportunities, saying yes to everything even when you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. But at some point, that strategy starts to yield diminishing returns. The second curve is when crystallized intelligence starts to take the reins (if you let it): accumulated wisdom, pattern recognition, deeper expertise, and impact that depends less on one’s individual contributions than the effect we can have on the contributions of others.

You can see the difference in the life of a designer, for example. Early in their career, a designer makes their mark by producing bold ideas, pushing boundaries with fresh concepts, sketching quickly, and experimenting with form. Their strength is originality and speed of execution.

Later in their career, that same designer’s value comes less from churning out new concepts and more from understanding how trends rise and fall, what separates the fresh from the timeless, and how design fits into a larger vision for meaning and experience. Their wisdom shapes not just one piece of work but the culture of design around them.

That’s the heart of the shift: from innovating to influencing, from blazing trails to charting the map.

But Brooks also names the trap that makes this transition so difficult: “If you base your sense of self-worth on success, you tend to go from victory to victory to avoid feeling awful,” he explains. “The buzz from success is neutralized quickly, leaving a hangover feeling. That’s what we social scientists refer to as the ‘hedonic treadmill.’”

This was not my first encounter with the concept of the hedonic treadmill, though. I first learned of it from Meik Wiking, CEO of the Happiness Research Institute and a major character in my first feature-length documentary, Finding Hygge. There’s another whole story about how that documentary changed our views of success and why we chose to downsize our company following the release of the film. But, that’s a story for another day.

Since I’m on the subject of film, though, it’s worth mentioning that we talk about this concept every time we premiere a movie. We, along with our creative cousins in other performing arts, call it the “post-show blues.” It’s the emotional slump that after the intense, shared experience of a performance or, in our case, a movie premiere - leaving us drained, nostalgic, and unsure what comes next.

I’ve been through it so many times I’m a little numb to it. Or, maybe I’m just better at anticipating it and coping with it.

And, maybe that’s been good practice for what’s coming in my great big, life-sized post-show blues - shifting from my first to my second curve.

Externally, from Climbing to Rooting

When I look back on my first curve, so much of it was about proving myself professionally and personally. I was the one with the big ideas - whether at 12 Stars Media with Zach and our team, or even relating to our family goals - and my energy was spent convincing others: trust me, we can make this happen. That was the right posture at the time. Being young and less experienced meant striving, pushing, and carrying momentum so others would come along.

Now, stepping into the second curve, the dynamic feels different. The people closest to me no longer need convincing. They trust that we can achieve any goal and that shift changes my role. It’s less about rallying others to believe in my vision, and more about empowering them to pursue their own. The external shift is from proving myself to lifting others up - from leading with trust me to leaning into I trust you.

Internally, from Adding to Subtracting

Internally, the second curve feels like a shift in how I approach both creativity and spirituality. On my first curve, I was always adding - new projects, new practices, new ways to prove growth. My inner life mirrored my outer life: expansion, accumulation, more.

Lately, I’ve felt a different pull. Instead of piling on, I’m drawn toward stripping things back and focusing less on novelty and more on essence. In my creative work, that shows up by appreciating what’s already there rather than chasing the next big idea. In my spiritual life, it’s less about chasing new enlightenment and more about deepening into practices that create steadiness.

There’s even a story Brooks shares from his visit to the National Palace Museum in Taiwan - how different traditions approach art in ways that mirror this very contrast. I’ll save the details for another post, but it was a powerful confirmation of what I’ve been sensing in my own work and faith: the second curve is about distilling, not accumulating.

What’s next?

I’m still processing the contents of From Strength to Strength, and I know I’ll be revisiting highlighted sections for months. From fluid to crystal, from the first curve to the second, I’m starting to see how this one shift is likely to affect virtually every aspect of my life. At first, I just wanted to follow up on my previous post and summarize what I learned after digging a bit deeper.

But the impact I feel these lessons having on my life, both externally and internally, deserve more reflection. So, I’ll explore even more in upcoming posts. For now, it’s enough to say this second curve isn’t just theory from a self-help book - it’s becoming a valuable lens, arriving right when I needed it.

Next Steps:

🧠 Think about it - Where do you feel you are on your own journey? Firmly on first curve? Moving from your first to your second? Solidly on the second curve?

💬 Talk about it - What’s one area, external or internal, where you’ve noticed yourself approaching life differently than you did ten years ago? Share your understanding by leaving a comment or replying to one of my emails.

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