Setting 2026 self-study goals like you mean it (with Notion)

Pt. 2 of a series on cultivating an intellectual life

Self-study is an enduring source of meaning in my life, and so of course, it bothers me when I see others approach it performatively. Not from a place of judgment or resentment, but because I know how good it can actually get, and I want that good for others.

Most self-study plans I see online fail for the same reason that most diets fail: they’re built on a dream instead of reality. Instead of looking at ourselves as we really are and working with that person, we imagine ourselves differently and pray to the discipline gods to bridge the gap.

We tell ourselves we’ll finally learn Spanish, or read the classics, or understand how markets work because that’s what we think we should do, or because we saw someone online doing it. We download the apps. We buy the books. And then, inevitably, real priorities intervene and our plans for self-study fall by the wayside. We conclude, again, that we’re just not disciplined enough.

I don’t think discipline is ever the problem. The problem is that we fail to answer the most basic question: Why am I doing this?

In the age of infinite content, it is easy to consume what’s fed to us. We confuse reading lists curated by algorithms or influencers as the blueprint when they should really serve as inspiration. Slowly, we start doing more of what others designed for us to do rather than what comes authentically from within.

We become optimized for consuming knowledge rather than becoming knowledgeable. Becoming requires knowing where you’re headed and why the journey matters, but that inner work is a small price to pay in my opinion.

Designing a life of learning

My view (which I don’t think is radical but you can tell me what you think) is that intentional learning is the direct path to becoming your own person. In this age of hyper-consumption, this means a source of meaning and identity that will matter over time, even when no one is watching, rather than the superficial, trendy, and performative forms of meaning that so many of us are addicted to.

So how might we approach this in 2026?

Before you pick a single book or design a single syllabus, stop and reflect.

Ask yourself: What do I care about? What do I want my life to look like in 2026?

• How do I want to spend my time? Not just productively, but richly. What activities do you want to fill your days that you currently don’t know how to do, or don’t do well enough?

• What do I want to be able to talk about? What conversations do you want to hold your own in? What ideas do you want to contribute to?

• Who do I want to surround myself with? What rooms do you want to be in? What communities would you like to belong to, and what would you need to know or create to earn a seat at that table?

Your answers point toward your purpose: how learning can align with your real values and fit into the life that you’re building, as the foundation that everything else can rest on.

From consumption to creation

Yet purpose alone isn’t enough. You need a framework that moves you from passive learning to active creation, and below is how I think about it for myself.

These are the core components of a self-study plan for 2026 that I would urge you to define:

Purpose is the broader why, the vision of your life that makes self-study worth the effort. I want to understand the books I’m reading at a deeper level. I want to understand the forces shaping the economy. I want to be someone who makes things, not just consumes them.

North Star Questions are how you identify what you actually want to study beyond fleeting interests. Move from vague curiosity (”I want to know more about philosophy”) to specific, investigable questions (”How did Stoic practices influence early Christian contemplative traditions?”) that get your brain working.

Outcome is the concrete accomplishment at the end of a syllabus. It’s specific and completable. I will read all of Shakespeare’s plays. I will work through an introductory economics course. This is what you can point to and say, even just to yourself: I did that.

Output is what you do with what you’ve learned. It’s the artifact that proves mastery and creates value beyond yourself. I will write a series of essays analyzing Shakespeare’s tragedies. I will publish an economic analysis of my local housing market. I will build a portfolio site for my work. Output is how private study becomes public contribution and how you demonstrate competence to others, but more importantly, yourself. Think of Outcome as what you finish, and Output as what you make from finishing it that adds genuine value to your life or the lives of others.

The last element can be woven throughout but is equally as important: find the community. Learning alone is, of course, possible and sometimes preferable. But if you have the bandwidth, consider ways to engage with people or communities that share your interests. They can hold you accountable, sharpen your thinking, and even benefit from your own insights. A university, after all, is just a group of people who decided to take ideas seriously together, and I think we can build that anywhere.

A note: start smaller than you think. One deep pursuit beats five shallow ones. You can always expand later. You can’t recover the months lost to an overambitious plan that collapsed under its own weight.

Prompts and a Notion template

To help you get started, I’ve created a set of journal prompts and a Notion template for your 2026 goal-setting. Paid subscribers have access to the template, as well as a group chat where we can share our plans, exchange ideas, and support each other as we pursue our goals for the new year.

If this resonates with you, consider becoming a paid subscriber to join the conversation! And stay tuned for the next article in the series, “Your 2026 personal curriculum starts here”, where we’ll use another Notion template to map out a concrete plan for our curricula.