What’s stopping you from learning all your life?

If you could go back and study a subject you’d never had the chance to explore or understand, what would it be?

Let your imagination go freerange with this question. Don’t narrow your answers by worrying about whether you’d become one of the leaders in the field; picture yourself being diligent and achieving excellence. If you choose a performance or practice based area, dismiss any anxieties about whether you’d receive accolades or awards; consider only the satisfaction of your curiosity and satisfying your own sense of mastery.

You will not be graded. You will be applauded. You’re doing this for yourself alone and not your resume.

With these principles in mind, what do you wish you’d had the opportunity, the talent, the strength and discipline to place into your life’s intellectual carryon? Mine are fairly basic and they fall into three categories.

Because I am illiterate when it comes to all things musical — being unable to read it even though I can appreciate hearing it—I wish I’d taken courses in music when I was in high school and college. Because of budget cuts that continue to plague arts programmes in public schools, our district phased out classes for those who did not sing in a choir or play an instrument.

Growing up in the ’60s and ’70s, I knew I liked The Doors better than The Archies, and I knew Leonard Cohen’s voice made me cry while Peaches & Herb made me wince, but I could never explain why. I’d like to hear the structures and intricate designs in a Bach fugue as well as be in awe of it. I’d love to hear nuance as well as brass when listening to a jazz band.

At both fundamental and ethereal levels, I know math and music are connected, and I wish I knew the math part, too. Because I unknowingly but systematically transposed numbers as a kid, I was always terrible at math, barely passing even the most basic classes. I assumed that part of my brain was misshapen, like an intellectual hangnail. I placed mathematics in my peripheral vision.

Yet when, a few years ago, had the honour of being the graduation speaker at The Lincoln School in Providence, I listened to one of the young women deliver a class speech that was charming, enthralling, and hilarious concerning the concept of integers (which I had not known was derived from the Latin word for “whole”) and employing it as a vehicle to discuss how the girls, as individuals, created a community.

I started taking notes, scribbling in the margin of the commencement booklet. (The way some law enforcement types always carry a gun secreted somewhere on their person no matter what the occasion, I always carry a pen.)

The Lincoln senior explained integers with elegance, lightness, and simplicity, and as I watched her appreciative classmates nod in understanding, it struck me that they were already enviably fluent in the vocabulary of a world I would never enter. I wish I had a third of her grasp of the subject.

In addition, so to speak, there are nearly countless bonuses attached to learning mathematics: With it, I might have been able to study physics, astronomy, and economic theory and figure out what exactly European dresses sizes mean.

I’d like to be able to claim with confidence that I can ice-skate, fix old cars, trace your family’s genealogy, design and build a bookcase, and read the

Book of Job in the original Hebrew whenever the need arises (which happens more than you think). Lastly, I’d like to grasp the actual plot to Game of

Thrones before the final season begins next month, but even with a total immersion course, that’s probably not possible. I have no clue who these people are anymore. It’s sad.

Most lives aren’t long enough to study everything we’d love to learn but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. If we’re fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of horizons that shimmer in our imagination, or have at our fingertips talents we’d like to unlock, let’s instil in one another the courage to approach them.

I’m starting to read more about music because I want to understand more about what I love and why. That’s one good reason to follow a course of study, even if it’s self-taught. There are hundreds of other reasons, too.

The only thing there’s no time for is a sense of inadequacy or a fear of failure. That time has passed.

If we’re fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of horizons that shimmer in our imagination, or have at our fingertips talents we’d like to unlock, let’s have the courage to approach them.

—Psychology Today Gina Barreca is an author and professor of English at UConn, Connecticut