Today I’m A Beginner: Free Yourself From The Burden Of Expectation With One Simple Change
I started a new book today.
“Beginners” by Tom Vanderbilt.
And I was struck by an example he gave about his daughter learning how to ride a bike.
Like him, let’s put ourselves in the same position:
Imagine you’re a parent.
Today, you’re teaching your child how to ride a bike.
How would you approach it?
I think the majority of us, like Tom Vanderbilt, would have our “child” start with stabilisers to ease them in and help them grasp some familiarity with a bike.
On top of this, the added safety helps the child increase their proficiency and confidence with much less risk.
Logical enough, no?
What struck me was how wrong I was for thinking that:
He writes that,
“She began happily riding around the park, until she took a corner too fast and tipped over. “
And following that sight, he came to this realisation:
“Such “errorless learning” may make the learner feel better, but it eliminates the huge part of learning that comes from mistakes.”
“So I took off the training wheels, stripped the pedals, and, presto, it was a “balance bike.”
She had some wobbles, but those wobbles were more instructive than her seemingly steadier performance on the training wheels.”
Having read this, I pondered that for a moment.
How often have I been making progress with stabilisers on?
How long have I been avoiding wobbles?
Rather, how long have I been hindering my progress because of the perceived “safety” of the stabilisers?
The answer was embarrassing.
My whole life.
The examples are honestly endless.
In short, I have been living my whole life “performatively”, as Vanderbilt puts it, running from risk instead of towards it.
Here’s one example:
I’m 20 years old, and I still hesitate to raise my hand and answer a question if I’m unsure.
You might argue, that it’s not about safety, rather it’s about external perception but I don’t believe they are mutually exclusive.
Why would I care about perception, if getting it wrong didn’t conflict with who I think I am and who I want others to think I am?
I wouldn’t.
So the question turns away from the situation or environment, and to who I think I am.
Well, clearly not a beginner.
And that’s the problem.
Some might say that validation is the problem, but validation requires something accepted to be validated for it to occur.
Yes, if I only answer when I’m confident it validates my desire to be seen as intelligent.
But it stems from the acceptance of that identity internally.
I want to confirm I’m intelligent.
For myself and to others.
And that’s all wrong.
Because I’m no longer a beginner.
So, who are you?
Who do you believe you are, and also want others to believe you are?
Why do you think you’re above learning? Why is it unbecoming of you to get it wrong?
Today, I’m a beginner.
Today I decided to remind myself, I’m nothing but a beginner.
If we think back to the example of Tom Vanderbilt’s daughter, she truly started learning once the stabilisers came off.
The moment it got risky.
The moment it was unsafe.
The moment it could become embarrassing at any moment.
The moment confidence took 2nd place.
The moment she took the position of a beginner.
That was when her potential to grow was the highest.
It’s so interesting, our capacity to grow is highest when we are the most receptive and open to learning.
When vulnerable.
The moment we become ‘invulnerable’, confident, and entrenched in what we “know” we lose so much potential.
If your desire is to grow, the archetypical “master” is the opposite of who you want to be.
The best way to grow, is to have the identity of a beginner whilst pursuing the proficiency of a master.
Beginners see it differently
Vanderbilt further writes, whilst describing the state of mind you adopt when initially starting something new, that:
“You’re freed from the worries of “impostor syndrome” — that anxiety of not being the expert you’re cracked up to be — because no one actually expects you to be any good.
You’re liberated from expectation, from the weight of the past. In Zen Buddhism, this state is referred to as beginner’s mind.
Your mind is ready for anything, open to everything. “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities,” writes Shunryu Suzuki. “In the expert’s mind there are few.” “
It’s laughable that as we grow older and expectations heighten, the best time to adopt the mind of a beginner would be now and for the unforeseen future.
Yet we do the opposite.
The older we become, the more resistant we are to learning.
The more rigid and entrenched we are.
The more emphasis we have on being right and confirming to both ourselves and others that we are who we say we are.
And understandably so.
Identity is built by action.
The more things you do that confirm you’re intelligent, the stronger that identity becomes, which reflects in your everyday life.
You start to adopt habits which you associate with intelligence as second nature.
But what if we adopted the identity of a beginner?
What if, every day we set out to confirm that we are beginners?
To confirm that we are still learning?
To confirm that we don’t know it all?
Not just here and there, but we doggedly chased after that identity.
Because then, the fears of being wrong or even seen as wrong wouldn’t matter.
I mean, why would they?
You’re just a beginner.
It’s to be expected of you.
In practice, however, that is much easier said than done.
Recently, I started boxing.
It was something I’d always wanted to do, and so far I’ve only sparred once or twice with my friends who can actually fight.
(One is a boxer, and the other does MMA.)
What I loved the most was being invited into someone else’s world.
You see how passionately their eyes light up, whilst teaching.
Because this is what they love.
They want you to grow, and love the journey as much as they have.
And I loved every moment of it.
Being a beginner.
With absolutely no expectations.
It took me hours to learn one combination seamlessly.
But we did it over and over and over again.
Why?
Because I loved learning and the process of growth.
I trained for hours following that session, and I’ve ordered all my gear to start properly.
But my déjà vu moment came when I asked myself a question:
Am I this receptive with my writing?
Am I this open to learning?
Am I this excited to see it from someone else’s world-view?
And the answer was embarrassing.
I’m not.
There’s always a tussle with being right, especially when it’s an opinion.
Facts are different.
I cannot dispute being wrong when it’s in black and white.
But grey?
Here comes my identity.
It tries to worm its way into a position where it can remain intact.
But in doing so, I’m abandoning the route to growth.
I’m denying myself the opportunity to be a better writer.
Why?
Because nothing feels worse than a broken identity.
It’s almost a denial of who you are, and when that’s gone, what do you have left?
Nothing.
It makes sense why we would do anything to maintain our identities.
But what if we adopted an identity that couldn’t be shaken by expectation?
What if we adopted the identity of a beginner for ourselves?
Not just when it’s forced on us.
Not just when we’re genuinely starting out.
But when we’re years in.
When we’re exceptionally proficient.
When we’re the best we can be, that’s when you need to be a beginner the most.
Expectation only weighs you down when you assume responsibility for it.
But the identity of a beginner frees you from that burden.
Identity is built by action.
So if you want to become a beginner yourself, start with your mind.
- Constantly remind yourself: You are a beginner.
What can I learn?
How can I see it differently?
What can they see that I can’t?
- Ask questions.
No matter how dumb they are.
Do whatever you can to abandon the mindset of the established.
- Think like a beginner.
Like someone who has nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Even if it’s blindingly obvious, ask away!
- Tell yourself when you wake up:
Today, I’m a beginner.
In the midst of a meeting or whilst networking:
Today, I’m a beginner.
Whenever you feel too good to learn from someone else or appreciate a new perspective.
Tell yourself: Today, I’m a beginner.
LM
