Rethinking 'Beginner's Mind'

(A little heads up: This is not a Covid-19 related post. I know a few weeks ago I couldn’t metabolise anything unless it was about what was happening in the world right now. If that’s where you’re at, all good, and I am sending you love. Well. I’m sending you love regardless of where you’re at.)

I am learning to skateboard. Yes, that’s me in the image above. I might look good static, but moving is an entirely different thing!

It is truly an experience of being a beginner, and this morning whilst wobbling along on my board, I thought about the phase ‘beginner’s mind’, which gets used a lot in the world I work in to encourage people to be open-minded and to surrender the need to prove that you know things.

A beginner’s mind is an open mind, so the idea goes. No expectations, no assumptions. (I heard the latter four words on Headspace just this morning, in fact.) Many facilitators – including me – will contract with workshop participants around adopting a ‘beginner’s mind’ as a way of supporting them to get the most out of the session.

Well, this morning, in the midst of my experience of being a beginner, I realised that for some people, this might be pretty crap advice!

What I have to say about this right now might not be very profound, and no one else on the planet might need to hear it, but I needed to write it, so I did.

* * *

Now, I am not simply a beginner at stakeboarding; despite my pose above, I am in fact a total beginner. I literally think I tried it three times as a kid. This means that right now, I’m in the realm of unconscious incompetence – I know so little that I am not even aware of the hundreds of things that there are to know about this. I don’t know what I don’t know. I do know that there is a LOT I don’t know, but I have no idea what those things are. The next phase I have to look forward to in my development is conscious incompetence – aka being aware of just how rubbish I actually am. (I definitely have some of that going on already, which I suppose is something to celebrate.)

So, there’s my status as a beginner, but what about my mind?

Well, I have noticed that my mind is not all open and zen. It is not naturally inclined to embrace new learning challenges with pure wonder, although there is a delight, curiosity and a sense of thrill at the new challenge. But alongside this, my mind as a beginner can also be nervous, self-conscious and sometimes, downright terrified.

Depending on who you are, your mind as a beginner might only be open some of the time. The rest of it, you may find yourself somewhat like me, freaking the fuck out, inwardly panicking, self-conscious, full of fear, telling you to stop, telling you how silly you must look, worrying about being judged, convinced you’ll never make progress, and more.

Not all beginners are equal. Some of us are recovering perfectionists. Some of us have lacerating inner critics. Some of us thrive on challenge and making mistakes, while others of us have learned to give up at the first hint of difficulty.

Those of us who are recovering perfectionists, those of us who don’t naturally lean into a growth mindset, those of us who carry a baseline of fear in our bodies, those who are hyper-sensitive to others’ opinions, or who learned our value comes from being ‘good’ at something – can struggle when we’re starting out with something. The work is twofold: we have to learn the new thing we’re learning, and we have to practise (or learn, even) giving ourselves a break.

I think this is really normal. We humans contain multitudes.

When I do give myself a break, I find it easier to accept that it’s really scary to be a beginner, that it’s embarrassing and often feels futile. When I remember to notice those thoughts but not become totally swept up in them – something I need to practise, something which, despite years of practising, I am more or less able to do at different times – the experience of being a beginner is much more pleasant.

There’s enormous value in doing this work. And I am somewhat revelling in being a beginner, despite what I’ve shared about some of the mental experience I go through.

I can almost literally feel my brain lighting up when I’m practising on my longboard, neurons forging new connections, keeping my brain (relatively) plastic and young. I know that learning is good for me. But I won’t be one of the people who bangs on about how easy and exciting learning always is, because sometimes it just isn’t. Sometimes, learning is hard, scary and challenges the parts of our personalities that seem to be central to who we are.

I remember a wonderful young man I taught English to in Sydney, who gave a presentation about his home country of Colombia to the small pre-intermediate group of about 7 or 8 students, plus me. I was very aware for the duration of my time as a teacher that some students – and indeed some cultures – valued accuracy and perfection above all else, whilst others valued self-expression as key to communication. This student fell into the latter category. Grammatically, his presentation was all over the place, but his enthusiasm, energy and sheer enjoyment of speaking in another language and telling us about the customs and culture of his countries bowled us all over. I told hundreds of my students about that young man’s enthusiasm when I was a teacher. I told them not to shame them, but to remind us all that sometimes, getting it right makes less of an impression than bringing your whole self – heart and mind – to the table.

That young man gave that five minute presentation in 2006, and I remember it to this day.

I could use some of his childlike enthusiasm when I’m next out on my longboard. This morning, I didn’t enjoy myself at all. My body felt a bit shaky, and my mind felt bound by the need to see myself improving. But progress when you’re a beginner isn’t linear. We do not simply improve in a straight line. Life isn’t like that, and neither is learning. The important thing, I think, is to just keep showing up, make sure I’ve got my protective gear on, and embrace the wobbly shakiness of being incompetent and new.

Then perhaps I’ll have more moments like this one.