The Lost Art of Being a Beginner
I think somewhere along the way, we forgot how to be beginners.
As children, we rarely thought twice about trying something new. We colored outside the lines, climbed trees that were probably too tall, and picked up hobbies simply because they looked interesting. We weren't particularly concerned with whether we were talented. We were just curious, and that was reason enough to begin.
As adults, things seem to change. We become more aware of our limitations, more conscious of how we compare to others, and often more hesitant to try something unless we're reasonably certain we'll be good at it. Especially with social media showing everyone’s highlight reels - we see only the polished results and the “afters”, not the “befores”.
Perhaps that's why so many of us find ourselves standing on the edge of things we'd love to learn, create, or pursue, but never quite take the first step.
We want the garden to flourish the first season. We want the sourdough loaf to look like the one we saved on Pinterest. We want to pick up a paintbrush and create something beautiful, or launch a business and have it succeed immediately. Somewhere deep down, we know these expectations aren't realistic, and yet they still have a way of discouraging us before we've even begun.
The truth is that most things worth doing require a season of learning.
Every artist we feature through A Place for the Maker was once a beginner. Every business owner started with an idea and a long list of things they didn't know. Every skilled craftsperson has early attempts tucked away somewhere that don't look anything like the work they're known for today.
The beautiful things we admire rarely begin as beautiful things. More often, they begin as rough drafts, failed attempts, wrong turns, and the willingness to keep showing up anyway.
It’s hard for me to even remember the last time I truly tried to learn something new. Besides becoming a first-time mom - which, as I've quickly learned, doesn't exactly come with a training manual! It’s actually easier for me to recall the things I started, and quickly gave up on: my planter box garden on a too sunny patio in California, learning American Sign Language, creating a digital product to sell…the list (unfortunately) could go on, and on.
I think what strikes me most about beginners is that they possess something many experienced people eventually lose: a willingness to be uncomfortable.
Learning something new requires humility. It asks us to admit we don't have all the answers. It requires patience when progress feels slower than we'd like and perseverance when things don't go according to plan. It stretches the muscles of problem-solving and troubleshooting and shapes the grit, resilience, and confidence we carry into other areas of life.
In a culture that celebrates expertise (and instant gratification), it can feel vulnerable to be seen learning. Yet some of the most meaningful experiences in life happen when we allow ourselves to enter a room without already knowing exactly what we're doing.
We don't expect a toddler to master walking on the first try. We celebrate every wobbly step, every fall, and every attempt to get back up again. We understand that growth takes time. For some reason, though, adulthood convinces us that we should already know what we're doing before we begin. We stop extending ourselves the same grace we so naturally offer others and we decide it’s not worth it to look “foolish” as we figure it out.
Think about the people you admire most - it isn't usually simply their “talent” that stands out. It's their willingness to keep going. The baker who starts a fresh batch after the cookies are burnt. The potter who starts over after a cracked piece. The musician who records another album. The entrepreneur who keeps refining an idea. The parent who learns alongside their children.
Very few people become excellent at something because it came naturally. More often, they become excellent because they stayed with it long enough to learn.
I also wonder if we've forgotten that not everything has to become something.
It feels almost countercultural to say that these days. We're constantly surrounded by messages telling us to monetize our hobbies, build a personal brand, start a side hustle, or turn every passion into content. Learning a new skill doesn't have to lead to expertise. Sometimes it's enough for something to simply bring us joy.
There is value in baking croissants because you enjoy the process. In planting flowers because they make you smile. In learning watercolor, photography, sewing, woodworking, gardening, or a new instrument simply because you want to.
My dad was a professional commercial photographer for 40 years. He retired last year, toyed around with starting a new business, and has ultimately wound up back taking pictures again - but this time, just for fun.
He’s taking pictures of his first granddaughter, candidly dumping piles of sand on his dog at the beach. He’s snapping photos of a yellow-crowned night heron simply because it caught his eye. Earlier today he was telling me that, in many ways, he's re-learning photography from scratch. His new camera has completely different software, settings, and features than the one he'd been using for the last twelve years, and while it's a little overwhelming, he's genuinely excited to learn it.
But he’s found joy in the art of photography again. He’s excited to learn and just to take pictures of whatever beauty is before him. Watching him has reminded me that maybe being a beginner isn't a stage to rush through, but something worth appreciating for what it teaches us along the way.
At Flying Cow, we have the privilege of working with artists, makers, and small business owners every day. What inspires us most is not the finished product sitting on a shelf. It's the story behind it. The first attempt. The uncertainty. The learning curve. The decision to begin before everything felt perfectly ready.
Every handcrafted item, every thriving business, and every new skill started the same way: with someone willing to take a first step.
Maybe there's something you've been wanting to try. A garden. A recipe. A class. A business idea. A creative project that you've been thinking about for a while. If so, perhaps this is your reminder that you don't need to be an expert to begin.
You only need to be willing to start.
Author: Gaby Wilson
Gaby has been part of the Flying Cow family for four years now! She has a Bachelor's degree in Communication with a minor in Business Management from Curry College (in a tiny town in Massachusetts). She moved to Texas from California in 2021, planning to stay for about 6 months, but the Lord had other plans...she met her now husband! They’ve been married for 3 years & have a sweet baby girl. Gaby is loving being a stay at home mama & juggling remote work for us from time to time!