You ever notice how people love the idea of starting something new, but absolutely hate the part where they have to be bad at it first? They’ll talk for years about learning guitar, writing a novel, taking a class, changing careers, going to the gym, meditating, cooking—hell, even flossing—yet the moment they realize it actually requires them to stumble, fumble, trip, sweat, suck, and look ridiculous, they’re out.
People want to start at Level 30 without grinding through Level 1. They want the six-pack without the planks, the promotion without the Monday mornings, the marathon medal without the chafing, and the wisdom without the mistakes.
Human beings want the results, the prestige, the applause… but not the part where they look like they don’t know what they’re doing.
Which is hilarious, because that’s the definition of a beginner.
Someone who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing yet.
So let’s talk about how to be a better beginner—not a perfect beginner, not a gifted beginner, not a mystical prodigy who was born already knowing how to swing a tennis racket while juggling your chakras. No. A better beginner.
A real one.
A messy one.
One who actually starts something… and keeps going long enough to improve.
Because if there’s anything people suck at more than beginning, it’s continuing.
I. WHY BEGINNERS ARE SO BAD AT BEING BEGINNERS
You ever notice people think “beginner” is an insult?
“Ooh, you’re new at this?”
“Ooh, you just started?”
“Ooh, you don’t know anything yet?”
Yes! Exactly! That’s the point!
But somehow we treat being new like it’s a moral failure. Like not knowing how to do something is proof that you weren’t paying attention in the womb when they passed out the instruction manuals.
People forget that literally everything they’re good at was once something they were terrible at. Walking? You used to fall on your face. Talking? You sounded like a malfunctioning blender. Eating? You missed your mouth half the time.
Being a beginner is the most universal human experience.
So why are we so ashamed of it?
Because humans have fragile little egos held together by duct tape and Instagram filters. We hate being reminded that we’re not instantly brilliant. We want greatness on demand. We want mastery microwaved.
But mastery is slow-cooked.
And beginners don’t want to simmer—they want the “ding!” and the results.
II. THE MYTH OF “NATURALS” AND OTHER FAIRY TALES
People love using the word “natural.”
“Oh, she’s a natural!”
“He’s a natural!”
“They’re just born with it!”
Born with it? What, did they come out of the delivery room holding a violin or running a 4.3 forty?
No.
They worked.
They practiced.
They sucked.
They improved.
They went through all the humiliating phases everybody else avoids.
But the myth of the “natural” exists for one reason: it gives everyone else an excuse.
“Well, I’m not a natural, so I guess I shouldn’t bother.”
Convenient, isn’t it?
The truth is, beginners don’t fail because they’re untalented.
They fail because they blow a gasket the moment reality doesn’t match their fantasy.
They don’t want to be beginners—they want to be perfect beginners.
Which don’t exist.
III. STEP ONE: LOWER YOUR DAMN EXPECTATIONS
You want to be a better beginner?
Start by lowering your expectations. Way down. Lower than that. Lower than you think a human being should lower anything.
Expect to be clumsy.
Expect to be confused.
Expect to screw up.
Expect to feel stupid.
Expect people around you to be better at it.
Expect to wonder why you ever thought this was a good idea.
That is not failure.
That is the syllabus.
Beginners who understand this thrive.
Beginners who resist it suffer.
People don’t quit because something is too hard. They quit because they’re embarrassed that they’re not instantly good.
You have to give yourself permission to be a disaster. A magnificent, floppy, awkward disaster.
Because the only way out of awkwardness is through awkwardness.
IV. STEP TWO: SHOW UP UGLY
Showing up is easy when you look polished, prepared, confident, and ready.
Showing up ugly—now that’s the real test.
Showing up when you’re bad.
Showing up when you’re confused.
Showing up when you’re intimidated.
Showing up when you know everyone else is better than you.
Showing up when your inner critic is screaming like a toddler who missed nap time.
Beginners quit because they think showing up is optional.
“I’ll start next week.”
“I’ll start when I’m ready.”
“I’ll start when I buy the right equipment.”
“I’ll start when I know what I’m doing.”
Here’s a secret:
You will never be ready for something you haven’t done yet.
The readiness comes from the doing.
You’re not preparing for the thing—you’re prepared by the thing.
V. STEP THREE: STOP WORRYING ABOUT LOOKING STUPID
This is the beginner’s Achilles’ heel.
People will abandon entire dreams because there is a .0001% chance someone might laugh at them.
Let me tell you something:
You already look stupid somewhere.
Someone already thinks you’re ridiculous.
Someone thinks your job is pointless.
Someone thinks your hobbies are boring.
Someone thinks your haircut makes you look like an undercover cop.
So what?
Looking stupid won’t kill you.
Avoiding growth will.
In fact, if you’re not willing to look stupid, you’re not willing to learn anything new.
Those two doors are the same door.
Walk through it.
Trip if you must.
Crawl if you have to.
VI. STEP FOUR: EMBRACE THE “BAD PHASE” LIKE A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
You ever notice that every skill has that miserable middle period?
The phase where you’re no longer a complete beginner, but also nowhere near competent?
You’re not clueless—but not good.
Not lost—but not confident.
Not a beginner—but not an intermediate.
It’s purgatory.
Skill purgatory.
This phase lasts much longer than beginners expect.
Sometimes weeks.
Sometimes months.
Sometimes years.
Most people quit here—right when things start to get interesting.
Beginners think the “bad phase” is a sign that they’re failing.
Experienced people know the “bad phase” is where you build real ability.
It’s where muscle memory gets carved.
Where your brain rewires itself.
Where the reps finally start to matter.
The “bad phase” isn’t a punishment.
It’s an initiation.
VII. STEP FIVE: GO SLOWER THAN YOU WANT TO
Beginners always want to go too fast.
They want to skip steps.
They want shortcuts.
They want hacks.
They want the YouTube tutorial that says “Learn This Skill in 10 Minutes!” even though the creator is on their seventh cup of coffee and edits out all the suffering.
Slow is smooth.
Smooth is fast.
Fast is dangerous.
Take your time.
Master the basics.
Do boring drills.
Repeat the unsexy parts.
Beginners hate repetition because repetition exposes their flaws.
Experts love repetition because repetition erases their flaws.
VIII. STEP SIX: MAKE SMALL, HUMBLE GOALS
You know what ruins beginners faster than anything?
Big goals.
“I’m going to meditate every day for an hour.”
“I’m going to run five miles a day.”
“I’m going to learn fluent Italian in six weeks.”
“I’m going to write a book this month.”
“I’m going to master guitar by Christmas.”
No, you’re not.
You’re going to burn out by Thursday.
Beginners need tiny goals.
Laughably small goals.
Goals so small they feel foolish.
Five minutes.
One paragraph.
One page.
One exercise.
One practice session.
One new concept.
Small goals build consistency.
Consistency builds skill.
Skill builds momentum.
Momentum builds mastery.
People fail because they try to conquer the mountain before learning how to tie their boots.
IX. STEP SEVEN: CULTIVATE A BEGINNER’S MIND — EVEN WHEN YOU’RE NOT A BEGINNER ANYMORE
Some people become beginners once.
Learn the basics.
Get competent.
Then suddenly they’re too good to learn anything new.
These are the worst people to teach.
They’re allergic to correction.
They think every suggestion is a personal attack.
A true beginner’s mind stays open.
Curious.
Flexible.
Humble.
Beginners ask questions.
Beginners experiment.
Beginners are allowed to not have all the answers.
Even when you’re good—hell, especially when you’re good—you need to act like a beginner sometimes.
If experts stayed curious, half the disasters in history wouldn’t have happened.
X. STEP EIGHT: FIND A MENTOR WHO WON’T LET YOU BULLSHIT YOURSELF
You want to level up fast?
Find someone better than you.
Someone skillful.
Someone patient.
Someone honest.
Not the person who compliments everything you do.
Not the friend who says, “No, really, you’re amazing!”
Not the coworker who claps like a trained seal anytime you breathe in the right direction.
You need someone who will say:
“That was wrong. Try again.”
“You’re skipping steps.”
“Slow down.”
“Focus.”
“Practice that part more.”
“Stop overthinking.”
“Do it again.”
A good mentor shortens the learning curve because they won’t let you repeat your mistakes.
Beginners who learn alone wander in circles.
Beginners with coaches walk a straight line.
XI. STEP NINE: TRACK YOUR PROGRESS — BECAUSE YOUR MEMORY IS A LIAR
Beginners forget how bad they used to be.
They only remember the frustration, not the improvement.
So track it.
Write things down.
Record your attempts.
Save old drafts.
Keep early sketches.
Time your workouts.
Measure your progress.
Beginners quit because they feel like they’re not improving.
But the data tells the truth.
The mind is dramatic.
The data is boring.
Trust the boring thing.
XII. STEP TEN: CELEBRATE TINY VICTORIES
Beginners overlook small wins.
They’re too busy staring at the finish line to notice they actually moved.
But the brain runs on reward.
You have to feed it.
Like a dog that performs tricks when bribed with treats.
Did you show up today?
Celebrate.
Did you practice for five minutes?
Celebrate.
Did you improve by 1%?
Celebrate.
Did you understand something you didn’t understand yesterday?
Celebrate.
Your brain needs to know it’s working toward something.
Otherwise it’ll quit on you.
XIII. STEP ELEVEN: IGNORE EVERYONE ELSE
Beginners sabotage themselves with comparison.
“Oh, she’s so much better.”
“Oh, he started later but improved faster.”
“Oh, they’re already successful.”
So what?
Comparing beginners to experts is like comparing a seed to a forest.
When you compare yourself to others, you steal energy from your own growth.
You turn learning into punishment.
Ignore the highlight reels.
Ignore the prodigies.
Ignore the people who brag online about accomplishments they probably exaggerated anyway.
Focus on one person:
Yesterday’s you.
XIV. STEP TWELVE: PROTECT YOUR ENERGY FROM DREAM-KILLERS
Beginners are fragile.
They’re easily discouraged.
Which means you have to watch out for a certain type of person:
The dream-killer.
“Oh, that’s too hard.”
“You’re too old for that.”
“That’ll never work.”
“You’re not cut out for that.”
“That’s a waste of time.”
“I tried that once, didn’t work for me.”
These people aren’t experts.
They’re casualties.
They’re warning signs with opinions.
And if you’re not careful, they’ll talk you out of things you haven’t even started.
Dream-killers don’t hate your dreams.
They hate what your dreams remind them of:
their own abandoned ones.
XV. STEP THIRTEEN: LEARN TO LOVE BOREDOM
Beginners think progress feels exciting.
Energetic.
Electrifying.
It doesn’t.
Progress feels boring.
Monotonous.
Repetitive.
Uneventful.
Predictable.
Boredom is the doorway to skill.
If you can’t stay focused when things get dull, you will never cross into mastery.
People quit not because it’s too hard—but because it’s too boring.
And boredom is the tax you pay for improvement.
XVI. STEP FOURTEEN: DON’T TRY TO MASTER EVERYTHING — FOCUS
Beginners love collecting hobbies like coupons.
“I’m learning guitar and French and coding and woodworking and pottery and crypto and…”
Stop.
You’re not a Renaissance painting.
You’re a human being with finite time and finite attention.
Pick something and stick to it long enough for your brain to actually adapt.
Plant one seed and water it.
Planting ten seeds and watering none gives you a garden of dead things.
XVII. STEP FIFTEEN: ACCEPT THAT FAILURE IS GUARANTEED AND NECESSARY
Beginners treat failure like it’s the end.
“Oh no, I failed. That means I’m not cut out for this.”
Failure is not a verdict.
It’s a message.
Information.
Feedback.
Correction.
Experts fail more times than beginners have even attempted.
Failure is not the opposite of success.
Failure is the factory where success is manufactured.
Treat failure like data, not a diagnosis.
XVIII. STEP SIXTEEN: COMMIT TO LONGER THAN YOU THINK YOU NEED
Beginners consistently underestimate how long things take.
They think:
“Oh, I’ll be good in a few weeks.”
“Oh, I’ll nail this in a month.”
“Oh, I’ll have this mastered by summer.”
Wrong.
Progress takes months.
Mastery takes years.
Excellence takes decades.
But here’s the trick:
Most people never see real progress because they quit right before the results compound.
Every skill is a delayed-gratification machine.
You do the work today.
You get the payoff later.
Sometimes much later.
XIX. STEP SEVENTEEN: BEGIN AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN
You want to know the real secret to being a great beginner?
It’s not bravery.
Not talent.
Not discipline.
Not intelligence.
It’s the willingness to begin again.
Some days you will fail.
Some days you won’t feel like it.
Some days you’ll wonder why you ever started.
Begin again.
And again.
And again.
Beginners don’t succeed because they started perfectly.
They succeed because they restarted persistently.
SO WHAT DOES IT ACTUALLY MEAN TO BE A BETTER BEGINNER?
It means:
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Lower your expectations.
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Show up ugly.
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Embrace awkwardness.
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Take small steps.
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Move slowly.
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Track your progress.
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Ignore comparisons.
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Expect frustration.
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Celebrate tiny wins.
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Be willing to fail.
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Be willing to restart.
Being a beginner is a privilege.
It means you’re alive.
It means you’re curious.
It means you’re still capable of changing, growing, evolving, reinventing.
Being a beginner is what keeps you from fossilizing.
Because the moment you stop beginning… you start ending.
FINAL WORD: THE WORLD BELONGs TO BEGINNERS
Experts run the systems.
Beginners reinvent them.
Experts preserve the past.
Beginners build the future.
Experts say “This is how it's done.”
Beginners say “Why?” and “Why not?” and “Let’s try it this way.”
The world doesn’t move forward because of the people who already know.
It moves forward because of the people willing to not know—yet.
So go ahead.
Start the thing.
Begin terribly.
Show up messy.
Make mistakes loudly.
Get frustrated.
Keep going.
Be a beginner.
A real one.
A raw one.
A relentless one.
Because beginning is the closest thing we have to magic.
It’s the moment you declare to the universe:
“I’m not done becoming myself.”