The Beginner's Resolve

Sometimes we get tested, and it's more than we can bear. Our head gets heavy as expectations and responsibilities grow. We become stretched in ways where the answers aren't clear. Maybe it's a life event, a chaotic transition, or just a tipping point of stress that hurls us into unfamiliar territory.

As guys, it can be uncomfortable to face that we do not have an answer, or admit we need help. We are supposed to know what to do. Maybe we even pretend — both to ourselves and others — that we aren’t as lost as we actually feel.

We tell ourselves we should be able to handle it.

That we can fix it alone.

That we shouldn’t be "beginners" at this stage in our lives.

But no matter how old we get, each of us is a beginner at something.

We are beginners at each new day we face.

So let’s pause for a moment on the notion of "the beginner."

Beginners are open to learning. Often we hear the expression that a kid's mind is like a sponge that can just absorb new material. There is no pretense of trying to show we already know something, or fear of showing weakness for not knowing it.

And for some us, there comes a point in our learning where we become infatuated with the concept of "mastery": it's as if there were some fixed point where we have “arrived,” where we finally know enough, where uncertainty is behind us. There’s an imagined endpoint out there, and it can be hard to see beyond it. It's like a carrot we never reach, but constantly strive for.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that there really is no endpoint, or if there is one, it is only the beginning of another journey. I’ve become less concerned with mastery, and more drawn towards understanding and self-acceptance. And I believe this process continues our entire lives.

As a guitarist and songwriter, I’ve felt the shift from trying to demonstrate facility to trying to get to the heart of what I am trying to express. And actually sometimes I have found that working within the limitations of my own facility has made me a much more tasteful player and a better songwriter.

At work, I’ve noticed it in the moments where I’m willing to admit I don’t have the answer — where I ask my boss for advice instead of trying to force my way through a complex problem alone. There’s less pressure to perform, and more space to actually solve what’s in front of me, and of course, learn from someone else's expertise in the process. But this also takes a certain humility and belief that collaboration will ultimately be more successful.

The beginner's mind is lighter and has less barriers to asking for help.

And in my personal life, I’ve felt it in a much deeper way—navigating divorce and learning how to be a single co-parent. There is no mastery there. No playbook. Just moments where I have to show up, not fully knowing, and figure it out as I go.

Because the truth is, sometimes we run out of answers.

And when that happens, many of us fight it. We resist it. We try to force clarity where there may not be any. We can feel unsettled, deflated and maybe even a little crazy.

But what if this moment isn’t a failure, but an opportunity?

We like to think we are the sum of what we’ve learned—that if we’ve lived enough, struggled enough, grown enough, we should know by now.

A beginner’s mind isn’t weighed down by the need to prove anything, and there is nothing to defend. And in that space, we can learn and grow.

The next time you find yourself beating your head against a wall because you don’t have the answer—especially to something that may not have an immediate answer—consider the possibility that you may simply be a beginner in this moment. And you can ask for help.

Choosing to be a beginner when the world expects you to be an expert takes a certain kind of resolve.

It is not a weakness.

In fact, it may be the most honest and powerful place you can stand.