Kirsten · 2025-01-23
In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind there are few. -Shunryu Suzuki
That quote has always sat in the back of my mind, a whisper that grows louder the more I listen to the noise of the world. I have found myself drawn to that vast, open space of possibility with that idea ever since I first connected with it. I have never been, I have never wanted to be the smartest person in a room, unless I’m alone, where the silence allows me to think without the pressure of an audience. When I am with others, I really enjoy being able to look at things with fresh eyes and in a way that others don’t, letting my curiosity lead me where their knowledge and expertise might be too afraid to go. The idea of the zen mind, the beginner’s mind has appealed to me since I learned about it, not because it promises enlightenment, but because it promises a relief from the exhausting effort of maintaining a perfect image.
I find myself thinking often in the rainforest, that dense, breathing place where everything is alive and nothing stands still. There I am simply a body breathing in the humid air, watching the light struggle through the canopy to touch the moss. In the expert’s mind, the rainforest is a system, a collection of data points and biological interactions, but in my beginner’s mind, it is a mystery that wraps around me like a green embrace. I drop my preconceptions and expectations with each step, shedding them like heavy leaves on the forest floor, until I can look at an everyday situation and see it not as a task to be completed, but as a moment to be inhabited. This simple shift allows me to let go of everything I’ve been taught since I was a child, unlearning the rules of behavior and perception until only the raw experience remains.
There is a particular kind of humility in not knowing, a willingness to be wrong that opens the door to discovery. I remember sitting in the thick green of the jungle, watching a group of tourists rush past with their guidebooks and cameras, trying to capture and classify the beauty before them, while I sat with my eyes closed, letting the sounds of the rain and the insects wash over me. They were seeing with expert eyes, looking for specific markers of interest, while I was seeing with fresh eyes, allowing the experience to come to me without demand. The core of the principle is to drop your preconceptions and expectations, to let them fall away so that you can see the simplicity, rather than the inflated constructs, that we layer over the truth of things. You might find yourself nodding as you read this, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to release, just as I do when I step into the unknown without a map.
It is not always easy to stay in that beginner’s state, to keep the mind open and pliable when the world demands certainty and answers. I often feel the urge to perform, to show that I am smart, that I know the right thing to say. To be able to look at an every day situation and let go of everything you’ve been taught since you were a child is to invite a sense of playfulness back into your life, a childlike wonder that sees the magic in the mundane. I see the simplicity in the way the water drips from a leaf, the way it catches the light, and I am reminded that I do not need to understand the physics of evaporation to appreciate the beauty of the moment. The inflated constructs of my identity—the titles I hold, the roles I play—begin to feel thin and fragile, while the beginner’s mind feels solid and real.
There is a rawness to this approach, an uncensored acceptance of who I am in this moment, flaws and all. I am not the smartest person in the room, and sometimes that feels like a failure, but mostly it feels like a freedom, a liberation from the need to be right. I enjoy being able to look at things with fresh eyes, to see the world as if for the first time, even if I have seen it a thousand times before. The zen mind invites me to change, to let go of the old ways of seeing and make room for new possibilities. As you read these words, you might notice the rhythm of your own breathing, steady and deep, anchoring you in the present moment, just as the rainforest anchors me.
I have learned to love the questions more than the answers, to dwell in the uncertainty without rushing to resolve it. When I am in the rainforest, I do not need to know where the path ends or what lies beyond the trees; I only need to take the next step. This attitude of beginner’s mind extends to my relationships, my work, and my inner life, allowing me to connect with others on a deeper, more authentic level. I drop my preconceptions of who they are and let them reveal themselves to me, fresh and new, in every encounter. You may be surprised to find how much lighter you feel when you stop trying to be an expert and simply allow yourself to be a beginner, ready to learn and ready to change.
I see the inflated constructs of our minds, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what we should be, and I let them dissolve like mist in the morning sun. To look at an every day situation and see it with fresh eyes is to find wonder in the ordinary, to discover the extraordinary in the mundane. I have never wanted to be the smartest person in a room, for I know that there is always more to learn, always more to discover, and that the journey is more important than the destination. As you let go of your expectations, you might find that the beginner’s mind is waiting for you, open and inviting, ready to guide you home.
Coaching with Kirsten