I’ve been a beginner and an “expert” at many things. Currently, I consider myself to be intermediate at yoga, sewing, and cooking. I’m an advanced beginner at cycling. I’ve been proficient enough at writing to make a good living doing it. Running and swimming? I’ll always be a beginner.
When I started out in the martial arts, obviously, I was a beginner. But after maybe six months in Tae Kwon Do, when I’d reached a decent level of proficiency in the basics, I thought I was pretty good; I hate to admit it now, but I’d look at the higher-ranking students and think, “Ha, that’s easy! I can do that!” But one day I saw pictures someone had taken during a class, and was shocked to see how bad I looked. It motivated me to correct those mistakes. More importantly, it taught me a humbling lesson–there was still a ton I needed to learn.
In my journey of roughly 28 years in the martial arts, studying several different styles, I’ve been a beginner, intermediate, and advanced. There have been some truly humbling moments–like the many, many times I’ve been thrown to the mat, punched in the face, or kicked in the abdomen so hard I doubled over. But even more humbling have been the times when little kids looked up at me, wide-eyed, and said, “You’re really good!” or when adults came specifically to see me perform when our school had a public event or testing. I’ve learned that there are blessings at all stages of the journey.
After earning my first-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do, I wanted to study something different, so I began training in the Brazilian martial art of Capoeira. After almost a decade in the martial arts, I was a beginner all over again, which was challenging but also a relief; after having trained for years and advancing through all the belt colors at my Tae Kwon Do school, I’d become the highest-ranking student and Sensei’s assistant instructor. While it felt good to move skillfully, expectations were high, insecure students were quick to criticize, and I had to work even more diligently to keep my hard-earned skills sharp.
A few years after starting Capoeira, I switched to Muay Thai, and once again, I was a beginner advancing through the ranks. After I’d been training for a few years in Muay Thai, sometimes a beginner student would criticize me, and when they did I had to chuckle at the irony. Have you heard of The Dunning–Kruger Effect? It’s a type of cognitive bias where people with low ability, expertise, or experience regarding a certain task or field tend to overestimate their ability or knowledge. In other words, the less you know about something, the more you don’t know what you don’t know. The beginner Muay Thai students were judging me, just as I had once judged the higher-ranking Tae Kwon Do students. I had come full circle.
Early martial art systems didn’t have colored belts–only white. Over time, the white belt would become dark with dirt, sweat, and wear. Then, a curious thing happened as the martial artist continued to train and work hard–the outer material of the belt would wear away, exposing white layers underneath, making the belt “white” again. At this point in their training, it was believed that the advanced martial artist would have learned enough to realize how little they actually knew, and their new “white” belt signified their promotion to beginner.
So while it feels good to reach a level of proficiency–in martial arts or anything–the true master realizes that the more they know, the more there is to learn. In fact, the true “expert” will never feel like one.