A Lesson in Delight: Be a Beginner

Image by Alexander Grey from Pexels

“The grace to be a beginner is always the best prayer for the artist.” -Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

I’m part of an online co-working space. On today’s wake-up call, the question was, what was the best part of your week? After a few seconds, I typed, “practicing photography for an hour.”

Yesterday I took that hour to shoot in black-and-white mode while I sipped a cappuccino at a coffee shop. I was trying to get photos of passersby without them knowing it, but that proved impossible. Instead, I snapped images of cars in motion, architecture, and a Native American statue. I also spent a few minutes reviewing my camera’s manual to review shutter and aperture. I got frustrated a few times, but how can I not have fun while focusing my attention on interesting shapes and objects on a gorgeous fall day?

Recently a friend sent me a text wondering if being a beginner is more fun because it removes the pressure of success. I’ve been mulling that over a lot.

I love learning, but I don’t always like being a beginner. In fact, I’d stay in school forever if it was financially viable. However when it comes to being the newbie who doesn’t know the lingo, that’s a bit tough.

In many areas of my life, I’m beginning again: my writing and mentoring business; poetry; aspects of my marriage; stage of life with young adult kids; and then the completely fresh thing, photography. I find myself grasping for familiar touchstones and assurances.

When I feel stressed, I make a spiritual practice of turning to my creative joys. Historically, that is poetry. I go someplace quiet with a new poet, whom I fondly call my new friend and conversation partner, and I read everything I can find by them. Thank you, internet. For example, this week I took poets Scott Cairns and Diane Tucker out for coffee. Too bad they won’t remember. Often, I write some poetry after reading some great poems. Purposed inspiration.

Unconsciously, this week I found solace in the meditative attention-focusing power of taking pictures. Poetry and photography both gently nudge the mind into monocular clarity. If you’re a musician, crafter, dancer, etc., you’ll get this phenomenon. It happens in other vocations too.

Today I noticed this: not knowing what I’m doing—being a beginner—is a gift. Not needing to prove anything frees up the soul more than I can explain. Perhaps instead of running to the stuff I’m great at to bring me comfort, I can be like a kindergartner who doesn’t know any better than to explore the big wide beautiful world with gusto through whatever brings her delight.

I talked to my niece Cat on the phone the other day. She told me last week she watercolored an owl and half a dozen other things at kindergarten. She would tell you she is indeed an artist.

So here’s my artist prayer:

God, I am a beginner.

I am a photographer.

It’s super fun.

I think you like that.

Thanks for helping me see new stuff.

Let’s do it again tomorrow.

Amen.