The Beginner’s Knot

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities; in the expert's mind there are few."  — Shunryu Suzuki, Zen monk and teacher

A few months ago, I finally learned how to tie my shoes. Well... not exactly. Of course, I've been tying my shoes for many decades. But after growing tired of having to regularly “double knot” by work shoes, I happened across a short video that claimed I’d been tying them wrong—forever, and suggested one small adjustment to the knot. It took less than two minutes to learn. My shoes have stayed tied ever since.

I couldn't help but laugh. How many thousands of times had I tied (and re-tied) my shoes, convinced I already knew how, and accepting that their becoming regularly untied was just a normal part of life. What other everyday habits had quietly escaped my curiosity simply because I'd been doing them for so long?

Medicine can have the same effect on us. As our experience grows, so does our expertise. That's a wonderful thing. But expertise can also become a subtle trap. Once we've learned how to diagnose common problems, communicate well with patients and colleagues, navigate our technology, or perform a procedure, it's easy to assume we've found the "right" way (or the “right way for me”). Recently, I found myself learning a new structured approach to leading organizational change. I've been involved in change efforts for years, yet this framework gave me a different way of seeing familiar challenges. It didn't replace what I knew; it expanded it.

Zen Buddhism speaks of beginner's mind—approaching each experience with openness, curiosity, and a willingness to be surprised. Modern psychology arrives at a similar conclusion. Research on lifelong learning and cognitive flexibility suggests that continuing to learn new skills, even small ones, helps preserve adaptability, strengthens problem-solving, and protects against rigid thinking. More importantly, it cultivates intellectual humility: the recognition that there is almost always something more to learn. Perhaps that's one of the hidden gifts of deliberately learning something new. It's rarely just about the new skill. It's about practicing the posture of being teachable.

This week, make it a priority to learn one new thing, or do something familiar in a new way. It doesn't have to be profound. Learn a new recipe. A keyboard shortcut. A new exercise. A bird's call. A different to ask a patient (or loved one) a familiar question. Something new about yourself. Or perhaps a better knot for your shoelaces. Share what you observe with your PeerRx partner or another colleague. The point isn't becoming an expert in something new. It's remembering what it feels like to be a beginner again. That posture of curiosity may be one of the greatest gifts we bring to our patients, our colleagues, and ourselves.