Beginnings

i love beginnings. 

I love watching people embark on journeys, pick up new hobbies, start businesses, invest in learning new skill sets. I am the person cheering on the sidelines, 

keep it up! you’ve got this! 

you’re doing an honorable thing and it will be worth your time! 

just keep going!

don’t give up! 

but time and again, I find myself annoyed at me having to be beginner at things. I want to do _______ (whatever has currently captured my imagination) and I want to do it with excellence NOW.

There is something humbling and vulnerable about wanting something or wanting to be able to do something and being terrible at that thing. It’s always worth it though, isn’t it? 

And it makes life more special to have stories of beginnings and failures before victories. And I don’t just mean for big things, either. Humble beginnings are not just worth it for the wild dreams that work out, or the large, successful businesses.

There is magic in the little beginnings, little things, there is magic in beginnings of adventures that aren’t even meant for a lifetime. The first loaf of sourdough bread. The painting that didn’t turn out like expected. The piano piece that doesn’t sound right yet. 

Reminding myself of the magic of beginnings, because I want to be a person brave enough to always be starting something new. Even if it means being terrible for a time. 

(check out eliot’s smirk with his mouthful from this chunk of our first sourdough. ❤️)