Why a beginner's mind matters to relationships

The evolution of skill has always fascinated me—not just how people become great at something but the actual mechanics of improvement. That's why Carol Dweck's book Mindset resonated so deeply when I first read it. It put into words something I'd experienced but never really had language for.

People who embrace a growth mindset see their abilities as seeds they can nurture through consistent effort and learning. As Dweck writes, "We like to think of our champions and idols as superheroes who were born different from us. We don't like to think of them as relatively ordinary people who made themselves extraordinary."

I learned this even as a kid. When I was seven, my dad taught me something simple about basketball — excellence comes through repetition. More specifically, if I wanted to be great, I needed to shoot 100 free throws every day.

From that day through college, I maintained that practice. Not just because I was exceptionally disciplined – it only took about 30 minutes – but because I believed in the process. The drive wasn't just in the dedication, but watching skill development unfold in real time.

Every developing athlete goes through distinct phases of growth. In basketball, your shooting form evolves with your physical development. You begin shooting from your hip because you lack strength. And as you grow stronger, you adjust your technique, eventually learning to shoot from above your head to compete against taller defenders. Each transition requires temporarily performing worse to ultimately improve.

As Dweck notes, "Picture your brain forming new connections as you meet the challenge and learn. Keep on going."

The power of this approach clicked for me during a random incident at a summer basketball camp. I'd strained a ligament in my shooting arm early in the week. Instead of sitting out the free throw competition, I spent the camp shooting left-handed. Not because I thought I'd win — I just wanted to see if I could do it. Most of my shots looked pretty rough at first, but after hundreds of repetitions that week, something started to click. I ended up taking second place in the finals, shooting with my offhand in front of the whole camp.

That experience taught me something about learning that I've carried into every other part of my life. I see it now running a startup. Every few months we face new problems that require completely different skills, like learning to shoot with your off hand. You adapt, learn new approaches, revise your strategy, and keep moving forward.

Decades of this practice has also taught me a lot about building business relationships. Early on, I'd get frustrated when someone didn't instantly warm up to a partnership idea or when a sales pitch fell flat. But much like those years of practice shots, I began to understand that real connections take time. There is no shortcut. You have to put in the work, and most importantly, be patient. Each conversation, even the awkward ones, shaped how I approach the next.

When approaching any new challenge now, I look for the fundamental practice that will compound over time. What's the equivalent of those daily free throws? What core skill needs development? Where can I apply these principles of growth to push beyond current limitations?

Dweck's research confirms what experience taught me — that the capacity for growth lies not in natural talent but in persistent and purposeful practice. Excellence isn't about being born extraordinary, it's about ordinary people embracing the process of improvement.

So tell me, what daily practice are you willing to commit to?

‍