When my wife first started learning football, she told me, “I get touchdowns, I get field goals, but what in the world is a first down?” She’d sit on the couch next to me while I coached or watched a game, nodding along, but secretly had no idea why the announcers kept yelling “They need ten yards for a first down!”

Once she understood the secret of downs, the entire game suddenly made sense. She went from feeling left out to actually enjoying conversations with me and even explaining downs to her friends during game day.

That’s why I want to share this with you: understanding downs is the key that unlocks the whole game.

When my wife and I first got married, she quickly realized that football wasn’t just a game in our house—it was practically a second language. As a football coach, I lived and breathed the sport, but to her it sounded like a jumble of words: “touchdown,” “safety,” “two-point conversion.”

At first, she didn’t get it. And honestly? She didn’t care. But what she did care about was me. She wanted to understand football—not to become an expert, not to coach a team, but simply so she could talk with me about something that mattered in my world.

That small effort meant everything. Over time, she began to ask, “So wait, that’s six points, right?” or “Why did they kick instead of run?” Those conversations didn’t just make football season more fun, they made us closer.

That’s the power of learning enough about football scoring: it’s not about memorizing stats—it’s about connection.

When was the last time you felt excited to learn something new? For me, it was when I tried to learn guitar. I remember holding that shiny instrument, convinced I would be strumming songs by the weekend. Instead, my fingers hurt, the chords sounded wrong, and I almost gave up after the first few days.

But then something shifted. Instead of expecting myself to be “good,” I decided to just be curious. To laugh at the mistakes. To treat myself like a beginner who didn’t need all the answers. And you know what? The pressure lifted. I stopped worrying about being perfect and started enjoying the process.

That’s what’s called Beginner’s Mind—a concept from Zen philosophy that reminds us to approach life like a child, with openness, eagerness, and freedom from judgment. And it might just be the key to falling in love with learning again.

The Day I Learned Goals Aren’t the Enemy

A few years ago, I decided I was going to “learn Spanish this year.” I printed a workbook, downloaded a fancy app, and even bought flashcards. By January 10th, my enthusiasm had evaporated. Every time I missed a day, I felt like a failure. And like a lot of us do, I stopped altogether because “what’s the point?”

It wasn’t until I set my first realistic learning goal—just 5 minutes of Spanish practice per day—that I finally stuck with it. No pressure, no perfection, just a small, non-intimidating commitment. Six months later, I wasn’t fluent (and that’s okay!)… but I could hold a simple conversation, and that was more than I’d ever managed before.

I realized that the secret to keeping learning goals isn’t discipline or willpower—it’s setting goals that fit your real life.

I remember the day I tried to teach myself how to sew. I had this tiny dream of making a quilt for Squish. Nothing fancy—just something stitched together with love and a bit of fabric from old shirts and baby blankets.

I watched YouTube videos. I read tutorials. I made a mess.

The first attempt? A total disaster.

The second one? Worse.

By the third day, I was this close to putting the sewing machine back in the box and telling myself, “This just isn’t for me.”

But then I heard Squish giggle from the other room, and it hit me:
I wasn’t just learning how to sew—I was learning how to try again.

That moment—quiet and small—was the beginning of my journey toward a growth mindset. Not perfection. Not even skill yet. But a belief that I could get better if I just kept going.

Feeling scared to start something new? This gentle, beginner-friendly guide offers 5 easy steps to learning anything—even when you're overwhelmed or short on time. Encouraging, non-judgmental, and doable for anyone.

Ever looked at someone else and thought, “Wow, I wish I knew how to do that”—but immediately shut it down with, “It’s too late for me,” or *“I missed my chance”?

Here’s the truth: It is never too late, and it is never too early.

Life skills don’t come with deadlines. There’s no timer. No “you should have known this already.” There’s just right now—and what you choose to try next.