An ecosystemic approach to learning something new
written by: Josh To
When I was in college, I taught breakdancing. Every year, we would hold a booth with all the dancers on “Clubs Day.” We would blast music and throw down in the student center. Students passing by would watch us flip, spin on our heads, express our energy through music, and instantly get interested in breakdancing. We would talk to them, charm them into joining the club, and give up their precious $20 to join a semester’s worth of breakdance classes and events.
Any time we would talk to one of these students, like clockwork, they would say, “Oh, I can’t dance! I have terrible rhythm. I’m not aware of my own body.” They would use this as an ultimate justification why, for them, dancing is an impossibility.
They were all fascinated by the idea of learning something cool. But clearly they were scared. I would look into the faces of these wide-eyed students and reassure them — None of us here were born with it! We didn’t know. But we started to learn. Someone showed us some cool shit, just like we’re showing you now. We took the first step. And we’re here to walk you through it too.
My college years in the student center were filled with joy and camaraderie with dancers. Sharing new music with each other. Late night shawarma after a Friday night session. Jokes. Exchanging energy. Learning new moves and life lessons from one another. This was one of the great joys I had throughout college. But with school itself, I became completely disillusioned with my studies.
one of many dance events in the UWaterloo student centre
All that time not studying gave me a lot of… time. I would observe human behaviour. Mainly, I would apply my half-baked psych major understanding of people, and analyze peoples’ relationships with themselves and their work. My main research fascination, was breaking down how people derived meaning from their studies. And as it turns out — often it was not much.
Nearly everyone I talked to though, through little fault of their own, had adopted an unhealthy relationship with their field. I could tell that hardly anyone knew what they really wanted to do with their lives. And in contrast to all of that — a common denominator among most people is that deep down, we all crave passion and human connection.
We all want something that we can express outwardly, that allows us to tap deeply into ourselves.
Now that it’s been seven years post-college, I’ve collected not a small amount of data. I’ve seen how people struggle when it comes to trying something new, and navigating how to cultivate a relationship with this thing in ways that last.
Just like dance, to bring any new thing into your life means you are building a new relationship with it. We’ve all had hobbies that didn’t last. Maybe you’ve had a fling with learning the guitar. Or despite your best attempts to fall in love with painting, the spark didn’t last.
I’ve seen people tippy-toe back and forth with dance. I've seen people put an exorbitant amount of time into a field they feel apathetic towards, and struggle to build a relationship with something they were actually interested in. Throughout all this time, I started taking notes on what made someone’s love for something new — flourish. I myself have tried tons of shit, and most of it didn’t stick.
But there are a few things that I’ve cultivated, that I’ve built a relationship with, and grown deep roots in — dance, my partner, food, cacao and hospitality.
If you’ve floundered with learning a new skill, or have fallen in love only half-heartedly with a new art form, you truly are not alone. I’m telling you, just as there are ways to build a relationship with a friend, or to nurture a house plant, there are ways to cultivate our relationships with that thing, whether you call it a passion, a hobby, or a craft.
How can we best nurture these seeds? What does it take for us to stick with our interests until they bloom, and evolve? Are there tools or tricks for this creative zone of genius, for our secret gardens to flourish?
Let’s unpack those steps. Let’s uncover what it means to water, energize and nourish that thing.
Ceramics, boxing, playing the drums, hip hop, making your own clothes, salsa — whatever the expression is, I want to share with you six tricks—six cultivation methods for building a relationship with something new.
Each of these tricks are about creating the right conditions, and arming you with sturdy tools to cultivate this relationship well:
1. A safe introduction.
It’s always better when someone introduces you to the thing, rather than finding the thing online. When it comes to feeling safe and secure, those personal introductions to the thing are an incredible opening portal to the promised land: the kids at school showing you dance moves, a musically-gifted friend showing you how to deejay, your partner whisking you off to a salsa class… By grounding the new thing in a sense of safety, starting it with a person you trust, having an environment where you are free to play, and with low risk of harm towards you — you are finding a safe soil bed,, in which you can water and nourish these seeds even more.
2. There must be no stakes.
Your stability, the roof over your head, your income, and the forces that stabilize your life cannot depend on this new activity going well. Almost nothing should depend on the “success” of you trying out this thing.
In fact, right now, lose the idea that there is such a thing as success .
Is scoring nine shots out of ten into a basketball hoop, success? Is missing one — failure? Start to loosen you’re entanglements with this idea. As quickly as you can, lose the idea that there is good and bad when starting something new.
Lean into the joy of the process, not the product.
We’ve built societies that can only seem to understand and measure things by what it can produce, or the monetary value of a product being sold. How we relate to everything, from food, housing, our abilities, and even to art itself, is evaluated through this strange prism of commodifying it. This seeps, even into our secret processes and practice.
But separate yourself from these entanglements. All you are concerned about, right now, is engaging in creative play of this new thing, connecting with it, and leaning into the joy of it.
christie learning how to weave in the backstrap loom style at Amalia’s workshop in San Juan, Lago Aititlan, Guatemala on christie’s birthday 2021 ~ Tintemaya
For heaven's sake, don’t turn it into a revenue stream for your life. How many times have you seen this: when money has gotten into the sack too early (or even at all), seen people’s relationship with their hobbies and passions change in a way that hurts them? Nourishing a relationship where money becomes part of it may come eventually, but for the sake of giving it a chance for this thing to thrive without expectations, don’t incorporate it at the beginning. If it ever comes, it comes much later. For now, or as long as you can physically bear to, keep the sanctuary of your relationship with this thing, outside of money, risks, and high stakes.
Cultivate this garden, without fuelling a need to turn it into a flower business. Without thinking so much about where this thing needs to go.
And if the why, the question around its purpose, is something that can get you stuck, overthinking, or existentially preoccupied, just worry about the why — later.
3. Lean into joy.
Lean into the thrill, the fun, and the feeling. Whatever that feeling is that gives you childlike wonder, that brings joy, that makes you want to go deeper — lean into it.
As Gandalf said — “When in doubt, follow your nose.” What do your most guttural, instinctual feelings and reactions tell you about your relationship with this thing? Are they telling you to lean in? Are you bored? Are you afraid? Fear can protect us from serious danger, but how often do we follow fear, because we’ve been conditioned to avoid rejection? Because we’ve associated rejection with a path that leads nowhere?
Are you feeling joy?
At the age of 27, I started learning Chinese watercolour painting as a way to connect deeper with my roots. My partner learned with a brilliant artist when she was younger and sent me a contact to call. I started taking classes, painting flowers, trees, and building skills with the brush. But soon after the initial excitement wore off, I realized this was not a practice of joy for me. I had the right desire, but I believe, the wrong medium. This form of art is overwhelmingly done in solitude. It is hyper-regimented. “Draw this flower a hundred times… That one is acceptable. Now draw it a thousand times.” Repetition. Precision. It wasn’t the right entry point for me. Maybe there is a more intersectional, communal way to connect with this art form, but at least at that moment in time, there was no joy.
With dance on the other hand, I found much joy. Introduced to it by my brother, I was quickly swept into a little rag-tag band of mostly asian teenagers having fun, rolling around on the ground, trying to catch handstands and cool moves. As someone who always had trouble sitting still, who loves engaging with all my senses, It was the right fit for me.
Dance brought music, energy, expression and community altogether in one euphoric practice of joy. I’ve found strangers and danced in the parques of Lima, Oaxaca and Amsterdam. I’ve entered competitions both solo, and with friends. 15 years later, I’m still dancing today.
As you keep leaning into the joy, bring variation into it. Learn the next step. Engage a friend about it. Share your ideas, your praxis and exchange thoughts and materials to begin expanding your vocabulary and understanding.
Be intentional with the what.
“What am I looking for?
You are looking for joy.
Featured: a collaborative art event and poetry book launch we put on with spoken word artists and musicians | Photo credits: Arnold Lan
4. An easy integration — 1, 2, step.
The little steps you can take, that you can incorporate into your rhythm and practice, will unfold the path forward. People say “trust the process.” I like to think of it like this: every small step and single action will carry you forward toward the destination(s).
Everything you do for your garden, will take it close towards seasons of growth and bloom. But find the tools, spaces and places that work into your flow, rather than disrupt it.
It’s the reason why you don’t choose a yoga studio on the other side of the city when you’re starting to learn. Find a place of practice that’s easy for you — on your daily walk, or on the way home from work.
Really, be lazy with the where and when.
5. Community
People make a place.
This is perhaps the most important “trick” of them all. Except it’s not a trick. It’s how we’ve ever made anything happen as a species, as groups of people, or as tribes.
You need your ecosystem.
For everything I’ve ever quit (and for you, look back at your own life to see if it lines up) — I was missing the community of people that I could exchange and share excitement, energy and growth with. What stays in the dark dies. And what is done alone, likewise.
The contrary is also true. Most of the things in my life I started because of someone else, or was introduced to it by a group or in a communal setting. It is building consistency with others that yields mutual strength.
Community is the “who” for your practice.
6. Co-create with people.
This may come a little later, but make shit with other people. Start to let people into your garden, and they can show you a new way to prune and compost that stimulates new growth.
This is one surefire way to grow your experience and get in your reps with the thing. Everyone has something to both learn and teach, when it comes to a setting that involves co-creation.
When I was 15 years old I decided I wanted to learn how to cook. I bought a Jamie Oliver cookbook (a terrible choice in hindsight), watched tons of YouTube videos, read recipes online, and started trying stuff out. But I learned the most, when I started making stuff with people. I learned how to make risottos, french omelettes, how to properly work with eggplant, and how to make medicinal Chinese dessert soups — all from others.
What would take us many lifetimes to learn on our own poorly, we learn immensely by co-creating with others.
christie and josh facilitating an “asian-origin” chocolate tasting at Rustle and Still (one of their favourite Vietnamese cafe’s in Toronto)
So, where are you in your life?
What are the seeds you want to sow? Or maybe you’ve been sowing them, but have been discouraged by not seeing growth and flowers in bloom? Maybe you are starting a new chapter, want to revisit an old passion, or just found something new.
Sit with these questions:
Are the soil conditions right?: do you have a safe place to nourish these seeds?
Are you finding joy in this practice?
Is there a step you can integrate more easily into your process?
Are you practising in community with others?
If these are an obvious yes, maybe it’s time to co-create and collaborate with others more deeply, or even publicly. Maybe it’s time to put out work together in a partnership or a collective.
Christie told me: to imagine what our world could look like, if we were all doing this.
What wondrous forest gardens of food, art, music and life would we have amongst ourselves? What beautiful feast would we have for the collective flourishing of us all?
I remember seeing the most shy, foreign exchange students join the breakdancing club. I would see them build their own relationship, and build up confidence with dance over the years. Watching them try new moves, interact with and even start to teach others. Some of them told me I was a good teacher. It was really them that kept showing up for themselves. But really, I think all of us just helped create the right conditions for them to thrive.