I once decided I should learn to solder.
Not because I had any particular talent for it.
Quite the opposite.
I didn’t think I was particularly dexterous. 🤣
But I’d been messing around with Raspberry Pis, IoT and electrical projects, and soldering seemed like a useful skill to have.
So I gave it a crack.
My first joints were rubbish.
Then I made a good one!
YES! I’VE FIGURED IT OUT!
Followed immediately by three more rubbish ones.
Excellent. Progress. Apparently. 😂
So I started making little craft projects specifically to practise soldering.
One good joint. Two bad ones. Another good one. Four more disasters.
Eventually, I was making more good joints than bad ones.
And a little later, I could make mostly good ones, quickly and consistently.
Turns out I wasn’t incapable of soldering.
I was just really bad at it until I wasn’t.
And apparently, that required making a LOT of terrible solder joints. 🤣
Looking back, I’ve done this with quite a few things.
I’ve explored dual-battery and solar electrical systems, built a solar-powered security system, played around with Raspberry Pis and IoT, and found myself entering commands into Cisco routers and switches.
I’ve worked in bookkeeping and IPv4 brokering.
And now I’m experimenting with building software using AI.
Not exactly a carefully planned collection of interests. 😂
Most started with a simple thought:
“I wonder if I can figure that out?”
Sometimes I did. Sometimes it took a lot longer than expected.
And sometimes I discovered that while I could do something, I enjoyed figuring it out or teaching someone else far more than doing the same task repeatedly.
But over the last few years, I’ve noticed something interesting.
I’ve become more confident in my ability to learn.
Not because I believe I can do anything.
But because I’ve accumulated evidence that I can approach unfamiliar problems, work through difficulties, and develop skills I didn’t previously have.
It’s not confidence based on what I hope I can do.
It’s confidence grounded in what I’ve already experienced myself doing.
And importantly, that evidence includes the failures.
Because I’ve also learned that getting something wrong doesn’t mean I can’t learn it.
One good solder joint didn’t make me competent.
Three bad ones afterwards didn’t erase the progress I’d made.
What mattered was paying attention, making adjustments, and trying again.
Practice alone doesn’t guarantee improvement. Practice, feedback, and adjustment make progress possible.
I think that’s changed how I approach unfamiliar things.
I don’t need to know I’ll succeed before I start.
I’ve got enough experience now to trust that I’ll give it a proper go, learn something along the way, and be okay if it doesn’t work out.
So these days, when something interesting catches my attention, my first thought is usually:
“Oh, this could be fun. Let’s see what happens!” 😁