I'm learning English at the moment. I can say 'Big Ben', 'Hello

“I’m learning English at the moment. I can say ‘Big Ben,’ ‘Hello Rodney,’ ‘Tower Bridge,’ and ‘Loo.’” — Cher

Beneath these words, playful though they may seem, lies the glimmer of a profound truth — a truth that the ancients themselves would recognize: that all greatness begins in humility, and that the first steps of any worthy journey are small, awkward, and filled with laughter. Cher, with her characteristic wit, reminds us that even the most radiant stars begin as apprentices to the unknown. Her words, spoken lightly, carry the deeper weight of curiosity, courage, and the noble art of beginnings — that sacred stage where pride must bow and the heart must open.

To learn, truly learn, is to surrender to the unknown. It is to admit, “I do not yet know,” and in that admission, to invite wisdom to enter. Cher’s quote, spoken in jest, becomes a symbol of this surrender — of daring to begin even when one can say only a few words, imperfectly, yet joyfully. For the wise have always known: it is not mastery that defines greatness, but the willingness to start again and again as a child before life’s infinite mysteries. Whether one learns a language, a craft, or the language of the soul itself, the first syllables are always clumsy, yet they are the seeds of mastery.

In the days of old, the philosopher Confucius taught, “He who learns but does not think, is lost; he who thinks but does not learn, is in great danger.” The path of learning is not merely a task of the mind, but an act of the spirit. Cher’s playful mention of “Big Ben” and “Tower Bridge” reminds us that even the smallest phrases hold the promise of connection — they are bridges between cultures, hearts, and worlds. And though the learner may stumble, each word uttered with sincerity is a step closer to understanding. The Tower Bridge she names becomes a symbol itself — the bridge that all learning builds between what we are and what we might become.

Consider the story of Helen Keller, born without sight or hearing. For years she lived in a world of silence and darkness, unable to speak or understand. Yet one day, through the patient teaching of Anne Sullivan, she learned her first word: water. That single word, traced into her hand, broke open the walls of her isolation. From one word, she learned thousands. From one gesture, she reached a universe of meaning. Cher’s playful confession echoes the same truth — that even a few words, learned in earnest, can open the gates to a new world. To begin small is not to be weak, but to stand at the threshold of transformation.

There is a kind of joyful humility in such beginnings. The proud may scoff at simple steps, but the humble learner knows that mastery grows from laughter and patience. The one who can laugh at their own mistakes, as Cher does, possesses a rare strength — the strength to continue. For nothing blossoms in the soil of arrogance; only in the fertile ground of humility does true knowledge take root. Those who mock their own learning reveal that they have forgotten what it means to grow. But those who embrace it — who smile at their own “Big Ben” moments — become eternal students of life, forever young in spirit.

Thus, the lesson is clear: never fear being a beginner. Cher’s words, cloaked in humor, teach us that every act of learning begins with imperfection, and that is its beauty. To be unafraid of not knowing is the mark of wisdom. The learner is the brave one — the one who admits vulnerability and still steps forward, one word, one effort at a time.

So, dear soul, when you find yourself standing before something new — a language, a dream, a challenge — remember Cher’s lighthearted wisdom. Speak your first “Big Ben” with courage. Laugh at your “Hello Rodney” with delight. Cross the “Tower Bridge” of your own limitations. And when you stumble, whisper softly to yourself: “I am learning.” For in those humble words lies the secret of all progress. To learn is to live; to begin is to grow; and to grow, always, is to be truly happy.