Have you ever seen a master work? A master at work makes the task seem almost effortless. The tool(s) become an extension of their thoughts and motions. Jeremy has achieved this with his painting, but otherwise we are not masters of anything – only beginners. It is something that we aspire to, however.
There is an art and a craft to doing physical labor that is akin to the art of any sport or dance. The body learns to move in a certain way to manage the tools and materials; each muscle learns to act in unison with the others; the mind learns what to focus on and how to compensate at every instance. The result is beautiful and awe inspiring. When that work is done with others who are equally skilled, the symmetry and rhythm, the coordination and balance are even more astounding – it makes you realize the true power of people working together toward a common purpose.
This grace doesn’t come quickly or easily – it takes hours of repetition and practice. Everything we do with our bodies goes through this cycle of learning and improving. Each time we pick up a tool, we must learn how to make it an extension of ourselves – a projection and instrument of our minds intent for the task. At first, the projection is rough and clumsy - the shovel glances off of hard earth instead of digging into it, the splitting maul bounces off the log instead of dividing it cleanly. If we keep going, we learn the right angle for the shovel, the right swing with the maul that starts to do the work, but we are not yet masters of the tool or the task. We are merely able to get the job done.
Next we enter the mastery phase. Each time we pick up the tool, we notice something new about its balance, its angle. We try slight variations on what has worked in the past – we learn to lean on the shovel a little differently, hold it with a different hand, move it side to side in a certain way. We learn to swing the maul with a different angle or motion. Each of these changes feels different to our bodies and makes different imprints in our brains. Through our senses, we evaluate every shift to see if we should continue with that or find something else.
This is not usually a conscious or rational process. We don’t think “Now I will try angling the shovel at 25 degrees and see what happens.” No, this is an intuitive learning process. After the motion, we sense whether the work was done better or not. Did the job get done more quickly? With less effort? Was the result of higher quality? Without thinking we begin repeating the new motion and then continue experimenting.
If we are very lucky, we will have a master of the tool available to jump start our learning. This is the person who when using the chosen tool makes every motion seem effortless; the person who has truly integrated this task into their subconscious to a level that it is as natural a motion as breathing. Often, asking how they do it is completely useless – they don’t know, they just do it. Occasionally, someone has taught enough other people that they can express how to do the job very well. In either case, by observing we can sometimes find the secrets. We can watch how the arms are raised with the maul, the angle of the down swing, where the blade is aimed, what muscles flex when. Then we can try to use our rational mind to jump start the intuitive learning process. “He lifted it kinda like this and then brought it down like this” and through many fine refinements the right angle and swing are found that begin to replicate the master’s ability.
Through still more refinements, our bodies learn the secrets of the tool and we notice that the job is easier. Our muscles become conditioned and ready for the work. The act of lifting the tool changes our stance in preparation for its use. The feel of the tool in our hands stops being awkward and clumsy and becomes calm and purposeful. The tool takes on a personality and the status of a trusted co-worker in the task worthy of respect and appreciation. Gradually we come to understand the before hidden interactions between our finest motions and the tool’s performance. We become the masters.
One day we notice that our relationship to this task has changed. It is now a source of pride in a job done right and done well. We smile to ourselves every time we see the tool and secretly look forward to the next time we get to use it. This feeling, this deep satisfaction and pride in mastering a difficult task, is what makes life on the land so wonderful.
I will leave you with a story from our family illustrating the difference being a master of the tool makes.
When my brother was 13 or 14, our family was splitting wood for our wood furnace. My grandfather, then in his 70’s, was there observing the proceedings. I should say here that my grandfather had cut and split several cords of wood every year since he was old enough to pick up a maul. This was my brother’s first attempt. Being new to the task and the tool, he was having mixed results. The first logs split for him after several sturdy strikes of the maul, then he found one that wouldn’t. It was a largish oak log and every stroke of the maul just bounced off. Again, being new to the task, he tried to hit the log harder to get it to split resulting in nothing much happening at all. Eventually, my grandfather stood up from his seat and asked if he could show Scott something. My brother handed the 70 year old, thin, slightly stooped 6’3” man the maul and stepped back. After weighing the maul in his hands, my grandfather proceeded to look at the grain on the end of the log and choose his spot before stepping back. He slowly raised the maul and let it fall on the log end directly on the place he chose. The log split cleanly in two. What had been as stubborn and hard as iron was transformed by the skill of the master. It was art. With 4 more strokes he had taken the stubborn oak down to 6 pieces of normal firewood. He handed the maul back to the very impressed 13 year old and sat back down. Then he took the time to explain how to read the grain on the end of a log and talk about what he has learned about splitting wood after doing it for 60+ years. My brother is now very proficient with a maul and enjoys the task. We should all be so lucky to have that kind of teacher for every tool we pick up.
One day, we will master the tools we use. Until then, we keep learning. I hope you too can one day become the master of the tools of your trade, whatever they may be!
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