"Masterful"

A few months ago over the summer at Cottonwood Campground, I was walking back through camp to my tent when I heard a strange, soft rumbling. I paid no attention to it at first thinking it was the construction down at Three Mile, until I heard yelps and hollers. I looked behind me and saw a herd of cattle kicking up a cloud of looming dust rolling sideways off the breeze, hazing the actual scene. At first I was unnerved as livestock on the Crow reservation have a nasty reputation of being "free range" and tampering with whatever they choose. But my worries were off set as I observed the group of natives on horse back, of all ages, moving the group with great care and skill up towards the highway. It was an interesting few minuets as I watched old knowledge and mastery and culture come alive. Though yes, it wasn't "true" culture as natives wouldn't be wearing cowboy garment and herding cattle, but it was enough to remind me that I wasn't in Minnesota anymore. The horses seemed more like extensions of the rider's body, moving and working seamlessly with the rider's split second reactions. In simple terms, I was impressed- not to think I could do the same nearly as perfectly- but I was impressed with the fact that a western tradition was still alive and not commercialized, this was an actual cattle drive-not just a rodeo. Impressed that the true essence of hard work and teamwork have not been skewed too far from their prime example. Impressed that there were even young boys and old men out riding, melding generations and experience to ensure that, maybe not so much the long life of the tradition survives, but the appreciation of ethics and value of hard work and teamwork are passed on into the future. To ensure strong life lessons learned together. This emphasis perfectly emulates what we all need to do: work hard and masterfully.

Last winter, before I skied off into the BWCA with a group of peers for a week of winter camping, my instructor from college, Mark, told us to act "masterfully." To not only practice the winter camping skills and group dynamics, but to master them. We shouldn't be content with just mediocrity, or just getting the job done or gripping a fake smile when dealing with unfavorable people. We should truly learn to deal and solve and strive for the best! My mom has also always told me to do my best. This past summer, I took it to heart and have worked with unfavorable people and long, hard hours, and mastered many skills I once didn't have. I could probably mow any lawn in the world and fix any mower out there (if you have a challenge-bring it on! I charge $15 an hour!)

But more importantly, becoming a master means learning and accepting that you're not already one. And that's a lesson I and everyone can truly never stop learning enough. To be humble is hard these days, but it can come with the best rewards. People are always forced into competitions, whether they realize it or not- to have a higher GPA than your peers, to speed and get in front of a stranger to make a green light, to crowd and intimidate fellow anglers if they're in a good spot. Basking in our own self-indulgence and minor accomplishments is revered in this society. But what I came to understand at Cottonwood that day is that greatness can be found in the whole, self can be defined with the many. When a young boy hustled a loose cow back to the group on his own, they all cheered and praised him. When the old man stopped for a moment under the shade of a tree, another would ride up and share some water. That is the sort of greatness that should be rewarded- not the most opportunistic or lucky individual- but the utmost dedication to goal and team. A master in my mind is someone who doesn't strike at every opportunity to hold up a social status, he is one that helps the old man and cheers for the boy and works just as hard, not for reward, but because he is loyal to his team and understands that success is to be shared by all through a common goal. He is one who knows all the tricks and tips of the trade, and he teaches them to others. He knows and humbly accepts that he is no better than anyone else, but in the end helps others to become the best that they can be. That is mastery to me.