oelier

As I sit here, listening to a cd of classical music, I find myself in awe of the artists I'm listening to.

After reflecting on my awe of the musicians, I've come to the realization that this sense of awe is not limited to musicians.  I'm awed by any demonstration of mastery of a craft or skill.  This is not to say all demonstrations, public or private, invoke this emotion.  Oh I can and do admire someone who demonstrates mere competency.  In these cases, it is not the demonstration I admire.  Rather it is the courage and commitment of the person behind the demonstration I admire.

While I speak of "mere competence," competence in any skill or craft is not "mere" anything.  There are many people who aspire to the level of competency.  Unfortunately, there are also many people "out there" who, upon becoming competent, believe themselves "masters."  It is a sad fact that these beliefs are often reinforced by fans and supporters and by those who aspire to competence (often referred to as "dabblers".)  The difference in skill level between dabblers and those who are truly competent is usually vast enough to encourage the belief of mastery.

As an example, let's look at playing the violin.  I am, at best, a skillful dabbler.  In reality I am probably closer to a mediocre dabbler.  When I compare myself to the violinists in the Austin Symphony Orchestra, it is tempting to think of them as masters of the violin.  If I had not heard a few of the true master violinists, I would view the ASO violinists as masters.  As skillful as these violinists may be, they are "only" competent.  I once had the pleasure of hearing Itzhak Perlman in concert.  The best of the ASO violinists look and sound like amateurs next to his performance.

Looking at another field, I am a martial artist.  I have been told that I'm good.  Some of my younger students insist I am a master.  I know, however, that though I may be skilled, I am no more than competent.  It is the skill difference between those students and myself as well as a lack of exposure to a true master martial artist that allows them to view me as a master.

So what, then, is the dividing line between "dabbler," "competence," and "mastery"?  I do not know if there is a codified answer to that; however, it seems to me that the dividing line is best seen in terms of a demonstration's effect on an observer.  Someone who dabbles usually creates an "isn't that nice" or "that looks like fun" reaction, but no more than that.  Someone who is competent elicits an emotional response.  There may even be an element of "that looks like fun" to it, but the defining characteristic is an emotional connection.  A master will not only create that emotional connection, but will use that connection to draw an observer in so that all connections to the here-and-now drop away.  The observer enters a state of being that is so focused on the display that all other emotional and psychological connections disappear.  For a brief period of time, the display of a master's craft becomes the whole of the observer's universe.

Those who dabble, participate in the world.
Those who are competent, manipulate the world.
Those who are masters, create the world.

I've been working on Irish session tunes.  I realized, however, that the slowest one I've learned so far is in the allegretto/moderato tempo range (moderately fast; between 108 and 120 beats per minute).  I need some slower tunes, maybe somewhere in the larghetto-andante range (slow but not crawling; between 60 and 100 beats per minute).  Any ideas (preferably _not_ Danny Boy and the like)? 

I've also been looking for people to play with.  The main problem with being a violinist is that most of the opportunities seem to fall in the classical style.  I can play classical, but I'm tired of it.  Lots of people looking for guitars, drums, and vocals.  Not so much for violin.  Ah well.

In other areas, I'm thinking about taking up disc golf again.  Haven't played in ten years or more, but I still have the discs.  This past Saturday I went to a local park where I know there is a course somewhere.  It took a while, but I found it.  Unfortunately I didn't find the beginning.  I parked somewhere around the 15th "hole".   I know most courses are set up in a circuit with the 18th hole near the 1st hole; however, like a dumbass, this didn't occur to me until I'd back-tracked my way to the eighth hole.  At that point it was easier to keep going backwards rather than to retrace my path and turn right instead of left.  "Easy" being relative.  Since I didn't know the course, I had to stand at the beginning of one hole and look around until I found the previous hole.  Then I made my way straight there and looked for the start marker.  Sounds easy and logical, right?  I spent a lot of time ducking tree branches, jumping creeks and road-side barriers, and getting my shoes all muddy only to find out that next to the first hole, there is a map of the course that shows where the bridges are.  Go figure.  At least I got my exercise.  I ran from marker to marker.

We switched sales agents for our house this weekend.  We interviewed four of them.  The first one was enthusiastic, almost bubbly, but with an underlying drive that impressed me.  Coming after our previous (practically non-existant) agent, this was a huge relief.  Unfortunately for the next two possibilities, my impression of the first agent placed the bar so high, few people could match it.  The second agent, though probably competent, bragged (bragged!) about calling around the neighborhood as part of his sales routine.  I hate telemarketers.  I won't hire anyone that approaches that behavior.  The third agent was definitely competent, but didn't match the first in drive.  The fourth agent, though not bubbly, was definitely amazing.  His sales pitch was awesome.  He had everything together.  He really impressed me with how he approached sales and marketing.  Bard_wench agreed and called him on Saturday to let him know we'd chosen him.  He came that day to take pictures of the house for posting, place the lock box for the key, and hammer a sign into our yard.  I have high hopes for this.