Achieving mastery

I've spent a bit of time over the past week or so mending holes in the wooden deck outside my house. As I write this, my son & a family friend are out there finishing off.

They're much better at it than I am. For one thing I, being a woman of a certain age, have had no formal instruction in which side of a saw is the sharp side, how to hold a hammer, or how to select the appropriate kind of nails for a job.  I've picked up a bit here and there - helping my dad or my husband, asking questions, watching home improvement shows, or just asking the blokes at the hardware store.

As a result I have my own somewhat idiosyncratic way of doing things. For one thing, I'd much rather spend 30 minutes chiselling off a centimetre of wood to fit a wide plank into a narrow gap than spend 20 minutes setting up a circular saw to do the job. In fact I discovered this weekend that I'd rather chisel it off than use a handsaw to do it too. I found myself reflecting on that as I banged away at the chisel yesterday, because it seemed a bit perverse to be honest. It's less efficient, it doesn't do nearly as neat a job,  and it's got to be at  least as much effort.

I realised though that what the hammer & chisel give me that the circular saw doesn't is a sense of mastery. I am confident that I know how to use the hammer & chisel to achieve what I want to do, and that means the effort I put into it feels like a worthwhile investment - I have confidence that the job will be done - adequately, if not elegantly.

The circular saw on the other hand is a whole different story. I have used one a time or two, but I haven't yet become confident that I know why it doesn't produce the output I think it should. If I mess things up with the hammer & chisel, I understand enough about it to know what I need to do differently, and so I can learn and improve. That makes it fun. The circular saw is still a black box experience.  I can follow instructions, clamp and guide and guard my fingers - but when it doesn't do what I expect (it slides off true and puts a bow in the side of the plank I'm trying to rip) I have no idea why. That makes it frustrating, depressing, and dangerous. I don't feel as if I learn anything new by practising, I just embed my incompetence deeper. Perhaps one day the penny will drop and I will understand what it is that I don'tunderstand now, but I don't believe it. And that makes all the difference.

So - for now, I will look at the planks I have replaced with satisfaction, even if the ones my blokey mates have done for me are more level, squarer, and not split at the ends because the nails were too big. I don't care. I'm grateful, of course, and I can admire their workmanship.  But not far below the surface of the grateful adult is a jubilant (and slightly defiant) kid crowing because I DID IT MYSELF!! And I think my wonky, split, uneven boards are wonderful.

A little mastery goes a long, long way.

P.S.Thanks, guys! And one day I'll get you to teach me how to use a circular saw properly.