All In

I’ve always admired those people who go “all in” on something. Who train and work at a skill and become incredibly proficient. I’m not talking about athletes or professional musicians (although there are some among these folks who I admire) - I’m talking about buckaroos. Loggers. Cabinet makers. Sheepherders.

Becoming great at anything, I think, takes drive, dedication, and focus - and 10,000 hours of work, according to Malcom Gladwell! But becoming good at caring for livestock on rangeland, or falling trees safely and efficiently, or crafting useful and beautiful furniture, takes more than that, I believe. Going all in, in any of these occupations, requires a sense of place. A sense of the aesthetic. A sense of how others will use the end product of one’s work. And lots of sweat.

I have never been able to focus enough to go “all in” on one particular set of skills. In high school, my favorite classes were woodshop and drafting - even though I knew I wanted to go to college to study agricultural economics. My woodshop teacher even nominated me for a Bank of America award in applied arts - my presentation focused on the value of skills like woodworking and welding - “arts” that improve our everyday lives. I didn’t “win,” but I did get a small scholarship!

As I’ve grown older, I’ve tried to learn skills like falling trees, milling lumber, roping calves, shearing sheep, and farming vegetables. At some of these, I’ve been reasonably successful - I’m pretty good at lambing out ewes, for example. At some, I struggle - I’m not a great logger, nor am I a great roper. But I’ve enjoyed the learning process. I’ve enjoyed trying to understand the combination of intellectual knowledge and physical skill. I’ve enjoyed embracing my own curiosity and fallibility.

I’ve also enjoyed learning a bit more about what it takes to become proficient at the skills in which I’ve only dabbled. I’ve come to understand that some things can only be learned by doing - falling a tree in the right direction and in a way that preserves the log requires lots of mistakes. Roping a calf safely and gently requires lots of misses, and probably a few wrecks. From experience, I know that lambing out a bunch of ewes will inevitably come with a whole bunch of problems!

Ultimately, I suppose I’ve tried to be a jack of all trades - and I’ve ended up being a master of none. But my attempts to understand the work involved in housing, clothing, and feeding all of us have given me a greater appreciation for the skills involved. Maybe that’s where I’ve gone “all in.”