Me at three. My mom did not get me. The showdown started early. Mom wanted a baby doll of a little girl whom she could adorn in frilly dresses and patent leather Mary Janes. She dreamt of kempt hair with cute ribbons. What she got, however, was chubby, messy me. I was my own little animal with a bit of a feral streak. I had no use for the corduroy jumpers and matching tights that she perpetually tried to inflict on me. I…
Last week, I wrote a blog post that asked the question “What is mastery?” The responses were plentiful as they were thoughtful. Many thanks to all who jumped in and helped me wrestle with this unwieldy bear. After reading through the comments, it’s clear that mastery is different things to different people. It’s a complex issue. For many, mastery equates to a certain level of finesse in technique and proficiency with one’s instrument. Of these, all agreed that mastery, by this definition, is an…
