Understanding Mastery as a Life Long Relationship

“It took me a lifetime” – Pablo Picasso

When you attempt to master a skill, you are essentially committing yourself to a life long relationship with that skill. And just like a personal relationship, mastery relationships come packed with a wide range of feelings and emotions; from passion and excitement to longing and dissatisfaction.

These up-and-down feelings that are experienced in both relationships are absolutely normal. But what separates those who succeed in their relationships and those who fail comes from the ability to understand one simple, but hard to implement, concept: all relationships require both parties to adapt to the ever changing circumstances around them.

I’ll explain my theory by presenting my mastery relationship with photography. While you read, replace photography with any skill you’ve ever started to master and perhaps quit for one reason or another. It will become evident that a personal and mastery relationship are one in the same.

First Date

Initially, I decided to get into photography because my friends told me I had an eye for it and should give it a shot. Although hesitant to jump into unknown territory, I took their advice and purchased my very first DSLR camera.

I remember bringing home my camera from the store and holding it in my hands. After snapping a few test shots, I made a promise to myself that I would work diligently to learn the art of photography. 

I did just that – and then some. I began taking pictures everyday on my way to work, during my lunch break, and when I got out of work. I was an explorer in my own city; the Magellan of my block.

In the midst of all the excitement, I also wondered about how the camera was engineered to take pictures. Questions like, “What is it inside a camera that creates a photo?” and “Why does changing the aperture do x and changing the shutter speed do y?” began to infiltrate my thoughts.

There was mystery hidden in photography and this mystery was all I needed to propel me into the next phase of my mastery relationship with it.

The Honeymoon Phase

Within a week of having my camera, I setup a photography blog to showcase my journey to becoming a professional photographer. I also joined a photography meet-up group, took a photography class, and went on a man-hunt to find any and every great photographer in my town.

Centering my life around my camera, I considered the possibility that photography could become some more than just a happy. I would having fantasies about working as a wildlife photographer for the National Geographic or even being a photo-journalist for activist groups.

And why not? I hadn’t had a dull moment shooting since I picked up my camera and I was getting good at it.

This was what I call the honeymoon phase of my mastery relationship -- all rationality is no where to be found and idealism, lust, and emotion is all that rules.

The First Fight

I was getting some great traction on my blog and I could see my photography skills quickly growing.

The feedback from friends, family, and co-workers was also positive and I finally started to think that I (for the first time) was a ‘natural’ at something. Although receiving this positive feedback was comforting, I felt a pressure to perform…to please my audience. The problem was, I didn’t know what I was doing right or wrong. I just went out and let my instincts guide me.

Taking photographs with this pressure in mind did not feel the same as when I first started. It was no longer all about learning and having fun. It wasn’t about keeping it simple and trusting my gut. It became a cycle of second-guessing, nit-picking, and doubt. I would take bad photos, but couldn’t get out of my head to try and learn how to fix mistakes and grow from them.

With my idealism about my mastery relationship officially ruined, I set off feelings of disappointment, frustration, and doubt.

Rough Patch

Have you ever heard from ‘relationship experts’ that a lasting relationship has five good encounters for every bad one? Whether it’s true or not, this 5:1 ratio used to be the normal for me in my mastery relationship but by the time the rough patch had set in, the encounter looked something like 1:5.

I was bored. After only year of consistent shooting, I told myself I had learned enough and somehow ran out of places to shoot. This was obviously false. There was infinite amount of information to be learned about photography that I had not yet discovered and I lived in one of the largest cities in the country so finding places to shoot was not the issue.

What’s worse is I would judge the photography profession as a whole. I would tell myself the odds were small that I could change the world or make a difference taking photos. Furthermore, everyone now-a-days can take great photos with their cell phones without any formal training so what was the use in spending all of this time learning it? 

Instead of trying to determine why I felt at a dead end and figure out a way to fix it, I turned it around and let photography take the blame for "not being worth it".  
 

This rationalization would soon cost me over six months with my camera. 
 

Turning Point

With my camera gathering dust in my closet, my mastery relationship was essentially over. 

The relationship didn't end without some feelings of disappointment, sadness, and guilt for being a quitter. But I removed these feelings by preaching the same rationalizations: “There are better careers out there” and my favorite, “Photography probably wouldn’t have amounted to anything anyway”.

It wasn’t until a trip to the Caribbean where I’d realize what a big mistake I was making. During the trip, I brought my camera just to have a memory of the trip – no plans to practice photography in any serious manner. About 300 pictures were taken of the areas great beaches, people, and culture.

I traveled back home and upon a request of a friend, put together an album of everything I saw. As I was reviewing and editing the photos, I noticed something: these photos were pretty good. This was not in any way arrogant, but a realization that I did have an opportunity with something that I had to take advantage of quickly. 

Within the few minutes of glancing over my photos, I realized the mistake I was making. It was not photography, it was me that was at fault. I had to correct the mistake I had made.

A Lifelong Work in Progress

Since my 'aha' moment, I've made photography (and writing) a part of my daily life. This has been driven by four things I've learned about mastery relationships:

1. Unlike most personal relationships, it only takes one to ruin a mastery relationship. For most of a mastery relationship, you are the giver and the taker. You will be the one putting in the 10,000 hours of work and dealing with the feelings of difficulty, uncertainty, and frustration. If you set your values and goals in order, your "master spouse" will (with the addition of luck) finally allow you to reap the rewards of your labor. But if you never reach this point, remember there is only one person in the relationship to blame.
2. Remember that honeymoons don't last forever. The intense feelings of excitement, passion, and determination at the beginning of the mastery relationship are great in that they jump start you into the skill. But it's downside is that is spoils you - it makes you want to quit at the first sign of distress. These high expectations of a mastery relationship full of lifelong happiness and passion are irrational and a recipe for disaster. Proceed with caution.
3. Even if it's bad for you, your body will always try and revert back to the familiar. It's only been a short time and I still find myself wanting to resort to my old habits even though those habits don't help me progress. This is due to our body preferring the 'known' to the 'unknown'. Reaching into unfamiliar territory is not your body's default setting so it's important you try to fight it.
4. Mastery relationships require adventure, bursts of passion, and excitement. When you feel comfortable with the skill you're attempting to master, be paranoid. You have reached a lull in your relationship. Have a mastery relationship which continues to strive into unknown but exciting territory. 

Realize when an opportunity has presented itself to you, take action when you've made an error, and work furiously towards success in your relationship with your skill. And always remember: you are not the only one who loses from quitting. It is the world who will miss out on the master that could have been, the one that could have made a significant change to their society.

Don't let your mastery relationship down -- it is there waiting with your reward and yearns for you to share it with the world.

Onwards and Upwards,

Nadine