Mastering My Territory
In the men’s work, we often speak about being the master of one’s territory. Around a campfire, men inspect one another about how they manage their spaces. Men, myself included, often struggle to identify which of our many spaces, could properly be defined as our “territory”.
We get told to avoid choosing the family bathroom, or the kitchen. Beyond that, a man is essentially on his own in describing what amounts to “his space”. Men talk about the basement, or identify their home office or the workshop as that man-cave where others fear to tread. Then they proceed to make commitments about the first steps they will take towards restoring external order, in an effort to secure greater order within. “How is that mess like the rest of your life?” we ask.
It has taken nearly ten years of men’s work for me to identify my territory. In my case, my territory is that region which, when left unattended, will remain forever untouched. The car comes to mind. While many people drive my car, only I maintain it. Rotate the tires? Wash and vacuum? It’s up to me. Similarly, the home composting system. If I want it to work, I have to make it work. No one shares that responsibility. The same goes for the firewood.
Having acquired a lens for picking out those “territories” that belong uniquely to me, the next most interesting question becomes “what does it mean to demonstrate mastery”? The rubber meets the road in mastery. This is where the real work begins. When I pick up the broom, the hammer or the washrag, I begin to demonstrate what standards I hold.
Doing service to the Men’s Weekend provided me with a window into “impeccable”. When told to “Zen the classroom” I understood that no detail could be neglected. Every speck of lint should be removed from the carpet, even if it means crawling on hands and knees to achieve perfection. Chairs-in-perfect-symmetry is another standard.
Returning to my life, I quickly saw where higher standards were in order. The endless task of keeping the hearth around the living room fireplace swept falls to me. It’s one of my territories. Yes, it’s an endless endeavor. Every time logs come into the house, they trail in a seemingly endless quantity of sawdust and debris. Zen the hearth anyway. Take the time to hold high standards. It communicates to your subconscious and to the world: “I am responsible for this area, and I take my job seriously.”
Having once mastered the hearth, the compost, the car and the woodpile, I saw how holding high standards could apply to other, less physical, areas of my life. What if I were to master the territory of my marriage? Not that I could ever manage the relationship. Thankfully, my wife does a great job at that. But, what about the words that exit my mouth? Those belong to no one other than yours truly. How often have my words brought tears to her eyes? Where is the mastery in that? Sure, I have no control over how she will experience my words. Misinterpretations sometimes happen. But I have complete control over how I choose my words, and then, how I respond when they land sideways.
This way of viewing the world could quickly become overwhelming. It’s true enough, that here are too many details for me to achieve perfection in every area. But I can always give my best, and holding high standards does wonders for a man’s self-esteem. Knowing what impeccable looks like affords a man a yardstick for “how am I doing?” and “where could I do better?”
I start with something manageable, and make it my own until I have mastered it. Then, feeling pride in my accomplishment, I move on to expand my territory to encompass something else that falls to me. It could be something as simple as my posture, or something as complex as a 1,000-acre forest. What matters is that I begin by identifying my territory, then move with ownership towards defining and displaying mastery.
Simple? No!
Rewarding? Definitely!