Hedgehog or Fox?

I admire deeply those who have achieved mastery in an art or craft, yet I often see myself as a “Jack of all trades, master of none.” I have gained competence in many areas, but mastery in none. Achieving mastery requires singular focus and unwavering dedication, often at the cost of everything else. As St. Paul put it, “One thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal…”

While I respect those who have reached mastery, I sometimes feel pity for the “master” who knows little of anything else. Isaiah Berlin, in his essay “The Hedgehog and the Fox,” referenced an ancient Greek idea: “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.” Berlin categorized philosophers as either foxes, who gather knowledge from many sources, or hedgehogs, who see everything through one grand idea. Extending this metaphor to life, I see myself as a bit of a fox. I’ve explored various fields, learned a little here and there, but never achieved mastery in any single thing.

But what about mastery in life itself? Is there such a thing? Whether one excels at playing a musical instrument, carpentry, or baseball, or is simply a “Jack of all trades” like me, could one still be a master of life?

My musings often lead me back to the ancient wisdom of the Chinese sages in the Yijing. The wonder of the Yijing is its ability to respond to my questions, revealing new insights with each reading. In reflecting on the mastery of life, here is what I found:

·      Reduce things to their essence.

·      Aim at the higher goal.

·      Simplify.

·      Cooperate with the ongoing process of change.

This wisdom, like much of Eastern and mystical philosophy, is more suggestive than definitive. In the West, we seek clear answers; in the East, the answers are more about holding aphorisms in thought, allowing them to unfold. Sometimes, enlightenment occurs; sometimes, it does not.

So, what would this ancient wisdom suggest about the mastery of life?

Reduce things to their essence. This echoes Ockham’s razor: when faced with many possibilities, choose the simplest one. Life often feels complex, like juggling too many balls at once, with one always on the brink of falling. To master life, reduce it to its essence.

Aim at the higher goal—the telos. Immediate concerns often obscure our ultimate aims. Like riding a bike, focusing only on the pedals or front wheel leads to a fall; instead, look ahead in the direction you wish to go.

Simplify. Recently, Jane and I have been decluttering our garage, letting go of accumulated stuff. As we simplify, the burden lifts. This act of simplifying feels freeing, a release of weight.

Cooperate with the ongoing process of change. The Yijing, known as the “Classic of Change,” frequently returns us to the reality of life’s constant flux. To cooperate with change means to flow with it rather than attempt to control or resist. Mastery of life is less about manipulating circumstances and more about aligning with the natural current of events.

This is the mastery I seek—a harmonious flow with life itself.

The earliest versions of the phrase “Jack of all trades, master of none” were positive. It originally had a second line:

“Jack of all trades, master of none, 

Certainly better than master of one!”

I may not be a master of anything, but I’m okay with that.

+Ab. Andy