Those people you meet for whom everything seems to go flawlessly, is the mastery in the execution or in the concealment?

If you had someone in your life, whose life you admire and whose judgment you trust, who took you under their wing and said, "Just do what I've done, and you'll have the life you say you want," could you stable the cowboys of your soul—the parts of you that range on danger's horizon, breeding romanticism from risk and personal legend from incident?