In times of compulsory mask wearing, the other day I was pondering on masks in general. All the invisible masks we are wearing and how they serve us.
“Anselma, you are so authentic!” – this is something people have told me many times in the past and to be honest, I am not sure if I fully understand what that means.
Because everyone is wearing a mask all the time. Including me.
With every role we fulfill, we add a mask to the collection.
When I was on Campus at the Banff Centre for the Arts, Alberta, Canada, a retreat of first nation tribes took place, where native indian people shared their traditions with other tribes.
In the huge dining hall, I had the chance to talk to a lady that was one of their leaders. Eager to catch a pinch of her wisdom, I asked her about how we humans learn best.
Humans are funny animals. I often think that as I am watching myself.
We do have some basic emotions. Not a thousand, just a few, let’s say ten or maybe fifteen. We take them out, like a playing card of a stack of cards.
We pick one, we put it on the table, we live it, we explore this emotion.
And often as we swim in this particular feeling we start reasoning about our choice.
Why the hell did this funky emotion show up?
Here comes the interesting part.
In many cases our reasoning is totally off.
We make some connections.
But they are all wrong.
They all seem like cargo boxes to me. All these little and big lessons, all the skills, all the gems of wisdom we gather as we go through life. They are packed full with valuable stuff.
One cargo type is filed with the values we learn from our families.
Another set of boxes is filled with knowledge we gain from teachers and adults we admire.
A third category of cargo is loaded with things we figured out ourselves.
Lessons we learned from our personal mistakes. Wisdom that came through failing.
There are the “not for me”-boxes, too.
We all have heroes. And not-heroes, that show us how we don’t want to be.
When Ikarus wanted to leave Crete he went to his workshop and fabricated some wings. His father took notice of what his son did and warned him of two things.
First, he was worried his son would get complacent and lazy. Wings would be oh so comfy, no more walking!
Second, he warned his son of hubris, meaning Ikarus would start to fancy his new invention and get into his ego because of it.
Ikarus did not listen. He did not take caution and ignored his fathers words. Instead of being watchful and humble, he flew too close to the sun, where the wax of his construction melted. Ikarus fell into the sea and drowned.
Recently I read that it is more expensive to drill a tunnel than to build a bridge.
Both help people to get from A to B.
One is in everyones view, the other one almost invisible.
Bridges show the people: We are doing something! Look, the bridge is build, the investment was worthwhile. Come look, see and admire!
Tunnels on the other hand are helping, too, but they are not catching much attention.
I remember when my husband and I visited a famous sight for train lovers, the Semmering Bahn. It was built around 1850 to bring Austrian trains to the Mediterranean Sea over the Alps.
The Semmering Bahn contains bridges and tunnels. What made it the most expensive venture at that time were the tunnels, not the pretty bridges everybody admires today.
I know, I am late, Easter is already over.
But still I was thinking of the easter bunny the other day.
This creature can teach us a lot.
I remember, as a child, I was thinking long and hard how the the easter bunny did it.
How did he carry the eggs?
How did he bring all this stuff?
How did he schlepp around the toys and the chocolate?
Did he have a bagback or some sort of a cart?
He does not even have hands, so how the hell does he carry stuff?
In times of uncertainty, we tend to worry. We worry about the future, how things will turn out. We worry about how others are going to decide. We worry about finances and we try to protect ourselves from any harm that could possibly come to us, because things unexpectedly went wonky.
What benefit does it bring when we worry?
I am really good at worrying and spent so much time doing that, that I started asking myself: “What benefit do my worries bring?”
And the answer I came up with is:
1.) I use and train my fantasy – because I see ghosts where there are none :o)
2.) In my mind I paint a horrible picture and try to deal with that horror I just invented.
So the benefits are that I am a ghost creator and a problem solver of problems that 99% of the time never come into reality.
Is this useful?
Uuuhm…. maybe for ghosts and for my ego, to tell myself what great solutions I am able to come up with.
What do you think: Who gets farther in life – the realist or the optimist?
What’s the better approach to learn and to get things done, to accomplish more in life and to get more out of life?
Realists do see things as they are.
They see a failure for what it is, a failure. When things go wrong they see what is missing and they understand how much they are off course.
What’s the consequence?
Realists see how far they are away from the outcome they wanted. They see their performance for what it is. Not good enough.
What do they do next?>>
We are competing with – everything.
Everybody has the whole world in his hand, as long as the battery lasts.
Even little children have an iPhone and access to everything, everywhere, all the time.
Following others is safer than trying (and possibly failing).
Consuming is easier than cultivating.
Watching is more convenient than doing. (You don’t have to move your ass.)
We are entrained on following, consuming and watching from an early age on.
As teachers we are competing with this little box.
There is always something more enticing than playing scales.>>
