AnselmaMusic

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.

 

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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.

 

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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.

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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?

 

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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.

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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.>>

Recently I read an article about a lady called Ruth Knelman. She is 109 years old, super healthy, lives in a beautiful apartment and does all her own cooking.

I personally like reading articles about people who accumulated wisdom. In the news we hear so much about unhealthy and corrupt people. That tends to give us the mistaken impression that many people are bad and that old people are negative and in a bad place.

In fact, real life often shows us that the opposite is true! Public personalities are featured in the media outlets because they bring sensation, foster rumors and chit chat and create fear. And fear sells.
Interviews with decent real life people are not sensational.
These people just do what is right and live their truth.

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Our modern time promises a lot.
We hear about life hacks and quick fixes all the time.
And about things that bring us a wonderful new world full of awe and convenience.

“Be connected to everybody through technology, 24/7 – all the time!”
And people feel more lonely than ever.

“Order everything online!”
And people get fat because they don’t move any more.

“Eat lot’s of … (special pill) and get healthy!”
And people today suffer from more than 80.000 illnesses.

Is it a good idea to teach the next generation that they only need to push buttons, sit on a couch all day long, get everything they want – and all free of shipping costs from giant discounter companies employing robots?>>

When I look back how I felt about teaching first, I can see how silly I was.
I started giving lessons and the next thing that happend was that I wondered how much patience I had to develop.

For some reason, I expected the task of educating to be easy. Kind of: I show you how, you get it the first time around, I call you talented and me a great teacher.

Reality looks different.
It goes like this: The first lesson is fantastic. After that, it starts getting hard to even open the bassoon case.

We both feel overwhelmed. The student because their schedule is already overly packed and because it’s so damn hard to learn.
Me, because before even teaching one little thing, I have to pump up huge amounts of motivation. Like the animation guy in an all-inclusive vacation club.
Psychology tactics sometimes come first, music comes second. Or third. Or forth.>>