assumptions

Fortunately…

There’s a famous Zen story about a farmer’s luck, and depending on what happens to this farmer, the neighbors proclaim that he has either good luck or bad luck. When something terrible happens, he has bad luck. When something wonderful happens, he has such good luck. Regardless, the farmer always replies, “Maybe.”

The point of the story is that in bad situations (what might be called bad luck), often times good things are born. And conversely, when things seem to be going so well, bad things can happen.

Lately, I’ve adapted this story in two ways:

I regularly add the word “fortunately” as a preface to something that might at first seem unfortunate.
In both good times and bad times, I am intentionally grateful.

Fortunately, I am going through a difficult divorce and some things that did not bother me before do now.

Fortunately, I was very sick last week and felt for the first time incredibly disoriented and out of balance.

Fortunately, I am feeling that my teaching is being compromised by other stresses in my life that make me tired and impatient.

Adding this simple word BEFORE the apparent “bad luck” opens up the opportunity for gratitude, which inevitably leads to “good luck”.

The man with the hat in the back of the room

by John Goodell

The pianist Lorin Hollander tells a wonderful story of arriving at the Academy of Music ahead of his performance with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra back in the late 1970s. He situated himself on stage for his warm up ahead of his rehearsal with the orchestra, and started to play the piano alone in the hall. As he worked through a few passages, he looked out to the empty seats and spotted a short man wearing a hat and coat near the back. He continued playing, but couldn’t stop himself from thinking about who was listening.

As he continued to play, he realized it was Maestro Ormandy. Hollander started to question in his mind how he was playing – criticizing his left hand, his articulation, his tempo – all while continuing to play more rigidly and less musically. As the voices got louder and louder in his head, he turned to his audience of one and shouted, “I’m sorry, Maestro. I’m not sure I like the way I’m playing right now.” There was no response.

Hollander stood up, and as he continued making excuses under his breath, as if in conversation with the Maestro, he walked down into the audience towards the back row. As he got closer and closer, he realized that there was no one actually there. Instead, there was simply a hat left on one of the seats from the night before. His mind had fabricated the rest of the person.

Hollander’s point in telling this story was to help the workshop of young musicians to recognize themselves as their worst critics. His point wasn’t to “unlearn” being critical, or to *not* listen to one’s self with critical ears, but instead to limit how those voices affect one’s perception of both the music and in this case, an entire conversation with a hat!

A former teacher of mine often used the analogy of trying to repair a roller coaster *while* on the ride. Impossible, right? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a mechanic reaching outside the coaster box as it speeds down the track to fix a screw or repair the rails. Of course we need to listen (actively) while something is happening, and this is particularly tricky if *we* are the ones making the music, but criticism, evaluation, and analysis need to happen before and after, not during.

As artists, our perceptions of others are often the result of how we perceive ourselves. A healthy balance of critical listening and devil-may-care performing is a great recipe for meaningful communication.

Assume Less

by John Goodell

Marilyn had just turned 70 and had been in the choir for over 30 years. As rehearsal ended, she approached me slowly at the piano, and with her music shaking in her hands (her balance was becoming ever unpredictable) she looked at me and said, “Can’t you just email us with rehearsal information for next week?”

I was somewhat stunned. Email us? Marilyn had email? Yikes – so much for knowing my audience.

This short conversation (in 2003) after an average Thursday night rehearsal was essentially the start of ChurchPost.com. It was also the start of my passion for listening more before doing anything (let alone MORE).

Assumptions fuel the fire of irrelevance – the more you think you know, the less you are listening. Stop whatever you are doing RIGHT NOW and sit down with someone who actually knows what they are talking about (i.e. someone who needs your service). Ask them a question or two and let them talk. Do not interrupt.

P.S. The fastest growing demographic for Facebook and other social media in 2010: Those age 50 and over (Pew Research Center’s Internet & American Life Project)

Fortunately…

The man with the hat in the back of the room

Assume Less

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