dizzy

I think one of the things that can hinder us from productivity is the internet. Tumblr, emails, blogs, google, twitter, facebook and all those other social networks.

 That we can find, see or say anything in a flurry of text and a click of a button - it scatters us. It makes us impatient. And, I believe, it makes us numb. 

Scrolling through tumblr blogs has trained my eyes to flicker lickety-split over the beautiful photographs. I fly through a blur of colour and creativity until something captures my eye. In barely a second I size the photo up. Does it have that special something? Is it interesting enough? Is it me? If so, a click or two and it appears on my blog. If not, I'm back - skimming through the pages of exquisite beauty.

Someone has taken each one of those photographs. Every one is unique, special and so lovely. Yet "I don't have time", I tell myself, to look closely at each one. To notice the details. Admire the composition and light. To imagine the stories that lie behind. 

Yes. Life is short. Time is precious. And this is why we can't afford to whiz through it all, dull our senses by demanding the best, seeking the perfect. 

We seem to thirst after perfection. Spend our lives chasing after it. Look on anything that isn't perfect as useless, or ugly. We're becoming almost Nazi-like in our outlook on life. Selecting the best out of the mass, adding it to our collection - discarding the rest. Don't we do that with people too, sometimes?

Are they interesting? Smart? Funny? Creative? Do they 'click'?
Yes?
In they go to our exclusive group of friends. Someone who we would be happy to share our time, money and love with. What if they don't suit our standards? We drop them. Let them go. Keep searching. 

Abortion is another example of this relentless hunt for flawlessness and our stinginess with what we have to give. Tens of thousands of lives are being wiped out around the world each day. 

Each one full of potential. He could have made his grandfather laugh. She could have written a song that touched the hearts of thousands. His dad could have taught him cricket in the backyard. He could have saved a life. 

But those precious lives are cut short before they even have a chance. 

Why?

Not enough money. Not enough time. Not enough love. Or, sometimes, it's just not what was wanted. She was a girl. They wanted a boy.

We are spinning faster and faster, spiralling out of control. Busy, stressed, instant, easy, quick....' I've noticed these words more and more lately. In advertisements for wrinkle cream. On soup packets. On billboards along the highway. In book titles. People want it perfect, and they want it pronto. 

Slow down. Look closer. Marvel in the details.

'How has practice been this week?'

I'm unwinding my bow, watching the snowy hairs lose their tautness until they are perfectly relaxed. I slide it into its case and pick up my violin.

'Good.' 

My teacher looked up, waiting. 'But?'

I slowly rubbed the tiny flecks of sparkling resin from the warm, honeyed wood of my violin.

'I just don't feel...creative, or something. I can't feel the music. I'm playing this beautiful Beethoven Romance and it's just...I don't know. Blank?'

She takes off her glasses, her blue eyes wise and pondering. She leans back in her chair.

'With art, you can't always feel creative. Impossible! The feeling part - that will come. In the meantime, don't wait around for inspiration to come to you. Revel in the miracle of each note. The wonder that, by drawing the bow across the string you create sound. Beautiful sound. Feel the pleasure of your fingertips pressing into the steel. The very bones of violin playing.'

On my way home, I pondered that thought - gazing out the window at the autumnal sunset. 

'Marvel at the miracle of each note. The wonder that, by drawing the bow across the string you create sound. Beautiful sound.' And by adding notes, high, low, dark or light, slow and brooding or skittering merrily after each other, lightning fast - all these fitted together make up an exquisite melody. Music.

The next day I am up at dawn to practice. Tiny wrens flit from branch to branch outside my window, and I hear a magpie warbling lustily somewhere in the garden. Do birds wait around for inspiration to sing?

I open my case, gently lift the instrument from its velvet bed, the cool wood familiar against my skin. Just play. Fingers poised on the strings. I start to play, releasing the first pure line of a Bach Partita into the clear silence of the morning. Just at that moment, the sun slipped its radiant head from the clouds and a beam of warm light filtered through the window, resting on my violin and making it glow.

I smile. 

Inspiration.

creating an atmosphere

image via lucette.tumbr.com

It's a stormy afternoon here - trees are tossing wildly about in the wind, rain is streaming down the window panes and the view from our house is shrouded in a grey mist. Inside though, all is warmth and cosiness with Chopin piano Nocturnes and a hot pot of tea and warm apple cake by my side.

I love creating atmospheres. Recently, I had two friends come up and stay for the weekend. We had planned for bonfires and camping, but it poured rain for the whole time. Instead of tents, we slept in the cubby house up at the top of our garden. It could have been musty and cold and miserable - but after a quick sweep and tidy, we lugged up armfuls of blankets and pillows, set about dozens of jam jar lanterns and made a thermos of hot cocoa. In no time at all, the atmosphere had been completely changed. As the rain beat down on the roof, we sat inside - woollen blankets about our shoulders, steaming mugs of cocoa warming our hands, and the candles casting a beautiful flickering glow around the room. The time we spent up in that cubby - huddled together and chatting until the early morning hours - will always be a precious memory.

For me, the things that really make an atmosphere are the people, music and the actual setting. Whenever it's my turn to make dinner, I usually begin by tidying up the house to make a clean canvas. When things are messy and cluttered, it makes my mind feel messy and cluttered too. There is something so peaceful and welcoming about a tidy home. Next, I like to pretty things up a bit. A jug of flowers from the garden, a candle or two, turn the lamps on and set the table. Then the music - usually jazz for the evening. Ella Fitzgerald is one of my favorites.  By the time dinner is on the table, the atmosphere is complete. Instead of an ordinary dinnertime we have a family feast with delicious food, good conversation and beautiful music.

What are the things that make an atmosphere for you? Do tell!

P.S. I have made a tumblr blog - the beautiful is as useful as the useful

on words...

I love words! Here are some of my favourites:

conversation

marvelous

glow

sweet

dear

darling

ducky

quaint

bookish

dreamy

shimmer

inevitable

motherly

lovely

hope

illustrious

luminous

rustle

intelligent

dedicated

ambition

success

posy

petal

scent

music

warm

bouquet

elusive

friendship

solitude

classy

unruffled

reflection

suave

bright

float

clink

splash

charming

delightful

jaunt

explore

cloud

flit

billow

listless

Just reading through them makes me happy!

 Do you have any favourite words?