I don't think I handle the notes much differently from other pianists. But the pauses between the notes - ah, there is where the artistry lies!! (Artur Schnabel)
At this point in my life, I am one of those very fortunate people who can say that I really love my work, that I love everything I do and wouldn’t trade them with anything in the world. I’ve found my bliss and even if I win a million-dollar lottery today, I would still do what I do now. I can say that I have a good balance between teaching and doing music development projects for community, while doing little this and that which could add to my saving. I love my job very much. I didn’t realize that I love it too much that it’s starting to kill me now.
For a particular reason, I said to myself at the beginning of this year that I will take things slowly and focus on important things like educational projects only. But lo and behold! I didn’t see them coming, but one thing leads to another and before I know, I got my hands full, my neck sore, and my brain craving for sleep every single day. And I really haven’t find time to comprehend the situation since all I do every day is teaching up to 8 pm, finishing all paperworks for my projects (which never seem to end!), and now I’ve got a book to translate while squeezing time so I can practice Haydn D-major Concerto (what was I thinking when I said yes to the offer of playing with an orchestra????). There’s simply no time to comprehend. And because I am actually a natural born idler, burning the candle at both ends isn’t really my thing.
First of all, it’s messing my brain circuit. I’ve got maybe 4-5 tracks in my brain right now where all my tasks are put neatly. On normal workload condition, these tasks go on their own time and they get to the finish line on time, safe and sound. At the moment, those tasks are racing with each other and taking other people’s track and bumping and cutting and doing disastrous things. I could be thinking of people to call and places to go to while translating the book, or in the middle of an e-mail, I can suddenly leap to my bookshelf to find concert piece for my student. I’m starting to guess that the piles of paper in my desk waiting to be sorted is the result of my scattered brain.
Second of all, it’s messing my mood, and people who suffer the most from this are usually my poor, lazy, silly students. Music teachers all over the world today must deal with kids who stay too long in school, have too many extracurricular activities and Facebook accounts so they simply have no time to practice. I’ve got these problems too. On shiny days I can get angry at them for not wanting to try to spend 10-15 minutes of their precious 24 hours every day for the sake of their own progress (and my happiness) while still instilling a bit humour in my sarcastic remarks about their being indolent and not-so-intelligent. But on rainy days, it’s hard to maintain a funny side and the more likely occurrence is that I send them home (or more precisely kicking them off my class) and tell them that this is the last time I want to see their lethargic ass in my class again (don’t’ worry, they always come back). I really would do this differently, but it’s really hard especially if, during their stumbling and struggling with notes and rhythms, I keep on saying to myself, “shit, why should I waste time hearing this nonsense? I have 200 pages more to translate!”
Now after doing some contemplation, I think what’s not so good about working too much is that I’m not connected with my core self, with my spirituality, with things I love to do for myself. Lately I always pray in a hurry, I hardly listen to music, I’m always too tired to read even one poem before bed and worse I don’t read any book at all, I don’t write regularly in my journal and my gratitude book, and I don’t even sleep for a long time anymore! For people like me, who finds joy in laying in bed all day while reading poetry, not being connected with those things means not having my soul recharged. And essentially, it’s very simple for me. My contentment doesn’t depend on having a lot of clothes or shoes or bags, I don’t have to recharge my soul in Bali or wherever, all I need is good music, good book and sometimes even only good friends to have good conversation with.
As Schnabel said, the art of life lays in those quiet moments which we, from time to time, must use to breath. It’s just as important as all the notes we play. So the next question is: should I start Dicken’s Pickwick Papers or Byron’s poems?
At this point in my life, I am one of those very fortunate people who can say that I really love my work, that I love everything I do and wouldn’t trade them with anything in the world. I’ve found my bliss and even if I win a million-dollar lottery today, I would still do what I do now. I can say that I have a good balance between teaching and doing music development projects for community, while doing little this and that which could add to my saving. I love my job very much. I didn’t realize that I love it too much that it’s starting to kill me now.
For a particular reason, I said to myself at the beginning of this year that I will take things slowly and focus on important things like educational projects only. But lo and behold! I didn’t see them coming, but one thing leads to another and before I know, I got my hands full, my neck sore, and my brain craving for sleep every single day. And I really haven’t find time to comprehend the situation since all I do every day is teaching up to 8 pm, finishing all paperworks for my projects (which never seem to end!), and now I’ve got a book to translate while squeezing time so I can practice Haydn D-major Concerto (what was I thinking when I said yes to the offer of playing with an orchestra????). There’s simply no time to comprehend. And because I am actually a natural born idler, burning the candle at both ends isn’t really my thing.
First of all, it’s messing my brain circuit. I’ve got maybe 4-5 tracks in my brain right now where all my tasks are put neatly. On normal workload condition, these tasks go on their own time and they get to the finish line on time, safe and sound. At the moment, those tasks are racing with each other and taking other people’s track and bumping and cutting and doing disastrous things. I could be thinking of people to call and places to go to while translating the book, or in the middle of an e-mail, I can suddenly leap to my bookshelf to find concert piece for my student. I’m starting to guess that the piles of paper in my desk waiting to be sorted is the result of my scattered brain.
Second of all, it’s messing my mood, and people who suffer the most from this are usually my poor, lazy, silly students. Music teachers all over the world today must deal with kids who stay too long in school, have too many extracurricular activities and Facebook accounts so they simply have no time to practice. I’ve got these problems too. On shiny days I can get angry at them for not wanting to try to spend 10-15 minutes of their precious 24 hours every day for the sake of their own progress (and my happiness) while still instilling a bit humour in my sarcastic remarks about their being indolent and not-so-intelligent. But on rainy days, it’s hard to maintain a funny side and the more likely occurrence is that I send them home (or more precisely kicking them off my class) and tell them that this is the last time I want to see their lethargic ass in my class again (don’t’ worry, they always come back). I really would do this differently, but it’s really hard especially if, during their stumbling and struggling with notes and rhythms, I keep on saying to myself, “shit, why should I waste time hearing this nonsense? I have 200 pages more to translate!”
Now after doing some contemplation, I think what’s not so good about working too much is that I’m not connected with my core self, with my spirituality, with things I love to do for myself. Lately I always pray in a hurry, I hardly listen to music, I’m always too tired to read even one poem before bed and worse I don’t read any book at all, I don’t write regularly in my journal and my gratitude book, and I don’t even sleep for a long time anymore! For people like me, who finds joy in laying in bed all day while reading poetry, not being connected with those things means not having my soul recharged. And essentially, it’s very simple for me. My contentment doesn’t depend on having a lot of clothes or shoes or bags, I don’t have to recharge my soul in Bali or wherever, all I need is good music, good book and sometimes even only good friends to have good conversation with.
As Schnabel said, the art of life lays in those quiet moments which we, from time to time, must use to breath. It’s just as important as all the notes we play. So the next question is: should I start Dicken’s Pickwick Papers or Byron’s poems?
