The Art Of Possibility

I recently came across a book that had been on one of my shelves for months. The title jumped at me, perhaps with even more insistence than when I originally purchased it. When the student is ready, they say. It evoked the very sentiment I aspire to entertain at this time: The Art Of Possibility.

book - the art of possibility

I have a vague memory of picking out this book from a yard sale table, but it is so faint that I cannot be certain this is what happened. Come to think of it, I have no idea where it comes from, and this makes it all the more powerful. How many times do we stumble upon the exact words or object we need at the time? Serendipity itself is a sweet possibility in the midst of the human experience.

It was first published in 2002 by Benjamin Zander, conductor of the Boston Philharmonic and music teacher, and wife Rosamund Stone Zander, a private family therapist and expert in personal and professional fulfillment.

A passage I read yesterday resonates with me, profoundly. It conveys the powerful insight the two authors bring to light in their effort to shift our perception in a world that struggles with perfection, competition, and public image.

The use of musicians and music in their examples is especially fitting. It brings to mind our relationship to others and the possibility of finding harmony in the midst of discord, even, and especially, personal discord. By personal discord I mean the frequent conflicts we experience between who we are and who we truly wish to be.

They write, “It is dangerous to have our musicians so obsessed with competition because they will find it difficult to take the necessary risks with themselves to be great performers… it is only when we make mistakes in performance that we can really begin to notice what needs attention. In fact, I actively train my students that when they make a mistake, they are to lift their arms in the air, smile and say, ‘How fascinating!’ I recommend that everyone try this.” 

And I highly recommend this book if you happen to be in the process of redefining yourself.

Laundry Day

15 more minutes of this. Can I make it with a straight face, or without watching my mood swing dangerously down the slope to utter irritability.

The music was nice enough, in an odd way. When I arrived, around 7 am, one of the usual  Saturday characters sat outside with a mini speaker blasting a Bluegrass violin tune. It was nice. Reminded me of the yearly New World Fest, in Randolph, which had been on my mind that very morning. I had missed the event two years in a row now. I smiled.

Now, in he came to fold, speaker blasting at his side, some old style country western voice barking a musical tale. It was pleasant, I thought, but I also felt I had suddenly entered a slapstick humor show. The man sang along. He was happy, allowing his weekend chore to wash over him musically. No harm in that. And I smiled again.

I smiled because this nudged me out of my comfort zone. It nudged me out of the quiet, reserved, suburban girl persona. Something in me wanted this girl to crank out her neck like a turtle coming out of its shell with a big, satisfied, knowing grin on its face.

What I knew, in that instant, was that I had misplaced my playfulness; traded it for the daily dramas at work, and for blind adherence to routine and personal rules of etiquette. 

And now, I drive straight to work with this country soul ear worm stuck in my head. I have no reason to frown today. I have reason to be thankful to the man who brought his easy-going Sunday morning self along for the laundry chore.