Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx. 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.
4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk..
6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.
45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theatre in Boston where the seats averaged $100.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. The questions raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
___________________________________________
I’d like to ask you - If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made.... How many other things are we missing?
We ask our people to notice hazards and report things that are unsafe, yet everyday we miss some of the simple things. How do we change the way we get people to look at things, how do we change the way we look at things.? Whether it’s safety or any other part of our life as the day passes us by. What do you perceive?
Anonymous
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
THE HEART
The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched…… but are felt in the heart . HELEN KELLER
My wife and I separated in late December and, as you might expect, I had a very difficult January. During a therapy session to help me handle the emotional turmoil stirred up by the split, I asked my therapist to help me by giving something that can help me in my new life. I had no idea whether she would agree and, if she did, I had no idea what she might offer.
I was happy that she immediately did agree and, as I expected, she gave me something totally unexpected ! She handed me a heart a small handmade Play-Don® heart, brightly and lovingly painted. It had been given to her by a previous male client who had also gone through a divorce and who like myself, had difficulty accessing his feelings. She added this was not for me to keep, but only to hold onto until I got my own heart. Then I must return it to her. I understood that she was giving me a physical heart as visual goal or as some kind of material representation of my own quest for a richer emotional life. I accepted it with anticipation of deeper emotional connections to come.
Little did I realize how quickly that wonderful gift would actually start to work.
After the session, I placed the heart carefully on the dash of my car and drove excitedly to pick up daughter Juli-Ann, for this was the first night that she would be sleeping over at my new home. As she got into the car, she was immediately drawn to the heart, picking it up, examining it and asking me what it was. I was unsure whether I should explain the full psychological background because, after all, she was still a child. But I decided that I would tell her.
“It’s a present from therapist to help me through this difficult time and it is not for me to keep, but only to have it till I get my own heart,” I explained. Juli-Ann made no comment. I wondered again if I should have told her. At 11 years old, could she understand? What possible idea could she have of the huge chasm I was attempting to bridge to break my old patterns and develop deeper, richer loving connections with people?
Weeks later, when my daughter was again at my home, she handed me Valentine’s Day present early : a small box that she had painted red, tied daintily with a gold band, topped by a chocolate that we shared. With anticipation, I reached into the pretty little box. To my surprise I pulled out a Play-Don® heart that she had made for me and painted. I looked quizzically at her, wondering what it meant. Why was she giving me a replica of what my therapist had given me ?
Then she slowly handed me a card she had made. She was embarrassed by the card but then finally allowed me to open it and read it. It was a poem far beyond her years. She had understood totally the meaning of the gift from my therapist. Juli-Ann had written me the most touching and loving poem I have ever read. Tears flooded my eyes and my heart burst open.
For My Dad
Here is a heart
For you to keep
For the big leap
You’re trying to take
Have fun on your journey
It might be blurry.
But you get there,
Learn to care.
Happy Valentine’s Day
Love,Your Daughter, Juli-Ann
Above all my material wealth, I count this poem as my most sacred treasure.
Raymond L Aaron
My wife and I separated in late December and, as you might expect, I had a very difficult January. During a therapy session to help me handle the emotional turmoil stirred up by the split, I asked my therapist to help me by giving something that can help me in my new life. I had no idea whether she would agree and, if she did, I had no idea what she might offer.
I was happy that she immediately did agree and, as I expected, she gave me something totally unexpected ! She handed me a heart a small handmade Play-Don® heart, brightly and lovingly painted. It had been given to her by a previous male client who had also gone through a divorce and who like myself, had difficulty accessing his feelings. She added this was not for me to keep, but only to hold onto until I got my own heart. Then I must return it to her. I understood that she was giving me a physical heart as visual goal or as some kind of material representation of my own quest for a richer emotional life. I accepted it with anticipation of deeper emotional connections to come.
Little did I realize how quickly that wonderful gift would actually start to work.
After the session, I placed the heart carefully on the dash of my car and drove excitedly to pick up daughter Juli-Ann, for this was the first night that she would be sleeping over at my new home. As she got into the car, she was immediately drawn to the heart, picking it up, examining it and asking me what it was. I was unsure whether I should explain the full psychological background because, after all, she was still a child. But I decided that I would tell her.
“It’s a present from therapist to help me through this difficult time and it is not for me to keep, but only to have it till I get my own heart,” I explained. Juli-Ann made no comment. I wondered again if I should have told her. At 11 years old, could she understand? What possible idea could she have of the huge chasm I was attempting to bridge to break my old patterns and develop deeper, richer loving connections with people?
Weeks later, when my daughter was again at my home, she handed me Valentine’s Day present early : a small box that she had painted red, tied daintily with a gold band, topped by a chocolate that we shared. With anticipation, I reached into the pretty little box. To my surprise I pulled out a Play-Don® heart that she had made for me and painted. I looked quizzically at her, wondering what it meant. Why was she giving me a replica of what my therapist had given me ?
Then she slowly handed me a card she had made. She was embarrassed by the card but then finally allowed me to open it and read it. It was a poem far beyond her years. She had understood totally the meaning of the gift from my therapist. Juli-Ann had written me the most touching and loving poem I have ever read. Tears flooded my eyes and my heart burst open.
For My Dad
Here is a heart
For you to keep
For the big leap
You’re trying to take
Have fun on your journey
It might be blurry.
But you get there,
Learn to care.
Happy Valentine’s Day
Love,Your Daughter, Juli-Ann
Above all my material wealth, I count this poem as my most sacred treasure.
Raymond L Aaron
Thursday, June 3, 2010
CIRCUS
That best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of twelve. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. there clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well behaved, all of them standing in a line, two by two behind their parents, holding hands.They were excited jabbering about the clowns, elephants and other acts they would see that night. One could see that they had never been to a circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives.
The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in the shinning Armour". He was smiling and basking in pride, looking at her as if to reply, "You got that right".
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded,"Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so i can take my family to the circus."
The ticket lady quoted the price.
The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, the man's lips began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?"
The ticket lady again quoted the price.
The man didn't have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?
Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (we were not wealthy in any sense of word!) My father reached down picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, Sir, this fell out of your pocket."
The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied,"Thank you, thank you, Sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.
DAN CLARK
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of twelve. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. there clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well behaved, all of them standing in a line, two by two behind their parents, holding hands.They were excited jabbering about the clowns, elephants and other acts they would see that night. One could see that they had never been to a circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives.
The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in the shinning Armour". He was smiling and basking in pride, looking at her as if to reply, "You got that right".
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded,"Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so i can take my family to the circus."
The ticket lady quoted the price.
The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, the man's lips began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?"
The ticket lady again quoted the price.
The man didn't have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?
Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (we were not wealthy in any sense of word!) My father reached down picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, Sir, this fell out of your pocket."
The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied,"Thank you, thank you, Sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.
DAN CLARK
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