[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This isn’t going to be a long post today. I feel a bit thrown by daylight savings, to tell you the truth. I love the light-in-the-evening thing, but it makes it really very hard to get up in the early morning to practise at the moment. I’m sitting typing this feeling slightly jet-lagged, and drinking umpteen cups of tea.

The other day I got sent an email that was anti-Muslim. One of those forwarded things. First off, the facts were wrong (and when I pointed this put to the person who sent it to me, they copped it on the chin, and corrected themselves. Good on them.) – but its not the first time this has happened. I then went to have a bit of a surf around the internet, and I found all sorts of hateful things – anti-Christian, anti-Catholic, anti-Aboriginal, anti-right wing, anti-gay, anti-open-minded….. it’s all out there. It’s horrible, actually.

I spend so long teaching children not to see differences. So does every other teacher I know. It doesn’t matter the skin-colour/ height / freckles / religion / clothes (insert what you want here) of the person next to you. They are your friend. They are kind, like you. They need kindness, like you. The Timorese say “We all eat from the same bowl of rice.”

All children I see are taught this in primary school. When does it change? And actually, why does it have to change?[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Most of my music lessons I plan – and also can pretty much tell you the outcome of what will happen (unless there’s something really odd happening, and the kids are really hard work). I’ll be able to tell you which kids will struggle, which of them will be able to do most of the lesson etc. I make it my business to watch things very carefully, although it might look like I’m just horsing around up the front (someone once said to me after a day teaching Early Childhood Lessons ‘Rachel, I don’t know why you are so tired. You’re really just rolling around on the floor with children….’. I’m not sure whether to take this as a total insult (you are doing nothing with these kids), or a compliment (you make this look so easy) – who knows.).

But every so often, I’ll plan something for a class that is actually really hard. I’m not sure how most of the kids will cope. And these lessons start like this….

“So….. year four. I’m going to teach you something I don’t think you’ll be able to do.” Children start grinning.

“I think I’ve chosen the wrong thing. I think this is too hard for you. If you are sitting next to someone you are going to be distracted by, could you move now.” Children continue to grin. A few kids will get up and move, and nearly always make good choices about where they will sit.

“OK. Here we go….. this will probably be too difficult, but let’s give it a try.”

And do you know what? These lessons have always worked. Kids try their damnedest. They all concentrate. They all achieve. And they all go out of the music lesson feeling really good about what they’ve done.

Would adults do that, I wonder? If you were told that something was too hard for you, would you throw yourself into it? I think most of us would say no. We’d walk away. So when does this change? When do we stop grinning at a challenge, and when do we start only staying in our comfort zone?[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]On the weekend, I read an excellent article in the ‘Good Weekend’ (It’s here, if you are interested.) It came at a timely point for me, as I’m reading B.K.S. Iyengar’s ‘Light on Life’ for a yoga course I’m taking. Last week I read a paragraph where he was talking about not letting your own truth be anyone else’s.

This is hard for me. I feel like there are so many things that everyone should agree with me on (like being allowed to end a sentence with a preposition, for one.). Like music education should be taught well, by people who know what they are doing, and compulsory in every school. That creative artists should be paid properly. That there shouldn’t be a big divide between people who can pay for education and who can’t. That teachers and nurses should be better paid. That more money in my tax dollar should be spent on education, rather than defence. That politicians should behave like responsible adults in parliament and be responsible for their own actions (and actually represent the people who voted them in… but don’t get me started.)

But I have to learn to actually let people have other viewpoints. Don’t think I’ve just rolled over and played dead here. The backbone has not left this ranga yet. I will not agree with you. I will judge you for what you say. (Yes – I judge. We all judge, although we’re not meant to admit it. But I will judge you and see if I need to change my actions. You can do what you want, as long as you don’t hurt me.) But I will not get angry with you. Or at least, I will try not to. Because that makes me no better than the people I judge and find lacking.

I think this will be easier to do when I’ve not had any wine.

I’ll let you know how I go with this.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Here’s an interesting thought….. It’s been shown, time and time again that creativity is affected by how much ‘space’ we give our brains. You must have experienced this – you’ve come back from a holiday, and come up with a really good idea, or gone for a big walk and had a solution to a problem that you’d puzzled over. If we stop doing stuff, our creativity can bubble up to the surface.

I’m not just talking about playing music, or creating art – but creative solutions to problems, or great lesson plans, or even a really good present for someone.

And yet we don’t stop. We don’t let our kids stop. We just keep going, keep stimulating. We play games on our phones instead of watching the world go by. We don’t gaze out the window. Instead of just sitting and drinking a cup of tea, we read, or check email as well.

I am bad at this…. in fact, I am terrible. I find it really hard to stop. But lately I have been experimenting on myself. I have been having a cup of tea and sitting and doing nothing. I have been gazing out the window at times. I have lay in bed, not reading or listening to music, but just been there, in the moment.

And you know what? I think my cello playing is improving. (Well, it’s getting a bit wackier. And more spacious. I like it, actually.) These two things could be unrelated, but I don’t think they are.

So here’s a challenge for you. Try it. Don’t worship your phone all the time. Look at the sky. Don’t read and drink tea (or coffee, or wine, or cider, or whatever) – just drink. I think you’ll feel better for it, you know. And probably more creative.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I would like to start this post by saying that I really hate sport. I don’t play it. I don’t watch it. I don’t really understand why people do. I see the benefits that it gives you, and the way it encourages working with others – but its not really my cup of tea. I have never been great at playing with others, as most of my school reports will attest, and I just can’t really see the point of running after a ball with others in some kind of short covering on my bottom half.

My one-and-only time I was put on a netball court shows what sort of a sportsperson I am. I was tall, so was put near the goal-thing. I was told that some other player would come up with a ball, and try and get it in the hoop. My job was to stop her. Those were my instructions. So I was left in some silly brightly-coloured top thing, and the game starts. Sure enough, someone came up with the ball, and looked like she was going to throw it in the hoop-thing. Just as she was about to, I stamped on her foot. Job done, I figured.

But no. That wasn’t the right thing to do. I wasn’t meant to touch her, apparently. This had been left out of my instructions. I was sent off. I think it was meant to be in disgrace. I was just relieved, actually. Needless to say, netball and I aren’t great friends.

So it came as a great surprise to me how much I liked yoga. I now go to this excellent studio just around the corner from me. I love it. I’ve learnt a great deal about my body, and the teaching is really fabulous. (Most teachers appreciate good teaching when they see it – and I am no exception here.) This year, I’ve embarked on an in-depth course at the centre. It started last month, and will go until the middle of next year. And I decided that if I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it as best as I could. So I’m also going to a few scary weekly classes, where I feel totally out-of-my-depth. My comfort zone and I do not meet at any point in these classes. I decided that I would try everything to the best of my physical ability, and do it with a smile on my face, if I could.

Well, yesterday I was tested. I was asked to balance on my forearms and kick up backwards onto a chair and hold myself there. This, basically. It involved me supporting all my not-inconsiderable weight on my not-very-strong-yet arms, and doing a big backbend onto something I couldn’t really see. I know I am prone to exaggeration. But this next sentence is not. I was terrified. My whole body started shaking. I do not do physical stuff like this. I play the cello and teach music. This crazy stuff is not something I do, or have ever done.

The teacher (who has totally sussed me out) came over. ‘I will help you kick up’ he said. ‘I am frightened.’ I said (Big believer in admitting to fright.). ‘I will help you’ he repeated. ‘Get ready.’

Now, I’m writing this at my desk, so you’ll surmise that I survived this crazy pose. Actually, I did it twice. And the second time I didn’t shake. And it got me realising how many times I think I can’t do something, and yet actually, I could. And here’s another interesting thing – my cello playing has gotten very free and risk-takey (ok – not a word, but you get it).

So if you’ve made it to the end of this post (does anyone?) – here’s my thought for the day. Do something that frightens you today. Don’t be crazy about it, like jump off a cliff, or something like that – but do something that you don’t normally do. And then see what else happens. Did anything else change? It’s a good experiment, I think.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]