Fascinating Bordom
When I was a ten-year-old, I once confessed to my Dad, ” School is boring.”
He said, “What?” – acting as though he hadn’t heard me. So I repeated, “School is boring!”
His eyebrows rose with a concerned and slow “I see.” With his hand on his chin, he stared into space for a moment, and then as if struck by a meteor from inner space, he suddenly shot back, “How many kids in your class?”
“About 30.”
“And how old are they?”
“They’re ten, like me.”
“Thirty kids, all ten years old – wow!” and he stared into space as if some miracle had happened.
“What?” I begged. I couldn’t imagine what was so magical about 30 ten-years-olds.
“Well,” he said, pausing just long enough to make sure I was interested, “30 kids, each ten years old, that makes 300 years total. Three hundred years worth of living, in the same room, at the same time. Each person so different, with thoughts and beliefs and ideas. I mean, just trying to imagine what each one had for breakfast is amazing! Or what each one is thinking at any moment! Imagine if thoughts could be heard, wow, you could hear thirty thoughts at the same time! I wonder what secrets they all have. I wonder what they dream at night?”
At the ripe old age of ten I’d had ten years experience living with my Dad. So I already knew he was a little different from other Dads. My response was to roll my eyes and walk away.
But the next day in school, I couldn’t keep from from wondering what all my classmates had for breakfast, what they had dreamed about the night before, what made them the way they were, and what they were thinking about when the teacher was talking. School didn’t change, but my perspective and behavior did. Suddenly going to school was more like going to the zoo. Everything became fascinating.
Category: Other
A child is told to keep clear of the cellar door and above all never to open it because what is behind is frightening and dangerous. When she is a bit older and her parents are elsewhere she decides to open the door and look for herself. She is scared but determined to be brave and as the door opens she sees….green fields, other children playing and the sun shining.
Dr. Erickson describes handling an incident with his son Robert to illustrated how to deal with children in pain. Robert fell down the back stairs, split his lip, and knocked his upper tooth back into the maxilla. He was bleeding and screaming with pain and fright. His parents rushed to him and saw that it was an emergency. Dr. Erickson writes,
“No effort was made to pick him up. Instead, as he paused for breath for fresh screaming, he was told quickly, simply, sympathetically and emphatically, ‘That hurts awful, Robert. That hurts terrible.’
“Right then, without any doubt, my son knew that I knew what I was talking about. He could agree with me and he knew I was agreeing with him completely. Therefore he could listen respectfully to me, because I had demonstrated that I understood the situation fully.”
‘Then I told Robert, ‘And it will keep right on hurting.’ In this simple statement, I named his own fear, confirmed his own judgment of the situation, demonstrated my good intelligent grasp of the entire matter and my entire agreement with him, since right then he could foresee a lifetime of anguish and pain for himself.
“The next step for him and for me was to declare, as he took another breath, ‘And you really wish it would stop hurting.’ Again, we were in full agreement and he was ratified and even encouraged in this wish. And it was his wish, deriving entirely from within him and constituting his own urgent need.
‘With the situation so defined, I could then offer a suggestion with some certainty of its acceptance. This suggestion was, ‘Maybe it will stop hurting in a little while, in just a minute or two.’
“This was a suggestion in full accord with his own needs and wishes and, because it was qualified by ‘maybe it will,’ it was not in contradiction to his own understandings of the situation. Thus he could accept the idea and initiate his response to it.”
Dr. Erickson then shifted to another important matter. As he puts it:
“Robert knew that he hurt, that he was a damaged person; he could see his blood upon the pavement, taste it in his mouth and see it on his hands. And yet, like all other human beings, he too could desire narcissistic distinction in his misfortune, along with the desire even more for narcissistic comfort. Nobody wants a picayune headache: since a headache must be endured, let it be so colossal that only the sufferer could endure it. Human pride is so curiously good and comforting! Therefore, Robert’s attention was doubly directed to two vital issues of comprehensible importance to him by the simple statements, ‘That’s an awful lot of blood on the pavement. Is it good, red, strong blood? Look carefully, Mother, and see. I think it is, but I want you to be sure.’ ”
Examination proved it to be good strong blood, but it was necessary to verify this by examination of it against the white background of the bathroom sink. In this way the boy, who had ceased crying in pain and fright, was cleaned up. When he went to the doctor for stitches the question was whether he would get as many as his sister had once been given. The suturing was done without anesthetic on a boy who was an interested participant in the procedure.
Once long ago, the Hodja stood in his pulpit and looked out at his congregation. They were filing slowly into the mosque, ready for prayer and wisdom. The Hodja shook his head in wonder as he watched them. He wondered why they seemed so eager to hear his words.
As the congregation settled down, all eyes turned to face the Hodja.
He looked at his people and said, ”True believers! I ask you, tell me please if what I am about to say to you, you know already.”
The congregation was silent, for they were not certain they had understood the Hodja’s question. At last they stood and answered, altogether, ”We do not know what you are about to say to us. It is impossible for us to know.”
The Hodja sighed. ”Ahh, then, what is the use? What use would it be for me to speak of a subject unknown to you and unknown to me?” And with these words, the Hodja descended from the pulpit and walked out of the mosque.
The congregation sat for a long while, thinking over the Hodja’s words of wisdom. They offered their prayers and then rose and returned to their homes. The whole week long, they spoke of little else but the Hodja’s words.
The next week, the congregation was larger than it had been the week before. Everyone wanted to hear what the Hodja had to say, for word had spread of his wisdom. Again the Hodja watched his congregants enter the mosque. He could see the anticipation in their faces and in the way they walked quickly to their places.
The mosque was nearly full. The congregation looked up at the pulpit and the Hodja began. ”True believers, tell me, and tell me truly, if what I am about to say to you, you already know.”
This time the congregation was ready for the Hodja’s question. They wished with all their hearts to hear the Hodja’s words, and so, without hesitation, they rose and called out as one, ”Yes, Hodja, we know what you are going to say to us.”
The Hodja sighed deeply. He raised his head high. ”Then there is no use in my wasting precious hours in speaking to you. There is, you will agree, true believers, no sense in telling you that which you know already.”
Once again the Hodja descended from the pulpit and walked out of the mosque. The congregants offered their prayers and looked around at one another. Every congregant had questions in his heart and on his lips. Still, all remained silent for a long time. At last they rose and returned to their homes.
The whole week long people spoke of little but the Hodja’s words.
The following week, the Hodja stood again in his place. This time the mosque was overflowing. The air inside was thick and hot with anticipation.
”Oh, true believers,” the Hodja began, ”I ask you to tell me, and tell me truly, if what I am about to say, you already know.”
Everyone in the congregation had rehearsed for this moment. When the Hodja stopped speaking, half the people rose. ”Yes, Hodja,” they called, ”we know what you are going to say to us.” And then they sat and the other half of the people stood and said, ”Hodja, how could we ignorant people know what you would say to us? It is you who are wise.”
The Hodja looked solemnly out at the people. He looked at the first group — the people who knew what he was going to say. He sighed. He looked at the second group — the people who had called themselves ignorant. He sighed more deeply still.
”A fine answer, my people,” the Hodja said softly. ”And now I know precisely how to help each and every one of you. Listen closely, true believers.”
Everyone leaned forward.
”The half of the congregation who knows what I am going to say will now tell the other half exactly what that is. For this you have my blessing.”
With that the Hodja nodded solemnly and descended the pulpit. Slowly he made his way out of the mosque.
Afterward the people spoke of the great Hodja’s wisdom. The people who said they knew nothing sought the knowledge of those who said they knew everything. There was no need for anyone to trouble the Hodja. And that was ”hak,” as the people said, or, in our language, that was truly just.
In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king’s wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out of the way. Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. As the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many others never understand: Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one’s condition.
Two kids sitting at the table. Mother asks the older one “I have 2 bowls of ice cream. One chocolate, one vanilla. Which one do you want.” The older one looks at both bowls, and says “I want the vanilla.” So the mother gives the older boy vanilla and the one remaining, the chocolate, she gives to the younger boy.
The 2 kids start eating the ice cream and the younger boy is just shoveling the chocolate ice cream in his mouth as he exclaims “This ice cream is soooo good!” The older boy takes a bite of his vanilla – yep vanilla, and notices the younger brother so happily enjoying his ice cream, he starts to complain “I wanted the chocolate. I mistook, I don’t really want vanilla.” But he continues to eat it. All the while noticing the younger brother enjoying each scoop of his chocolate. The older brother complaining with each scoop of his vanilla. Each bite he would mumble, a phrase” I don’t want this.” Or ” I want the vanilla” Or “This is isn’t fair.” Finally the older brother looks down at his last bite of ice cream totally dissatisfied and frowning and says “ah, my ice cream is all gone. I want more. But I don’t want vanilla, I want chocolate.”
When you LOOK at a problem you look at it in ALL possible ways. I was in Mexico City visiting a dentist there. He told me his wife was an artist. She denied it and he insisted she WAS. I thought she was self-effacing. I asked to see some of her sketches. And, she brought out her sketches . . . and there was an unusual scroll along the border of each picture. And very nice sketches of faces, flowers, animals and so on. And I picked up the picture and looked at it. I turned and looked at it this way, I looked at it this way, (turning the picture at all angles), I turned and looked at it THIS way. I took a little piece of paper and tore a hole in it about the size of my fingernail, and laid it down on the ornamental border and asked the dentist, “Look”. He said, “My word, there is a FACE there.” I moved it along and there was ANOTHER face. Sitting in that border were hundreds of faces in every one of her sketches. Her unconscious had put them there, I had been willing to discover them there. She is now an outstanding artist and runs an art gallery in the City of Mexico.
There was once a businessman who was sitting by the beach in a small Brazilian village.
As he sat, he saw a Brazilian fisherman rowing a small boat towards the shore having caught quite few big fish.
The businessman was impressed and asked the fisherman, “How long does it take you to catch so many fish?”
The fisherman replied, “Oh, just a short while.”
“Then why don’t you stay longer at sea and catch even more?” The businessman was astonished.
“This is enough to feed my whole family,” the fisherman said.
The businessman then asked, “So, what do you do for the rest of the day?”
The fisherman replied, “Well, I usually wake up early in the morning, go out to sea and catch a few fish, then go back and play with my kids. In the afternoon, I take a nap with my wife, and evening comes, I join my buddies in the village for a drink — we play guitar, sing and dance throughout the night.”
The businessman offered a suggestion to the fisherman.
“I am a PhD in business management. I could help you to become a more successful person. From now on, you should spend more time at sea and try to catch as many fish as possible. When you have saved enough money, you could buy a bigger boat and catch even more fish. Soon you will be able to afford to buy more boats, set up your own company, your own production plant for canned food and distribution network. By then, you will have moved out of this village and to Sao Paulo, where you can set up HQ to manage your other branches.”
The fisherman continues, “And after that?”
The businessman laughs heartily, “After that, you can live like a king in your own house, and when the time is right, you can go public and float your shares in the Stock Exchange, and you will be rich.”
The fisherman asks, “And after that?”
The businessman says, “After that, you can finally retire, you can move to a house by the fishing village, wake up early in the morning, catch a few fish, then return home to play with kids, have a nice afternoon nap with your wife, and when evening comes, you can join your buddies for a drink, play the guitar, sing and dance throughout the night!”
The fisherman was puzzled, “Isn’t that what I am doing now?”
Once upon a time, there was a small boy who banged a drum all day and loved every moment of it. He would not be quiet, no matter what anyone else said or did. His parents were quite forward-thinking people and believed that it is important to make your own decisions. So they didn’t just take the drum away from the boy. Instead, they tried to persuade him. They called upon many wise men and asked each one of the these people to convince the boy to stop playing the drum.
Lots of good ideas were offered.
The first person who came was a scientist. The scientist explained to the boy about sound waves and the power of sound. He told the boy if he continued to play the drum in that way, that there was a good chance that he might break his eardrum. However, the boy was just a child and this scientific thinking was too difficult for him, so he just kept playing his drum.
The next person who came was a priest from the temple. He came dressed in his colourful robes and burning incense. He explained to the boy that drum-beating was a sacred activity and should be carried out only on special occasions and at certain ceremonies. But the boy didn’t really understand, and besides, he really wasn’t all that interested in these gods that he couldn’t even see, so… the noise continued.
The third person who came was an engineer who had studied in the university in the capital and she was very smart indeed. She was also very practical at finding good solutions. She didn’t even bother talking to the boy because that seemed inefficient. Instead, she gave the parents and the neighbors earplugs. It was a great idea, but unfortunately, the earplugs couldn’t keep out the constant drumming from morning to night.
The fourth person who came was a teacher. He gave the boy a book and tried to get the boy interested in education. “There is so much more to learn – so many amazing things in this world – and books can be the doorway to a new world for you.” The boy looked at the pictures for a while and then turned back to the drum. It seemed so much more fun.
The fifth person who came was a therapist who believed that the child suffered from anger issues. Obviously, the child was playing the drum all the time because he was angry at the people around him. So the therapist gave the boy meditation exercises to make him calm and explained that all reality was imagination… The boy sat in the right pose and made the right om sound for what seemed like a long time to the boy – almost one whole minute, in fact! And then he picked up the drum again and the noise continued.
And then finally, an old woman came by and heard the drum and said, “what is that noise?” The neighbours explained about the boy and how the scientist, the priest, the engineer,the teacher, and the therapist had all been unable to help. It seemed like nothing could be done. The old woman looked at the situation calmly and smiled at the boy. Then she picked up a hammer and chisel and said to the boy, “I wonder what is inside the drum?”
Many many years ago, two monks were walking through a town where a great rain had fallen and the main street of the town was flooded. A beautiful lady in her best clothes was trying to cross the road, but couldn’t cross because she was afraid that she would damage her clothes.
The older monk looked at the lady, and despite his religious vow to never touch a woman, he gently lifted the woman off the ground and carried her safely across the flooded street to the other side. Then he returned to the younger monk.
The younger monk said nothing, but had a look so fiery on his face that it could have boiled the water around their feet. All day, they continued to walk, and the younger monk continued to display his angry face.
Finally, the younger monk stopped, turned to the older monk and said:
“How could you have done that?”
“Done what?”, said the older monk.
“How could you have carried that woman like that? You know that our vows forbid us from touching a woman.”
The older monk smiled gently and said,
“I carried her for one minute a long time ago. Are you still carrying her in your heart?”