Chief Amòye, evening. It’s been quite sometime. Oh! My longtime friend, how are you doing? I’m fine sir, and what happened to you? I’ve been here a couple of times just to hear you speak, but each time I showed up, you are usually elusive. I really enjoyed the series of discussions we had last time. Oh my friend, I’m sorry for not being around all the while. It was due to some circumstances under my control. Under your control? So why didn’t you control them? Ah, I just chose not to control them ni o jare.
However, I need to congratulate you for being here today. We will be discussing an issue that has a lot to do with what you will eventually become in life. It’s going to be in series. Meanwhile, I will share with you today the part that is most important for self actualization, and then, in our next meeting, those related to your relationship with other people and this community will be clarified. I will be telling you a short story in driving my point home and will really be glad if you can be attentive as I proceed. Chief, I told you I’ve been here a couple of times just to hear those words of wisdom and I’m lucky you are around today, so why won’t I be attentive? You can proceed sir, omo re ngbo.
I want to start by saying that the human mind has tremendous power. The statement, “as a man thinks, so is he” will forever remain valid. This shows that we as humans have a stake in what our lives turned out to be. James Allen in his book, “The Making of A Man” says, “The mind is the master weaver, both of the inner garment of character and the outer garment of circumstance.” This shows that we can always trail the line of our conditions and behavior to the thoughts that govern our minds. The story I’m about telling you is as told by Jack Riemer and I hope you will learn from it.
On November 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City. Getting on stage was no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches. To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an awesome sight.
He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play. The audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs, until he is ready to play.
But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap – it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what he had to do. The audience figured out that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage – to either find another violin or else find another string for this one. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again.
The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings, but that night, Itzhak Perlman refused to know that.
You could see Itzhak Perlman modulating, changing, and re-composing the piece in his head. When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium.
He smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, raised his bow to quiet the audience, and then he said –not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone- “You know, sometimes it is the artiste’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”
Perhaps that is the definition of life – not just for artistes but for all of us. Here is a man who has prepared all his life to make music on a violin of four strings, who, all of sudden, in the middle of a concert, finds himself with only three strings; so he makes music with three strings, and the music he made that night with just three strings was more beautiful, more sacred, more memorable, than any that he had ever made before, even when he had four strings.
My friend, what lessons have you learnt from the story I just told you? Chief, there is a great lesson from this story. To start with, from the story, it is actually clear that we can only make something good out of a bad situation only if we can have a positive and a can-do mindset. What someone would consider impossible will actually be another person’s opportunity to display expertise. In short, everything is possible only to the degree your mind can carry you. Exactly! I’m glad you’re sharp in catching up with the lessons of the story. Let’s see next week, same time, same station…
However, I need to congratulate you for being here today. We will be discussing an issue that has a lot to do with what you will eventually become in life. It’s going to be in series. Meanwhile, I will share with you today the part that is most important for self actualization, and then, in our next meeting, those related to your relationship with other people and this community will be clarified. I will be telling you a short story in driving my point home and will really be glad if you can be attentive as I proceed. Chief, I told you I’ve been here a couple of times just to hear those words of wisdom and I’m lucky you are around today, so why won’t I be attentive? You can proceed sir, omo re ngbo.
I want to start by saying that the human mind has tremendous power. The statement, “as a man thinks, so is he” will forever remain valid. This shows that we as humans have a stake in what our lives turned out to be. James Allen in his book, “The Making of A Man” says, “The mind is the master weaver, both of the inner garment of character and the outer garment of circumstance.” This shows that we can always trail the line of our conditions and behavior to the thoughts that govern our minds. The story I’m about telling you is as told by Jack Riemer and I hope you will learn from it.
On November 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City. Getting on stage was no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches. To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an awesome sight.
He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play. The audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs, until he is ready to play.
But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap – it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what he had to do. The audience figured out that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage – to either find another violin or else find another string for this one. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again.
The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings, but that night, Itzhak Perlman refused to know that.
You could see Itzhak Perlman modulating, changing, and re-composing the piece in his head. When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium.
He smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, raised his bow to quiet the audience, and then he said –not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone- “You know, sometimes it is the artiste’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”
Perhaps that is the definition of life – not just for artistes but for all of us. Here is a man who has prepared all his life to make music on a violin of four strings, who, all of sudden, in the middle of a concert, finds himself with only three strings; so he makes music with three strings, and the music he made that night with just three strings was more beautiful, more sacred, more memorable, than any that he had ever made before, even when he had four strings.
My friend, what lessons have you learnt from the story I just told you? Chief, there is a great lesson from this story. To start with, from the story, it is actually clear that we can only make something good out of a bad situation only if we can have a positive and a can-do mindset. What someone would consider impossible will actually be another person’s opportunity to display expertise. In short, everything is possible only to the degree your mind can carry you. Exactly! I’m glad you’re sharp in catching up with the lessons of the story. Let’s see next week, same time, same station…
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