19 August, 2013

Rules schmules

1: Give. You got your talent for free. Nobody buys it, steals it, or copies it. It can only be developed from that little seed (as unique as it's DNA) you nurtured since when you fell in love with what you love doing. Help them (the people who appreciate you work and who ask your advice) by showing them your short cuts. You will get it back somewhere along the way. Give advice. And give support, especially if you have some sort of authority over them.

2: If you hear “You speak good Spanish from the native Spanish speakers, it means you have to work on it. If the established musician tells you “You are a good guitar player” it means you are a beginner. If they say “You look good” you are probably in the hospital bed and they have just arrived to see you first time after your operation. God knows what have they expected. When was the last time you did something so well they thought you were a natural and there was no surprise? When did you speak foreign language last time and nobody even thought you were not a native speaker? When did you play guitar so well nobody thought about mentioning the guitar but just had a grateful grin on their faces because they just had an out of body sort of experience? When was the last time you were so good at something that everybody took for granted that it was just your speciality and they appreciated it as a standard performance delivered by you? When they take it for granted that you can deliver it means that you have set your standard very high.

3: Ask. It is the biggest compliment you can give: you admit that there is no logical explanation to somebody's skill. But still the answer will most likely be much less of a mystery: practice, practice and much more practice. They will also tell you about the short cuts.

4: Need to criticise? There is much more in + than in -. Use criticism only to reroute their effort into the right place, when you know EXACTLY how it should sound or look and can show it to them - there and then. Otherwise they won't like your input.

5: The best ones? They are just humans with MANY hours of practise behind them. And most of the time they didn't think of winning the competition, they were just enjoying the dance.

6: The dance? That is when you are carried away by the music, and even if you don’t do the all the right steps, they seem to be right because of the honest fulfilment that is oozing from the inside of you. When you are GOOD and you don't dance by the book, you seem to be creating new rules as you dance. Did the skill just became part of you or you just incorporated a part of yourself into it?

7: Think it’s too late? Just think that if you start today, you would be really, REALLY good in 5 years time. Whatever that means: graduating from the university, becoming dedicated and faithful to the talent, mastering the surf / guitar / foreign language, etc. You are 38 and you think it’s too late. Wouldn't you prefer to be a 43 year old with something BIG accomplished, or a 43 year old who thinks it’s WAY too late? 

18 August, 2013

The pictures I didn't take


There was a big misunderstanding that night about the accommodation  about the transport, about anything that was mentioned. It seemed to me that the city didn't want to let me go. It wanted me to stay, it wanted me to see the burning again.
I was trying to say no, but it wouldn't listen. Sometimes you just can't find the way out.
It was all clear to me later. After all the friends have gone, after I have missed the last connection to go back home. I thought I have seen the burning plenty of times. But there is always something good on the way when you are where you have to be.

I have managed to see the burning of four fallas (out of 300), the big monuments made to be burnt in Valencia. I have enjoyed it so much and I was quite pleased with the photos I have taken, so much that it wasn't a problem to stay awake for the rest of the night and wait for the first morning train. I walked the rainy wet streets with the holes in my shoes, talked to complete strangers, listened to other complete strangers talking to complete strangers, slept in the underground for an hour. Then the train station opened its doors around 4:45 am and big bunch of people walked in. There was a snack bar at the end of the long corridor. Already full of young backpackers queuing up for the first coffee of the day, there was a feeling of unity, smell of freshness of a new day and the aroma of bread and coffee, witty waiters flying around cracking jokes with customers who were too sleepy to answer back, and a young Japanese girl paying her coffee with the 100 euro bill. Another waiter was using the megaphone, repeating some client's orders just for the hell of it. Everybody laughed and the waitress handed me the plate: the croissant tasted so soft, warm and buttery that I just had to ask for another one.

Those were the pictures I didn't take.

Where is the spark?


Let us stand by the fire for a moment and just stare at it: let the smoke get into your eyes, your hair, your clothes and skin. We've been chasing each others for hours, laid down in between the humid grass blades and a funny thing happened: it seemed as if we looked at the skies from the above as we laid on our backs. The clouds were deep down, and we just wondered how we didn't fall off the Earth. That idea made us feel dizzy and excited. The clouds had shapes that were too obvious and we all agreed when somebody pointed out a familiar shape. We jumped out from the bushes with our knees scratched, chased the cats and dogs and stood so close to them fires in the fields, we kissed and we got kissed, friends were our second skin and we were so dirty and so present in those moments. Did we know about the distances in the world, about the vast differences between us that we were gonna grow into and help them grow? Is there a sat-nav that will navigate us to those burning fields? Can you smell the smoke or scratch your knees in any of those social networks? I'm taking the old ash covered path, looking for the spark that will burst this night into flames. There is a fire for everyone, out in the field and savannah, where the workmen burn the dead twigs and branches and they never get to notice us, you and me we stand too close to the fire and just stare at it; at the sundown when we let the sun go.

Take a picture of that memory and make it personal. Can you take a picture of something we all remember? I'm sure it would be a great photograph. You know there are many things that can start the fire, the sparks are around us. Where is your spark?