The Art of “Pause with Seeds”

You are a writer and you’re happy because it’s late in the evening and you just finished a chapter. You’re good !

You can go to bed, you’re tired after all ! You deserve it, and so on…

But don’t.

Just go on, for a few minutes. Add ideas, little words, drop them on the page. Draw something. More : write shite here, and there. Anything.

The day after, you will find all these. Oh ! You will trash most of it, of course. BUT, maybe, you will find one seed, or two. Seeds for the mind.

It will (maybe) give you a sparkle, une étincelle, a little little flame, with maybe you could start a big new fire.

But there is more. Seeds were in your head TOO. Your brain worked and played with them all night long. Who knows ? Maybe you’ll find a whole tree in your head in the morning, full of fruits, et voilà pour vous !

Tool : Think about the “Pause with Seeds” concept. Where could you use it ? Writing ? Creativity ? Music ?

#tulip #monochromatic #abstraction
#tulip #monochromatic #abstraction

 

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The Cauldron Method (or How to Be Casual with Masterpieces)

OK I’m french. My english is a frenglish, it’s rusty and wobbly, et voilà. Try me, though. I’ll do my best. I promise. If sometimes it’s too bad, just laugh at me or roll your eyes.

In front of impressive masterpieces you can find yourself very SHY. It happened to me a few years ago with La Recherche, by Proust : In Search of Lost Time, a pack of seven big books, you know, MMMasterpiece of Masterpieces, blabla. I bought it and never dared to begin ! How to read this ? With what kind of solemnity ? Terrifying ! (I’d add : poor you, if you have to read this in English and deal with the choice of translation).

You may also have this feeling in front of a domain you know rich, but you don’t know a penny about it. I had to handle this when I decided to open the door of the Opera territory. From where to begin ? Which composer ? Mozart ? Wagner ? Who ?

Shy as a little chicken in its shell, I began to read books about Proust. In one of them the author was angry at me. Really ! He was saying something like I was silly to be solemn about La Recherche, advising me to shup up and read what I want, in the order I want, and to let go “annoying pages” (!). It was as if a good father was talking to me, so I obeyed, and it was perfect.

After trying a little Verdi (boriiiing) I searched for the “next Italian composer”, found Puccini, and I… didn’t know what to do. Each opera was very long ! And there were many…

I remembered Proust and I tried not to worry too much : How to choose a first opera to listen to ? Director ? I began to wander randomly on YouTube and I listened to things with  little “I don’t care” ears. Of course, it worked.

I remember it in the most crystallest clearest way : Manon Lescaut was singing somewhere in my headphones as I was writing an email. The music then began to stop me. One time. Two times. Three. I had to really stop writing, like “Heyyyyy ??!”. Le plaisir was slipcrawling into my brain.

I got it ! The wire. I pulled it, and now I love Manon Lescaut, and Il Trittico, and La Bohème, etc.

Tools :

The Cauldron Method means two things :

1/ Don’t care that much about Masterpieces (with big M capital). You won’t hurt them ! These are not Cathedrals of Culture. Let go. Breathe. Find your own entrance. A lateral one. Then the kingdoms of pleasure are yours.

2/ Loosen your belt. And your tie. Be casual. The Masterpiece is probably a real one. IT WILL CATCH YOU ANYWAY.

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“I used to watch things to understand what’s the big deal”

“I used to watch things to understand what’s the big deal”

…but one day, you stop.

One day, all of a sudden, you effing don’t care. At all.

One day something is a big deal and you want to watch something which is NOT a big deal.

One day you let the big deal be the big deal without you.

One day you watch the crowd running here and there like sheeps in front of Thrones and you stay under a tree reading a nobigdeal novel – Giono for example, or a Pulitzer from the sixties, voilà.

One day you don’t even KNOW what is a big deal and what is not, so there.

(You just decided to explore Joseph Losey‘s movies, instead).

One day, you just make your own path.

Tool : What do you need ? More mainstream, or less ? Highways or mountain footpaths ?

(OK try Giono. No big deal in 2016. Perfect.)

#gold #redhead
#gold #redhead

 

 

 

Is your Insulin Pump a Female ?

OK I’m French. When I began to learn english at school I was interested, but also surprised by two things.

1 : In English, things have no gender. In French, things do have a gender. La voiture (car, female), la maison (house, female – does it make sense ?), le soleil (sun, male) et la lune (moon, female).

OK, I know, “un arbre” (a tree, male) is difficult to say for an American…

So you see ? For us, a car and an house, the rain and the moon are female. A pen, a month, a tree, and the sun are male. In France, a dress (une robe) is female, and trousers (un pantalon) : male.

Well it doesn’t matter, you could say. But i does matter, poetically at least, no ? A car is obviously a female, for a French. I assure you !

2 : In English, possessive pronouns agree with the possessor. It’s the contrary here.

If the car belongs to Mary, it’s HER car. But if it belongs to John, it’s HIS car.

Well, in french, il s’agit de SA voiture. Her car. In both case. Because it agrees to the noun !

…and a car is a female, as you know.

So, well, your insulin pump, this little assistant, une pompe, is a female. Say hi !

Tool : in case of lukewarmness, just check the french translation. Add the gender in front of each element. Then try a little systemic therapy, hahaha.

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