A little act of kindness is never wasted.............

''Alright children, settle down. Now, before

we finish for the week, I would like to give you

a task to do over the weekend.

''Yes, Neville?''

''Miss, do we have to, isn't school everyday enough?''

''You know what, Neville, sometimes it is and sometimes

it isn't. Don't worry, this task is not big.

All I want you to do is to write down what you think being

kind means. It does not have to be long, only about

30 words or so.''

''30 words!!! But that's too many, Miss!''

Simon shakes his head and then lets out a groan.

''Okay children, make sure that you put your notebooks

in your bags because I would like you to not use

the computers for this task but to write it by hand."

Simon groans again.

''Everyone knows what to do? Okay, well, have a really

 good weekend everyone and see you on Monday.''

''A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions,

and the roots spring up and make new trees.''

(Emilia Earhart)

''In a study conducted by Dr. Sonja Lyuborminsky,

psychology Professor at the University of California,

Riverside, students were assigned to do five random acts

of kindness per week for a period of six weeks.

At the end of the study, the students' level of happiness

had increased by 41.66 %. Being kind had a profoundly

positive effect on happiness.'' (Inc.)

about the image: Ink and water colour pencils on paper

edited in Photoshop

Yelling may feel good, but how does it affect others?..........

Finally the kid had enough.

She decided that it was time for the others to notice her.

She yelled as loud as she could: Arrghhhhhhh!

Although yelling in most social settings is probably viewed

as ''bad form'', rude, disturbing, I am still pretty sure

that most of us have at some time or another, ... yelled.

And for many different reasons, although some perhaps

a bit more ''justifiable'' and helpful than others.

To warn: ''Hey, watch out!''

To get noticed: ''Hey, look at Me!''

To encourage: ''Well done!! Good on ya.''

To instruct: ''Please! Don't slam the door.''

To coach: ''Put your back into it. Try again.''

To make a statement: ''Freedom for all!!!.''

Yelling obscenities, insults, or offensive words on the other hand,

is in my opinion seldom justifiable or helpful. 

(Granted, when we yell we are usually emotionally charged

which can often make it difficult for us to control our choice of words.

Difficult yes, but not impossible.)

Some suggest that ''it's the nature of yelling that makes it

reflective of other forms of corporal punishment'', and

the intent of corporal punishment some say, is to deliberately

correct, chastise, rebuke and or reprimand.

Even when ''it's for our own good'', being yelled at often

feels confrontational and dare I say, humiliating.

As a keen observer of human behaviours it perplexes me

why so often the first response by a parent when a child lost in a

shopping center is found seem to be to yell at him/her: ''Don't do that!!!!

 Don't ever do that again.!!!!!

How is that child supposed to interpret that?
(Except for feeling humiliated by the public rebuke.)

Hence the dichotomy of yelling; at times it can be a rebuke and an 

expression of excitement simultaneously.

As in: ''Daddy/mummy is so angry with you for wandering off, 

but also so happy with finding you''.

(From personal experience I discovered that after handing

out a rebuke to my son, a clear, calm and precise explanation for

the rebuke often worked a treat in avoiding a repeat performance.)

Some say that frustration begets anger. I would like to

suggest that frustration (for whatever reason) often also begets

yelling.

''Are we there yet?Are we there yet?Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?Are we there yet? etc. etc."

Finally, NOT YET!!!

''Peter, the music is too loud,

can you please close the door, I'm on the phone.''

15 minutes later: NOW!!

Although yelling at others often leads to more yelling,

in my opinion, sometimes finding somewhere secluded and

out of earshot of others to do some yelling, can be quite helpful.

During a very trying time in my life when I was overcome by

sadness and loss, I discovered a safe way to release some of

my emotional turmoil without it affecting anybody else.

I would buy a dozen eggs, drive to a secluded spot somewhere,

get out of the car, find something solid like a rock or a tree trunk,

and then yell at the top of my lungs while throwing one egg

after the other. Each egg representing a burden that I was carrying.

It made a mess, an organic mess, but it also helped to relieve some of

pressure and pain that I was experiencing at that time.

If we find that we resort to yelling a lot of the time

and in a lot of different situation, it may be time

for a little introspection.

Asking ourselves some questions such as: 

Why am I yelling all the time?

Is there a better way for me to communicate?

How does my yelling affect others?

''Anybody who has something sensible or worthwhile to say

should be able to say it calmly and soberly,

relying on the words themselves to convey

his [or her] meaning,

without resorting to yelling.''

(Richard Dawkins)

about the image: water colour and pen and ink on paper , editing

in Photoshop

The Test.........

The phone rang. It was Myra, my agent.

''I've got a gig for you, a well paying one, are you interested?''

''Sure, who is it with and where and when?'' I asked.

''It's in two weeks, it's at some kind of ball here in Birmingham, and it's with Jordan Gray

(not his real name) and his quartet.''

''When do they want to start rehearsing?''

''I haven't got all the details yet, but I'll fax them through as soon as I get them.''

''Is there a play list so that I can prepare?''

''Not yet, but usually it's ''Real Book'' stuff (The ''Bible'' of jazz tunes).''

''Okay, I guess I can handle that, but I would really like to get a play list as soon as possible.''

''Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Bye.''

                                                                Myra hung up.

Since arriving in the US, I had done a few gigs, and Myra was right, most of them

involved using the Real Book.

The Real Book consists of hundreds of standard jazz tunes used

by most jazz musicians. If one was to call oneself a jazz musician

one was expected to be able to play all the tunes by heart,

and in the keys as noted in the Real Book.

Knowing this to be the case not only in the US, but here

in Australia as well, I spent the year before I went to the US

memorizing hundreds of tunes by heart. But, nonetheless,

I always brought my Real Book with me to any jazz gigs

that I did, just in case....

Days passed. No word from either Myra or Jordan Gray.

The date for the gig was creeping closer and closer.

I decided to call Myra.

''Have you talked to Jordan, Myra? I haven't got a play list yet.''

''I'll call him now and remind him to fax you the list.''

Two hours later a fax arrives with the sheet music for three

tunes written by Jordan Gray, but no play list, and no

date for a rehearsal. Jazz is all about improvising,

but......really? Not even one rehearsal?

Before I left for the US, Anders, a jazz guitarist and my best friend,

 told me that I would be ''tested''.

Tested? What do you mean? I asked.

''They'll throw you curve balls just to see if you really know

your stuff. They'll change key, tempo, intro's and outro's

just to see if you can handle it.'' Bearing those words in mind,

I decided to learn Jordan's tunes off by heart. Just in case.

Days pass, no play list.

The day of the gig arrives.

It's a sweltering summers evening in Birmingham.

As I arrive at the gig, I realize just how big of a deal

it is.

The building in which we are performing is very impressive.

As I step into the foyer, I feel as if I have stepped back in time

and into a page of Gone with the Wind.

Sparkling chandeliers, marbled staircases, golden ornaments,

elegantly dressed men and women speaking in hushed voices,

with waiters and waitresses gliding smoothly across the black and

white tiled floor. 

Except, for every now and then, when they stopped to pour some

golden liquid into glistening crystal glasses.

Half way up the right side staircase, I see a stage of sorts being set-up

by some musicians. Trying to catch their attention, I wave.

One of them sees me and hurries down the stairs.

''Hey, I'm Jordan, let me help you with your gear.''

So this is Jordan Gray. Hm, he looks a lot like Chet Baker,

hope he plays as well.

With the help of some of the others we carry my keyboard,

amp, and other bags up the stairs.

I introduce myself and then proceed to set up my gear.

I try out some chords on the keyboard to make sure everything is

working.

''Okay, let's start with one of my tunes. Let's do ''Lost'', says Jordan

then turns around, looks at me and says ''set it up''.

He counts in the tempo: ''one, two, one, two, three, four.''

This was The Test.

Though the fax with the sheet music he had sent me a few days

 earlier was barely legible, I had still been able to work

out a nice little intro to his tune.

As I moved through the chords of the intro, Jordan, standing

in front of the band, turned and looked at me.

Then with a smile on his face, he said: ''Play that again.''

I had passed the test.

''Ahhh, ..... Those Jazz guys are just makin that stuff up.''

(Homer Simpson)

about the image: ink on paper