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28/06/2018, 02:35



The-sixth-sense


 The sixth sense is common to all, but only a few listen to it. It’s an inner voice, the talking cricket of fairy tales. Usually as you grow older it becomes silent. I learned...



The sixth sense is common to all, but only a few listen to it. It’s an inner voice, the talking cricket of fairy tales. Usually as you grow older it becomes silent. I learned to listen to this voice after ignoring it for a long time. I did nothing except playing, I played for hours and hours, frantically. Playing almost relentlessly was a way of sheltering myself, it gave me the feeling of really sweating. Playing was already a merit in itself. It was necessary for my gratification that others saw, that they knew that I was studying like crazy, that I didn’t spare myself. So they would have to tell me "Brava", so that I could gratify myself "Good, even today you did your duty". Until my body rejected it all. Too much study.In the world of classical music, the conviction that you must keep silent, suffer and practice, still resists. Only  with the hardest effort you will get results, maybe you’ll be the best of all. If something goes wrong it’s  normal, if your arms or shoulders hurt it’s normal, a sign of your heroic martyrdom. I do not doubt that there can be enlightened teachers who care about the health of their students. I have met a few.At first despite the signs, despite the fatigue, despite it was too much I continued in that crazy race until my body said enough. It simply stopped, like an old mule who, during a climb in the mountains, points his hooves and refuses to continue.So I first hated my body, this faulty body that was not a machine and did not obey my commands. I wanted to play! I had to play! But it wouldn’t listen, my body had chosen for me, the limit had been exceeded. It took me three years of silence, then slowly I realized that this fragile body was instead an ally, that was telling me something, that all that study did not correspond to my real self, to the truest way of supporting my art. I understood that my way of making Music needed long and gradual time, a lot of patience and careful study.Today I know that my affliction was a blessing, it gave me the luxury of being able to rethink, to reflect on where I really wanted to go. If I had continued and I had not stopped today I would be an unhappy woman, and I would have done even worse. Instead I understood that I was not interested in being the best of all, that the price for glory was too high, that Art is not made of this. It is not a race but a walk. Uphill, of course. Discipline and hard work are part of it. But not at the price of one’s health.Now I have learned to listen. After a few hours of study I know when it’s time to stop, I know when the bother becomes fatigue, when the alarm bell starts ringing. Now I know I can take better care of myself.Learning to be in touch with your own sixth sense and respecting it is not an act of cowardice, but a great sign of respect for oneself, a way of loving oneself.All the elders and the wise men of the world will tell you that the voices in the head, the sensations and the talking crickets must be listened to.



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