“It is unbelievable”, said the alcoholic’s wife. “You have been drinking and I am the one who is drunk!” “Again”, he said, shaking his head. “And who’s going to take care of me now?”
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Category Archives: Communication
To Bid Farewell
We had a poodle. Whenever one of us put on our jacket and got ready to leave the house, the dog rushed at us from behind and nipped at our heels. This was its way of saying “I’ll miss you.”
The Blackbird and the Crow
A blackbird sat in a tree singing beautifully. Then a big black crow arrived and sat in that same tree. For a while the crow cawed as loud as it could while the blackbird remained silent and listened. Then the crow flew away, whereupon the blackbird opened its golden beak again and cawed without ceasing.
The Path to Silence
A teacher came into an unruly class. “It will be difficult to get them to be quiet”, he thought to himself. Then he imagined that all pupils were small atoms caught up in a turbulent vibration. He brought himself into the same vibration, fidgeted a little bit with the arms, swayed from one leg to the other, and murmured something to himself. When he reached the same vibration as his pupils, he gradually became slower and quieter. The class also became calmer and quieter. He had to be careful not to calm himself too quickly – better to fidget for one moment more, and then become quiet again. He needed about three minutes. Then the class was completely still.
Later the same day, these same pupils were loud again. “Don’t be so loud!”, he shouted. And they remained loud. “We can’t work like this”, he yelled. “Please work without noise on your task!”, he called. And they remained loud. “Mark, be quiet! Julia, close your mouth! John, be still! Frank, quiet!”, he ordered. Then they became quieter. “Even quieter!”, he murmured, and it became even quieter. “I’m listening to ascertain where it is the quietest”, he whispered. “Whoever is quiet the fastest and stays quiet the longest, has won”, he whispered. And it became very quiet. “Absolute silence”, he breathed. Not a sound was to be heard. “Stay exactly like this”, he said, and continued with the lesson.
Merciful
We talked about music. “The ear is merciful”, she said. “It hears what is meant, and not what is actually played.” The woman who said this was a piano teacher. She had taught pupils for decades and had thought about how ear and brain process the music. “The ear is merciful”, I repeated. “How do you mean that?” She said: “When we hear music as an audience, then we blot out the mistakes. We hear what is meant. What arrives in our consciousness is the complete melody. The artists and teachers pay attention to the mistakes, but the audience hears the music.”
In the Country of Begonia
As a traveller I once had to cross the country of Begonia. They really have a very strange custom there.
That is to say, on the streets and pathways of the country they don’t have any signs which could help you to find your way from village to village or from one town to the next. But at every crossroad there are flowers which you can ask in order to get directions from them. According to the way in which they give directions, one differentiates between point-around guides, point-away guides and point-toward guides.
The point-toward guides are especially pleasant for all those travellers who simply want to get to their destination as fast and as comfortably as possible. They tell you kindly where you should go.
The point-away guides are often crude and blunt in their speech. They can sound very spiteful. Nonetheless, they can also be very useful. They tell you where you should definitely not go, so that you will keep misfortune and trouble at bay.
Last, but by no means least, are the point-around guides who speak to you in a peculiar way. They speak in riddles. They start to advise you to go one way and then continue with the other direction. They tell you about the destination, but not how you reach it. They ask you questions rather than give you answers. They tell you things, the sense of which you will not understand until later. Some travellers see what the point-around guides say as useless stuff. Yet others only find their destination through these guides.
Volume Control
She loved going to the disco. When her parents picked her up, they wondered each time: “How can you bear it with that noise?” But she knew: the music is only loud at the beginning. Soon the music is no longer loud. The ear adjusts the volume accordingly. In bed in the evenings she loved to listen to the radio, turned down low. Okay, her parents had forbidden it when she had school the next day, but she turned the volume down so low that even she hardly heard anything. She knew: the music is only low at the beginning. Soon, quiet is no longer quiet. She can turn the radio down many more times, and she still hears everything. The ear adjusts the volume accordingly.
The Caring Folk
“I’m full”, I said. “But there’s always room for a slice of cake”, they replied. “I don’t want any”, I said. “But it tastes good”, they explained. “I need to lose weight”, I said. “But you don’t need to”, they said. “My doctor said I have a fatty liver”, I said. “We know someone with a fatty liver who lived to be over 90”, they responded. “No thank you, but could I have another cup of coffee?” I asked. “With milk, please”. Then they gave me coffee with milk and left me in peace. Since then, I only use these few words.
The guests told these and also some other stories to the king on the seventh day. When the sun’s rays had sunk in the west and the last storyteller of the day had finished his tale, the king scratched his head. “How can these stories be of use to us?” he asked out loud. “Possibly not at all”, murmured a scribe quietly. “Unless he who hears them now gets up and crosses the bridge.”
The Scent of Bread
“Wife”, spoke the baker, “I am getting older and my strength is lessening. All my life have I baked the bread for this village. Yes, people have come from afar to buy my rolls. The day will come when I will have to lay aside my bowl of dough, and who will then continue with my trade?” For they had no children. “Go search for a young man” the woman said, “who can help you with your work, and whom you can teach all about the art of baking bread. When you are old and can no longer work, he shall continue with the shop, and you shall look at him with pride as if he were your son.” As she said it, so it was done. The baker spread the news that he was seeking an apprentice who would like to learn his trade. In the following days, four young men came into his shop, wanting to become a baker. He found it difficult to choose and asked his wife again. She said: “Tell all of them to come again!” And so he did. The first man introduced himself to the baker’s wife. She asked: “Why do you want to learn a baker’s trade?” “I like to get up early, and go to bed before the night is falling. And, what is more, a baker is among the first to hear the news of the village and of its surroundings.” The second man came and she asked him: “Why do you want to learn a baker’s trade?” “My parents died early, and I need to care for my wife and children.” The third man came and she asked him: “Why do you want to learn a baker’s trade?” “I deem it an honour to bake for men the bread that God has given us.” The fourth man came and she asked him naught. “Him we take”, she told her husband. “Why should we take him?” “When he arrived, he inhaled eagerly the scent of bread.”
The Island of Love
Far out at sea beyond the coast, behind the stormy cape, is a small island. It is so small that it is only shown on the most exact maps. All the same, it possesses a certain fame in informed circles. The sailors name it the “Island of Love”.
Quite a few people at some point in their lives undertake a journey there. They explore this island in detail. They thereby discover astonishing things.
Some presume, before they get to know the island better, that you will immediately get from the Coast of Being in Love to the Hill of the Homeland, and are surprised at the length of the path that leads them there, through the mysterious Valley of the Middle. Some are amazed that it is not possible for them to visit the soft slopes of the Familiar and at the same time to be at the Peak of Arousal. Others already look forward to the Pot of Passion – as the largest volcano crater of the island is called. Yet they are amazed that the ascent is quite strenuous and that it leads past the seething Chasm of Fear and the smoking Vent of Anger. Those who seek danger bathe at the Cliff of Failure at the Cape of Excessive Demands. Yet even expert swimmers have come into distress and drowned at the east-lying Ocean of Boredom.
I say this because it is often forgotten that only those who traverse the island with effort and danger find the whole beauty of this place. Some build a house on the island or put up a tent. And I have seen those who have already lived there a long time smile at the enthusiasm of the newcomers who still harbour hope of exploring the Island of Love in only one day or a week.