The most difficult phase of your life is not when no one understands you; it is when you don't understand yourself

Of late, I have been having what I thought was major writer's block. It turns out that, after long days and periods of soul-searching and taking a step back from life, I have not been at peace. Something is amiss in my life. I still do not know what, but I do know what the symptoms are. They include a feeling of lethargy all the time; a blatant disregard for things that used to make me happy; a sense of confusion over when, where and how; a consistent fear of the unknown; a discomforting feeling that I have lost control over my life and that everything is rushing past me; constant mental self-flagellation.
I have been sick for about three weeks. I have been plagued by a cold so vicious that it seems to be crafted only by the Devil. I had ulcers that made me believe that my insides were slowly being turned out. Yet, through this time, it was not so much the physical infirmity that brought me down, it was the mental strain that took a major toll on me and caused me to have some form of depression brought about by insomnia.
I am better now, at least physically I am. Mentally, it has been a struggle. A struggle understanding that I am not being irrational. A struggle not to silence that voice within that was warning me that something was seriously wrong. A struggle accepting that things have changed; that I have changed, and that this is not necessarily a bad thing; a struggle to decide that though I may be my biggest critic, I should also be my own greatest fan. And in my darkest hour came that epiphany that I had been fighting to get: He was not in the wind, the fire, or the earthquake; He was in the quiet voice. Be still.

THE SITUATION
In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.

About 4 minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes:

A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At 10 minutes:

A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.

At 45 minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After 1 hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.


This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .


How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?