Here are a few more entries for The Brain Audit Book from around the world
Much luck (to you and Sean… and me!)
Alex Kuzelicki, Australia
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If you haven’t made the Butter Chicken the recipe is on Page 113. And Yes! Sean can cook too!! Yummy stuff.
This is the butter chicken on its way to TVNZ- New Zealand. A small thank you for asking Sean on The Breakfast Show. And yes, if you are wondering the rest of the butter chicken was eaten by Renuka
The page again 113.
Renuka Menon, Psychotactics Office, Auckland, New Zealand
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Marsha colouring Cuatro
Marsha D’Souza, All of 5 years old, Auckland, New Zealand
(Marsha and Sean are best friends)
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And the photos keep coming in for The Brain Audit competition. Today’s photos are from New Zealand and all the way from the Arctic Circle.
It’s child’s play..
Martin Thompson, Auckland, New Zealand
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I am sending the photo of The Brain Audit book, which travelled with me and a couple of friends 150 km north of the Arctic Circle. We had to carry all our food for 10 days on our backs, but I couldn’t resist packing the book as well. There is something very weird (in the nicest way) about reading about marketing when you don’t see a living soul for days.
All the best from Europe.
Ondrej Ilincev,Prague, Europe
PS: I am the one on the right.
PPS: I thought there would be more snow as well, but we were very lucky with the weather and it was 20-25 degrees Celsius.
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What’s talent got to do with insulation? (Photo Courtesy: Businessweek.com)
So are we born with talent? Or is there a code?
Of course there’s a code. And that code is embedded not in what you learn, but how that learning is insulated?
Huh?
Think of it as a pipe filled with water. Which one will allow the water to get through faster? A pipe filled with holes? A pipe that allows leaks? Or the pipe that’s well insulated?: A pipe that allows almost no waste.
We’re talking about myelin. It’s an insulator for your learning. The more you learn, the more the myelin wraps insulation around that learning, so that you get faster, and faster, and faster. But not just faster, but every freakin’ pipe in your brain gets faster. Imagine having squillions of pipes pumping water—and with little or no waste.
This is what so-called “talented” people do. Their pipes have little or no waste.
They have developed thousands of pipes that pour thousands of gallons of water at a single moment. So when you look at headline and I look at a headline, we’re not looking with the same brain. I’m looking at the headline with thousands of gallons of water pouring into what I’m looking at. You on the other hand are just looking at a headline. Which is why I can tell you how what’s wrong with a headline a mile off. And you can’t.
It’s not because I was born with superpowers to read and de-construct headlines.
Rather it’s that I’ve learned. Just as you can learn.
And what’s more it’s teachable.
And you can do what every untalented person does: Make excuses.
Or you could start working on your myelin today.
You’ll often find people who say they don’t learn well via audio.
That they need to read a transcript instead to understand something better.
That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.
And there are three reasons why.
1) The way in which we process audio separate from reading.
2) The way in which we ’sit down’ to listen to audio.
3) So-called ‘audio learners’ find reading as well as audio just as easy.
The way in which we process audio separate from reading.
Till very recently there was this crazy myth that we somehow mishmashed the data and stored it in our brain, no matter if it was audio, or video, or text. That information was information, and it just got stored in one area of our brain. Modern research (because of better measurement tools) have shown that different areas of the brain light up when we listen to the exact words in audio, and another part of the brain lights up when we process video. And then quite another when we process text.
The brain actually creates ‘brain maps’ that make richer connections when it can process greater depth and range. So instead of one source of information, the brain accesses many sources almost simultaneously. And those that stubbornly stick their ‘I’m a reader’ not a listener, are just losing out for their stubborness factor.
But how do we know they’re being stubborn?
Because we know how damaged brains work. So in autistic children for instance, the brain does learn better via audio than learning. But most of us don’t have damaged brains. We have biased brains. This means we’re not willing to push our brains outside our comfort zone, and hence the brain will do what you get it to do.
The more you avoid audio, the more your brain favours text. It indeed makes you faster at processing text, but gives the text a single dimension. So that which you gain in processing power and speed, you lose in dimension and depth.
Which takes us to the second point: The way in which we ’sit down’ to listen to audio—and is flawed from the core!
The way in which we ’sit down’ to listen to audio is exactly the way we read When was the last time you went for a walk or dusted furniture while reading? You’ve been trained since you were a child to sit in one place and read. So like an obedient 40-year old you sit in one place and listen to audio.
Well, guess what?
Audio is not a medium that is kind to listeners who sit in one place. The brain is able to process words in speech faster than on paper. So when it has to sit in one place and do nothing else, it gets ‘bored.’ You feel sleepy, restless and of course, you sincerely believe audio-learning is not for you.
Audio learning requires movement and action. That’s why we get bored and tired after listening to speakers (even good ones) drone on for two-three hours. The best speakers know the way audio is processed, and hence get you to do stuff, or take breaks. Or whatever.
But I digress.
Because the third point is coming up quickly.
Have you noticed that audio-learners aren’t quite as stubborn?
They’ll happily read a book. Or a document. They don’t need you to take your book and turn it into an audio file. They may prefer audio (because they’ve worked out what we’ve discussed in Point 2), but they have no overwhelming desire to get everything in audio.
Compare this with ‘readers’ and you’ll see a marked difference. ‘Readers’ are militant about transcripts. They’re militant about books. They don’t want to go near audio if they can help it.Yet they have conversations and listen to the radio without any problem. When was the last time they wrote to their radio station or tv station asking for transcripts?
This is why I’m calling ‘readers’ stubborn.
They are so comfortable with speed, that they miss out on true learning.
The point I’m making is that you’re equally capable of learning via audio as text.
And it’s not going to be easy to get outside that comfort zone. Because your brain will resist the move.
So do me a favour. Read that book anyway. Turn your Kindle on, anyway.
But also strap on that iPod and go for a walk and listen to the very same information in audio. It will do your biased brain as well as your stubbornness a whole lot of good. And keep you both mentally and physically fit!
And here’s a biggie: I’m amazed at this book. And if you’ve ever wondered about the factor of getting old (and stupid), or wondered how we learn (and unlearn stuff), then you need to read this book. I intend to take snippets of the information and put my own spin to it over the weeks and months to come. You’ll understand all of that information so much better, and how it relates to talent—if you read this book.
My wife Renuka, sniffled.
She sniffled. She sneezed.
Achoo!
Achoo!
Achoo!
For thirteen years she sneezed.
Her eyes would get all red and puffy.
She tried all types of anti-allergy medication.
It would work for a while, then it was back to achoo!
Incredible as it seems, the problem was in her brain.
Your brain reacts to allergies with a code. And that code has a ‘virus.’ So when you run into dust or pollen the virus kicks in. It says: Execute command, and the virus starts rolling out.
How do we know it’s a virus? And not a program instead?
We know it because most of us don’t sneeze with pollen. Or dust. Or after drinking wine. But Renuka’s brain had accumulated a whole bunch of viruses. And to try and subdue these viruses, she’d take anti-allergy medication. But anti-allergy medication simply stops the virus from executing. It can’t erase the virus. And frankly, erasing the virus is a waste of time.
All we need is to re-wire the brain to stop running the program in the first instance. The brain needs to have a completely different code written to deal with dust. Then it stops sneezing.
Which is what Renuka did
She visited an anti-allergy clinic. Or should I say allergy-elimination. But were they able to prevent dust or pollen from entering her system? No they weren’t. But they were able to write a new program onto her brain. A program that ignored the dust, pollen, etc. A program that was fresh and didn’t have any viruses.
And so it is with talent and learning.
Trying to fix the problem with medication (more courses; more training) isn’t going to help at all. Instead all the brain does is replicate the anti-allergy syndrome and pretends to learn. But eventually the virus kicks in and you’re back to where you started. If you truly want to learn a new skill. If you truly want to develop a talent, you’re wasting time trying to eliminate the virus.
What you need to do is write fresh code.
Code with no viruses in the first place
And the achoo goes away forever!
Note: Renuka doesn’t sneeze. She can enjoy her wine, go out amongst the flowers in spring, and dust away to her heart’s content. And it was all done with no pills, no medication and simple re-writing of code. (It’s actually a simple system of re-wiring and no wires are involved–just in case you’re wondering).
This isn’t a learner sign: It’s a ‘I’m going to make a mistake’ sign
Think of anything you’ve ever learned.
Anything.
Ever learned.
And the only way you’ll have learned it is by making a mistake.
Look at the act of learning the alphabet.
Speaking; walking; running; talking; dancing, and just about anything.
And you’ll never be able to point out even one instance in your entire life that was learned without making a mistake.
This idea of willfully making a mistake scares the heck out of most people.
It literally means that you have to make mistakes—and that if you don’t make mistakes you can’t learn. If you can’t learn, you can’t acquire a new talent. If you can’t acquire a new talent, you remain exactly where you are.
Are you scared?
You should be.
Because the younger you are, the less you’re afraid of making mistakes. The older you get, the more you tell your brain it’s bad to make a mistake. The older you get, the more you feel you have to learn something quickly, and correctly the first time.
Yet that’s not the way the brain learns at all.
The only way the brain learns is through actively making mistakes. The brain’s most powerful tool is to make the mistake, recognise the mistake, and then try to remember the mistake. This is so that it doesn’t make the mistake again, or doesn’t create mistakes of an equal intensity.
This process needs time and effort.
The smaller, and simpler the task, the quicker the brain is able to eliminate mistakes. The more complex the task, the more time and effort is required to make the mistake, recognise it, remember it and finally correct it.
And yet the correction factor is almost never 100%.
So let’s say you’re learning a new dance step for instance. The brain has to first goof up. Once it has goofed up, it has to recognise the goof up, or it won’t improve. Once recognition sets in, all your neurons have to fire in the right sequence to memorise this mistake.
The more you muck up the dance step, the more your brain has to work out what’s wrong. And with every mistake, it eliminates only a percentage of the error. It’s only when it eliminates 100% of the error, does it then get that dance step right.
What’s interesting is that you’re never learning one step at a time.
You’re learning several steps. And the brain has to go over this whole sequence of making the mistake, recognising it, memorising it and then fixing it.
And it has to do this entire sequence for every single mistake.
Luckily our brains have enormous computing power.
And they’re able to process these mistakes and make corrections in a matter of milliseconds—if we are willing to make the mistake, that is.
The biggest reason we don’t get talented is for a simple reason.
It’s because we can’t bear to make a mistake.
And as you can now tell, that’s the biggest mistake of all!
Note: During this lesson I had to go through this exact process, because I was trying to learn how to insert an ‘em-dash’. On my PC, I have to press Alt + 0151 on my keyboard to get an ‘em-dash.’ On a Mac, it’s different. I have to press Shift+ Alt + – to get the same result. I learned how to create the ‘em-dash’, and then promptly goofed it up. I had to go back several times to learn it. And now I think I have it. Or do I?
Read the lyrics of the song (till you can stand it), and then scroll to the bottom.
Back to you. It always comes around. Back to you. I tried to forget you. I tried to stay away. But its too late.
Over you. I’m never over. Over you. Something about you. Its just the way you move. The way you move me.
I’m so good at forgetting. And I quit ever game I play. But forgive me, love. I cant turn and walk away. Back to you. It always comes around. Back to you. I walk with your shadow. I’m sleeping in my bed. With your silhouette.
Should have smiled in that picture. If it’s the last that I’ll see of you. It’s the least that you. Could not do. Leave the light on. I’ll never give up on you. Leave the light on. For me too.
Back to me. I know that it comes. Back to me. Doesn’t it scare you? Your will is not as strong. As it used to be.
This is our love song of failure.
Every time we fail, a similar song plays in our brain.
And we go back to the behaviour that causes us to fail. It always comes around. Back to you.
But it could also be a song of success.
The same lyrics that bring you down, take you to overcoming the silly hurdles.
It depends what you’re in love with.
Failure or success.
Making excuses or making things happen!
How much is 3 + 3?
You know the answer already, don’t you?
That answer is embedded in your brain through a factor of repetition.
Time and time again, you were called on to remember random numbers.
Then you had to add them up, multiply them and eventually they formed a memory.
Your brain has a storage point for all these bits and pieces.
And talent works on memory. But depends far more on layering.
So if you were to listen to Clay Shirky on collaboration (see video below), you’d learn about collaboration in groups.
If you were to listen to Clay Shirky a second time, you’ll learn something quite different about collaboration in groups.
If you were to listen to Clay Shirky four or five times, you’ll learn something quite different every single time.
How do I know this?
Because I went for a walk to the beautiful Milford beach, near my home.
And during that one hour walk, I listened to the same audio five times over.
Each time my brain remembered something from the previous hearing, and layered a new learning over it.
The more I listened, the more I learned.
It wasn’t just repetition.
It was literally a bunch of new ideas that were popping in my brain with every repetition.
In effect, I was layering.
Then I took that layering, and added some more information.
I listened to Deborah Gordon and how ants use collaboration (see video below)
Then I spoke to my wife, Renuka about how collaboration could be used on our websites.
Then I brought up the concept of collaboration in a client call.
With every layer, my understanding of collaboration increased in leaps and bounds.
I now understood collaboration like never before.
What my brain is doing, is creating a whole bunch of amazing links.
Links that help me learn.
And get more talented in the understanding of collaboration.
Compare this with 3 + 3.
No matter how many ways you look at it, it’s still 6.
Which brings us back to the question of superiority. Which is more important? Layering or repetition?
Without a doubt, layering is what helps us become talented.
Memory merely helps us remember those layers.
Memory isn’t superior than layering. And neither is layering superior to memory.
Both are needed to learn and sustain a skill.
But if you really want to become a genius at something you can’t depend solely on memory.
Memory by itself is just a bunch of 3 + 3 situations.
Layering is what causes genius.
More on this later…now that I’m back thanks to a nudge from Stew Walton
For now, watch these fascinating videos on collaboration.
Imagine you listen to a song that you haven’t heard for twenty years.
And you know the tune, but the lyrics seem all jumbled in your brain.
So you play the song once.
Then once again.
By the third time, you’ll remember every word of the lyrics you knew twenty years ago.
So what happened there?
The same thing that happened to me when I went to play badminton.
I hadn’t played for well over twenty years.
The first day back was pure torture.
Both on the court, and off the court.
I was gasping for breath. My head was throbbing. I barely stumbled back to my car. And slept for the rest of the day just catching up on my energy.
Three days later I went back to play.
And something weird happened.
While I was struggling to get the shuttlecock across the net the first day, I was able to get it across a whole lot better the second time. And then I went a third time. And a fourth time. And by the fifth trip to courts, I was able to play eight games. Unlike the first time where I was struggling to reach the shuttlecock, I had no problem at all–sometimes I even had time.
So what’s so interesting about this story?
Here’s what’s interesting.
The five visits to the court weren’t back to back visits.
They were over three weeks.
And in those three weeks, I hadn’t done anything spectacular to bring about this massive change in my body.
I wasn’t exercising more. Wasn’t training more. This incredible change was happening in my brain.
Like some song from long ago, it was remembering the ‘lyrics.’
And letting me improve my game in massive incremental steps.
So that within five visits to the court my brain was remembering moves, and had the capacity to handle energy from twenty years ago. The lights were all switching on.
Your body too responds to long-lost memories
In fact, it’s not even fair to call them long-lost.
They’re more like long-buried. And re-discovered.
Which means that if you’ve been told you can do something exceedingly well, your brain reaches into the long-lost memory. And compares data. And then it does something short of exceedingly well. And then with little practice, it improves in leaps and bounds.
But the brain works the other way too
It can bring up failure-data. And the body then refuses to co-operate. And just like you remember the words of the song, you start to remember the words of failure.
Which makes it imperative to understand how layering and memories are linked.
And how we can get rid of stupid memories with the concept of layering.
And suddenly become far more talented than we thought possible.
Next post: How layering is almost more powerful than memory itself
They all relate to one simple factor.
Your brain freezes.
It doesn’t have a memory of a fire-drill
So let’s start with the fire-drill, shall we?
The reason why you had a fire-drill in school or at an office, isn’t because the organisation likes making you run out of the building, and onto the street.
The biggest reason for fire-drills, is to know what to do in an emergency.
Because contrary to what you may believe, people don’t actually run helter-skelter in an emergency. They sit there, transfixed, as if in a bad dream.
And in your business, emergencies pop up like 800-pound gorillas
Suddenly you have to write a report. Or create a presentation. Or even worse, write an engaging article.
And your brain panics. It freezes. And it has no memory of any fire-drill.
The brain goes into panic mode. It scans memory bank after memory bank for a memory of success.
On the contrary, it finds failure after failure
Why does it run into failure? And how do we overcome this failure? Listen to this short 7 minute audio, and you’ll understand exactly what goes in the mind of a so-called ‘talented’ person. Why that person is able to walk right past that 800-pound assignment, while you can only watch in terror.
Arthur Benjamin does some amazing feats of brain magic.
He holds an entire audience in awe multiplying numbers such as 57,683 x 57,683.
And says funny words like ‘cookie fission’. Add ‘kerry’ to ‘fission.’ And then ‘rev up’, and add that to ‘fission.’
He has no problem squaring numbers faster than calculators.
In fact he squares two digit numbers, three digit numbers, and four digit numbers like we say ‘three square equals nine’.
He’s able to tell you which day of the month you were born on, based on the year and the date.
And that’s just some of the crazy mathematical stuff he does (and yes, he does it live!)
But is Art Benjamin a liar?
Because he tellls us he’s not a genius.
He says he’s using a method. And when someone says the word ‘method’, it means they’re using a series of steps.
So Art Benjamin is saying he’s not a genius.
Liar!
Susan Polgar, the first female grandmaster in chess says something similar.
Her words are: “You’re in total control of your own destiny. I really believe that if you put your mind to it, and you really want it, you can achieve it. Whatever it is.”
Liar!
Andy Bell is the holder of the title of World Memory Champion
In twenty minutes he has to remember the sequence of ten decks of cards. That’s 520 cards. And he has to remember every card, in its correct sequence. No matter how many cards are fired at him, Andy remembers them perfectly. Everyone correct, and in the right order.
Again, Andy says he has a method. “As I child”, he says, “I had conventionally good memory. But once you learn a technique, like the location method I use, it takes everything beyond what you can possibly do naturally. I think I have the same mental equipment as everyone else. So it’s something anyone can do.”
Liar!
So here’s the irony of so-called genius.
The really smart people say they’re not smart.
They say they have a method. A code. A system.
That they’re like everyone else.
Conventional. Regular. Not genius-like at all.
All liars.
Including the biggest one of them all: Albert Einstein who said, “I am not smarter than anyone else. I’m just more curious.”
Yeah, right!
Note: To watch the video of Arthur Benjamin doing his mathemagic act, you’ll need to go online to: http://brainaudit.com/blog/?p=49
When you look around you and see talented people you may run into a common misconception.
You may believe that those considered ‘talented’ or ‘creative’ require less practice.
Makes sense, huh?
If you’re already talented, where’s the need for practice?
You already have what it takes.
Your brain is genetically engineered towards your talent.
You should be coasting downhill, while the others struggle.
Yet the evidence all around you, points to the exact opposite situation.
The top athletes in the world practice long hours.
The top artists in the world seem to be stuck to their palettes.
The best speakers go over their material, time after time, after time.
The best figure skaters do their routines hypnotically.
In fact, when research was done on the top figure skaters, here’s what the researchers found.
They found that the mark of the top skater is the ability to do their spins and jumps.
And that the absolute crème da la crème skaters did more jumps and spins, when practicing.
The researchers found that the slightly lower-ranked skaters did just a little less practice.
And took more breaks in between their jumps and spins.
Less practice, eh?
And yet we strongly believe that talent is inborn.
Because if talent were indeed inborn, then where’s the need to practice?
Where’s the need to do yet another jump and turn?
Surely even at the highest level of sport, one figure skater would be so overloaded with talent, that it would be impossible for others to catch up. Surely it would be impossible, no matter how many hours of practice their competition puts in.
Talent or creativity is the result of many, many hours of frustrating practice.
Because when we have courses, like say Article Writing for instance, I can tell you who’ll be the star of the course.
I can tell you within days of the course beginning, who’ll write better articles than anyone else.
I can tell you, even without knowing that person’s background, or capability, or any so-called talent.
I can tell you based on momentum.
The ones who consistently write better, faster, and with more panache are those who practice.
Day in, day out. Week in, week out.
The momentum builds on itself.
Suddenly patterns emerge.
Suddenly the achievement is higher.
Suddenly the pats on the back increase.
But is momentum alone enough to create a factor of skill?
Obviously not.
However, it is one of the most critical factors, as compared to everything else.
Because whom would you rather believe?
The perception of the average person on the street—who believes in inborn talent?
Or the figure skater doing yet one more practice jump and turn?
I may have heard Chopin’s Prelude No.4 a least a dozen times.
Or may have never heard it at all.
I couldn’t tell you for sure, you see.
Because there’s all this classical music playing in the background when I go to hotels. And to airports.
And I’m not paying attention.
But there was this one time I did pay attention
You see, I was listening to a presentation given by Benjamin Zander.
And Benjamin Zander didn’t just play Chopin’s Prelude No.4.
He patterned it for me (and everyone else, of course)
So how did he pattern Prelude No.4?
Well he brought my attention to the composer.
And to the music he was about to play.
And then he played it.
And I went through the first phase of patterning: recognition.
I was hearing Prelude No.4 for the first time ever.
Or rather, actually listening to Prelude No.4, for the first time.
Then Msieu Zander did something magical
He repeated the music.
Over and over.
And recognition seeped into my classical-music-starved brain.
And we moved quickly to the layering
Suddenly I wasn’t just listening to the music.
I was being shown specific notes.
Why one note made me feel happy.
Why the other note made me feel sad.
Why the Prelude seems to be struggling. Almost hitting bad notes.
How the Prelude hits so-called bad notes, and then hits the note we’ve been waiting for.
How that note gives me a sense of ‘aha, finally.’
And why that 2 minute Prelude is now an integral part of me.
If I heard it on the street. Or at an airport. Or at a hotel, I’d stop.
And listen. And understand. And try to find more layering in that pattern I know so well.
And it’s only because Benjamin Zander slowed down the pattern for me.
But he only slowed down the pattern for Prelude No.4.
I’m on my own for Prelude No.5.
Note:As a result of this one presentation, I went and bought over 80 classical pieces from iTunes. All Chopin, for starters. And to date, I’ve heard the same set over 30 times in less than five weeks. I put it on each morning as I’m writing articles, and imagine I’m this great pianist. I type faster when the music speeds up. And slow down when the music slows down. My life is richer because of Benjamin Zander’s presentation. And because he took the time to slow down the pattern for me.
To see Benjamin Zander’s presentation click here.
Patterning is simply a factor of:
1) Recognition.
2) Repetition.
3) Layering.
Recognition comes first
Imagine you’re in a city you’ve never been to before. Around you are cobbled stone streets. Hey, you’re in Rome.
But you’re hopelessly lost. The summer sun has long set, and you desperately want to get back to the hotel. But you can’t figure out where you are. This situation, as you’ve already worked out is a lack of recognition.
Of course, you know what comes next
You go back to the same cobblestone area the next day. And the day after. And then suddenly, you’re not even thinking about the way back to the hotel. Ah, but you are. Your brain has worked out a temporary map. And the repetition has helped you to get back.
Layering of course, is something we don’t pay attention to, at all
But it’s layering that really makes the difference. You see, recognition and repetition are core parts of your learning. But layering takes it to another level.
The first time you were lost, you didn’t see the beautiful flowering tree
Or the green paint on the window. You didn’t see that pizza place around the corner. But now you do. Your brain is beautifully layering colour, odour, sound, texture and tons of other stuff, that you’d find impossible to explain. And in a way impossible to re-create.
How do we know that we couldn’t re-create it all?
Because if someone told you to simply draw the scene, you’d only be able to re-create some of the scene. You’d miss out on many elements. You’ll miss out that faded poster on the wall. You’ll miss the ornately carved park bench. You’ll wonder how you didn’t see the bright red post box.
And if someone were to take you on this magical mystery tour...
The tour of the faded poster. The ornately carved park bench. And the bright red post box.
Then you’d enter the first phase: Recognition.
Of course, you’d see it again and again: Repetition.
And you’d start to recognise details. Far more details would enter your brain every single time. Aha!: Layering.
Now add recognition, repetition and layering at high speed.
And you have patterning.
Patterns are why you see a chair and know it’s a chair.
Why you listen to Chopin’s Prelude No.4 you’d remember it, if it was played to you again and again.
Why you see a child, and know it’s not your child.
That’s patterning.
Which is why you could recognise the Rubik’s Cube at the top of this page.
Your brain had seen it enough times, to tell you that it was indeed not any old cube.
But a Rubik’s cube.
And if that picture wasn’t of an actual cube, but a cake designed like a Rubik’s Cube.
Or furniture. Or just about anything. You’d still recognise the pattern.
Aha, you’re a genius.
Recognise the pattern.
And you’ve cracked the code.
But there’s still more work to be done.
It’s not enough to recognise a pattern. Or to crack a code.
But let’s leave it for another post, shall we?
For now I’d love it if you had any life stories, or comments or questions.
Feel free to fill in the comments box.
You’re in your friend’s kitchen.
And you see a chair.
And you sit down on that chair.
How do you know it’s safe to sit on that chair?
But even more interestingly, how do you know it’s a chair in the first instance?
Your brain worked out the pattern, didn’t it?
It figured out, that if the chair looked like a chair, then it must be a chair.
The chair you picked may be orange, and you’ve never sat in an orange chair before, but hey the brain still sees it as a chair.
And even if the chair didn’t have four legs. Even if it had just one central beam, your brain still sees the chair as a chair.
This is the simplicity of patterning
You see the chair. You sit on it.
A five-month old baby sees it.
And slams into it. Bumps into it. Stares at it.
Isn’t sure what to do with it.
The patterns are clear in your brain. The patterns ain’t that clear in the brain of that baby.
Which brings us to why some people seem so talented
They just see patterns we don’t see (not yet, anyway!)
But here’s the really frustrating part.
If you ask a ‘talented’ person what they’re seeing, they can’t explain what’s really happening.
So if you asked the famous artist Picasso, what patterns he saw before he drew a masterpiece, he may not have been able to give you an answer. And yet, he was seeing patterns.
But patterns at such high speed that most talented people can’t tell you what they’re seeing.
These um, talented people simply draw, or sing, or dance.
They can’t describe to you the pattern (in most cases).
So how do we know it’s a pattern after all?
Because of the repetition.
Picasso’s first drawing may not look exactly like the next, but try as he may, the next drawing will have an overlap of the first.
A dancer may do a completely different dance routine, but hey, there’s the style coming through. And what is style, but a pattern?
Artists, dancers, heck even criminals follow a pattern.
But because we can’t see the pattern at normal speed, we think it’s talent.
Yes, you have a talent for spotting a chair.
Yes, you have a talent for sitting down on a chair.
But can you explain that talent to me?
No you can’t.
Because it’s happening too fast in your brain.
And that’s exactly what’s happening in the brains of so-called talented people.
But let’s do the impossible in the posts to follow, shall we?
Let’s slow down patterns so that you can see them.
Aha…now that would be something eh?
Then the so-called talent wouldn’t be so magical after all.
But how do we slow things down? That’s the question.
And yes, there’s an answer.
Amazing as it may sound, there’s a simple, logical answer.
But hey, that answer will come in another post.
For now, look around and see your magnificent brain. And how it seems to recognise patterns all the time.
You are indeed talented at recognising patterns.
But we’ll go one step further. We’ll do stuff that seems impossible.
Like draw cartoons. Or write jokes. Or do things that seem um, quite out of your current league.
Watch this space.
And feel free to ask questions. Your questions will help me.
Have you ever seen an seven-year old child playing the piano?
Then listen to the same eight-year old playing the piano.
And then that child struggles on to become a nine-year old playing the piano.
And then he moves on to ten.
And then suddenly at eleven, something magical happens
The clunky sound disappears from the playing.
Suddenly, there’s flow and rhythm.
And you sit up in awe, saying: “What a talented child.”
And you’d be wrong.
Because talent has little or nothing to do with it.
Ben Zander, celebrated conductor of orchestras, and trainer shows you exactly what’s happening from the age of seven, eight, to nine, then on to ten. And finally what happens when the child becomes eleven?
The teacher hasn’t changed.
The method of teaching hasn’t changed.
So what did change?
Why does the child begin to play like a dream?
It’s a factor of impulses, says Ben Zander.
When they first start playing, children put an impulse on every note.
When they continue playing, children then put an impulse on every second note.
And if they persist, they then put an impulse on every fourth note.
And by the time they’re ten (and four years into training), they put an impulse on every eight note.
And then it happens…
The eleven year old plays music that makes you sit back in awe.
But what’s really happening?
Layering. That’s what’s happening.
When we learn a language, we learn to recognise sound.
Then we learn a word. Or two.
Then we’re able to string a sentence.
Then we’re able to add grammar, and make the sentence grammatically correct.
Finally we have enough layering, to not exactly pay attention to every word.
Every impulse.
We speak languages.
We rarely turn to an eleven-year old and say: Oooh, you speak such fine English.
You must be soooo talented in English.
And yet, English is a difficult language to learn. But learn it we all do.
The point is: If we’d given up speaking in our first year, or second year, or third year, we’d lose the ability to learn the language. The layering has to happen. Otherwise, we stop learning.
People consider talent to be innate.
But a core part of talent is mere layering.
One over the other, over the other.
And suddenly a child plays the piano with mastery.
We speak languages fluently.
And an ex-cartoonist (that’s me) starts talking about marketing and brain stuff.
We fail to become talented because we fail to layer.
We’re stuck at the basic impulses, instead of progressing onwards.
We’re just seven year olds hacking away at the piano.
That’s all we are!
Note:Look at this video (yes again). Because by the time you get to 2:30, you’ll see how Ben Zander explains the concept so eloquently. Yup, 2 minutes and thirty seconds should show you all you need to see. But watch the full video if you wish to, as well (I’ve watched it no less than eight times already) As you can see, I’m layering too
We all believe that Einstein was talented.
He wasn’t.
He just hit his forehead a lot.
The Slap On The Forehead: What does it mean?
Einstein wasn’t talented. He developed pattern recognition. He worked out a pattern.
Once you see the clarity of the pattern, it’s like night and day. You’re not bumbling around in the dark. Suddenly everything seems easy. In fact, you wonder why everyone else doesn’t see it the same way. Why are they bumbling in the dark, you wonder.
Every ‘talented’ person has had this ‘aha-moment’ several times in their life. They are doing something—often something disconnected to their ability—and then it hits them. The pattern becomes super-clear.
And they hit their forehead.
That hitting of forehead is a moment when the brain recognises a pattern that others have failed to see. Any ‘talented’ person will tell you that the pattern has existed forever. And that they’ve just failed to see it. Of course, so have the others around them.
Because the ‘talented’ person is the first to see the pattern in this specific way, they are called ‘talented.’ But truly talented people know and recognise the forehead moment. They know it’s the moment that they finally recognise a new direction. Or to put it another way, another pattern.
You can do this while driving a car
Let’s say we wanted to go from my house to the city in peak traffic. No matter how bad the weather, I can get you to the city from my house about 40 cars ahead of anyone who sets out at the same time, from the same destination. It doesn’t mean that I’m talented at driving. It means that I’ve recognised a pattern.
I’ve worked out exactly the spots you need to change lanes. Yes, the exact spots. Changing lanes at those specific spots will get you about 40 cars ahead. Which is handy, when you’re in a hurry. But you know what? How do you get 600 cars ahead?
It’s called ‘taking the bus’.
The bus has its own freeway unhindered by traffic. It can get you to the city 600 cars ahead.
Now you don’t see that as a talent, do you? But it is? It’s the ability of the brain to recognise a pattern.
Pattern 1: Do what you’ve always done. Pattern 2: Change lanes at specific points and get 40 cars ahead, every single time. Pattern 3: Get on the bus, and get 600 cars ahead. Every single time.
This pattern recognition is what we call the forehead moment.
That duh sound you hear, is the new direction unfolding.
Once you work out the new direction, nothing is the same.
And other car drivers either follow you (like they did with Einstein)
Or they take the bus.
Or they call you talented, and do what they’ve always done
Benjamin Zander, famous orchestra conductor and co-author of the ‘Art of Possibility’ has a story to tell.
Benjamin had a twenty-five year old problem.
He had thirty students that were going to go through two semesters of training with him. The students were all instrumentalists and singers. They were going to learn the art of musical performance, including the psychological and emotional factors that stand in the way of great music-making. Yet, in twenty-five years, he wasn’t able to get the class to do what he wanted them to do. Namely, to take risks with their playing. They’d always be so anxious to succeed, that they’d stay on the straight and narrow.
And then Ben (and his wife Roz) came up with an emotional super-charger
They decided to give every single student an A. No matter what they did during the year, the student would get an A.
Of course, this seemed unfair. Should the slacker get an A, even though another student has put in ten times the effort?
Technically this seems weird, but look at the emotional ramifications.
Imagine if you could learn to draw cartoons, and there was no such thing as a bad cartoon.
Imagine if you could write an article, and there was no such thing as a bad article.
Imagine you could paint a picture and got an A.
You can’t imagine it, can you?
But ask a cartoonist, or a reporter, or a painter to do the corresponding tasks above, and they’ll do it without too much of a frown.
And if you look back into their history, you’ll find something consistent.
You weren’t told that you were a great cartoonist. Your drawings weren’t put up on the fridge. Your parents didn’t get you a whole bunch of drawing books, and let you paint on the walls. You were instead told, that art was for the other talented people. That no one in your family was an artist. That it’s ok if you can’t draw. And that’s not what happened in the house of the ‘cartoonist.’
In that house, the cartoonist knew one thing. That he or she would get an A if she drew something.
That the mother and father, and teacher, and grandparents—even the dog would be all excited when you did your cartoon.
That when you went to school, your friends would egg you on to draw cartoons.
That your cartoons happened to be a chick/guy magnet and got you prominence.
All the while the brain is going: Hey this is good.
Emotions of success fill your brain.
Failure pops in, says hi, but the success is so overriding, because suddenly you’re seeing yourself as an A student already.
And hey, now you’re talented.
But how do we know this to be true?
Words and actions have enormous emotional ramifications.
If someone tells you you’re really good at ‘cartooning’ for instance, a couple of things happen. 1) You begin to like that person more.
2) You begin to see your own work in a new light.
Liking that person more, means you get pre-disposed to impressing that person. So if the person says: “You really dress well” then you’re more than likely to dress well each and every time you go to see that person (even if you’re quite casual otherwise). And then, in the process of dressing well, you feel better. And you see your own dressing in a new light. You can now spot smart casual from casual. You are now suddenly progressing along the line—if only to impress one person.
Of course, this leads to other people noticing your new ‘talent.’
This starts a bit of a Domino Effect. You think, there you are. And therefore you become what others believe you are.
And this magnificent journey begins with a simple comment, or series of comments.
Comments that make you feel good. Comments that make you smile. Comments that end up with your ‘talent’ becoming a chick magnet.
The A starts in a single moment.
Which brings us right back to Benjamin Zander and his students.
He got each student to see themselves at the end of two-terms. And to write a letter to him saying: “Dear Mr. Zander…I got my A because of…”And in this letter they had to give as much detail as they could; the story of what would have happened during the year; and what would have happened to the student as a result of this A grade. And everything needed to be written in the past tense.
Would you live up to your A?
Would you live up to be a ’smart dresser?
Would you live up to being a superb cartoonist?
You see, it’s all emotion. Because Zander’s students haven’t achieved anything. But do you have any doubt about the outcome? That’s the power of emotion. That’s the power of your brain. And that’s why talent is a myth.
Final Note: Watch the video below. As a result, I’m not only talented in B notes and C notes, but listen to classical music every day as well. And I would not call myself a classical music lover. Well, now I am.
People believe they’re good at drawing…or bad at drawing
How this this crazy notion come about? How did we get it into our heads that we were good or bad at something? I’ll tell you how.
Let’s take drawing, because most people simply can’t draw…
So why can’t they draw? Is it because they’re not talented? Let’s see, shall we?
Imagine a skill you’re good at: Like walking around a banana peel, for instance.
Imagine someone put five banana peels in your path.
Or ten. Or twenty-five. Or even fifty.
Would you be able to avoid the banana peel, and walk right along?
Silly question, eh? But what’s the banana peel got to do with your brain?
The brain recognised the danger of the peel. It recognised that the peel could create damage.
You could slip; fall; hurt yourself; even die.
So the brain pays attention. It prevents you from stepping on the peel in the future.
Drawing, on the other hand, doesn’t cause you to slip; fall or hurt yourself.
So your brain has no need to pay attention.
Yet, imagine you did a drawing as a child.
Imagine that every time you did that drawing you were slapped.
Not just slapped hard across the face. But ridiculed. And punished.
What are the chances you’d become really outstanding at drawing?
Pretty slim, huh?
So let’s take the exact opposite. Let’s say you did the drawing, and your mother was really excited. She showed it to everyone. She told you (and told the world) how talented you were. She brought you more crayons. More paper. More encouragement. And despite being ‘lousy’ at drawing, she felt no intimidation when showing you—a little child—how to draw.
And so the stirrings of talent begin.
You become talented.
You draw more.
You use drawing as a weapon to get attention.
You spend more time, understanding the medium and patterns better.
You get more attention. You draw even more. And the attention feeds on itself, resulting in more effort, more training.
And voila, you’re an artist.
You see it’s stupidity that causes us to believe in talent.
Talent is nothing but a seed, well watered.
Which is why most of us have a ‘talent’ to speak almost one language.
Most of us have a ‘talent’ to press door bells, and speak on phones.
Most of us have a ‘talent’ to recite and write our alphabet from one end to the other.
Which brings us back to drawing
Surely drawing is a lot more complex than reciting and writing the alphabet.
You think so? Tell that to a three-year old child.
Watch as she struggles with just the letter A. Or B. Or the combination of A, B and C.
So what makes her talent grow?
It’s the banana peel of life.
Her parents know that that child will ’slip and fall’ if she doesn’t learn her alphabet.
So they make the alphabet fun. They show the child a cat. And say the letter C.
They show the child a ball, and you guessed it, it’s the letter B.
And soon, every child becomes a genius at the alphabet.
And you know what, if you are a genius at the alphabet, I can indeed teach you how to draw using NOTHING but the alphabet.
And could you then become a genius at drawing?
Hmmm…food for thought, eh?
So what are your questions? Because as you can tell, this is indeed going to be a long, long series.
