PENTAWAY Academy

10. You are going to die

Hawking’s scientific work is not the only contribution he left. His whole biography is like a big vector pointing the direction for those facing the toughness of life.

I fell over and had great difficulty in getting up again. My mother realised something was wrong and took me to the doctor. I spent two weeks in Barts Hospital and had many guests. They never actually told me what was wrong, but I guessed enough to know it was pretty bad. In fact, the doctor who diagnosed me washed his hands off me and I never saw him again. He felt that there was nothing that could be done.

At first, I became depressed. I seemed to be getting worse pretty rapidly. There didn’t seem any point working on my PhD and, because I didn’t know if I would live long enough to finish it. I had come to Cambridge to do Cosmology, and Cosmology I was determined to do. Then the condition developed more slowly, I began to make progress in my work. After my expectations had been reduced to zero, every new day became a bonus and I began to appreciate everything I did have.

Often what makes a true sentence magnificent is who and when said it.

From time to time, we are reminded about the nature of life, that it has a beginning and an end. We don’t normally choose its length, but we tend to want a long rather short life, even though our decisions, life-styles and words don’t always support that desire. We don’t ask ourselves “When will I die?”, because it is impossible to answer, but the truth is that the answer is obvious and always the same – “Soon.”

Living means letting things go and starting new chapters. Misery most often happens when we fail on one, or both of them. Recent study done on 132 countries seems to back it up by providing some evidence about unhappiness picking at the age of 47.2, when life usually brings challenging circumstances. It suggests that people need to learn letting things go and filling the gap with something new and unhappiness is a measurable sign of certain difficulties with that.(1)

This is probably the most, or the only controversial statement in this book, but I must say that not many things make me happier, stronger and more productive than thinking about my own future death. That is because thinking about my death is actually thinking about my life.

The perspective of the end of my life means looking at my parents, my siblings, my teachers, my friends, my wife, my kids… it is also about my mistakes, my failures, my struggles, my pains… I am given so much, that I’m driven by gratitude. The vision of my death makes me appreciate more and expect less – I prioritise better and concentrate on bold actions. If my journey makes sense, then so does my death.

I don’t know how much time I have, but I believe I can influence both, the length and quality of my life, and that is as exciting as it gets.

You may have many decades ahead of you, but we may be talking about single years, or months. You may be lucky, and get the warning from a doctor, your body, or your intelligence, and manage to put things in place, but it may be very unexpected, in a very “wrong moment.”

If you had one more book to read after this one, what would that be? Get it now. What if it was your last prayer, what would you say? Say it. What about your last summer, last kiss, or last symphonic concert?

You may be one of those truly, strategically or cynically not caring about their death, but it’s not only about your own death anyway. What if that would be your mum’s last month? How would your last tea with her look like? What if it was about your last conversation with your dying mentor? What would your “thank you” sound like? What if it was your last walk with your dog? What if you knew that it was your last gig with a friend?

Few weeks ago I lost one… suddenly and too early. Remarkable pianist, unique composer. We were both busy recently, but whenever I was at his place he’d always show me an interesting book he was just reading, his new composition, a fresh idea on drums he practiced, or recently even on saxophone, his drawings. We would try some V7-I’s, a standard in 12 keys…

When he was coming to mine, first he would go down to the floor and play with my children, then he would correct couple of strings in my dodgy piano, then we would listen to something one of us was excited about, then he would go through my new books, we would exchange opinions, sometimes very different, then we would have a dinner my wife made, he would teach me Italian, I would teach him Polish… until one of us had to dash.

It was a true and unique friendship, though we never defined it directly. When I found out he died, it became clear and obvious that I was taking it for granted. The feeling of loss and sadness was amplified by the feeling of regret. I decided that for the rest of my life whenever I’d play “Bye Bye Blackbird,” it’d be my little tribute for Paolo.

I’ve got a student being just diagnosed with cancer – a specific and aggressive tissue attempting to take over her body and to kill it. She now needs to challenge it with very disciplined actions. She started the chemotherapy immediately and the operation is already arranged too. But in the meantime she organised and played her first public concert ever. It was a success, and the audience wants her back, so another one is booked, even though she still feels that she is not ready to perform anywhere else than at home.

When I saw her last week, she started a sentence with words that I would never expect to appear together: „The good thing about having cancer is…“. I thought about it later and realised that I don’t hear people saying anything opposite too, like: “The good thing about not having cancer is…” even if there are definitely good things about that. Think about it – you still don’t have cancer. What are you going to do about it?

Within a year I lost three of my friends I regularly performed with, and that was hard.

Do we need to wait until we are about to lose something to value it, celebrate, and appreciate it? Do we need to be busy enough to ignore all the opportunities to meet our parents, to spend time on the floor with our toddlers, to send a card, to draw your dog, to pray for peace, or to give blood?

At some point my wife worked in a hospital, and was responsible for phoning people who were invited for additional tests after they did a prophylactic breast screening. That phone call did not mean that they found any condition, but reactions of their clients often were very emotional and far from polite. Their fear of dying provoked aggressive, irrelevant, or infantile behaviours, for which in a normal situation you’d solemnly apologise.

People facing the possibility of incurable diseases, or fatal accidents instantly know what is the most important thing in their life, how to value and use their time.

One minute they feel lost and disheartened, and the next one brings an enlightenment – they learn that they may live shorter than they wanted to, and suddenly they know what their passion is, they know what they want and should, and they can’t believe they’ve wasted so many opportunities to start their new life.

Whatever stops us, it does probably only because we believe it does. Rather than cursing the obstacle, striking our beliefs appears to be much more practical.

Do we need a diagnosis, or a near-death-experience to know that we, or our closest are all going to die? Why should we wait until someone will give us a professional prediction that it’s coming? We all look after ourselves and it is our job to do so, we should try to have a long life, but we can’t forget that its quality is even more up to us.

Every morning we need to make sure that we know our core values, our priorities, what we stand for, what we want. If you think you have your values and priorities in place, but you still procrastinate, feel lost, or confused, then go back and make sure they are super-clear. If they are, and you still want to do things later, then probably something happened to your dreams. Your desires may be still alive, but they are in prison. You can live like that, but without real hunger nothing is tasty enough to fight for it.

If you are already cynical about it, then you probably need help, and asking for help is okay.

(1) David G. Blanchflower: Is Happiness U-shaped Everywhere? Age and Subjective Well-being in 132 Countries, NBER Working Paper No. 26641Issued in January 2020.

9. Jazz education is primarily about those flames

At first it is the teacher’s job to protect it. He needs to mirror all the student’s insecurities and balance them with his own confidence, clear message and structured system.

It became my secret mission-impossible to rescue all the beautiful, but weak flames, to make them grow and last forever, to give them a reason to exist with passion and pride.

I want the flames to grow and one day express themselves in their own way for the benefit of us all.

If, for any reason, the flames will fade out anyway, I want to give them permission to come back now, or any time in the future.

I quickly realised that the first and most important thing I needed to do was to keep the confusion away.

The teacher needs to replace the student’s fear that he is going “NOWHERE” with a clear indication: “NOW HERE.”

NOWHERE ======> NOW HERE

Confusion is a threat.

I decided to do everything I could to find and create an organised way to go through the fundamentals of jazz without confusion, so that my students would not need to learn it the way I did – stressful, risky and potentially traumatic.

I decided to become for them someone I needed when I was younger. I believed that every single step of jazz education can be simple, easy and fun, and I committed to make it possible and available for others – first for my students, and then for anyone with that flame.

It took me seven years of contemplating, experimenting, failing, searching and practicing, but I discovered and developed an answer, and it feels like I’m saving the world.

During that time I spoke to many people about their approach to learning and teaching jazz, including some of the most known musicians in the world. They all helped me to keep the big picture when thinking about my musicianship.

For instance, Jim Snidero pointed out the importance of the duration of a practice session depending on your physical abilities generally going down with age, so you need to be strategic and wise.

Chris Potter had a similar conclusion – it matters how early you start and it’s good to do the majority of your practice when you’re young, but he stressed that on the other hand the general rule is easy and always works: when you practice, you get better.

When I met Pharaoh Sanders, he straight recognised I was a tenor player. Apparently he always does. He reminded me that our musical condition is measured by our relationship with fundamentals. He made it clear that as a wind instrument player I need to look after my sound before anything else. He said that his real reason for being in London is an English mouthpiece he once played when he was younger and he was hoping to find and try it while visiting Britain.

Gilad Atzmon made it even more clear that being happy about your sound should be your number one worry. He showed me a very interesting way he practices scales using Indian konnakol(1). There is a funny story about the day I visited him…

When I was leaving his house I had to manually open the boot of my old Nissan Almera, so I put my saxophone on the road. After all these amazing things Gilad shared with me my head was burning so much that I left my Selmer tenor there. About an hour later Gilad went for a walk with his wife and found my instrument in the middle of the road. He straight phoned me, but because of the amount of laughing and swearing, I can’t quote what he said.

Conversations with Joe Lovano and Ravi Coltrane were brief, more personal and not directly about teaching, but they dramatically influenced my thinking. I started studying the emotional side of the very beginning of your practice. Something very close to Marie Kondo’s “sparking joy”(2).

… as I literally was writing this, my wife came and said: “Stephen Hawking has just passed away…”

It triggered a long series of thoughts in my head and I decided to share them right here. (see post 10)

(1) The art of performing percussion syllables vocally in South Indian Carnatic Music

(2) She created a method of tidying based on discovering the first indication of your heart – she called it the KonMarie Method.

8. Nobody gave me the next step

I was unfortunate enough to be confronted with the lift-it-all-up-or-give-it-all-up situation, and fortunate enough to have what it takes to survive. Too often it doesn’t go together and we compromise too early, or we choose giving up instead of resting.

Since I started to teach in London I’ve had students of many different levels, instruments, ages and backgrounds. There are exceptions, but I noticed that one thing is always present – confusion, or the indirect form of it – the fear of confusion. It is right next to the passion for music, right next to the desire of taking their playing to the next level, right next to the big dream.

The intention is real, but the confidence isn’t always strong enough and the dream is too often shy and on shaky legs.

The beginners’ path is particularly windy and full of roughness, as they usually come with a big hope and enthusiasm, but also many questions, lack of clarity, and no confidence. Even if the ignition is powerful, the flame is always fragile.

7. Education takes courage, but so does rejecting it

Education always brings the power of change and freshness of knowledge – current becomes expired, our desires and judgments change.

Entering the unknown is complicated, because the curiosity needs to win with the fear of losing the control under what you’ve got. The conflict between the need of growth and the need for comfort can crush our confidence, but it often goes even deeper – it can weaken our passion.

It is an act of courage to choose education. I mean the real one, where learning means provoking a change – inviting new.

I remember my friends talking about modes, progressions, rhythms, alterations, and the way it made me feel. I didn’t know what they were talking about whatsoever, but it was fascinating that jazz had its own world with II-V-I’s, substitutions, passing tones, sharp 11ths, back-door resolutions, etc… Music was supposed to be one big territory, but then jazz seemed to be so different from my classical background, that I nearly felt not invited. Asking them a question would be probably enough to bridge the gap and start learning, but I was afraid that it would trigger a process destroying what I had achieved so far.

The fear of becoming lost and muted as soon as I would start digging the theoretical foundations of improvisation was real. Besides, admitting my ignorance was not my strategy then, as I already had an ambition and a chance to perform with them.

At that time I was a regular member of a big band led by one of our national jazz legends – a unique composer, pianist, eccentric band leader, our profesor. We went abroad to attend a big band festival, which was a competition at the same time.

One of the tunes we were going to perform was the one which I normally played the solo on. I straight thought that for the sake of the competition I could better leave that for someone more advanced, but before I managed to suggest that, the professor approached me and asked: “Leszek, would you mind if Simon played a solo on that one today?” Simon was a fine tenor player and I was more than willing to agree, but the fact that my soloing was not only my struggle, but also a weakness of the whole band suddenly became much more disturbing than before. It initiated a series of thoughts about the future of my musicianship.

I knew it was time to do whatever it takes now, or to give it up. I was ready for the right decisions.

The fear-driven procrastination did not make it easy, though the choice was obvious – I started studying the theory behind improvising. At first it was chaotic and intense physically and mentally, but I was so excited that I doubled my practice time and started applying many of the new things I was trying.

Then I attended an intense international five-day-workshop led by some of the top players in the country. The practical and theoretical lessons during the day, and a jam session every evening created a powerful educational charger. Being there among other students was a beautiful experience and listening to our mentors was like having a meal after two days of fasting.

Studying and practicing harmony, scales, jazz history and transcriptions opened my ears and gave me completely new solutions. For the first time I could actually relate to something that the good players were doing in their solos. That made me happy and enthusiastic.

All the students were given individual time, detailed instructions, and feedback after the evening jam sessions, but one of the teachers clearly ignored me. He made comments on everyone’s playing, but not mine, so I assumed he didn’t like what I was doing and that he did not see much hope for what he heard.

It was obvious that my experiments with scales and progressions just started and I was far from self-acceptance too. I was looking forward to any kind of feedback being open even to harsh criticism, so I just approached the mentor and said: “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you think of my improvisations?” He didn’t even look at me for a while, but then turned his head and said: ”Learn your scales.” and walked away.

Maybe I was wrong, but I instantly realised that my question irritated him and the answer was meant to be not only an advice, but also a punch.

And it was.

It certainly did punch me straight in the stomach, but It was also an ignition for another life-changing self-talk. I just proudly and consciously started using my Dorians, Lydians, passing tones and pentatonics, but for him it was ugly enough to take him off-balance. I was trying to figure out what it was and if there was anything I could do about it besides selling my horn.

Today I’m not only grateful for that experience, but it’s fun to have those memories. Once again I believed that my contribution to music was bringing more damage than value, and that wasn’t any good news at all.

Life asked me a dichotomous question: Are you going all in, or all out?

And once again the answer was obvious and even more radical – I decided not to play in front of any audience, until I would “learn my scales.”

When I got home I had so much passion for practicing, that arguments with night porters became a strong part of my bedtime routine.

I started studying a book after book, an album after album. I wanted to understand it all from the very bottom. I studied everything I could find in a library, or online. I spoke to anyone who I thought knew something about jazz theory that I needed.

I didn’t want to just improve, I wanted to be born again.

I didn’t know then, that this impulsive decision would take me out of stage for nearly two years. My friends didn’t understand that. I practised a lot, but I was rejecting the gigs and opportunities. They did let me know that they thought it was irrational, and I don’t blame them, as they were probably right. I don’t think it was the only way, but I was on a mission.

In fact, I do believe that sometimes you need to disappear for a while to succeed.

Most of the materials I wanted to assimilate was in English, and that was another obstacle, as in school I learned only Russian and German. My spirit was in the “O or 1” mode, so I moved to the UK to learn the language. I found a job allowing me to earn money, travel all over the country, lived in hotels and B&B’s, study and practice at work, and still attend the university I just got accepted into.

It was all I needed then – like a pure blessing.

Going back to that bassist talking about the danger of intellectual approach to jazz… I could truly relate, as in my case, studying the scales, harmony and licks not only destroyed my intuitive vocabulary, but took me out of the country and flipped my whole life.

I didn’t want to play the old stuff, but the new simply wasn’t ready yet.

My response was radical, because I thought it was the only alternative to giving it all up. That is what education does – it always has a personal context and brings changes on a very deep level, changes you don’t plan, changes you don’t always like, but you accept them for the sake of the result you choose to go for.

6. Education is often groundbreaking, but what if you don’t want your “ground” to be “broken?”

At some point I was a member of a semi-professional band and I had an interesting conversation with their bass player. He claimed that the real way to play jazz was represented only by using one’s ears and memory without consuming theory of any sort. And he was actually a living example of that kind of approach – his understanding of jazz was far from academia. He was convinced that learning scales and progressions was a threat for his current self-made (though impressive) vocabulary he relied on. He believed that any additional contact with theory would damage his musical creativity. At the same time he rejected all the most complex and harmonically advanced tunes, as being “intellectualised and non-musical”.

I was shocked that there were still people thinking that way, but on the other hand, I understood his point. Somehow it made sense, because it actually happened to me when I started my formal jazz education – it almost instantly outdated my vocabulary… at least in my view.

I have that luxury of remembering the times when I first was relying almost exclusively on my ears too, not knowing much about the scales, progressions or stylistic devices. I “could” play any tune as long as I had the melody and harmony in my head. “Sugar”, “Summertime”, “Autumn Leaves”, “Blue Bossa”, “St. Thomas” or “On Green Dolphin Street” where all fine with me, “Have You Met Miss Jones”… maybe until the bridge, but “Stella”, or “Skylark”… that was a “no-no.”

Then, finally, when I decided to go deep into the theory, I was excited and frightened at the same time. I sympathised with the bassist’s radical caution, because I know the threat is real.

Here is why… (see post 7)

5. Your next step is never confusing

When a man’s knowledge is not in order, the more of it he has the greater will be his confusion.
— Herbert Spencer

There are so many amazing institutions and teachers available on and off-line, producing their content and offering it (often totally free), for anyone, any time. Most of them I recognise as true professionals wanting to help others on their musical paths, and that’s great – I appreciate and cherish them. My knowledge and vocabulary would not exist without other people’s time and patience, but it takes a real master to prune a plant without killing it.

I’ve been a teacher for 15 years myself, but I never stopped being a student too. I notice and experience struggles on both sides of the learning process.

It is common for jazz musicians and teachers to present improvisation as something either, very complex and mysterious, or on the contrary, very simple and obvious. Both approaches are educationally costly.

Overcomplicating makes the pro players look and feel even more advanced, charismatic and mysteriously gifted, but at the same time it may discourage many learners. Oversimplifying on the other hand, makes it look like it’s something easily achievable for anyone, but can also send the wrong message, that the technical and theoretical fundamentals can be ignored and skipped.

The students will often end up being over-challenged which brings instant confusion, or over-relaxed and dismissive towards the fundamental skills, which brings even bigger confusion, but later. Of course we don’t want any of these.

Learning is a process when one thing comes after the other – a change is a consequence of experience and it is ok if the process will take time. The experience comes in waves and chunks. It is personalised by the nature of our practice. Often targeting one skill we end up discovering and mastering something else, so the result of our efforts is almost always surprising and exciting. That is good, but we still need our long journey to have a desired destination with a map of safe and well organised stations where we can rest, reflect and prepare for the next day.

All we need is a clear map of steps, where the next step feels naturally light and obvious.

The necessity of continuous being back in your practice room, interminably reuniting with your instrument is challenging enough. We don’t need to make it more “exciting” by intentionally complicating the process.

If we want the learning to be education, then we need to set up a steady process with a specific goal, strategy and plan.

4. More available doesn’t mean easier to learn

Majority of the professionals have their strong ideas about what is the most important thing in jazz, about what and how you need to practice, and what devices to use.

While jazz performances naturally display the special gifts of the participants, technical knowledge of phrasing, scales, chords, progressions and historical key-facts is common to all the good performers. Without that it is difficult to understand and incorporate all the short pieces of advice from Herbie Hancock, Sonny Rollins, Miles Davis, Wynton Marsalis, Dave Liebman, Keith Jarrett, Jerry Bergonzi, and other greats.

If one hasn’t successfully gone through the fundamentals of improvising, then all the great, catchy and tasty sentences seem to be mysterious, vague, or simply wrong. “Play yourself,” “Stop thinking while playing,” “Love the sound you’re making,” “Create your own scales,” “Don’t play too many notes,” “Think about colours, not tones,” “Break the rules,” “Don’t limit yourself…” they are much more useful when one already has certain musical orientation.

Turning to our masters’ teaching and studying their solos is a crucial component of our growth, but eventually the key question becomes: “Do you know what your next step is?”

Even the most important step in jazz education is a wrong step if it is not your next step. It is your responsibility not only to grow, but to protect your growth.

You don’t need to figure it out all alone – seek help and instructions, but if something, or somebody confuses you, it’s time to step back and look around, because confusion is your most dangerous enemy.

Above statement itself is potentially confusing , as some evidence shows that confusion can be beneficial in learning, if appropriately induced, regulated, and resolved. When it was experimentally created, the learners performed substantially better in the posttests.(1) Application of these results are far from obvious though, because education is not an act, but a long journey and we want to protect that process.

Current reality with digital and cultural challenges dictates our approach to confusion – there seem to be enough, or too much of it. If we want to manage it, we need to remove (resolve) it just before our next step.

If our next step confuses us, it is not our next step.

(1) S. D’Mello, B. Lehman, R. Pekrun, A. Graesser: Confusion can be beneficial for learning. [in:] Learning and Instruction, 2012; DOI: 10.1016/j.learninstruc.2012.05.003.

3. The problem with starting small

Digital technology made starting SMALL very difficult.

Early experimenting, trying things on stage, publishing online, or any other public exposure means a lot and the experience is memorable.

Because we present and try something “not ready yet,” we protect our confidence by choosing the audience carefully, making sure our friends and family are there (or that they’re not there). What we most need then is an experience, support and encouragement. We are open for criticism, but not too much. We’re ready to manage rejection, but not of too much. We’re looking forward to the challenge, but not sure if we should. Generally, the more fragile our vocabulary is, the more controlled environment we desire.

But the modern world does not offer much of the control over the audience and exposure. Nowadays whatever you do privately, or in a small community, it can easily within seconds become globally available. In many ways it is an opportunity, but it may feel like a threat if you want to just play a little gig in a local bar, or attend a jam session to try some of the new stuff you practiced this afternoon.

Competition is globalised and it is particularly visible in business, where people all over the world are instantly open, or invited to appreciate your product, but also express globally available criticism. When we decide to create, speak up or interact in any other way, we need to face the possibility of criticism, which can be unfair and vicious.

As a student, parent, entrepreneur, artist, taxpayer, you need to have that large picture and a set of relatively new skills helping you to manage the fear of unpredictable and uncontrollable feedback, even if you play a small local game.

It is not easy, as our everyday life is already technologically demanding and our human brain is asked to do more than ever before in all areas of life. The tasks are too often given, not chosen, and you can still say “No” to that demand. But the future seems to belong to those who’d rather learn more skills and find a way to combine them in creative ways. It is a pressure many clearly don’t, or hardly handle.

I remember a gig in London, where I invited a fabulous bass player to join the band. He enthusiastically agreed, but after the first set he approached me stressed saying that he saw someone recording the band. He was very concerned about this, and the conversation became a bit odd – he asked if I could find the person and forbid him to use the video for anything.

At the time he mainly played classical music, but started considering a career in jazz. He believed that the way he was playing at that time, did not represent his aspirations – the possible negative future judgement of the top players watching the video on youtube scared him. Besides, because back then classical music career was still one of the alternative options, a video online of him playing jazz would not position him well as a classical player.

Now he is one of the most incredible and sought-after jazz musicians I know, but back then starting SMALL was tough, at least using the old way of thinking about it.

2. Macro vision and micro focus

“The only thing worse than starting something and failing… is not starting something.”
– Seth Godin

We know we need to focus, establish priorities, but we still secretly believe in multitasking and are being romantic about our goals-setting.

Thinking BIG is fun and important, as it creates space and makes you believe that anything is possible, but then it is all about the transition to starting SMALL. If you decide to visit all the countries in the world, you don’t buy the ticket to “the countries of the world“, but to Ecuador, or wherever the first one on your list will be, and then you go to the next one on your list. You need to have one.

Similarly with self-education. You are passionate about foreign languages and you decide to learn five of them, but then you start with your first word of your first language.

Same with music, you want to become a musician and perform in front of big audiences, but then you need to find a teacher, get the instrument, and schedule a session. Only then you make your first sound, and then another, and then you learn your first tune, then you perform in front of your family, and then the next step, and then the NEXT STEP.

All the stages of the process have their importance, though it is tempting to skip some of them as it comes with a short, but instant reward – a fake sample of the future pleasure. For a moment we feel as if we achieved our long term goal, but we lose time and energy being detached from the truth.

Thinking big makes a lot of sense, because it allows you to design and execute your real next step. If it doesn’t, keep thinking.

Macro vision and micro focus

1. Noise The Killer

A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.
— Herbert Simon

Learning any kind of art form nowadays seems to be so much easier than before, because the access to the information is easily attainable. What used to be available only for those most determined, wealthy, or otherwise privileged, now is almost free and almost for anyone. Globalization with its technologically advanced solutions helped to deliver learning opportunities for those with financial, territorial or psychological disadvantages and that is great, but there is a cost too.

The information is at our fingertips and we get it immediately if we want it, but, on the other hand, offers are often aggressively put in front of us. There are digital tools and methods precisely indicating what you may be looking for right now, or what kind of distraction will work specifically with you. It is a big commercialised and professionalised battle among those who need your attention for profit and they are getting better and better at “knowing” what you may want. We could look at it as if it was an opportunity, because most businesses truly want to solve their client’s problems, but the reality is more complex.

While they are, in fact, fighting for your attention/time/money, you are being bombarded with tons of data through all different channels – take today, you will receive more than three thousand commercial messages. That forces you to spend more and more energy on staying relaxed, and centred. You are being skilfully and methodologically attacked on a regular basis, so your mind is chronically in defence mode.

We are overstimulated, distracted and confused. It happens in a variety of ways, but mostly via screens. Getting into our heads without our permission means tricking our busy consciousness with targeted information. Perfecting the methods of that unfair process is a profitable and dynamically growing area.

Unfortunately the mind’s way to protect us from physical fatigue and emotional exhaustion caused by receiving an excess of data has not developed accordingly.

Digital technologies recently took over our everyday lives and sensory overload became the norm and we are forced to process too much. We are cognitively and emotionally challenged on a regular basis and that brings many dangerous symptoms, but also, ironically, creates excess dopamine (neurotransmitter tied to the reward, motivation and pleasure centers of the brain), so we feel pretty good.

The problem with so much excess dopamine is that as time goes on, our dopamine receptors become less responsive to the presence of that inner juice. This means that we require greater and more powerful stimuli to release more and more dopamine we’ve come to crave. It’s an endless, vicious cycle that throws our entire system away from its original state. We start actually needing and demanding the unhealthy overstimulation.

An addiction is the natural consequence and feeding it will become your modus operandi.

At some point an informational diet is the only solution to the noise.

It will save you from your major enemy – confusion.