Wynton Marsalis Gives 12 Tips on How to Practice: For Musicians, Athletes, or Anyone Who Wants to Learn Something New

Image by Eric Del­mar, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Prac­tic­ing for count­less hours before we can be good at some­thing seems bur­den­some and bor­ing. Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to sto­ries of instant achieve­ment. The monk real­izes satori (and Neo learns kung fu); the super­hero acquires great pow­er out of the blue; Robert John­son trades for genius at the cross­roads. At the same time, we teach chil­dren they can’t mas­ter a skill with­out dis­ci­pline and dili­gence. We repeat pop psych the­o­ries that spec­i­fy the exact num­ber hours required for excel­lence. The num­ber may be arbi­trary, but it com­forts us to believe that prac­tice might, even­tu­al­ly, make per­fect. Because in truth we know there is no way around it. As Wyn­ton Marsalis writes in “Wynton’s Twelve Ways to Prac­tice: From Music to School­work,” “prac­tice is essen­tial to learn­ing music—and any­thing else, for that mat­ter.”

For jazz musi­cians, the time spent learn­ing the­o­ry and refin­ing tech­nique finds elo­quent expres­sion in the con­cept of wood­shed­ding, a “hum­bling but nec­es­sary chore,” writes Paul Klem­per­er at Big Apple Jazz, “like chop­ping wood before you can start the fire.”

Yet retir­ing to the wood­shed “means more than just prac­tic­ing…. You have to dig deep into your­self, dis­ci­pline your­self, become focused on the music and your instru­ment.” As begin­ners, we tend to look at prac­tice only as a chore. The best jazz musi­cians know there’s also “some­thing philo­soph­i­cal, almost reli­gious” about it. John Coltrane, for exam­ple, prac­ticed cease­less­ly, con­scious­ly defin­ing his music as a spir­i­tu­al and con­tem­pla­tive dis­ci­pline.

Marsalis also implies a reli­gious aspect in his short arti­cle: “when you prac­tice, it means you are will­ing to sac­ri­fice to sound good… I like to say that the time spent prac­tic­ing is the true sign of virtue in a musi­cian.” Maybe this piety is intend­ed to dis­pel the myth of quick and easy deals with infer­nal enti­ties. But most of Marsalis’ “twelve ways to prac­tice” are as prag­mat­ic as they come, and “will work,” he promis­es “for almost every activity—from music to school­work to sports.” Find his abridged list below, and read his full com­men­tary at “the trumpeter’s bible,” Arban’s Method.

  1. Seek out instruc­tion: A good teacher will help you under­stand the pur­pose of prac­tic­ing and can teach you ways to make prac­tic­ing eas­i­er and more pro­duc­tive.
  1. Write out a sched­ule: A sched­ule helps you orga­nize your time. Be sure to allow time to review the fun­da­men­tals because they are the foun­da­tion of all the com­pli­cat­ed things that come lat­er.
  1. Set goals: Like a sched­ule, goals help you orga­nize your time and chart your progress…. If a cer­tain task turns out to be real­ly dif­fi­cult, relax your goals: prac­tice does­n’t have to be painful to achieve results.
  1. Con­cen­trate: You can do more in 10 min­utes of focused prac­tice than in an hour of sigh­ing and moan­ing. This means no video games, no tele­vi­sion, no radio, just sit­ting still and work­ing…. Con­cen­trat­ed effort takes prac­tice too, espe­cial­ly for young peo­ple.
  1. Relax and prac­tice slow­ly: Take your time; don’t rush through things. When­ev­er you set out to learn some­thing new – prac­tic­ing scales, mul­ti­pli­ca­tion tables, verb tens­es in Span­ish – you need to start slow­ly and build up speed.
  1. Prac­tice hard things longer: Don’t be afraid of con­fronting your inad­e­qua­cies; spend more time prac­tic­ing what you can’t do…. Suc­cess­ful prac­tice means com­ing face to face with your short­com­ings. Don’t be dis­cour­aged; you’ll get it even­tu­al­ly.
  1. Prac­tice with expres­sion: Every day you walk around mak­ing your­self into “you,” so do every­thing with the prop­er atti­tude…. Express your “style” through how you do what you do.
  1. Learn from your mis­takes: None of us are per­fect, but don’t be too hard on your­self. If you drop a touch­down pass, or strike out to end the game, it’s not the end of the world. Pick your­self up, ana­lyze what went wrong and keep going….
  1. Donʼt show off: It’s hard to resist show­ing off when you can do some­thing well…. But my father told me, “Son, those who play for applause, that’s all they get.” When you get caught up in doing the tricky stuff, you’re just cheat­ing your­self and your audi­ence.
  1. Think for your­self: Your suc­cess or fail­ure at any­thing ulti­mate­ly depends on your abil­i­ty to solve prob­lems, so don’t become a robot…. Think­ing for your­self helps devel­op your pow­ers of judg­ment.
  1. Be opti­mistic: Opti­mism helps you get over your mis­takes and go on to do bet­ter. It also gives you endurance because hav­ing a pos­i­tive atti­tude makes you feel that some­thing great is always about to hap­pen.
  1. Look for con­nec­tions: If you devel­op the dis­ci­pline it takes to become good at some­thing, that dis­ci­pline will help you in what­ev­er else you do…. The more you dis­cov­er the rela­tion­ships between things that at first seem dif­fer­ent, the larg­er your world becomes. In oth­er words, the wood­shed can open up a whole world of pos­si­bil­i­ties.

You’ll note in even a cur­so­ry scan of Marsalis’ pre­scrip­tions that they begin with the immi­nent­ly practical—the “chores” we can find tedious—and move fur­ther into the intan­gi­bles: devel­op­ing cre­ativ­i­ty, humil­i­ty, opti­mism, and, even­tu­al­ly, maybe, a grad­ual kind of enlight­en­ment. You’ll notice on a clos­er read that the con­scious­ness-rais­ing and the mun­dane dai­ly tasks go hand-in-hand.

While this may be all well and good for jazz musi­cians, stu­dents, ath­letes, or chess play­ers, we may have rea­son for skep­ti­cism about suc­cess through prac­tice more gen­er­al­ly. Researchers at Prince­ton have found, for exam­ple, that the effec­tive­ness of prac­tice is “domain depen­dent.” In games, music, and sports, prac­tice accounts for a good deal of improve­ment. In cer­tain oth­er “less sta­ble” fields dri­ven by celebri­ty and net­work­ing, for exam­ple, suc­cess can seem more depen­dent on per­son­al­i­ty or priv­i­leged access.

But it’s prob­a­bly safe to assume that if you’re read­ing this post, you’re inter­est­ed in mas­ter­ing a skill, not cul­ti­vat­ing a brand. Whether you want to play Carnegie Hall or “learn a lan­guage, cook good meals or get along well with peo­ple,” prac­tice is essen­tial, Marsalis argues, and prac­tic­ing well is just as impor­tant as prac­tic­ing often. For a look at how prac­tice changes our brains, cre­at­ing what we col­lo­qui­al­ly call “mus­cle mem­o­ry,” see the TED-Ed video just above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wyn­ton Marsalis Takes Louis Armstrong’s Trum­pet Out of the Muse­um & Plays It Again

Son­ny Rollins Describes How 50 Years of Prac­tic­ing Yoga Made Him a Bet­ter Musi­cian

Play­ing an Instru­ment Is a Great Work­out For Your Brain: New Ani­ma­tion Explains Why

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Hear Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” Shifted from Minor to Major Key, and Radiohead’s “Creep” Moved from Major to Minor

A few years ago, we shared a ver­sion of R.EM.’s 1991 alter­na­tive hit “Los­ing My Reli­gion” as reworked from a minor to a major key through dig­i­tal pro­cess­ing by Ukran­ian musi­cian Oleg Berg and his daugh­ter Diana. Many peo­ple thought the project a trav­es­ty and railed against its vio­la­tion of R.E.M.’s emo­tion­al intent. But the stronger the reac­tions, the more they seemed to val­i­date Berg’s tac­it argu­ment about the impor­tant dif­fer­ences between major and minor keys. We know that, in gen­er­al, minor keys con­vey sad­ness, dread, or moody inten­si­ty, all famil­iar col­ors in the R.E.M. palate. Major keys, on the oth­er hand—as in the band’s inex­plic­a­bly boun­cy “Shiny Hap­py People”—tend to evoke… shini­ness and hap­pi­ness.

Why is this? Gold­smiths Uni­ver­si­ty Music Psy­chol­o­gy Pro­fes­sor Vicky Williamson has an ambiva­lent expla­na­tion at the NME blog. Her answer: the asso­ci­a­tion seems to be cul­tur­al but also, per­haps, bio­log­i­cal. “Sci­en­tists have shown that the sound spectra—the pro­file of sound ingredients—that make up hap­py speech are more sim­i­lar to hap­py music than sad music and vice ver­sa.”

This the­sis may reduce down to a “water is wet” obser­va­tion. A more inter­est­ing way of think­ing of it comes from Aris­to­tle, who “sus­pect­ed that the emo­tion­al impact of music was at least part­ly down to the way it mim­ic­ked our own vocal­iza­tions when we squeal for joy or cry out in anger.”


Do these expres­sions always cor­re­spond to major or minor scales or inter­vals? No. Emo­tions, like col­ors, have sub­tleties of shad­ing, con­trast, and hue. Williamson names some notable excep­tions, like The Smiths’ “I Know It’s Over,” a song in a major key that is almost com­i­cal­ly mor­bid and maudlin. These may serve to prove the rule, achiev­ing their unset­tling effect by play­ing with our expec­ta­tions. In gen­er­al, as you will learn from the video above from Min­neso­ta Pub­lic Radio—in which a lum­ber­jack explains the dis­tinc­tions to an ani­mat­ed blue bird—major and minor keys, scales, inter­vals, and chords are “tools com­posers use to give their music a cer­tain mood, atmos­phere, and strength.”

If you were to ask for a song that con­tains these qual­i­ties in abun­dance, you might get in reply Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it,” which, like Beethoven’s 9th Sym­pho­ny or most clas­si­cal opera, relies on exag­ger­at­ed qui­et-to-loud dynam­ics for its dra­mat­ic effect. But it also uses a minor key as an essen­tial vehi­cle for its anx­i­ety and rage. So impor­tant to the song is this ele­ment, in fact, that when shift­ed into a major key, as Berg has done at the top of the post, it sounds near­ly inco­her­ent. The clar­i­ty with which “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” com­mu­ni­cates angst and con­fu­sion evap­o­rates, espe­cial­ly in the song’s vers­es. The dig­i­tal arti­facts of Berg’s pro­cess­ing become more evi­dent here, per­haps because the change in key is so destruc­tive to the melody.

Can we close­ly cor­re­late this loss of melod­ic integri­ty to the crit­i­cal impor­tance the minor scale plays in this song in par­tic­u­lar? I would assume so, but let’s look at the exam­ple of a sim­i­lar type of moody, qui­et-loud alt-rock song from around the same time peri­od, Radiohead’s “Creep.” Here’s one of those excep­tions, orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten in a major key, which may account for the pleas­ant, dream­like qual­i­ty of its vers­es. That qual­i­ty does­n’t nec­es­sar­i­ly dis­ap­pear when we hear the song ren­dered in a minor key. But the cho­rus, under­neath the dig­i­tal dis­tor­tion, los­es the sense of anguished tri­umph with which Thom Yorke imbued his defi­ant dec­la­ra­tion of creepi­ness.

In the case of the orig­i­nal “Creep,” the G major key seems to push against our expec­ta­tions, and gives a song about self-loathing an unset­tling sweet­ness that is indeed kin­da creepy. (And per­haps helped Prince to turn the song into a gen­uine­ly uplift­ing gospel hymn). What seems clear in the Nir­vana and Radio­head exam­ples is that the choice of key deter­mines in large part not only our emo­tion­al respons­es to a song, but also our respons­es to devi­a­tions from the norm.  But those norms are “most­ly down to learned asso­ci­a­tions,” writes Williamson, “both ancient and mod­ern.”

Per­haps she’s right. Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to Music Psy­chol­o­gist Glenn Schel­len­berg has noticed that con­tem­po­rary music has trend­ed more toward minor keys in the past few decades, and that “peo­ple are respond­ing pos­i­tive­ly to music that has these char­ac­ter­is­tics that are asso­ci­at­ed with neg­a­tive emo­tions.” Does this mean we’re get­ting sad­der? Schel­len­berg instead believes it’s because we asso­ciate minor scales with sophis­ti­ca­tion and major scales with “unam­bigu­ous­ly hap­py-sound­ing music” like “The Wheels on the Bus” and oth­er children’s songs. “The emo­tion of unam­bigu­ous hap­pi­ness is less social­ly accept­able than it used to be,” notes NPR. “It’s too Brady Bunch, not enough Mod­ern Fam­i­ly.”

Maybe we’ve grown cyn­i­cal, but the trend allows bril­liant rock com­posers like Radiohead’s John­ny Green­wood to do all sorts of odd, unset­tling things with major and minor mod­u­la­tion. And it made “Shiny Hap­py Peo­ple” stick out like a shock­ing­ly joy­ful sore thumb upon its release in 1991, though at the time the mope of grunge and 90s alt-rock had not yet dom­i­nat­ed the air­waves. Now we rarely hear such earnest, “unam­bigu­ous­ly hap­py-sound­ing” music these days out­side of Sesame Street. Find more of Berg’s major-to-minor and vice ver­sa rework­ings at his Youtube chan­nel.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

R.E.M.’s “Los­ing My Reli­gion” Reworked from Minor to Major Scale

The Bea­t­les’ “Hey Jude” Reworked from Major to Minor Scale; Ella’s “Sum­mer­time” Goes Minor to Major

Pat­ti Smith’s Cov­er of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” Strips the Song Down to its Heart

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

 

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How Mindfulness Makes Us Happier & Better Able to Meet Life’s Challenges: Two Animated Primers Explain

The West has very rich con­tem­pla­tive tra­di­tion. Monas­tics of the ear­ly Chris­t­ian church prac­ticed forms of med­i­ta­tion that have been adopt­ed by many peo­ple seek­ing a deep­er, more serene expe­ri­ence of life. Giv­en the wealth of con­tem­pla­tive lit­er­a­ture and prac­tice in Euro­pean his­to­ry, why have so many West­ern peo­ple turned to the East, and toward Bud­dhist con­tem­pla­tive forms in par­tic­u­lar?

The answer is com­pli­cat­ed and involves many strains of philo­soph­i­cal and coun­ter­cul­tur­al his­to­ry. Some of the great­est influ­ence in the U.S. has come from Tibetan monks like the Dalai Lama and Chö­gyam Trung­pa Rin­poche, one­time teacher of Allen Gins­berg, and founder of Naropa Uni­ver­si­ty and the ecu­meni­cal Shamb­ha­la school of Bud­dhism. Trung­pa Rin­poche con­trast­ed the­is­tic forms of med­i­ta­tion, both Hin­du and Chris­t­ian, with the mind­ful­ness and con­cen­tra­tion prac­tices of Bud­dhism, writ­ing that the first one, focused on a “high­er being” or beings, is “inward or intro­vert­ed” and dual­is­tic.

Bud­dhist mind­ful­ness med­i­ta­tion, on the oth­er hand, is “what one might call ‘work­ing med­i­ta­tion’ or extro­vert­ed med­i­ta­tion. This is not a ques­tion of try­ing to retreat from the world.” Mind­ful­ness  “is con­cerned with try­ing to see what is,” he writes, and to do so with­out prej­u­dice: “there is no belief in high­er and low­er; the idea of dif­fer­ent lev­els, or of being in an under­de­vel­oped state, does not arise.” In oth­er words, all of the import­ed con­cepts that push us one way or anoth­er, dri­ve our rigid opin­ions about our­selves and oth­ers, and make us feel supe­ri­or or infe­ri­or, become irrel­e­vant. We take own­er­ship of the con­tents of our own minds.

How is this rel­e­vant for the mod­ern per­son? Con­sid­er the videos here. These explain­ers,  like many oth­er con­tem­po­rary uses of the word “mind­ful­ness,” peel the con­cept away from its Bud­dhist ori­gins. But sec­u­lar and Bud­dhist ideas of mind­ful­ness are not as dif­fer­ent as some might think. “Mind­ful­ness,” says Dan Har­ris in the video at the top, “is the abil­i­ty to know what’s hap­pen­ing in your head at any giv­en moment with­out get­ting car­ried away by it.” (Some might pre­fer the more suc­cinct Vipas­sana def­i­n­i­tion “non­judg­men­tal aware­ness.”) With­out mind­ful­ness, “there’s no buffer between the stim­u­lus and your reac­tion.” With it, how­ev­er, we “learn to respond wise­ly” to what hap­pens to us instead of being pushed and pulled around by habit­u­al reac­tiv­i­ty.

As the video above has it—using the Chero­kee para­ble of the two wolves—mind­ful­ness pro­vides us with the space we need to observe our sen­sa­tions, emo­tions, and ideas. From a crit­i­cal dis­tance, we can see caus­es and effects, and cre­ate dif­fer­ent con­di­tions. We can learn, in short, to be hap­py, even in dif­fi­cult cir­cum­stances, with­out deny­ing or fight­ing with real­i­ty. The Dalai Lama refers to this as observ­ing “the prin­ci­ple of causal­i­ty… a nat­ur­al law.” “In deal­ing with real­i­ty,” he says, “you have to take that law into account…. If you desire hap­pi­ness, you should seek the caus­es that give rise to it.” Like­wise, we must under­stand the men­tal caus­es of our suf­fer­ing if we want to pre­vent it.

How do we do that? Is there an app for it? Well, yes, and no. One app is Hap­pi­fy—who pro­duced these videos with ani­ma­tor Katy Davis, med­i­ta­tion instruc­tor Sharon Salzberg, and Har­ris, cre­ator of the mind­ful­ness course (and app) 10% Hap­pi­er. Hap­pi­fy offers “Sci­ence-based Activ­i­ties and Games, and “a high­ly sec­u­lar­ized, some might say decon­tex­tu­al­ized, form of mind­ful­ness training—including the “Med­i­ta­tion 101” primer video above. For those who reject every­thing that smacks of reli­gion, sec­u­lar mind­ful­ness prac­tices have been rig­or­ous­ly put to many a peer-reviewed test. They are wide­ly accept­ed as evi­dence-based ways to reduce anx­i­ety and depres­sion, improve focus and con­cen­tra­tion, and man­age pain. These prac­tices have been used in hos­pi­tals, med­ical schools, and even pub­lic ele­men­tary schools for many years.

But whether we are Bud­dhists or oth­er reli­gious peo­ple prac­tic­ing mind­ful­ness med­i­ta­tion, or sec­u­lar human­ists and athe­ists using mod­i­fied, “science-based”—or app-based—techniques, the fact remains that we have to build the dis­ci­pline into our dai­ly life in order for it to work. No app will do that for us, any more than a fit­ness app will make us toned and healthy. Nor will read­ing books or arti­cles about med­i­ta­tion make us med­i­ta­tors. (To para­phrase Augus­tine, we might say that end­less read­ing or star­ing at screens amounts to an atti­tude of “give me mind­ful­ness, but not yet.”)

Har­ris, in char­ac­ter as a mouse in a V‑neck sweater, says in the video above that med­i­ta­tion is “exer­cise for your brain.” And like exer­cise, Trung­pa Rin­poche writes, med­i­ta­tion can be “painful in the begin­ning.” We may not always like what we find knock­ing around in our heads. And yet with­out acknowl­edg­ing, and even befriend­ing, the feel­ings and thoughts that make us feel ter­ri­ble, we can’t learn to nur­ture and “feed” those that make us feel good. If you’re inspired to get start­ed, you’ll find sev­er­al free online guid­ed med­i­ta­tions at the links below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Philoso­pher Sam Har­ris Leads You Through a 26-Minute Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tion

Free Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tions From UCLA: Boost Your Aware­ness & Ease Your Stress

Stream 18 Hours of Free Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tions

Dai­ly Med­i­ta­tion Boosts & Revi­tal­izes the Brain and Reduces Stress, Har­vard Study Finds

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Walt Disney Creates a Frank Animation That Teaches High School Kids All About VD (1973)

The com­i­cal­ly plain­spo­ken, tough-guy sergeant is a heav­en sent assign­ment for char­ac­ter actors.

Think R. Lee Ermey in Full Met­al Jack­et

Louis Gos­set Jr. in An Offi­cer and a Gen­tle­man

Even Stripes’  War­ren Oates.

Keenan Wynn, who strove to keep Amer­i­ca safe from “devi­at­ed pre­verts” in 1964’s Dr. Strangelove, was award­ed the role of a life­time nine years lat­er, when Dis­ney Stu­dios was seek­ing vocal tal­ent for VD Attack Plan, above, a 16-minute ani­ma­tion intend­ed to teach high school­ers about the scourge of vene­re­al dis­ease.

Wynn (son of Ed) threw him­self into the part with gus­to, imbu­ing his bad­ly-com­plect­ed, Kaiser-hel­met­ed germ com­man­der with the sort of straight-talk­ing charis­ma rarely seen in high school Health class.

A risky maneu­ver, giv­en that Viet­nam-era teens did not share their parent’s generation’s respect for mil­i­tary author­i­ty and VD Attack Plan was the first edu­ca­tion­al short specif­i­cal­ly aimed at the high school audi­ence. Pri­or to that, such films were geared toward sol­diers. (Dis­ney wad­ed into those waters in 1944, with the train­ing film, A Few Quick Facts No. 7—Venereal Dis­ease, the same year Mick­ey Mouse appeared in LOOK mag­a­zine, wag­ing war on gon­or­rhea with sul­fa drugs.

Gon­or­rhea was well rep­re­sent­ed in the Wynn’s Con­ta­gion Corps. The ranks were fur­ther swelled by Syphilis. Both pla­toons were out­fit­ted with para­mil­i­tary style berets.

The Sarge pumped them up for the com­ing sneak attack by urg­ing them to maim or bet­ter yet, kill their human ene­my. Shaky recruits were reas­sured that Igno­rance, Fear, and Shame would have their backs.

Scriptwriter Bill Bosche had quite the knack for iden­ti­fy­ing what sort of sug­ar would make the med­i­cine go down. The Sarge inti­mates that only a few of the afflict­ed are “man enough” to inform their part­ners, and while Igno­rance and Shame cause the major­i­ty to put their faith in inef­fec­tu­al folk reme­dies, the “smart ones” seek treat­ment.

Ele­men­tary psy­chol­o­gy, but effec­tu­al nonethe­less.

Today’s view­ers can’t help but note that HIV and AIDS had yet to assert their fear­some hold.

On the oth­er hand, the Sarge’s mat­ter of fact deliv­ery regard­ing the poten­tial for same sex trans­mis­sion comes as a pleas­ant sur­prise. His pri­ma­ry objec­tive is to set the record straight. No, birth con­trol pills won’t pro­tect you from con­tract­ing the clap. But don’t waste time wor­ry­ing about pick­ing it up from pub­lic toi­let seats, either.

A word of cau­tion to those plan­ning to watch the film over break­fast, there are some tru­ly gnarly graph­ic pho­tos of rash­es, sores, and skin erup­tions. Help­ful to teens seek­ing straight dope on their wor­ri­some symp­toms. Less so for any­one try­ing to enjoy their break­fast links sans the specter of burn­ing uri­na­tion.

So here’s to the sergeants of the sil­ver screen, and the hard­work­ing actors who embod­ied them, even those whose cre­ations resem­bled Pillsbury’s Fun­ny Face drink mix mas­cots. Let’s do as the Sarge says, and make every day V‑D Day!

VD Attack Plan will be added to the ani­ma­tion sec­tion of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Fam­i­ly Plan­ning, Walt Disney’s 1967 Sex Ed Pro­duc­tion, Star­ring Don­ald Duck

The Sto­ry Of Men­stru­a­tion: Watch Walt Disney’s Sex Ed Film from 1946

Sal­vador Dalí Cre­ates a Chill­ing Anti-Vene­re­al Dis­ease Poster Dur­ing World War II

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is open­ing in New York City next week. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

20,000 Letters, Manuscripts & Artifacts From Sigmund Freud Get Digitized and Made Available Online

In his intro­duc­tion to the 2010 essay col­lec­tion Freud and Fun­da­men­tal­ism, Stathis Gour­gouris defines fun­da­men­tal­ism as “thought that dis­avows mul­ti­plic­i­ties of mean­ing, abhors alle­gor­i­cal ele­ments, and strives toward an exclu­sion­ary ortho­doxy.” While there may be both reli­gious and sec­u­lar ver­sions of such ide­olo­gies world­wide, we can trace the word itself to an Evan­gel­i­cal move­ment in the U.S., and to a set of beliefs that endures today among around a third of all Amer­i­cans and has “ani­mat­ed America’s cul­ture wars for over eighty years,” writes David Adams. The fun­da­men­tal­ist move­ment first took shape in 1920, just as Sig­mund Freud wrote and pub­lished his Beyond the Plea­sure Prin­ci­ple.

It was in that book that Freud intro­duced the con­cept of the “death dri­ve.” Adams argues that “the ‘fun­da­men­tal­ist’ and the ‘death dri­ve,’ are twins: they came into being simul­ta­ne­ous­ly,” and “their simul­tane­ity is not mere­ly an acci­dent. Both of these con­cepts are respond­ing to the pro­found cul­tur­al and psy­cho­log­i­cal cri­sis result­ing from the First World War.” Every calami­ty since World War I has seemed to rean­i­mate that ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry strug­gle between modernism—with its plu­ral­ist val­ues and empha­sis on cre­ativ­i­ty and experiment—and fun­da­men­tal­ism, with its com­pul­sion for rigid hier­ar­chy and destruc­tion. And we might see, as Adams does, such cul­tur­al con­flicts as anal­o­gous to those Freud wrote of between Eros—the plea­sure principle—and the dri­ve toward death.

The Great War turned Freud’s thoughts in this direc­tion, as did the racism and anti-Semi­tism tak­ing hold in both Europe and the U.S. His the­o­ry of an instinc­tu­al dri­ve toward the destruc­tion of self and oth­ers seemed to antic­i­pate the hor­ror of the World War yet to come. Freud inte­grat­ed the con­cept into his social the­o­ry ten years lat­er in Civ­i­liza­tion and its Dis­con­tentsin which he wrote that “the incli­na­tion to aggres­sion” was “the great­est imped­i­ment to civ­i­liza­tion.” While med­i­tat­ing on the death instinct as a psy­cho­an­a­lyt­ic and social con­cept, Freud also pon­dered his own mor­tal­i­ty. Just above, you can see the draft of a death notice that he wrote for him­self dur­ing the 1920s. This comes to us from the Library of Congress’s new col­lec­tion of Sig­mund Freud papers, which con­tains arti­facts and man­u­scripts dat­ing from the 6th cen­tu­ry B.C.E. (a Greek stat­ue) to cor­re­spon­dence dis­cov­ered in the late 90s.

The “bulk of the mate­r­i­al,” writes the LoC, dates “from 1891 to 1939,” and the “dig­i­tized col­lec­tion doc­u­ments Freud’s found­ing of psy­cho­analy­sis, the mat­u­ra­tion of psy­cho­an­a­lyt­ic the­o­ry, the refine­ment of its clin­i­cal tech­nique, and the pro­lif­er­a­tion of its adher­ents and crit­ics.” Much of this archive may be of inter­est only to the spe­cial­ist schol­ar of Freud’s life and work, with “legal doc­u­ments, estate records… school records” of the Freud chil­dren, and oth­er mun­dane bureau­crat­ic paper­work. But there are also let­ters rep­re­sent­ing “near­ly six hun­dred cor­re­spon­dents,” such as Freud’s one­time pro­tégé Carl Jung and Albert Ein­stein, with whom Freud cor­re­spond­ed in 1932 on the sub­ject of “Why war?” (See Freud’s let­ter to Ein­stein above.)

The doc­u­ments are near­ly all in Ger­man and the hand­writ­ten let­ters, notes, and drafts will be dif­fi­cult to read even for speak­ers of the lan­guage. Yet, there are also arti­facts like the 1936 por­trait of Freud at the top, by Vic­tor Krausz, the pock­et note­book Freud car­ried between 1907 and 1908, just above, and—below—a pic­ture of a pock­et watch giv­en to Freud by physi­cian Max Schur, whose fam­i­ly left Aus­tria with Freud’s in 1938. You can browse the online col­lec­tion of over 20,000 items by date, name, loca­tion, and oth­er indices, and all images are down­load­able in high res­o­lu­tion scans. 

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sig­mund Freud Speaks: The Only Known Record­ing of His Voice, 1938

The Famous Let­ter Where Freud Breaks His Rela­tion­ship with Jung (1913)

Albert Einstein​ & Sig­mund Freud​ Exchange Let­ters and Debate How to Make the World Free from War (1932)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Why Time Seems to Speed Up as We Get Older: What the Research Says

No mat­ter what age we’ve attained, we can think back to child­hood and feel just how ago­niz­ing­ly long it then took for Christ­mas to come, for the school day to end, for a tray of cook­ies to come out of the oven. Mys­te­ri­ous as this appar­ent change in the speed of time may at first seem, it actu­al­ly makes a kind of intu­itive sense: one day rep­re­sents, at the age of fifty, a tenth of the pro­por­tion of the time we’ve expe­ri­enced so far than it does at the age of five. As our time­line length­ens, our per­cep­tion of cer­tain fixed units on that time­line — a minute, a year, a decade — short­ens.

But there are oth­er fac­tors in play as well. “Indi­vid­ual per­cep­tions of time are strong­ly influ­enced by our lev­el of focus, phys­i­cal state and mood,” write The Inde­pen­dent’s Muire­ann Irish and Claire O’Callaghan. “Just as ‘a watched pot nev­er boils,’ when we are con­cen­trat­ing on an event, time occa­sion­al­ly appears to pass more slow­ly than usu­al. This is also the case when we’re bored; time can seem to drag end­less­ly.” This might well con­tribute to the child­hood per­cep­tion of slow time, since kids have to spend so many of their days in the class­room, an envi­ron­ment that strikes most of them as express­ly designed to induce bore­dom.

In addi­tion, accord­ing to Sci­en­tif­ic Amer­i­can, “our brain encodes new expe­ri­ences, but not famil­iar ones, into mem­o­ry, and our ret­ro­spec­tive judg­ment of time is based on how many new mem­o­ries we cre­ate over a cer­tain peri­od. In oth­er words, the more new mem­o­ries we build on a week­end get­away, the longer that trip will seem in hind­sight.” The rel­a­tive­ly high fre­quen­cy of dis­tinc­tive mem­o­ries cre­at­ed ear­li­er in life and low fre­quen­cy of dis­tinc­tive mem­o­ries cre­at­ed lat­er in life means that “our ear­ly years tend to be rel­a­tive­ly over­rep­re­sent­ed in our auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal mem­o­ry and, on reflec­tion, seem to have last­ed longer.”

You can see some of the ideas and the­o­ries behind this almost uni­ver­sal­ly agreed-on sense that time speeds up as we grow old­er in the video from the Nation­al Geo­graph­ic Chan­nel show Brain Games above. It also intro­duces a few new ones into the mix, con­nect­ing them all with how much ener­gy the brain uses to record which kinds of expe­ri­ences, sug­gest­ing that even a sense as fun­da­men­tal as the one we use to mark time has a great deal more com­plex­i­ty to it than we under­stand. Ulti­mate­ly, though, it all comes back to the words of no less a thinker on rel­a­tiv­i­ty than Albert Ein­stein: “Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pret­ty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Clocks Changed Human­i­ty For­ev­er, Mak­ing Us Mas­ters and Slaves of Time

The Neu­ro­science & Psy­chol­o­gy of Pro­cras­ti­na­tion, and How to Over­come It

The Secret Pow­ers of Time

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Unified Theory of Mental Illness: How Everything from Addiction to Depression Can Be Explained by the Concept of “Capture”

David Kessler–once the Com­mis­sion­er of the F.D.A., lat­er the Dean of Yale’s School of Med­i­cine, and even­tu­al­ly Dean and Vice-Chan­cel­lor at UCS­F’s pres­ti­gious Med­ical School–pub­lished a book called Cap­ture: Unrav­el­ing the Mys­tery of Men­tal Suf­fer­ing. A best­seller, the book makes the case that all men­tal illness–everything from addic­tion to depres­sion to artis­tic obsessions–can be explained by an under­ly­ing mech­a­nism. That mech­a­nism, the key to treat­ing men­tal ill­ness, is known as “Cap­ture.”

To get a brief intro­duc­tion to Kessler’s uni­fied the­o­ry of men­tal ill­ness, watch the ani­mat­ed primer above. It comes cour­tesy of The Atlantic. Get more back­ground on Kessler’s book by read­ing this review in The New York Times.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stanford’s Robert Sapol­sky Demys­ti­fies Depres­sion, Which, Like Dia­betes, Is Root­ed in Biol­o­gy

Stephen Fry on Cop­ing with Depres­sion: It’s Rain­ing, But the Sun Will Come Out Again

Intro­duc­tion to Psy­chol­o­gy: A Free Course from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es

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The Science of Willpower: 15 Tips for Making Your New Year’s Resolutions Last from Dr. Kelly McGonigal

This week­end, mil­lions of New Year’s res­o­lu­tions will go into effect, with the most com­mon ones being lose weight, get fit, quit drink­ing and smok­ing, save mon­ey, and learn some­thing new. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, 33% of these res­o­lu­tions will be aban­doned by Jan­u­ary’s end. And 80% will even­tu­al­ly fall by the way­side. Mak­ing res­o­lu­tions stick is tricky busi­ness. But it’s pos­si­ble, and psy­chol­o­gist Kel­ly McGo­ni­gal has a few sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly-proven sug­ges­tions for you.

For years, McGo­ni­gal has taught a very pop­u­lar course called The Sci­ence of Willpow­er in Stan­ford’s Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies pro­gram, where she intro­duces stu­dents to the idea that willpow­er is not an innate trait. Rather it’s a “com­plex mind-body response that can be com­pro­mised by stress, sleep depri­va­tion and nutri­tion and that can be strength­ened through cer­tain prac­tices.”

For those of you who don’t live in the San Fran­cis­co Bay Area, you can find McGo­ni­gal’s ideas pre­sent­ed in a recent book, The Willpow­er Instinct: How Self-Con­trol Works, Why It Mat­ters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It. Below, we have high­light­ed 15 of Dr. McGo­ni­gal’s strate­gies for increas­ing your willpow­er reserves and mak­ing your New Year’s res­o­lu­tion endure.

  1. Will pow­er is like a mus­cle. The more you work on devel­op­ing it, the more you can incor­po­rate it into your life. It helps, McGo­ni­gal says in this pod­cast, to start with small feats of willpow­er before try­ing to tack­le more dif­fi­cult feats. Ide­al­ly, find the small­est change that’s con­sis­tent with your larg­er goal, and start there.
  2. Choose a goal or res­o­lu­tion that you real­ly want, not a goal that some­one else desires for you, or a goal that you think you should want. Choose a pos­i­tive goal that tru­ly comes from with­in and that con­tributes to some­thing impor­tant in life.
  3. Willpow­er is con­ta­gious. Find a willpow­er role mod­el — some­one who has accom­plished what you want to do. Also try to sur­round your­self with fam­i­ly mem­bers, friends or groups who can sup­port you. Change is often not made alone.
  4. Know that peo­ple have more willpow­er when they wake up, and then willpow­er steadi­ly declines through­out the day as peo­ple fatigue. So try to accom­plish what you need to — for exam­ple, exer­cise — ear­li­er in the day. Then watch out for the evenings, when bad habits can return.
  5. Under­stand that stress and willpow­er are incom­pat­i­ble. Any time we’re under stress it’s hard­er to find our willpow­er. Accord­ing to McGo­ni­gal, “the fight-or-flight response floods the body with ener­gy to act instinc­tive­ly and steals it from the areas of the brain need­ed for wise deci­sion-mak­ing. Stress also encour­ages you to focus on imme­di­ate, short-term goals and out­comes, but self-con­trol requires keep­ing the big pic­ture in mind.” The upshot? “Learn­ing how to bet­ter man­age your stress is one of the most impor­tant things you can do to improve your willpow­er.” When you get stressed out, go for a walk. Even a five minute walk out­side can reduce your stress lev­els, boost your mood, and help you replen­ish your willpow­er reserves.
  6. Sleep depri­va­tion (less than six hours a night) makes it so that the pre­frontal cor­tex los­es con­trol over the regions of the brain that cre­ate crav­ings. Sci­ence shows that get­ting just one more hour of sleep each night (eight hours is ide­al) helps recov­er­ing drug addicts avoid a relapse. So it can cer­tain­ly help you resist a dough­nut or a cig­a­rette.
  7. Also remem­ber that nutri­tion plays a key role. “Eat­ing a more plant-based, less-processed diet makes ener­gy more avail­able to the brain and can improve every aspect of willpow­er from over­com­ing pro­cras­ti­na­tion to stick­ing to a New Year’s res­o­lu­tion,” McGo­ni­gal says.
  8. Don’t think it will be dif­fer­ent tomor­row. McGo­ni­gal notes that we have a ten­den­cy to think that we will have more willpow­er, ener­gy, time, and moti­va­tion tomor­row. The prob­lem is that “if we think we have the oppor­tu­ni­ty to make a dif­fer­ent choice tomor­row, we almost always ‘give in’ to temp­ta­tion or habit today.”
  9. Acknowl­edge and under­stand your crav­ings rather than deny­ing them. That will take you fur­ther in the end. The video above has more on that.
  10. Imag­ine the things that could get in the way of achiev­ing your goal. Under­stand the ten­den­cies you have that could lead you to break your res­o­lu­tion. Don’t be over­ly opti­mistic and assume the road will be easy.
  11. Know your lim­its, and plan for them. Says McGo­ni­gal, “Peo­ple who think they have the most self-con­trol are the most like­ly to fail at their res­o­lu­tions; they put them­selves in tempt­ing sit­u­a­tions, don’t get help, give up at set­backs. You need to know how you fail; how you are tempt­ed; how you pro­cras­ti­nate.”
  12. Pay atten­tion to small choic­es that add up. “One study found that the aver­age per­son thinks they make 14 food choic­es a day; they actu­al­ly make over 200. When you aren’t aware that you’re mak­ing a choice, you’ll almost always default to habit/temptation.” It’s impor­tant to fig­ure out when you have oppor­tu­ni­ties to make a choice con­sis­tent with your goals.
  13. Be spe­cif­ic but flex­i­ble. It’s good to know your goal and how you’ll get there. But, she cau­tions, “you should leave room to revise these steps if they turn out to be unsus­tain­able or don’t lead to the ben­e­fits you expect­ed.”
  14. Give your­self small, healthy rewards along the way. Research shows that the mind responds well to it. (If you’re try­ing to quite smok­ing, the reward should­n’t be a cig­a­rette, by the way.)
  15. Final­ly, if you expe­ri­ence a set­back, don’t be hard on your­self. Although it seems counter-intu­itive, stud­ies show that peo­ple who expe­ri­ence shame/guilt are much more like­ly to break their res­o­lu­tions than ones who cut them­selves some slack. In a nut­shell, you should “Give up guilt.”

To put all of these tips into a big­ger frame­work, you can get a copy of Kel­ly McGo­ni­gal’s book, The Willpow­er Instinct: How Self-Con­trol Works, Why It Mat­ters, and What You Can Do to Get More of ItAnd now you can take The Sci­ence of Willpow­er as an online course that begins on Jan­u­ary 23.

Final­ly you might also want to peruse How to Think Like a Psy­chol­o­gist (iTunes Video), a free online course led by Kel­ly McGo­ni­gal. It appears in our col­lec­tion of 1200 Free Cours­es Online.

A ver­sion of this post first appeared on Open Cul­ture in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er of Empa­thy: A Quick Ani­mat­ed Les­son That Can Make You a Bet­ter Per­son

Carl Gus­tav Jung Explains His Ground­break­ing The­o­ries About Psy­chol­o­gy in Rare Inter­view (1957)

Jacques Lacan’s Con­fronta­tion with a Young Rebel: Clas­sic Moment, 1972

New Ani­ma­tion Explains Sher­ry Turkle’s The­o­ries on Why Social Media Makes Us Lone­ly

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy Cours­es, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

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