Prática de Shadowing: Why Extraordinary is Overrated - Aprenda a falar inglês com vídeo

I have this alarm on my phone which says, today I welcome harmony and clarity, and some days it just doesn't arrive.

You know, some days it does.

Sometimes I think my life is very ordinary, and sometimes I think, what would an extraordinary life be?

To some people, maybe my life would be extraordinary.

I don't know.

To say it's more important to be extraordinary than ordinary, it's just faulty.

It's faulty because then what I'm trying to do is live up to somebody else's idea of what extraordinary is.

And I don't think I want to do that.

If there was anything extraordinary I was going to do, it would be the small little moments that touch someone else's life.

For example, I want to share my poems with the world.

And one of the ways I can do that is by writing a blog.

And writing a blog is pretty scary because I'm putting myself out there

and I don't know what's going to come back at me.

But then on the other hand, a poem can have a life in my book, but it gets another life when it's read by somebody else.

So I decided I was going to start blogging, and I decided to introduce the blog with a poem called An Encouragement.

Can I read it to you?

My first poem.

Walk.

Set out now.

Take a step.

The beginning is easy, but the beginning is the hardest part.

Close the door behind you.

Walk through the shadow of the pines.

Walk in the great sea of eucalyptus.

Listen as it sings the song of waves and water.

Hear the trees groan in the wind.

Walk higher still into the sunlight.

Smell the feinbos, see the flowers, and walk.

Walk to the end of the path where the river flows down, where the waterfalls are, to the pool in the rocks.

Leave your clothes over there, walk into that water and float.

For me, as someone who's quite introverted, silence is super important.

I really need it for my mental health, for my well-being.

I've never really felt a need to fill spaces with spoken words.

But I have some pretty nasty voices in my head, some really critical ones.

They're not my best friends, that's for sure.

But one thing I do know about those voices

and those scary things that can arise is that they have a finite life, you know.

I've been on a couple of retreats where part of the retreat has been, let us be silent for a day or for half a day.

Which for me is like, yay!

I don't have to talk to anybody.

I could just be quiet and I could just watch the world go on around me.

But then on the other hand, I observed how some people really needed to go off into corners

and whisper to each other because it was hard for them to be quiet.

So I wrote this poem specially for those people.

Listen. Be silent.

Hold your words.

They will not tear you open.

You will not die of silence.

Are you afraid?

Listen.

Do you hear the river?

She flows, she flows, over the rapids and down to the sea.

Hold your words.

Let them become ripe, heavy, sweeter than honey.

Then swallow them.

See if you can live listening. Be silent.

Can you hold this moment in your throat?

Can you die now without speaking? Can you hear?

I know that my parents loved me.

Let me start off by saying that.

I know they loved me.

I also know that I was a very difficult child for them.

They found me tricky and I was very determined to be independent.

So I was kind of unprepared for the fact that when my mom died, I would feel her loss so acutely.

After she died, there was this shock of going, I'm actually an orphan now,

even though I'm 60-something, I'm now motherless.

And it was difficult.

It was difficult.

There were a lot of things that I never asked her, I never got around to asking her, because they felt too personal, or they felt too exposing,

or that they would make her feel vulnerable or me feel vulnerable.

So this is one of many poems that I wrote after my mother died.

It's called Orphan Adult.

I am unmoored, adrift, my anchor lost, uncertain where I belong, unmothered.

My skin hurts, I can't find a way to stop this running before a wind that tears my sails.

Salt water in my eyes.

I can't see.

The map is lost.

I didn't know it would be like this.

There are so many questions I never asked.

We carry them inside us whether we want to or not.

In a way, saying I love my parents feels abstract.

It's something you should say because I didn't have a bad childhood and they did the best they could.

But I don't think I realised how much a part of me they were until they weren't here anymore.

And then I was like, oh, so that's another kind of love, the kind of love where someone is so familiar and so comfortable.

And, um, someone who understands you and knows you that well is,

you don't come across it often.

Somebody asked me not that long ago, her mom died at the end of last year, and she said to me, Corinne, how long am I going to feel this grief?

And can I expect it to go away?

And I really asked myself the question, is this just not going to be part of my being until the day I die?

One of the gifts that the idea of impermanence has given to me is that each moment has its own perfection,

but it will not last.

So it might feel like, this might feel like it's,

you know, it's solid, it's real, it's got my tea in it,

but actually one day it will be broken.

and both of those things exist side by side.

So the reality of this moment and the reality of it being broken, in other words, it's not permanent.

And my mother is dead, but she sits here talking to me, and she does.

She talks to me over my shoulder now and then, you know.

I look at myself in the mirror and I see my mother.

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So she's not here, but she is here.

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I cannot control what is to come.

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I can't control the fact that somebody will drop that cup one day or that my mother will die.

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But what I can do is I can be here with my teacup,

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with my mom, and this moment as it This is just perfectly right, but I can't hold on to it.

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So live it, be with it, and know that it will be God one day.

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God.

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The The

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Ram Dass said, we are all walking each other home.

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And for me that's just so lovely because whatever it is and however we do it,

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we're all here walking each other through life and home is the end of, I think for me, home is the end of our lives.

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So we're here to accompany each other in whatever way that might be.

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And it might just be in a very small way of being kind to a stranger, or it might be in a bigger way of taking someone a pot of soup because they're not well,

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or it might just be in the way of saying, I see you and I see that things are tough at the moment.

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To walk someone home means to allow them to be what they are and to support them in their being.

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So if someone was going to walk me home, it would be by saying, hey, it's okay to be you.

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Families know each other.

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Whether they're always kind to each other is another thing,

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but there's a huge comfort in being known for who you are and not having to be somebody else.

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I have a little ancestor altar that's next to my desk.

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I don't know if you saw it.

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And my ancestor, Alta, has got my parents as a young and very happy couple.

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And for me, that's the way I like to remember them.

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So I guess that's, yeah, they are walking me home.

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Thanks for watching our film.

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Thanks.

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Thank you.

O que é a Técnica de Shadowing?

Shadowing é uma técnica de aprendizado de idiomas com base científica, originalmente desenvolvida para o treinamento de intérpretes profissionais. O método é simples, mas poderoso: você ouve áudio em inglês nativo e repete imediatamente em voz alta — como uma sombra seguindo o falante com 1-2 segundos de atraso. Pesquisas mostram melhora significativa na precisão da pronúncia, entonação, ritmo, sons conectados, compreensão auditiva e fluência na fala.

Prática de Shadowing: Why Extraordinary is Overrated - Aprenda a falar inglês com vídeo

O cenário: A busca por uma vida "extraordinária" e a beleza do cotidiano

Trechos úteis e colocações para memorizar

Seu desafio de shadowing: Repetir e sentir a fala

O que é a Técnica de Shadowing?