Angelica Postu was featured as a guest on Radio România Muzical's program In the Universe of Music throughout March 2026. The leading advocate for music therapy in Romania, with a degree in piano from the National University of Music in Bucharest, a degree in psychology from the University of Bucharest, followed by a master's and doctorate in music therapy from the University of Berlin, she is currently a music therapist practicing at the Charite Psychiatric Hospital in Berlin. The three radio shows based on this dialogue can be listened to again here.

What is music therapy and what does it do?

More specifically, what is music therapy?

Music therapy itself is a clinical practice based on scientific evidence, on studies conducted over the past few decades. I could say: over 70 years of clinical studies proving that music therapy can be used to intentionally support emotional well-being, cognitive function, how we think, our physical well-being, how we coordinate our movements, and our capacity for social interaction.

Music therapy involves active methods - playing an instrument, singing, musical improvisation, but especially receptive methods. I think we may know more about those from a music lover's perspective, but in music therapy we're talking about a therapeutic relationship that develops over time, and through this process, music becomes a tool for expression and emotional regulation, for connecting with the self, as well as for growth and development.

We pursue a goal in the therapeutic relationship through music therapy.

Can you describe a case where you were successful using music therapy - that is, what can be achieved in concrete terms?

I'll mention several examples, but certainly what I can achieve or what I can obtain first and foremost is the expression of feelings and thoughts that I wasn't even aware existed. And perhaps this is the first step, which is why I mentioned earlier the nonverbal capacity of music to access inner pathways in moments when we find it difficult to describe what is happening to us. And I'll draw a parallel with what happens when I listen to a piece of music, and it can convey a landscape much more effectively.

When I think of Beethoven, of his Sixth Symphony, I feel transported to that place, and so with the patients at the hospital, we try to create this sound atmosphere that allows them to reflect on these inner emotions.

I think of a patient who, for many sessions, did not communicate with me verbally at all. She was a patient who had been admitted following a traumatic event that triggered severe depression, and I believe she didn't communicate verbally with me at all for six or seven weeks. However, as I also reflected in my supervision sessions, the positive thing was that she came to the music therapy session every week.

So, that musical space where I played for her on the piano and on various instruments I have in the music therapy room created a safe space where she felt she could give free rein to those repressed feelings, and we ended up improvising together on two instruments.

She played the marimba, I played the piano, and I'd like to mention that she had no prior musical knowledge.

So, she explored some sounds.

Through these improvisations, we were also able to communicate; thus, music therapy has an aspect of communication, self-reflection, and expression in a dialogue where we can make sense of these intensities.

We can observe when the music became more intense, slower, or more surprising. And we can do this because we record the music we improvise and can listen to it afterward, which gives us a much broader perspective when we hear the music performed by others.

Who is Angelica Postu?

We're going to go over your background now, because your journey is very interesting.

I'm a graduate of the Bucharest Conservatory, in the piano department.

I've been studying piano since I was six years old, and even while reading all kinds of studies lately, I've learned that musicians who start learning before the age of seven develop more unique neural connections than those who start later.

I think the fact that I spent so many hours on the instrument made me think a lot about certain aspects of how we function, about what happens to the human psyche, and what kind of psychology helps us learn better, and that's how I decided to also take courses in the psychology department. This opened up a lot of new interests for me, and then, while I was in psychology school, around 2008-2009, I learned about music therapy and really wanted to find out more about this field. I realized it's a distinct field in its own right, one that requires individual, specialized training - it's not something that comes naturally - so I enrolled in the music therapy program at the Berlin University of the Arts. It is a three-year master's program, and I recently graduated from doctoral school there, also in the music therapy department.

So, that alone tells me that music therapy is very advanced at the university level and in terms of the high standard of research that can be conducted there, since there are doctoral programs as well. And yes, I recently updated my resume and noticed that I have about 11.8 years of academic training, but there are still areas that interest me.

As a music therapist, you can specialize in a specific area - yes, you can do guided imagery in music therapy, which is a special method of music therapy - so I'm still passionate about other areas as well, but that's pretty much the complexity of my training to become a music therapist.

In your day-to-day life, do you work in a hospital?

I work at the Charité University Psychiatric Hospital in Berlin, and my life at the hospital looks like this: I work two days in an acute psychiatric ward (meaning patients are required by court order to be hospitalized because they are a danger to themselves due to depression or a danger to others due to certain manifestations of their mental states), and I work one day a week with the elderly in the Geriatrics Department, with patients with Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, and other neurodegenerative conditions.

Why is classical music so special for the human psyche?

I'd like to ask you, based on this extensive experience: compared to other arts - regardless of musical genre - does music have different implications than other arts in terms of its medical impact on the human psyche?

Yes, certainly. I'm not saying this out of arrogance or with the certainty of a musician that there is nothing more beautiful than music, but also from a cognitive standpoint, in terms of what happens in the brain - there is no other external stimulus that has such a direct, immediate, and significant impact on us as music does.

And there are many aspects we engage with when listening to music - in terms of attention, concentration, the ability to stimulate memory and learning, executive planning functions, short-term memory, long-term memory, and above all, the most important aspect is that music can reinforce long-term emotional expression - and this means that by listening to music, I can experience what musical differentiation entails, and I'm not just referring to basic emotions like joy, fear, or sadness; I'm referring to advanced emotions, such as nostalgia or longing, or this state of transcending into a certain state, and this fact is what defines music's capacity and qualities to induce this state of catharsis, of release, and I could say that it is more direct than in other forms of art - therapy that exists and is practiced all over the world today. The fact that music triggers this shiver, it gives me goosebumps, as we'd say in colloquial language, which is actually very beautiful, from a neuroscience perspective, is a release of dopamine, a reward system, a happiness hormone in that moment; my body, from the brain, releases this dopamine, and then I experience an intense state that doesn't scare me, though.

It's the same reaction, but it's not something that scares me; rather, it's an intense state that we could beautifully describe as making me feel alive, it's a moment of surprise, and this musical surprise is unique compared to other forms of artistic expression.

Speaking of this release of dopamine, give us a concrete example from your own listening experiences.

I recently listened to Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony and found this moment in the fourth movement, and perhaps this could be a starting point for our discussion: a blend of surprise, nostalgia, transcendence, but also a sense of confirmation through these harmonic arrangements in cadences that affirm I am right where I belong.

There is a lot of talk these days about a sort of good dopamine and bad dopamine; cheap dopamine is represented by addiction to social media, for example. How do we achieve a balance? Guide us on how to obtain the dopamine that helps us?

The dopamine that helps us is the kind that is accompanied by a reduction in cortisol, the stress hormone; it is the kind that helps me and at the same time makes me aware of a slowing of my heart rate and breathing; Practically speaking, any activity that manages to be somewhat continuous, such as music - when I'm experiencing a live concert, it already has a certain duration that's longer than what I experience in the car, say when I listen to a song and then shift into a completely different state because the playlist has changed.

So the healthy dopamine that helps us is the kind that lasts - the kind I can find in meaningful experiences - and that's linked to proprioception, the ability to perceive the present moment not just visually, as you mentioned regarding social media and the excessive use of devices, mobile phones, computers, and so on, but through activities that give me a sense of connection with my body - physically, mentally, and emotionally - such as playing an instrument. We see how children have little patience for learning an instrument, but how great the joy is when they realize they've managed to play the piece they were striving to learn - so that is a high-quality dopamine hit, the result of having succeeded in performing a musical passage myself. And I draw a parallel with patients; for them, too, it is an extraordinary achievement - for someone who is ill or suffering from a disease, yet manages to be creative, to be an artist - and music is certainly that kind of activity, and it is truly fascinating.

In ancient times, we weren't referring to playing an instrument or to the ritual circles where vocal singing was practiced; there was no evaluation of one's ability to sing - no one would say, "You sing better, you sing worse" in the ritual circle. Now, of course, for over 500 years, since we've been talking about performing on stage, we've been evaluating how people sing, but for people who don't make a career out of playing an instrument, this reward is priceless, and this process in which I push past my own limits - trying to reach a level where I'm happy that I've learned a piece of music - that is a high-quality dopamine release, always linked to this recognition: I'm in this process and I'm doing this because I enjoy it, and so I'm not the pawn receiving dopamine from the outside through visual stimuli that actually do me more harm than good.

Does the genre of music play a role here? Does any musical genre have this effect? Or are there certain musical genres, ultimately proven by history, that have such an effect?

In music therapy, we talk a lot about musical pleasure, about each listener's musical taste, and this is very important, because these reward circuits are much more active - studies show - when I listen to a song I like, and I'm much more alert when I listen to a new song because I don't know what to expect, and the body is influenced by this; I enter a state of tension.

At the same time, several studies have been conducted to see if the music we listen to during the prenatal stage - that is, from the sixth month of pregnancy - is recognized after birth. It is recognized and is pleasant regardless of the music's quality, regardless of its structure - whether it's a rock band or a Mozart symphony - it is recognized, and the child calms down upon hearing that music, because it has the ability to reduce isolation. A newborn baby, recognizing something musically right away, feels safe because they recognize the environment they are in. And this is true for adults as well; the fact that I can recognize that song makes me feel safe, even if I'm in Argentina and not in Romania - it's a kind of bridge connecting me to my roots, and it does me good.

I firmly believe this: the music that does me the most good is the music I recognize. At the same time, there are studies on certain harmonic structures and frequencies that have the ability to calm and regulate heart and respiratory rates - all those levels where I need to slow down my alert pulse a bit. Certainly, we could say in general that Baroque music and Classical-era music, with their less surprising harmonic developments, can transport us into a state of continuous calm.

Let's discuss the so-called myths: that Mozart makes you smarter or that Baroque music does the same. And then let's provide an answer to parents who wonder if going to the Enescu Festival is the same as going to the Beach Please Festival. But let's start, then, with Mozart and Baroque music: does this music make us smarter?

It depends on how we listen to it, and it depends on our attention span and this wonderful practice of mindfulness - that is, conscious attention - the ability to receive what I'm listening to in a guided way, which is very interesting.

We have this "cocktail party effect" - I go to a party and there are 300 people talking around me, yet I manage to tune into a single thread. This is innate, and in the same way, I can follow a single line in a Bach fugue or a jazz standard. For that, I need, of course, a little guidance, or a certain familiarity with that style of music, or a desire to listen attentively and consciously and to internalize that type of music.

Yes, then music is beneficial, and I can recognize various voices in this music, and it does me good.

We're talking here about neuroplasticity. This means, in simple terms, that I can rebuild certain connections in the brain, and from this we draw the conclusion that even for older adults suffering from Alzheimer's, there is a chance to rebuild certain neural pathways and connections, and then I know that this type of music can do me a lot of good.

And here's an example I've shared before - or one I love to share - about a patient of Turkish origin who had never had any exposure to classical music. He listened to hip-hop - that was his favorite music. He was in the hospital for a condition that was more of a social nature, and during a music therapy session with several patients, I suggested that he let me listen to a song he liked, and in exchange, I would play something I liked for him.

I played him a Bach prelude live on the piano: he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Wow, that was amazing." He was completely captivated by that moment, and it was something new for him, but thanks to the linear polyphonic music with a clear structure - which we can understand in the preludes from The Well-Tempered Clavier - this captivated him; he was drawn in by these melodic lines and carried away by the music. It moves me when I think of people having this experience for the first time, and I find it hard to believe they wouldn't want to have it a second time. But I do think these people might have a different kind of music as their stylistic foundation for enjoyment - maybe not necessarily from the Beach Please festival, but something entirely in a different musical direction.

That's exactly what it's about: it becomes beneficial when I seek it out and when I'm open to truly listening to that music, and it isn't just background music, which might even bother me rather than give me pleasure.

My advice to parents: do both - meet the tastes of teenagers who are still figuring out what they like best, but also to let them experience this unique sensory immersion - just as live music in a concert hall offers - and I believe that every child and every teenager should attend at least one concert at the Enescu Festival in their lifetime, because it is an experience unlike any other.

Classical music, a unique experience

So, if it is an incomparable experience, is there still something that classical music - or "highbrow" music, to use a generic term - has that other musical genres do not?

There is the fact that we certainly know that all music is a human and social bond, a social connection; we all manage to feel part of a collective experience - it's something we all share - but through the complexity of classical music, I'm able to develop certain emotional states, memories, and emotional self-regulation that I don't find in pop music, because there the harmonic structure is much simpler and much more repetitive, and of course repetitive music - music with a chorus, verse, chorus, verse, chorus structure - gives me a sense of security, but orchestral music or solo music within the classical genre offers me a unique dynamic spectrum. And it's about these frequencies; it's about an engagement both intellectually and emotionally - there are so many layers that are activated when I listen to classical music, and it's a form of, let's say, active engagement; it's not something passive, even if I'm sitting passively and listening - the uniqueness comes from the complexity of the piece I'm listening to.

I recently asked Radio România Muzical listeners why they tune in to this classical music station, and looking at their responses, a few themes kept coming up: because it calms me down and because it transports me to a higher, more elevated world. How do we interpret this from a psychological perspective?

We can compare it to what happens in the outside world, and in the outside world there is an avalanche, an excess, a "too much" of visual and auditory stimuli, with too few pauses or micro-pauses, as I call them when I work with musicians and discuss what happens during the performance experience.

These micro-pauses in everyday life are becoming increasingly rare, because everywhere we go we are affected, we are bombarded with sound. However, a musical pause brings me peace because it transports me into a continuous state, continuous meaning a minute, two, three. And this is a contrast to what happens in society - we think about work, traffic, the supermarket; everywhere there are places where people are restless.

It's a very interesting aspect regarding the concert hall, too, if we consider that the moment the orchestra's final note ends, we already hear applause. For music lovers who have been going to concerts for a long time, it's annoying. For someone who's been to a concert for the second or third time, it's an expression of that accumulation of silence they've gathered there, and I see that as enthusiasm - something happened to me, I've reached a level of emotional connection that I don't know so well, and so I can't let it settle; I have to express it, I have to clap. It's emotional overexcitement, as we'd say from a psychological perspective, and that's why I'm very lenient and permissive toward the person who applauds immediately after the conductor has struck the final beat, because it's an inner expression. And so these pauses and the fact that people describe how this music does them good stem from an acute need for silence in everyday life; we find fewer and fewer places where I can retreat the way I do when listening to the radio, to Radio România Muzicală, or to a CD, or, why not, to a vinyl record. This experience is the break I need, and I don't know how to express it, because we can't even verbalize it in a life that's full of demands from work, family, and parents; our social space is overrun by so many demands from a single person, and we don't know how to ask for it, to say: I need a break. It is the music that confirms to me that I needed a break, because it brings me into this state that I didn't even know I needed; so, it is instinctive music therapy - it is an instinctive search for music therapy - the fact that I turn on the radio and feel that I have connected with the song.

The moment I thought about the inner structure of what Radio România Muzical means, that's exactly what I thought: that there must be a place in Romania where people can be themselves, take a break, and disconnect from this extremely complicated, hectic, and very noisy reality. Especially in Romania, where, in the public sphere, we are simply bombarded to the point of annoyance by an extremely noisy environment - from traffic to ambient music played at very high volumes, to people who have resorted to shouting at one another and can no longer engage in dialogue. There is something else that makes classical music special, and here I recall some of the words of Cristian Măcelaru, who told us that at a classical music concert, people end up breathing in unison. What happens there?

The connection with breathing is truly beautiful. Live performance is what most closely resembles early relational experiences: rhythm, breathing, tempo, phrasing, they all function as a form of nonverbal communication. This sense of security and belonging allows me to connect with the audience, and this is an essential aspect for people who may be dealing with some inner turmoil; people breathe in unison because they are participating synchronously in the same sonic experience, and then a kind of simultaneous synchronicity occurs that makes them resonate with the same thing - it is that collective joy.

I'm thinking of a conversation I had with a concertgoer at a Sonoro festival event in Bucharest. She was a woman who was in mourning and who told me: "I just want to tell you that I never would have thought I'd be able to attend the concert, because I'm in mourning. This concert did me so much good that I feel I have the strength to go back to being in mourning." Her words have stayed with me very strongly, because I realized that, even in suffering, I need to be in tune with my inner states, and this explains why dopamine is produced not only when we're sad but also when we listen to music that transports us into a state of sadness; I need all emotions and all feelings to unfold naturally within me. I cannot live solely in a state of happiness, and this capacity for musical empathy - I can feel what the composer felt when I listen to the music - happens, once again, on a collective level as musical empathy, I manage to connect with the other listeners as well, because we are experiencing the same feeling in that very moment.

Classical Music in Music Therapy

Let's discuss a few pieces you've used that you felt were very effective in the context of music therapy.

I use music with an evocative, descriptive character - program music - quite a lot of orchestral music, less opera music, except when patients choose it. We listen to a lot of Debussy, Ravel, impressionist music, and Baroque music - Bach - but I've also listened to Couperin countless times. In my music therapy office, Debussy's La Mer Suite is very popular; the symphonies of Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and Brahms are highly appreciated, as are Bach's French suites and Chopin's waltzes.

I also use John Adams and John Williams, because we start with a clear, simple, and recognizable structure, and then move on to neo-pop music like Ludovico Einaudi and all kinds of film music, since it resonates easily with patients and helps me pave the way to classical music. I often use one entry point or another; sometimes I start with orchestral film music and then move on to classical composers.

An important aspect I observe in the therapeutic relationship with patients is their interest in the world of composers. I've often had very beautiful sessions because I've told them about the composers' struggles - with identity, as in Tchaikovsky's case, or with depression and financial insecurity, as in Beethoven's. Every composer went through an inner turmoil. We also talk about feminism, we talk about Fanny Mendelssohn and the fact that she composed at a time when this was not common for a woman.

This shows that access to classical music means access to expanded knowledge, a complex understanding, and we broaden our capacity for knowledge from a historical perspective; it's a beautiful intellectual growth that opens up horizons that can help in everyday life, regardless of the environment in which I work.

We see this in painting as well; if we think of Van Gogh, I can't say that when I see his sunflowers, it makes me feel depressed, and yet he was going through such intense emotional states. I believe that this cathartic aspect, this inner release, which we feel when listening to a musical work, I am convinced also takes place when they compose, and I believe that the very act of transcribing these works onto paper was liberating for composers; it was a form of testimony, especially in times when there was even more of a stigma surrounding mental illness than there is today.

We must emphasize that depression was and is the disease of the century, and that it is a disease, even if we cannot see it and even if we cannot touch it. There are people who were depressed on the inside, who were isolated, and music broke that isolation.

In music therapy, we have a method called songwriting: we compose musical pieces with patients who have no prior musical knowledge. It is fascinating to see every person's need to have this testament to their own creation; I will never forget how fascinated the patients were when they went home with a recording we had made. That was their testament.

I will never tire of saying that it is never too late to learn to play a musical instrument, to find release for certain inner states that are so natural.

I saw that attic where Beethoven lived, and I wonder where he found the perseverance to keep searching and composing, with all that inner turmoil and financial uncertainty - we know his life was far from easy-and how he combined teaching piano lessons with composing, yet still managed, day by day, somehow, to give meaning to this inner world despite the loss of his hearing.

We all have the ability to play a piece of music in our minds without needing to hear it at that moment, and this was true for Beethoven as well, and I believe this was a catalyst, an inner drive he possessed. This is what kept him going, prevented him from giving up, because for someone who loses their hearing, an entire world is shattered, and the inner depression is far more intense than we can imagine. But emotions, feelings, and experiences are the same - or perhaps even more intense; the power to perceive vibrations is much stronger when the ability to hear disappears. I believe it was also an opportunity for Beethoven to explore his inner world.

But what exactly was going on in Bach's mind?

I believe that in his mind there was this rendering of space and time within a religious framework, within a framework of spiritual seeking, but there was also an enormous consistency and an enormous continuity - human qualities that also risk stagnating when society is harsh and when the human psyche is affected. We could say of Bach that, regardless of what we know or do not know about what happened in his soul, this consistency and continuity that we find in the vast and complex body of work he left behind manages to show us that this was a driving force that helped him remain active, remain engaged, but not to give up.

This is an extraordinary thing we learn from music: the fact that to bring a work to completion, I need to be there, to try. I need continuity; I need to be facing the blank sheet of music; I need to be at the piano for ideas to emerge. And this has a lot to do with creativity. An extremely important element in music, in music therapy, in listening to music: creativity is what stimulates the imagination, yet the imagination cannot unfold unless I provide the setting for it to unfold, such as at a classical music concert, in a concert hall.

I see the pistachio-colored seats at the Radio Hall, I see the brown stage, and I can already begin to create a story. Bach, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and all those who have gone through various arduous inner journeys were consistent in these quests; they allowed themselves to sit without creativity and without imagination in front of a blank sheet of paper, so that these ideas could be born.

That is why I also speak with professional musicians about the fact that there can be no promotion of creativity if I do not allow myself, day after day, to face this helplessness. Let's take the example from literature of Kafka and Haruki Murakami, authors who had a fixed work schedule. Murakami wakes up at four in the morning, goes for a run, and then sits in his writing office for five hours; it is an extraordinary determination - even if I have no inspiration, I am still there in search of the expression of the creative act.

Speaking of Bach, I'll share my personal preference for the Goldberg Variations and my amazement, every time I listen to this work, that it was composed for an insomniac. Given the times and the psychological makeup of people back then, could a work of such complexity - with so many elements that keep you captivated - have actually been composed for someone suffering from insomnia?

It means there were people suffering from insomnia, and that means he himself may have experienced this; it means he sought a real equivalent - insomnia in an aesthetic form. I would say that in the Goldberg Variations we find this disturbingly beautiful quest, a continuity of the self in a way: to accept insomnia. That's what we see in the Goldberg Variations too, that they go on, don't they? They don't stop; they're in a continuous search and a continuous aesthetic unfolding. For someone listening for the first time, they might say:

My goodness!

It never ends, just like insomnia never ends.

Yes!

That's right!

The time we have is the only limited resource in this life, because we'll never be able to make a day 48 hours long - it will always be 24 hours no matter what we do - but the way we choose to spend our time shapes who we are every single day. I saw a film about Beethoven and the Ninth Symphony performed by ordinary people on the eve of World War I; I thought about what that says about society back then and what it says about us today, who no longer even know how to come together.

The need is greater than the distance, and I believe we can bridge that distance through everything that is happening. I talk a lot about implementing these "Culture for Health" projects, or we look at "5 Minutes of Classical Music a Day," an extraordinary project. These initiatives are the ones that address these needs, and I believe we are moving closer and closer to normalizing social cohesion through art.

In music therapy, I intentionally aim to express inner emotions, and there is a great need for conscious reflection: to pause in the evening before bed and ask ourselves what was today's artistic moment for me, what was the piece of music that best captured how I feel on this day, and to accept it. If it didn't exist, let's look for it the next day, take a break; if I'm in the car, pull over when my favorite song comes on the radio and take those three minutes, because those three minutes can be more valuable than if they hadn't existed at all. There are 24 hours in a day, and they're packed with things to do, so of course I don't have time to just sit around listening to music. But if we think about it, I've actually created a conscious moment for myself to listen to classical music, and that means a lot.

I often ask the question: when was the last time you listened to an album from start to finish, without being interrupted by anything else - your phone, cooking, traffic?

For those suffering from depression, which works would you recommend listening to?

I think I would definitely recommend Smetana's Vltava, a beautiful, evocative journey. I also recommend Debussy, from his piano works: the Images Suite, the piano preludes, the Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, and the Three Symphonic Sketches "The Sea."

Among symphonies: those by Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and for the more advanced, Brahms.

Among chamber works, I would suggest sonatas by Mozart and Haydn, and works by Bach.

Studies show some alarming figures; I'm almost afraid to say that our attention span is somewhere under 11 seconds, and this is alarming. That is why it is good to pace our musical listening.

For people who experience anxiety, it is important to understand that music can reduce anxiety and stress by regulating rhythm, so it is important not to listen to music that is too fast, because it will put me in a state for which I am not yet ready.

It's important to revisit these tracks - for example, to listen to a particular piece three times a week; to listen to the music while consciously connecting with my inner self and my thoughts, and at the same time to push aside any thoughts that arise and say: "Now I'm listening, now I'm here, I'm paying attention to the instruments I'm hearing."

Just as in prayer or meditation, focusing on a single thought...

For anxiety, what would you recommend?

Dvořák's Serenade, which transports one into a place of safety. Jean-Philippe Rameau, there is a very beautiful recording by the pianist Víkingur Ólafsson that I recommend. Choral music is also an important recommendation, as are Edvard Grieg's Lyric Pieces and Brahms's Waltzes, Op. 39.

What can we do for our children?

Today we speak about an attention span shorter than 11 seconds and about studies showing that we are facing the first generation of children whose IQ is lower than that of their parents. What causes these things, and can we reverse this situation?

The lack of early cognitive development, the fact that we live in a society that mostly encourages free expression and the child's instinctive pursuits - a very beautiful educational philosophy which, however, deprives children of cognitive stimulus, knowledge, and stimulation. I mentioned those children who learn to play an instrument and who, before the age of seven, develop neural connections that later can no longer develop organically. Learning an instrument exposes the brain to so many stimuli related to memory, motor skills, synchronicity, associative capacity, and the ability to listen simultaneously - an excellent foundation for many other activities later in life.

For parents, participation in activities should matter more than results: attending the instrument lesson, not striving for perfection in performance. Many children, and adults as well, say: "Why should I start learning an instrument if I will never excel at it anyway?" We should move away from this idea and understand that it is a cognitive and emotional gift - an experience that can accompany us for the rest of our lives.

What I notice is the lack of consistency in certain activities we do, and the fact that we are exposed to rapid visual stimuli constantly shifting from one state to another. Recently I noticed that even when I am on the subway or bus and someone next to me is scrolling quickly through many images on their phone, it disturbs me.

It is important to engage in activities that keep us focused, to do a single thing and not feel that it is too little. Society encourages us to believe that we are doing too little and that we should do much more; yet the simple act of doing one thing is more valuable and cognitively stimulating in the long term. Likewise, knowledge and stepping beyond this comfort zone - attending art, music, and cultural events, street culture, visual arts, architecture. Every activity we undertake outside our comfort zone has the capacity to enrich us.

Paradoxically, what were meant to be tools that help us have now become tools that hold us back, because we have lost control. The dopamine obtained through accessing social media is not healthy or meaningful; it uses us, because we no longer control our emotional responses. We remain trapped in routine activities and no longer practice new things, seek sensory experiences, or pursue continuous discipline. Instead, we constantly crave new stimuli, and these stimuli are often harmful. Returning to simple things means reconnecting with myself and with my capacity for emotional expression.

In Europe and elsewhere, there is discussion about banning social media use at certain ages.

I believe it is very difficult to completely eliminate social media and phones from our lives; they have become extensions of our identity and existence.

I recently said, somewhat bitterly, during a conference I gave in New York to students: "I wish your lives were as beautiful and interesting as they appear on Instagram."

It is difficult for parents, difficult for society. I believe such limitations up to a certain age help children get through puberty, which now begins earlier than in previous generations. Puberty now starts around ages 10-11, whereas years ago it was between 12 and 14. It is important to know that our personality is shaped around the age of 18-19; adolescents are like sponges, absorbing everything they see on social media and constantly comparing themselves. They need social role models. If I perceive these social models from the age of nine, it means I no longer shape my own identity. Therefore, maintaining a balance in how much one uses and relates to social media is both the responsibility of society and of adults, who must regulate it for someone who has not yet formed their own models.

We live in a time when we ask ourselves what it means to be human, what humanity itself means.

I often think that the environment in which I work is "threatened" by artificial intelligence, but I also say that spontaneity and individual experience - my memories - are unique. They contribute to my spontaneity and flexibility. Spontaneous, creative unpredictability is what defines us. The ability to access memory in order to transform something artistically and give it aesthetic form. Certain things are irreplaceable: the experience of attending a live classical music concert is one of them. Art stands at the very top of what will make the difference in the face of artificial intelligence.