Category: Music

The Power of Music: Everyday Magic, Day 1076

The Power of Music: Everyday Magic, Day 1076

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This is the week of the Bruces for me — I saw Bruce Cockburn in concert Thurs. night, and Sat. night, I’m off to see Bruce Springsteen for the umpteenth time. Today as I listened to some of my favorite Cockburn songs (like “Wondering Where the Lions Are”), then bumped into a full Springsteen concert from last week on Sirius Radio (a preview of what I’ll likely hear soon), I considered again how music is engine, caboose, and everything in between to my life….and maybe yours too? 

Music — the making of it and listening to it — has lifted me up and brought me back to myself again and again, from my years of hiding a transistor radio under the covers back in Brooklyn so I could listen to Cousin Brucie (another Bruce!) play the hits to teaching myself how to play everything from “Theme from Brian’s Song” to “Wedding Day at Troldhaugen” on the piano. I trip into nirvana when Kelley Hunt or Kathryn Lorenzen and I write a new song or sometimes when I bump again into a beloved tune from Mary Chapin Carpenter and other saving graces.

I really love this quote from Matt Haig: “Music doesn’t get in. Music is already in. Music simply uncovers what is there, makes you feel emotions that you didn’t necessarily know you had inside you, and runs around waking them all up. A rebirth of sorts.” How true it is that we’re made of music. After all, as living beings, we’re rhythmic beings, our heart beat tapping out its music, and maybe breath is its own kind of music too. 

So consider what the power of music brings you in your days and nights, and how you can draw on that power for the good when you need a little company, insight, soothing, or magic.

This is a cross-post from my Patreon, where you can also see this post plus a writing prompt and links to explore more of the power of music. Click here.

Make Mine an MRI With a Side of Enya and a Rainbow for Dessert: Everyday Magic, Day 1060

Make Mine an MRI With a Side of Enya and a Rainbow for Dessert: Everyday Magic, Day 1060

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Question: How many MRIs does it take a claustrophobe to relax?

Answer: When Brandon, the wonderful (re: tolerant) MRI tech asked I told him I’ve lost count. Nothing like tunnelling, sleeping, and freaking out at times through two bouts of cancer, plus having some greater risk of other cancers, to make that too many MRIs, Catscans, X-rays, blood tests, and other cancer wellness (as in, “if we find nothing, all is well”) to count.

Today was my annual MRI to make sure there’s no tiny pancreatic cancer cells hovering around the corner. While I’ve never had this cancer, it’s what killed my father and uncle, and it can also be tied to being BRCA1 positive (which I am, meaning I have a breast cancer genetic mutation). This MRI cross-bred with my quarterly scans to ensure I have nothing from the eye cancer I had traveling to other parts of the body.

As someone who used to be terrified of lots of scans, especially MRIs and anything where I’ve sent into a tube (I once visited the underworld during a Petscan), these are a deal for me, or at least they used to be. I’ve needed heavy sedation on a cocktail of you-are-somewhere-far-far-away drugs numerous times. Even then, according to my good friend Judy who once sang me Jewish prayers and Buddhist chants during one, I still kicked my legs wildly the whole time.

But when faced with the reality of many more scans in what I hope is a long and healthy life, I’ve been working on giving up my panic and dread. For the last few years, I’ve talked with my therapist about exposure therapy and how my life is giving me this in bundles when it comes to scans. What also helps is Enya.

I had almost forgotten how much I loved Enya’s music in bygone eras, but a few years ago, I was given the choice of listening to her or the Beatles during an MRI, and I chose Enya. It turns out that Enya provides the perfect antidote to the patterns of sonic booms and yelps sounding through me, which altogether feel like having my body energetically probed by some benevolent extraterrestrials.

Enya’s soaring harmonies and bell-clear voice winding around me during an MRI cradles me in an angelic choir, even as the machine loudly bellows and chimes its surveying of my torso. I listen to Enya as well as the machine’s pre-recorded female voice telling me to hold my breath for various intervals of 11-20 seconds, then breathe normally.

This MRI and my one last October were actually, unbelievably, pleasant. With my head on a pillow, my arms above my head resting on that pillow, and the slate I was on going in and out of the Easy Bake oven of the machine, I felt calm, at times almost happy, and so greatly relieved that I could do this without snapping into too-far-down-the-tracks-to-stop fight or flight mode. I also fantasized about exactly what I would order for breakfast at Wheatfields, where we go after each MRI, and how good that French toast and bacon would taste. And it helped having Ken there, breathing with me.

Back home after many hours in and around the hospital waiting for the good news that yes, all was clear and this was another Well Caryn visit after all, I watched the early evening sky brighten in the west while in the east, the dark clouds acted if they were holding a rainbow somewhere. I ran into the house and got Ken, a champion rainbow-whisperer, then we walked through the field south of our house rainbow-hunting until we found it, brightening over the 10 minutes we searched and even doubling.

It was only half a visible rainbow, but I’ll take that, and all the Enya music that comes my way with gratitude. I’ll even take the MRI, an adventure I would never have signed up for in advance but one that helps me relax in small spaces filled with sound, motion, and the wonders of medical technology that can save our lives.

10 Reasons to Come to Brave Voice: Everyday Magic, Day 1045

10 Reasons to Come to Brave Voice: Everyday Magic, Day 1045

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Kelley Hunt and my 16th annual six-day Brave Voice, Sept. 19-24 in Council Grove, Kansas. We have strong Covid protocols in place to keep everyone protected (all participants must show proof of vaccination, we’ll be spread out and will use masks for big group meetings), and the White Memorial Camp is also very committed to keeping us all healthy and safe. Everyone you need will be right at the camp too, including delicious, healthy meals (with vegan and vegetarian options).

Why should you join us at this retreat? Here’s some reasons:

  1. Magic: Yes, there is real magic, and it happens when you get a group of people who love to create — write, sing, make art, or just dip their toes into any of it — together in a sacred and relaxing place, mix in vast vistas of the lake and surrounding hills, add excellent food and deep sleep, and let everyone find their own best answers.
  2. Rest: There’s something about being away from home, surrounded by water and prairie, big skies and gentle breezes (with an occasional good rain) that makes for good sleeping weather. Plus, we hold open afternoons for people to create, wander, explore, collaborate, or take naps.
  3. Perspective: We all need to step out from the ordinary noise of our daily lives and see who we are now and what we have to say to ourselves and others from a new vantage point.
  4. Courage: Brave Voice is a courageous place where people are daring to create and listen to their hearts’ songs. Just being in that space give us back more of ourselves.
  5. Community: People make friendships, sometimes even for life, here. We witness each other, listen carefully, and find clarity and connection in community.
  6. Music: We sing, we’re sung to, we listen, we explore (no one has to sing alone or even sing at all), and oh, Kelley Hunt does a private concert for us!
  7. Writing: Writing is a way of knowing what’s true for us and what no longer holds water. In listening to each other, we find our way to our own strongest words and truest stories. I also do a private reading just for us.
  8. Surprises: The happy kind of surprises abound — maybe fresh pineapple or a new song (even if you’ve never written one), maybe a shooting star, a wonderful dream, or a double rainbow. Expect to be surprised in good ways.
  9. You: Coming to Brave Voice brings you home to yourself even more, and hey, don’t you need a great retreat right now?
  10. Flash Sale: We’re having a special sale to make Brave Voice more affordable for you right now — Aug. 18-22. Come visit our registration page here for the details of how to save close to $100.

Find out more at our website right here.

For the Love of the Song & the Singer: Remembering Martin Swinger: Everyday Magic, Day 1040

For the Love of the Song & the Singer: Remembering Martin Swinger: Everyday Magic, Day 1040

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Martin singing to us at my kitchen table (Deb in purple)

Martin Swinger, a virtuoso singer and songwriter, died suddenly in early July, leaving behind his husband (and partner of 35 years) Brian and many broken hearts in his Asbury Park, N.J. home community, and prior to that, central Maine, where he was a mainstay of the music scene for years. But when I think of Martin, I see him at my kitchen table, serenading the then-coordinator of the TLAN, Deb Hensley, volunteers Nancy Hubble and Laura Ramberg, and me as we stuffed folders for the 2014 Power of Words conference.

He was like this: always bringing joy, humor, and the power of music to wherever he landed. He was gifted at helping in multiple other ways too: for the conference, he coordinator participant transportation, helped Deb with many pieces of the conference coordination, and generally brought a sense of peace and homecoming to all of us.

Then again, Martin knew how vital hospitality and art are to this world. He grew up gay in the South, falling in love with music and books of all kinds. In recent years, he went on to be quite decorated as a songwriter, winning many notable big-time contests and performing across the country, even to the delight of the late Pete Seeger and very-much alive Vance Gilbert and John Waters. His seven CDs won lots of well-deserved awards, including from American Song Competition, SolarFest, Rosegarden Coffeehouse and more. Audiences have adored him for decades for his warm and vibrant voice and eclectic blend of Americana, swing and jazz, traditional music, show tune, Klezmer music, and improvisation. Deb and Martin sang together like angels from an enchanted land, including in the group Brio.

Deb says of Martin: “Martin was a true prince of friend to me and to so many others who knew and loved him. He had a heart the size of Mars and talent to match. Frost says, “Nothing gold can stay.” But Martin’s songs will stay. Oh yes they will. And so will his love.”

Martin getting a standing ovation for his spectacular last-minute keynote concert

His generosity extended in other ways: when one of our keynote performers for the conference didn’t show up, Martin graciously volunteered to perform on the spot and for free (although we did extend to him a small stipend anyway). When he performed, he lifted a full house of conference goers, who had been waiting a while for the keynote, to their feet with original songs such as “Betty Boop and Buddha,” “Consider the Oyster,” and my favorite, “Little Plastic Part.” That song, about how breaking a tiny part of a vacuum that “makes the whole thing work” speaks to having a little part of our heart broken so that it doesn’t work anymore.

I can’t help thinking about how Martin himself was a little vital part with a big impact himself.

Find more about Martin here, and you can see him perform live on Youtube here. This post was published on the Transformative Language Arts blog.

Life (and Tinnitus) in the Key of G: Everyday Magic, Day 1030

Life (and Tinnitus) in the Key of G: Everyday Magic, Day 1030

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Finding the key on our purple (made in Lawrence) piano

Last night, I found that my tinnitus buzzes and hums in the key of G. How did I find this? By singing in key with the tinnitus while pressing piano keys.

Making music out of misfortune is sometimes the order of the day, especially when I’m encased in a cocoon of hearing the workings of my own brain. That’s somewhat what tinnitus is, according to this succinct and brilliant video with Marc Fagelson, who says, “Experiencing tinnitus is like eavesdropping on your brain talking to itself although it may not be a conversation you want to hear.”

Then again, those of us (something like one in seven) with tinnitus don’t have much of a choice. How I got here wasn’t exactly by choice either, but rather a Rube Goldberg (no relation, just resonance) contraption of events. Over the last six months I’ve been immersed in the sport of extreme dentistry because the radiation treatment for my ocular melanoma wreaked havoc on my teeth. With upwards of 20 cavities, including many under caps, I’ve had close to 20 visits to the dentist, oral surgeon and endodontist. Almost all included drilling in various pitches, and yes, it turns out dental drilling can cause or worsen tinnitus (no, earplugs won’t help because the drilling is happening inside the head)

I’ve been running my own science experiment in my brain, and after each dental visit, someone turns the volume up on what was once a barely detectable buzz-hum-sing-roaring, sometimes so much that it wakes me up at night. So what’s a gal to do? Take to the internet and research the hell out of this of course, but I’ve also been telling people, which brings me a lot of stories of how people all around me have been living with tinnitus and other hearing quirks and limitations. There’s no cure, but there’s ways to make friends with this condition, which for me mainly takes the form of not storying this up with terms like “cancer’s collateral damage,” but instead telling myself tinnitus isn’t really unpleasant, and it’s more akin to be wrapped in multiple blankets of white noise. Sometimes it’s even soothing.

I’ve also recommitted to my wiggly meditation practice, changing my 5-minutes-of-meditation-when-I-feel-like-it to 18 minutes a day no matter what. While sitting quietly is a sure way to hear the loudest ocean of tinnitus engulfing me, it also gives me time to just be with it without thrashing against the walls of no such thing as pure silence. I also play music a lot, which helps somewhat mask tinnitus, and last night I stumbled upon singing along with it, then taking to the piano where I found it lived in the key of G. I then read today about how making and being in sounds that correlate to the same pitch is a practice called energetic masking.

So here I am, living life in the key of G, the letter that begins my maiden name of Goldberg but also goodness, google, God, guess, goobsmacked, Gaia, granola, gratitude, Gandalf, giving, grief, giraffe, grass, gravy, and grace. It’s not such bad company — and hey, a lot of these G’s are the very stuff of life — even if it’s sometimes a loud party of its own strange music.