Not only does music provide a language to express feelings that go much deeper than words, but also, the process of songwriting, the songwriter can transform pain (and other challenging experiences) into gold.
Music is a language that reaches from the heart of the songwriter to the heart of the listener. A song can touch the heart of the audience and in doing so, help us recognize our basic humanity and build a bridge that connects us all.
The process of writing two of my newest songs was very much an alchemical process. On November 1, I woke up with a virus that was going around that literally stole my voice. I was totally mute, which is a horrible way to be as a singer, and an even more troubling place to be with important gigs to play at! In fact I was supposed to play at a wedding on November 1, and had written a special song for the wedding. In my heart, I could not disappoint the bride and groom. But with no voice, what was I going to do? I could not even call them to tell them about my predicament.
Thank goodness, the prior Thursday, I had recorded the new song, "Our Vow," in the recording studio. So, I could play the piano live and play the studio vocal track at the wedding. I was able to text about my situation, and indeed follow through with live piano and studio vocal track.
But my voice did not return for many weeks. And as time passed, I found myself despairing. A voiceless singer, who always wants to sing is like a bird with clipped wings. I knew I needed to be on vocal rest. But as a therapist, I have to talk to my clients. I could not be mute and function in my life for an indefinite period of time. Weeks turned into more than a month. And with a compromised voice at the 6 week mark, my violinist expressed her concern. I called the Massachusetts General Voice Clinic and they gave me an appointment on January 3.
But I still woke up crying in the morning, and found myself crying when I tried to go to sleep at night. It felt like a bit of the chicken and the egg: one the one hand, not having a voice evoked deep grief; on the other hand, I suspected the deep grief was part of what was stealing my voice.
As I sat with the deep feelings, honoring the tears, and praying for healing, I found myself writing a new song, "The River." The deep emotional crucible of grief and tears were transformed into lyrics, melody and piano arrangement. And within a couple weeks, my voice did finally fully return, just in time to cancel my appointment at the Massachusetts General Voice clinic!
I have to believe that the alchemical act of writing the song helped me heal. And when songs are sourced from such a deep, genuine, human, heartfelt place, they are guaranteed to touch the heart of the listener.
"The Gardener," which will be on my 2020 The Piano album, is another product of emotional alchemy. I wrote it on the 5th anniversary of my mother's death. She had Alzheimer's and the song tells her story. I entered "The Gardener" in a songwriting contest, and the judge who provided feedback said s/he could tell this was a real story, and that made a powerful song.
It is not always emotionally comfortable to be a human being. And perhaps, even more, so, it is not always emotionally comfortable for a songwriter, who visits deeper emotional terrain as a creative artist. But the gift of the songwriter is the ability to transform pain into gold. And for this, I am grateful.
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