Where did June Go?

June 29, 2015

Where did June go?

June went to music – the music of flowers and of communities singing together.

 

I was away last week teaching at two conferences. A week in the garden changes everything. Sadly, the peonies have departed. As I sit on my deck to write, I look up to see the rondo of daisies playing in my garden. A rondo is a classical music form much like a theme and variations in which a melody is played, then returns several times after forays into other musical territory. Shiny white faces balance on their long, elegant stems, clustering like a chorus of eager singers. The sopranos begin the melody, followed by a reverie of green, leaves and buds waiting their turn. Altos enter next, colored by the tiny notes of amethyst scented geranium. Red roses herald the entrance of the tenors. Confident and cocky, they fling the tune over the lawn to the basses, who anchor both the piece and the peace. Hummingbirds dart the song back to the beginning to be repeated as long as leisure permits.

My garden music mirrored my week of singing, many themes and colors filling and vibrating my whole being. I began the week at The Northfield Conference, a multi-generational gathering of people who come to Northfield- Mt. Herman School to reclaim their essential selves from the busy fret of the world. I taught a Vibrant Voice workshop on using sound for spiritual and personal connection. I also sang each morning in the chapel for Sound Meditation. Singing in that sacred, resonant space was the highlight of my week. The acoustics are amazing.

One night, while drumming in a circle with a dozen people, I heard some women singing. I looked around the circle. There were only three young women and they were not singing. I got up from my chair and walked around listening. Afterwards, Kathy Lowe, who led the drumming, said, “Did you hear the singing?”

She said every year the spirits of the chapel sing with their drumming circle.

Turns out, I LOVE sound meditation.

I began each session with two tuning forks. Tuned to a perfect fifth, or the interval between [do] and [sol] in the scale, I would place the forks near each person’s ears, switching them twice. This allows the two hemispheres of the brain to vibrate in sync with each other. I then played one of my crystal bowls, inviting it to sing in this vaulted space. Soon, I would feel called to sing myself. I would hum or ooh softly until my voice felt steady. I sang while Spirit played me. Kathy Lowe, who had invited me to Northfield, added her warm, earthy tones to my flutier sounds. Two mornings, Steve Schuch, a friend and phenomenal violinist, added his strings to the sound, lifting us all higher still.

Here are several reactions from people who were meditating in this sound bath.

“That was one of the most beautiful things I have ever experienced. Your voice with the bowls took me to another universe. And then Steve joined with the violin and took me further. My heart flew open. I cried the whole time.”

‘I felt like I was floating. I literally felt like I was being called back home.”

“Your morning sound meditation has been a transformative experience for me.”

For me, too. I thought to myself, Oh, this is what I am supposed to do now.

 

I finished the week at Dartmouth College singing with 100 singers and choral conductors at the NH/VT ACDA Gather at the River Conference. I taught a Vibrant Voice workshop to 70 people, focusing on how to use the vibrations of sound to release a singer’s natural technique by connecting breath to heart to voice to spirit. We closed the conference with a concert, singing Duruflé’s exquisite ‘Requiem’ with organ. Along with the other conference ensembles, the women’s ensemble that I led sang a song by Kathy Lowe, “A Song Will Dawn on Me.” She came up to hear us, bringing this musical week full circle for me.

Singing wherever I am, singing with others, singing for others, singing with and for Spirit – these are the daisies of my life, not flashy or colorful, just stalwart and steady. When my WASPY, New England heritage would have me play the reserved introvert, singing takes me out of myself and connects me to others. I am deeply grateful for singing in my life.