Hello everyone,
It has been awhile since you last heard from me. My intention was to share my newsletter 2 weeks ago, but much has changed in my life since then.
RIP my dear brother Paul.
After an excruciating battle with cancer, my beautiful brave brother passed away peacefully on September 2nd. As he departed, he was held by the love of his wife Karen, his two daughters Mia and Brooke, his son Peter, our mother and myself. He was only 61 years old. He spent the last three months of his life mostly in, and out of hospital. His love for his family, and ours for him gave him the courage to fight. Even the doctors could not believe what he endured. I miss him terribly, and will carry his memory for as long as I live.
I now feel the full weight of grief: the final outcome of all that I dreaded. Grief is emotionally and physically painful. When it grips me, I just have to stop everything I am doing and give in to it. It feels like I’m caught in the middle of a powerful storm and I can barely breathe. Then the storm passes, and I savor the calm. Life feels pretty normal at certain times until a memory, a caring gesture from someone, or a song pops up and I am once again in the grips of grief. Most of the time, I just feel a dull ache in my chest and a knot in my stomach. It’s dealing with change I don’t want. To better understand my grief, I have started studying the work of David Kessler, an expert on grief.
…and then I sit at the piano, or I start to sing, and I just cry. I feel stuck. It’s as though I won’t give myself permission to live my music. That’s a pretty powerful statement considering I am unable to access everything I believe in. I feel shut down, maybe it’s survivor’s guilt, maybe it’s the grief, maybe it’s the trauma of seeing my family suffer so much, maybe it’s the compassion I feel for the emotional pain that our 94 year old mother who would have taken the cancer in a heartbeat.
How can I play? The time will come, and the way I play will be different, I’m not sure how, but I’ll find out soon enough.
As I teach singing, play sound baths, and facilitate improvisation, I am experiencing a depth of feeling and connection that is new to me. As I embrace my present struggle connecting with my music and creativity, I feel more compassion and understanding for those I am guiding.
I just tell myself that my creative spirit will flourish again but in a very different way. I am really living the art of improvisation - the art of letting go - accepting the unexpected - embracing the unknown.
Below is the newsletter I intended to publish 2 weeks ago :
Prelude to Autumn
I hope this newsletter finds you enjoying the last weeks of summer. With cooler nights and the foliage rich and full, I find myself savoring the sights and smells as I build my energy for the activity of autumn. Instead of “hitting the ground running” I am “touching the ground walking” with anticipation and dread.
I find myself contemplating the balance of life and work. I love both so much, but life has thrown me some difficult challenges, and I am navigating what feels like a precariously unpredictable weather system.
My brother, and only sibling, Paul has Stage IV Pleomorphic Spindle Cell Sarcoma, a rare form of cancer that is very aggressive and difficult to treat. He has a large team of specialists caring for him. He also has the powerful loving support of his new wife Karen. They married on July 14th, in the ER.
To Karen
Her love is fearless
She has strength
She has hope
She never gives up
Her love is unwavering
She is his rock
His lifeboat
His gives him support
Her love is true
She accepts
She forgives
and gives, and gives and gives.
Surrounded by the love of his family and friends, Paul has been fighting this cruel cancer since his diagnosis in May. It has been an extremely difficult fight, and even the doctors are amazed by his strength and determination. We are fighting right along with him, but this cancer is relentless. The time to make peace with it has come through palliative care. We are now seeking to make every moment we have together special.
As I return to my projects and teaching, I feel a strange combination of gratitude and guilt. I think of each day, each hour, as a gift that I want to spend with utmost love and care.
I did not play much music over the last three weeks. I needed silence, I needed to process and feel the grief for this unwanted change, this awful disease called cancer.
Yesterday, I finally picked up my guitar and I sang, then I went to the piano and I played, and I cried, I cried a lot. It felt good to come home.
Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.
— Victor Hugo
Over many years, I developed a system of self care that has enabled me to live my music and enjoy my life. I am now putting this system through what feels like the ultimate test, and I am still moving forward, I am still living my music.
Life is messy, life is sometimes really hard, life is busy, so how do we remain inspired? How do we keep playing? How do we keep the music going? My hope is always to offer you ways to tap into your creative essence and use your music as a source of self care and self discovery. I seek to create a space where we can connect with others and share ideas and experiences. I seek to create a space where you can be yourself no matter what you are going through.
June and July 2024
“L’entre-Silences”
On July 2 and 9 I collaborated with 7 artists from Concordia University on creating an immersive integrative artistic experience combining art, music and word. What a privilege it is to share not so obvious observations through artistic expression, in this instance we contemplated the invisible thread of energy that connects strangers in a shared moment. We experience this every single day in different ways, when we are riding on a bus, walking down a city street, moving slowly through traffic, individuals all going away from and towards something, all separate, yet connected. In this instance, we shared the experience of being in an art gallery breathing, seeing, taking in, observing, reflecting, listening…
“Art of Improvisation 2024” with Music for People at Hamilton College in Clinton New York
What an incredible gathering of over 80 people who came together from all over the US and Canada to play music together. I reconnected with community members I have not seen since before the pandemic. I also met many wonderful people who were coming to AOI for the first time. I am always taken by the soulful connections created through musical play. I truly believe that when we arrive as our authentic curious selves, our hearts open up and we learn so much from each other. That has always been my experience at AOI - it is different every single time, but always nourishing and surprising!
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