At last I am done with three months of intensive teaching- sound healing courses for massage therapists. Not to complain, to be able to provide continuing education credits for massage therapists is a wonderful thing. It is an incredible venue to be able to bring sound healing further into the mainstream. There are many who come thinking they are just coming to get their CEUs and discover a whole new healing modality that they were previously completely unaware of. The deadline for Florida massage therapists to get all their CEUs and renew their licenses is tomorrow. So it has been a pretty intense period of time. And some very powerful experiences and beautiful healings. Here is a testimonial from a participant in a tuning fork workshop a couple of weeks ago who had a pretty amazing experience while receiving a session with the Brain Tuners.
On a different note, there has been a lot of discussion in my world lately about vibrational energy and resonant frequency. One of the things I have been thinking a lot about is telluric energies, or electrical currents that run through the earth. There is a theory that languages, music and cultures developed from these telluric energies and are inherent to those areas. Hence the great differences in, for example, Far Eastern and Germanic languages and music. This could also have to do with the different flora in different areas and part of the problem of introducing foreign species of plant life. They react strangely, are invasive, whatever... because they really are vibrating at a different frequency than the plant life- or animal life- around them. Some of them adapt. They become entrained to the vibration around them. Whichever is the stronger vibration will win out.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The End of "Life"...
I spent the last three weeks immersed in Keith Richards' autobiography "Life" when I wasn't immersed in Kirtan Camp, California dreaming, and landing back in the hot humid un-reality of Florida! It was one of those books I did not want to end and have been going back to it for days re-reading different parts of it that struck me the most. I actually had a piece of paper that I kept tearing in half over and over marking another page, then another and another. What a great heart. So honest, such simple straightforward eloquence and deep appreciation. Such a deep love and appreciation for music, for the people in his life- family, friends, acquaintances, fellow musicians- and for his memories of a very packed life.
I have to share some of this. "For many years I slept, on average, twice a week. This means that I have been conscious for at least three lifetimes." This book is so full that it is like reading about three lifetimes and pretty much every moment of it is captivating- at least it was for me.
When he was little his grandfather Gus would take him out on his wanderings. "His warmth, his affection surrounded me, his humor kept me doubled up for large portions of the day. It was hard to find much that was funny in those days in London. But there was always MUSIC!... You had no idea where you'd end up. Little shops around Angel and Islington, he'd just disappear into the back. 'Just stay here a minute, son. Hold the dog.' And then he'd come back saying, 'OK,' and we'd go on and end up in the West End in the workshops of the big music stores, like Ivor Mairants and the HMV. He knew all the makers, the repair guys there. He'd sit me up on a shelf. There'd be these vats of glue and instruments hung up and strung up , guys in long brown coats, gluing, and then there'd be somebody at the end testing instruments; there's be some music going on. And then there'd be these harried little men coming in from the orchestra pit, saying, 'Have you got my violin?' I'd just sit up there with a cup of tea and a biscuit and the vats of glue going blub blub blub like a mini Yellowstone Park, and I was just fascinated. I never got bored. Violins and guitars hung up on wires and going around on a conveyor belt, and all these guys fixing and making and refurbishing instruments. I see it back then as very alchemical, like Disney's The Sorcerer's Apprentice. I just fell in love with the instruments."
But my absolutely most favorite part of the whole book is one beautiful paragraph where he describes Roy Orbison. He's talking about when the Stones are in Dunedin, New Zealand, very early on in their career- 1965, and it's been an incredibly long day and it's wet and dark and they're all totally depressed. As he puts it, "Boredom is an illness to me, and I don't suffer from it, but that moment was the lowest ebb. 'I think I'll stand on my head and recycle the drugs.'" And then...
"But Roy Orbison! It was only because we were with Roy Orbison that we were there at all. He was definitely top of the bill that night. What a beacon in the southernmost gloom. The amazing Roy Orbison. He was one of those Texan guys who could sail through anything, including his whole tragic life. His kids die in a fire, his wife dies in a car crash, nothing in his life went right for the big O, but I can't think of a gentler gentleman, or a more stoic personality. That incredible talent for blowing himself up from five foot six to six foot nine, which he seemed to be able to do on stage. It was amazing to witness. He'd been in the sun, looking like a lobster, having a chat, smoke and a drink. 'Well, I'm on in five minutes.' We watch the opening number. And out walks this totally transformed thing that seems to have grown at least a foot with presence and command over the crowd. He was in his shorts just now; how did he do that? It's one of those astounding things about about working in the theater. Backstage you can be a bunch of bums. And 'Ladies and gentlemen' or 'I present to you,' and you're somebody else."
I have to share some of this. "For many years I slept, on average, twice a week. This means that I have been conscious for at least three lifetimes." This book is so full that it is like reading about three lifetimes and pretty much every moment of it is captivating- at least it was for me.
When he was little his grandfather Gus would take him out on his wanderings. "His warmth, his affection surrounded me, his humor kept me doubled up for large portions of the day. It was hard to find much that was funny in those days in London. But there was always MUSIC!... You had no idea where you'd end up. Little shops around Angel and Islington, he'd just disappear into the back. 'Just stay here a minute, son. Hold the dog.' And then he'd come back saying, 'OK,' and we'd go on and end up in the West End in the workshops of the big music stores, like Ivor Mairants and the HMV. He knew all the makers, the repair guys there. He'd sit me up on a shelf. There'd be these vats of glue and instruments hung up and strung up , guys in long brown coats, gluing, and then there'd be somebody at the end testing instruments; there's be some music going on. And then there'd be these harried little men coming in from the orchestra pit, saying, 'Have you got my violin?' I'd just sit up there with a cup of tea and a biscuit and the vats of glue going blub blub blub like a mini Yellowstone Park, and I was just fascinated. I never got bored. Violins and guitars hung up on wires and going around on a conveyor belt, and all these guys fixing and making and refurbishing instruments. I see it back then as very alchemical, like Disney's The Sorcerer's Apprentice. I just fell in love with the instruments."
But my absolutely most favorite part of the whole book is one beautiful paragraph where he describes Roy Orbison. He's talking about when the Stones are in Dunedin, New Zealand, very early on in their career- 1965, and it's been an incredibly long day and it's wet and dark and they're all totally depressed. As he puts it, "Boredom is an illness to me, and I don't suffer from it, but that moment was the lowest ebb. 'I think I'll stand on my head and recycle the drugs.'" And then...
"But Roy Orbison! It was only because we were with Roy Orbison that we were there at all. He was definitely top of the bill that night. What a beacon in the southernmost gloom. The amazing Roy Orbison. He was one of those Texan guys who could sail through anything, including his whole tragic life. His kids die in a fire, his wife dies in a car crash, nothing in his life went right for the big O, but I can't think of a gentler gentleman, or a more stoic personality. That incredible talent for blowing himself up from five foot six to six foot nine, which he seemed to be able to do on stage. It was amazing to witness. He'd been in the sun, looking like a lobster, having a chat, smoke and a drink. 'Well, I'm on in five minutes.' We watch the opening number. And out walks this totally transformed thing that seems to have grown at least a foot with presence and command over the crowd. He was in his shorts just now; how did he do that? It's one of those astounding things about about working in the theater. Backstage you can be a bunch of bums. And 'Ladies and gentlemen' or 'I present to you,' and you're somebody else."
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Music Heals... Kirtan Camp- 2011!
Just got back from an amazing 7-day Kirtan Camp with Jai Uttal last night! I believe the end count was 55 kirtanistas chanting their hearts out... crying, laughing, singing, praying and playing together. An atmosphere of love, nurturing and support...
I realized sometime over the course of the last few days that I felt physically better than I have in a very long time. Was it the food- mostly raw, all organic... the climate- San Anselmo, CA, just north of SF- and the awareness of what an incredible physical drain Florida has on my body... the music- chanting, playing harmonium and drumming for the better part of 7-8 hours a day... the devotion, the bhakti, the shakti? Well, I think it had to be all of the above... again my favorite word comes to mind- WHOLISTIC. Healing on all levels- body, mind, heart and soul. Giving myself space to be and to heal. I realize how little music I have been enjoying for myself and my own spirit lately.
Such a good reminder of why I do what I do.
So simple.
Music heals.
Sound heals.
Love heals.
Here is a just a glimpse of the absolute sweetness of it all- which also speaks to Jai's generosity and spirit of willingness to share with no agenda of his own. Someone asked about how he combined other instruments with his kirtan and specifically enjoyed his use of the banjo- which is something I have always loved in his music, so the next day he brought it in.
I realized sometime over the course of the last few days that I felt physically better than I have in a very long time. Was it the food- mostly raw, all organic... the climate- San Anselmo, CA, just north of SF- and the awareness of what an incredible physical drain Florida has on my body... the music- chanting, playing harmonium and drumming for the better part of 7-8 hours a day... the devotion, the bhakti, the shakti? Well, I think it had to be all of the above... again my favorite word comes to mind- WHOLISTIC. Healing on all levels- body, mind, heart and soul. Giving myself space to be and to heal. I realize how little music I have been enjoying for myself and my own spirit lately.
Such a good reminder of why I do what I do.
So simple.
Music heals.
Sound heals.
Love heals.
Here is a just a glimpse of the absolute sweetness of it all- which also speaks to Jai's generosity and spirit of willingness to share with no agenda of his own. Someone asked about how he combined other instruments with his kirtan and specifically enjoyed his use of the banjo- which is something I have always loved in his music, so the next day he brought it in.
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