Open Mic, Open Heart

If it weren't for community open stages, I'd probably still be singing alone in my house.

But I notice, sometimes, that open mics can bring out my "shadow" side.  (Something to do with the lighting in those venues?)

Carl Jung first conceived of the idea of the shadow: the part of yourself you hide from the rest of the world--and even yourself.  The shameful stuff we don't like to see.

When we start noticing our shadow, we can start working with it more consciously.  That self-awareness is bound to help our songs.

Many features of open mics can challenge the ego and bring the shadow "into the light", so to speak. Here are a few:

• Do we feel superior to this singer or inferior to that one?  Compassionately noticing our competitiveness can help us develop humility and self-confidence. 

• Are we impatient, waiting for our turn to play?  When we notice this, we can practice being grateful for the present moment. 

• No time to warm up or adjust the sound system?  People talking over your set?  A golden opportunity for intolerant perfectionists. 

• Your performance isn't as good as hoped?  Are you beating yourself up?  Notice that...and practice being kind to yourself. 

The funny thing is, those shadowy aspects of ourselves may be exactly the thing we hope not to show from the stage.

But even if (maybe especially if) our songs are all about peace and love, we've got to wrestle in the dark with the shadow (anxiety, intolerance).     

Only by opening up to every part of our experience--both the light and the dark--will we truly grow.  

Is Your Song Stable?

If your song were a person, would you consider it stable?

Or is it unbalanced...a little off-kilter...troubled somehow?

One characteristic of a strong song is its sense of balance and stability.  It's self-supporting.  For example, the ideas in the verses tend to support the main idea of the chorus...and every verse supports every other one.

The mood and feel of the song will likely be congruent with the song's message.  The melody will likely "match" the words.  Perhaps most important, the message of the song will be congruent with your own unique personhood: your true values and dreams.

Of course, no song or person is "stable" all the time.  We often feel out-of-whack for one reason or another and our songs often reflect that.  In fact, a song is a very appropriate place to express feelings of confusion and anxiety.

At the same time, simply in the act of writing a song, we draw ourselves a roadmap for emotional stability.

It takes effort to consciously choose the right word to complete a rhyme (for example), just as it takes effort to make conscious choices that support our physical, emotional and spiritual health.

But it's worth it!

When the process is complete, we have a strong, stable, true song.  A mirror of our best selves.

Question and Answer (Songwriting as Magic 8 Ball)

When I was growing up, a friend had a Magic 8 Ball that offered answers to the perplexing questions of adolescence. It was fun to consult the mysterious oracle and see what it said.  (I just looked it up on Wikipedia, and was reminded of some of the answers: "It is decidedly so" and "reply hazy, try again". I think I got that "hazy" one a lot.)  

I think that our songs act as oracles sometimes.

When we pick up our instrument during a time of questioning, interesting answers will come out.  

They may not be the ones we're expecting. They may not give us step-by-step instructions on how to proceed. But they can help us understand what our intuitive wisdom is trying to tell us. 

We need our "left-brain", logical sides to make decisions...but we also need our dreamy, "right-brain" sides.  Artistic activity kick-starts both sides at once.  This is great news for complicated lives like ours!  

I just realized that over the last few days, I've been using my songwriting as a kind of oracle.  Two different songs emerged in answer to the same question.

The interesting thing is, one song is "better" than the other.  It's much easier to remember and sing.  It's catchier...more likely to stick.  

Ask your songs to answer your questions.  Then listen to what they say.  

Why bother?

A talented songwriting friend, who has been having trouble writing, asked me why he should bother writing another song.  "Who cares?" he asked. 

I knew what he meant.  Any song we write today will become part of an infinitely large collection of songs (poems, paintings...) that human beings have created since the beginning of time.  In a way, any song (no matter how "good") is insignificant. 

What isn't insignificant, though, are the insights that arise when we write a meaningful song...and the way we grow when we engage in the creative process. 

When we make meaningful connections in music and words...when we share a song that moves another person...we affirm the recreating Whole that is sacred and holy. 

Sure, it takes effort. (My friend said, "But it's so hard!") But the rewards are immense.

Tonight a no-longer-blocked songwriter called me, ecstatic over the new recording she had just made, and the new possibilities that are emerging--all because she began to write from her soul.

That's why we do this. 

Our best and our worst

Songwriting (and activities related to it, such as performance) can bring out our best and our worst qualities.  It's worthwhile to take a closer look at them, to understand how they affect our relationships and our lives. 

Here are some of the great qualities that songwriters often have. (Cue the applause!)

- Emotional sensitivity.
- Insight into human behavior (which leads to empathy and compassion).
- Orientation toward beauty, balance and harmony.
- Observation and awareness of the world.  Consciousness.

On the other hand, you might have noticed these qualities. (Hiss, boo!)

- Self-centeredness.  Over-attentiveness to ourselves and our feelings.
- Demand for approval and attention.
- Judgment of others' work; competitiveness.
- Cynicism and disappointment.

These shadow aspects of our creative lives hold very real risks for us. 

It's not that we "shouldn't" have these feelings (I believe they're something of an occupational hazard) but we do need to be conscious of them and choose how to work with them. 

Sometimes those feelings can become the material for songs. Anger and resentment, for example, offer fantastic energy that can fuel the creative process. The song you write is likely to offer healing harmony just when you need it.  

At other times, it's important to simply notice what's going on and find a way to regain equilibrium...perhaps by being in nature, reading an inspirational book or talking with a supportive friend.

We don't want to give up our sensitivity and "shut down"...but we perhaps can learn to "tune" our sensitivity.   

As T.S. Eliot once wrote, "Teach me to care, and not to care.  Teach me to sit still." 

Blessing Songs

John O'Donohue (1956-2008) wrote that "a blessing is a circle of light drawn around a person to protect, heal and strengthen."

O'Donohue was a poet, philosopher, theologian and Catholic priest.  In his last book, "To Bless the Space Between Us" (a beautiful, kind and inspiring work) he wrote that everyone is capable of blessing others, and that "when you bless another, you...reach below your surface mind and personality, down to the deeper source within you, namely, the soul".

It seems to me that when we write songs that come from our soul, we bless the world they came from.  That is, the Sacred Wholeness that is bigger than ourselves. Perhaps we also bless the people or things or events that inspired the song.

I also wonder...could we bless our songs (or the music we make...or our instrument...) for healing, in the same way that a priest blesses water or bread? 

Could we draw a "circle of light" around a musical phrase, an affirmation of love, a rhyme or a chord?  In doing so, could we strengthen our songs and guide them toward the fulfillment of their purpose?

When we approach our songs this way, perhaps we treat them with the care and reverence they deserve. 

Perhaps we honour them and seek their highest calling, for the blessing of the world.

Our Best Songs

Frederick Buechner once wrote that one's true vocation is found in "the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

I believe that our best songs are found there, too. 

Our best songs are the ones that delight us fully while also nourishing others. 

If a song entertains only us, it may not represent our highest calling. But likewise, if it is only written to please others (or to gain recognition or fame), it misses the mark too.

Our songs must speak to our own deepest values first.  Then they can move, in their own way and in their own time, beyond our personal sphere...to that place of divine connection with others.

We seldom know exactly how that will be accomplished, or when, but that's okay.

It's enough to start with the deep gladness, and the deep hunger we all know, and begin to sing.