How My New Favorite Phrase Could Change The World

Years ago (I realize now I sound JUST like my father when I start sentences with those words) I remember hearing a phrase that has once again become important in my life. The vague memories make me wonder if it was a less enlightened self that remembers the phrase, or if it comes from another lifetime. Whichever it is, that phrase is here and now in my life and I have realized that these four simple words could have HUGE effects on the entire world.

The phrase is "in a good way."

Simple, right?

The first time this phrase came back to me was at the Totah Festival in Farmington not long after I moved to New Mexico. I remember that Sunday well. I was disgusted with the fact the I am white. I was hearing the singing and the drumming from the pow wow while I was sitting in the local Unitarian Fellowship, and was thinking I should have been at the pow wow.

After church, I went to the pow wow and listened to the singing, watched the dancing and delighted in the various drum crews competing.

The emcee talked about the generosity of the indigenous people, about how it was part of their culture. A few times he talked about doing things in a good way. That phrase soaked into my consciousness and was filed away for later use.

A week or two later was the Navajo Nation Fair in Window Rock, Arizona.

At the pow wow there, the emcee talked about the man who invited the emcee to perform those duties at the fair. He said, "He offered me tobacco in a good way to be here tonight."

THAT is when things fell into place for me!

"In a good way" is not simply a turn of phrase...it is a philosophy, a spiritual practice and a way of life!

Tobacco is one of the sacred medicines in many indigenous cultures. To offer tobacco as a gift is to show respect to someone and honor them.

In the case of the emcee, I envision the process of offering tobacco in a good way to have gone like this: The person went to the emcee and said "I would like to offer you tobacco to come emcee the pow wow at the fair. I do this with an open heart, without expectation or coercion. I come before you as a sacred being who honors the sacredness in you and I humbly ask you to share your gifts with us."

Of course, the nature of this conversation is pure speculation on my part, but doesn't that make sense?

I see the in a good way philosophy as part of the ancient wisdom that all indigenous people hold. Be honest and truthful in your words and thoughts. Ask with an open heart and respect the free will of others. Take only what you need and preserve our precious resources for the seventh generation. Be pure in your thoughts and actions. Help those in need and be gracious when others offer to help you. Show kindness to yourself and others. When darkness enters your heart, do not let it linger. Honor yourself and others and live in joy.

This is whatin a good way means to me.

How different would the world be if more people chose to live in a good way?

No more manipulation, no more deceit, no more acts of violence. The lost souls could find their way again. All people would be paid fairly for their work and business dealings could be conducted with consideration and respect. Conflicts could be resolved peacefully. Those in need would get the help they require.

People would be measured by their character, not the color of their skin or their beliefs. There would be no need for random and senseless acts of violence because those souls that have given in to the darkness and the fear and the anger would have support and guidance before they give themselves over completely to the darkness.

When we choose to live in a good way, we see that the differences between us are the unification of humanity that we have been seeking for millennia, not the divisions that have kept us apart for so long.

We feel free to share our hearts openly with others so that we can all benefit from the experience and wisdom of those we encounter. Without fear, we share ourselves and silently state, "Yes, I have had trouble, I have had pain and I have been hurt, but now I offer myself to you openly so that we may learn from each other."

Living in a good way starts with small things: smiling at people on the street, holding a door, helping the person whose bag just spilled onto the floor, making friends with the dog that has been mistreated, waving at children on buses.

All we have to do is let go of some of the hardness our hearts have picked up along our journeys. Be open, be kind and help each other along the way.

How different would the world look if we all made small changes? How far could humanity go?

To me, that is the power of living and doing things in a good way.

In a good way

"The Times You're Not, But You Feel Alone": The Amazing Music of Billy McLaughlin

Note: I originally began writing this post four months ago. Due to an error with the Wordpress app, and the fact I had written most of the post in Wordpress and not saved elsewhere, a good share of what you are about to read was lost. When I write things like this, I am very grounded in the emotions of the moment. For me, this is not some mechanical process that can simply be recreated...it is fluid, organic and emotionally charged.

I was able to salvage some of the writing from a partial copy I had, but decided that I would have to wait for "the right time" to finish the post if I wanted to do justice to the original.

Just now, as I was going through my morning ritual in the bathroom, on this Sunday morning, it happened. Texting with my wife about our upcoming long Valentine's weekend together, and the song that inspired this blog post began playing on my iPod. Instantly tears formed in my eyes and soon they were streaming down my face, my breath coming in gentle gasps as I was consumed by the emotion, the love I had not known could be so deep, so powerful, before I met my wife.

With tears of love and devotion and longing still wet on my face, I knew at once that this was the time to finish telling this story.

I first saw Billy McLaughlin in the fall of 1992 in the Brenton Student Center on the Simpson College campus in Indianola, Iowa...and my life changed forever.

Billy was playing solo acoustic guitar for "Noon Tunes", a brief concert on a small stage in the middle of the student center. His two handed technique on the neck amazed me. I had been playing guitar for a year and a half, and I was inspired!

He did a concert at the theater on campus where he did a set of solo guitar, some instrumental and some with lyrics, and he did a set with a band. Part of the draw for me besides the music was the way Billy would talk about the inspiration for his music. That is a pretty regular thing for singer/songwriters to do, but I realized quickly what a skilled storyteller Billy is. He's really good at describing the inspiration for his music.

I bought the two albums he was selling at the time. His first, Inhale Pink is a solo album and Exhale Blue is a band album.

His signature piece, Helm's Place refers to the name of a street he lived on near the Santa Monica freeway, where he rented a room from a sweet grandmotherly woman. He admits that he should have titled the piece "A Day in the Life of the Santa Monica Freeway." It is a musical interpretation of the traffic waking up on the freeway and working into a frenzy and the natural ebb and flow of the freeway. Brilliant work.

Over the years, I have acquired more of Billy's albums. I talked with him when I could...hell, some of my friends and I even went bowling with Billy and the band after a show once.

Several years ago, Billy developed dystonia, a neurological condition that left him unable to play guitar right handed.

Billy then did the unimaginable, the unthinkable...he relearned how to play left handed.

I saw an interview where Billy and others were talking about the disease and his relearning process. One man said, "It's not simply a matter of turning the guitar the other way. Imagine every word you've ever learned to say in your life, and then learning to say them backwards...that's what it's like."

As amazing as this story is, it's not why I'm writing this post. Billy McLaughlin's music has meant so many things to me at different points in my life, and the story of the music is worth telling.

Over the years, I've studied to Billy's music, I've jammed to it, relaxed to it, made love to it, played it during quiet times when each of my children were newborns, I played Billy's music when my middle child was in the NICU, and I've lulled my children to sleep with his music. His Wintersongs and Traditionals album has been part of my winter since the album's release...every year. I received one of the greatest compliments a warrior musician can receive during one of Billy's shows. I took a girl I was dating to one of his shows at Simpson. I quickly got lost in the music and honestly forgot my date was there until she leaned over and said something in my ear. She said, "Most people just hear the music, but you become the music."

I was so touched by that observation.

If this were the end of the story, it would be enough. Thank you Mr. Billy McLaughlin for your wonderful contributions...

But this story is just getting started.

Several weeks ago, as I was driving alone through southern Colorado, into New Mexico to start the adventure I am now in the middle of, I felt the need to listen to some Billy. Several weeks ago, as I was driving alone through southern Colorado, into New Mexico to start the adventure I am now living, I felt the need to listen to some Billy. I pulled up The Bow and the Arrow, a band album released around the same time as his solo album The Archery of Guitar. It had been years since I listened to this album straight through, so the rediscovery process was an enjoyable, if minor, distraction from all the anxiety, thoughts and emotions I felt on that last leg of my trip, bound for an unfamiliar, solitary life.

As a musician, I am well aware of what Weston Noble describes as "the musical experience." It's that je ne sais quoi moment in music when you get chills, goosebumps... it's more addictive than any drug, and musicians condemn themselves to countless hours alone, perfecting their craft for just one more taste of it.

There is also another experience, and I don't have a name for it. I think most of us have experienced this at least a few times. It happens when a song writer crafts lyrics and music in such a way that they tap into universal life experience and create something that seems like it was written just for us.

"That is my song!"

For those of you nodding your heads, take it one step further.

Sometimes, just sometimes, there is a piece of music or a song that we find that alters our view of life. Once you hear this, you know in the depths of your soul that you life will never be the same again...it has changed forever.

One of those moments came for me on that night in mid August, on a lonely stretch of Colorado highway when I heard Billy's song He Said, She Said.

As a point of reference, here are the lyrics:

“My love,” he said, “You must be convinced, avail yourself to be shown. Though I must leave you here, gonna pick up all my pieces, my love for you, must now be known.

And it won’t wear out and it won’t wear down, and it won’t weigh heavy on your mind. And it will stay up, now it will stay sound to last you through all those times.”

"My love,” she said, “I can wait no longer, and you must hear, what I say.I need someone who’ll be there, ‘cause time is all we have to share. Your dreams will carry you along your way.And they won’t wear out, and they won’t wear down, and they won’t weigh heavy on your mind.And they will stay up, love they will stay sound to last you through all those times.”“My love,” he said, “This is not the way that I wanted it, but time in time, my hands feel tied.But I can’t blame you for needing what I can’t blame myself for not finding how to give, this love will be so hard to get pastBecause it won’t wear out and it won’t wear down and it won’t weigh heavy on your mind.Now it will stay up and it will stay sound, to last you through all those times.”“My love,” she said, “You know I truly love you, but I know not what, the future holds.So find your dreams, oh, make them all that they can be and then, you will find a hand to hold.And it won’t wear out, and it won’t wear down and it won’t weigh heavy on your mind.And it will stay up and it will stay sound to last you through all those times.”Oh, the times you’re not, but you feel aloneOh, the times you’re not, but you feel aloneThe times you’re not, but you feel aloneOh, the times you’re not, but you feel aloneThe times you’re not, but you feel aloneOh, the times you’re not, but you feel aloneThe times you’re not, but you feel aloneOh, the times you’re not, but you still feel aloneThe times you’re not, but you feel aloneOh, the times you’re not, but you feel aloneThe times you’re not, but you feel aloneOh, the times you’re not, but you feel alone

When Karma Calls, You'd Damn Well Better Answer!

Let me be absolutely clear about something: I believe we all live multiple lifetimes. I believe that we are born into this lifetime with the condition of death and the promise of rebirth. I believe we are born into lifetime after lifetime to bring our gifts to the world and to learn the lessons we need to learn. Face it...there is a LOT to learn, so how can we expect to learn them all in one lifetime? These lessons are sort of a pass/fail deal. If you don't fully learn the lessons you are supposed to, then you will receive many more opportunities to learn the lessons, and it may take several lifetimes. That is how I, at least partially, define karma. What goes around, comes around.

I realize that not everyone believes the things I've just described, and that's okay with me. I embrace all life affirming forms of belief and unbelief. For the purposes of this blog post, it's important for you to understand where I am coming from.

Any of you that have children in your lives or have observed children know that when they want attention, they can be very insistent...especially if they think they are being ignored. Imagine: a Dad is out with his children when they run into one of Dad's friends. Dad and the friend start talking when all of a sudden, one of the children has something very important to say, so the child tries to get Dad's attention: "Dad...um, Dad...excuse me please Dad..." Then the incessant tugging on the hand, or shirt, or tapping of the arm begins as well as a more exasperated tone of voice. You may also notice elongated consonants and vowels here: "Daad...Daaduh...Daddy...Daaddyyy."

If Dad continues to talk to the friend, the child, refusing to be ignored, will go to great lengths to get Dad's attention. This may include yelling, hitting or even screaming.

By the time things escalate to this level, Dad will most likely, bursting with frustration, snap back at the child, yelling "WHAT?!"

Now at least two people are agitated for no good reason. This could all of been avoided...by paying attention and not ignoring the child who quite clearly needs to be acknowledged.

Guess what? Karma is the same way.

Karma is that child who will not be ignored. Oh, you can ignore karma for a while, but you will give karma its due in time. There is no way around it. Fortunately you have the choice of whether things go the easy way or the hard way.

Karma is the spiritual student loan company...you can ignore it for a while, move, run, hide, but sooner or later you will be found.

That's why this post is entitled "When Karma Calls, You'd Damn Well Better Answer." Just like that child wanting your attention, the longer you put things off, the higher the cost.

Most of us know the cliché "When it rains, it pours." Murphy's Law states "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment." I am reminded of sayings like is when karma seems to catch up with me. I've also learned to keep things like, "it can't get much worse" and "I can only go up from here!" out of my thoughts and words as much as possible. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's learned that every once in a while when you think things can't get much worse, just to humble you, they do get worse...a LOT worse.

I've come to think of times like this as "karmic avalanches." If you are paying attention, sometimes you can sense when it's going to start, and if you're lucky, you can ride the wave and not get completely tossed by it.

When these things happen in my own life, my wife, C, reminds me that I have some karmic debt to deal with. In fact, she believes, as do I, that part of my being drawn to New Mexico is to deal with some of my karmic debt. That thought was concerned by a Navajo herbalist I befriended. I was joking with her that I was thinking about getting a DNA test to determine if I have Native blood...I figure I must since I am so strongly drawn to Native healing and spiritual practices. She said, "Or maybe you were in another life. You probably have some karma to work out."

Karma is like a living hell. I don't buy into the concept of hell as described in the Christian bible...a place where sinners are sent after death to be punished for eternity. I resonate more with the way it is described in The Tenth Insight by James Redfield. He describes part of the Afterlife as a place where souls who completely miss the mark in life (side note: Eckhart Tolle mentions in The Power of Now that the original definition of "to sin" means "to miss the mark.") become trapped by their own grief and pain and repeat the same mistakes over and over again in the hell they create until they can remember enough of the life purpose they ignored to break free.

Karma can be like that in this life. If we ignore the lessons that are presented to us, they will be presented to us again and again until we remember. This concept of remembering is something I have read about over the years and something and something I discussed with my Navajo herbalist friend. She told me that is wasn't until recently that she remembered she is supposed to be an herbalist. Her father was a medicine man and she learned about the healing uses of traditional Navajo herbs her whole life, but she said it wasn't until recently that she remembered that she was meant to help the people through herbs. When I say "remembering", I am not talking about things like losing your car keys and then remembering where you left them. I am referring to remembering what our spiritual goals are in this lifetime; our life's purpose this time around. The transition from one life to the next is hard on a soul...so hard in fact that the things we accomplished spiritually in our previous life only show up in this lifetime as vague impressions, or interests that we develop. Part of our mission in every lifetime is to remember what it is we want to accomplish.

Karma has a role in this process. Karma is the ancient power of "what goes around, comes around." If we put bad energy into the Universe, bad energy will visit us. Of course when we put good energy into the Universe, we are blessed beyond belief. So how does this help us remember? Every day we are presented with situations in which we have choices. If we respond to a situation in a good way, then more good things happen. If we learn what we are supposed to from the situation, we can move on to something else. If we respond in a not so good way, we will end up being presented that lesson again so we have another opportunity to learn. The more we learn the lessons we are meant to, the more we remember. The more we remember, the closer we get to our spiritual goals in this lifetime.

What about the "when bad things happen to good people" idea?

We all know some really terrible things that have happened to good people. Have faith that there are lessons there too. Sometimes it doesn't seem fair or it doesn't seem right, but there is a purpose in it. If we pay attention, we might just figure it out one day.

When karma catches up to us, we would be wise to attend to it.

Twenty days after I got married the first time, my Mom died unexpectedly. The autopsy named cause of death heart disease secondary to obesity.

After years of reflection, I believe my Mom ignored karma one too many times.

I don't know at what point my Mom started gaining weight. I can only guess she turned to emotional eating because of her abusive father. I don't really know many of the details of their relationship, and whether or not that was the cause of her emotional eating, I am only speculating.

What I do know is what I observed during my lifetime. When I was quite young, Mom was diagnosed as borderline diabetic. The only thing I remember from that time is Mom stopped making cookies and cakes and started drinking Tab. Eventually she was placed on insulin injections. Years later, things shifted. She stopped taking insulin, and she never lost weight. Sometimes she would eat ice cream for breakfast. As she later reflected, one day she wore a pair of shoes that led to a diabetic ulcer. She ignored that ulcer until it developed gangrene and she had to have her big toe amputated. At 58 years old, she died in her sleep.

When one ignores karmic lessons, there are consequences.

This presented me with lessons in my own life. At age 33, I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. Even though I was aware of my family history, I chose to eat whatever I want and not exercise enough. Now I am faced with my own lessons...do I take the steps to reverse the disease and live as long and as healthy of a life as I can? Or do I ignore karma's call and die too young, full of disease?

Pay attention my friends. These lessons are presented to us gently unless we repeatedly ignore them. When karma calls and we don't answer, it will leave a message. Rest assured, it will call back. Unlike telemarketers, there are no laws governing when or how many times a day karma can call. It really is a gift to help us move forward if we graciously accept it. But know this: karma always calls collect, and sooner or later, you have to accept the charges.

Sometimes It's Okay To Fall Apart

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel sick enough to be lethargic and feel yucky, but not really sick enough to stay in bed all day? Just enough parts of your body are scratchy, irritated and sore that you want to curl up with your blankie and have someone sing you to sleep while tenderly rubbing your back? Days where you feel whiney, but you don't care how undignified it is and one little thing makes you start crying and you just can't seem to stop? That's my day today.

All of this melodrama I've just described has helped me realize one thing: I have had it!

I think getting sick just pushed me over the edge of tolerance I have been teetering on since I moved to New Mexico. The energy I am putting out is drawing some strange things to me. Today I noticed for the first time there are some really bad drivers in New Mexico. Of course there are bad drivers everywhere, but today a lot of the ones here seemed to cross my path. Means I need to examine what kind of vibe I am putting out there. The phrase "I'd better check myself, before I wreck myself" comes to mind.

Granted, there's a lot on my mind...new culture, first time really living in my own, newlywed and 1200 miles away from my wife and my kids...as a matter of fact, that's what set of an evening worth of sobbing.

I went to the store after work to get some chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers...comfort food of the slightly sick for generations. The only reusable bag I had in the car was one I discovered when I unpacked a few weeks ago. It was a bag that my son had carried some toys in, maybe going to the Unitarian Universalist Society back home, I don't remember. I was a bit sad when I first found them, realizing I had packed the car right over the bag of toys, but today something different struck me. As I pulled the toys out of the bag, I found a partially consumed bottle of Sprite...and I lost it. For whatever reason, seeing that mostly full bottle of soda instantly drove home all the sadness, all the guilt and all the grief I have been consumed with since the night I said goodbye to my children.

Going through the Hoffman Quadrinity Process was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, then saying goodbye to my children that night was the most painful. We clung to each other, crying. I don't know if they understood my reasons for going. I tried to make it a teachable moment for them. I explained that there were some kids in New Mexico that don't see the same way a lot of people do, and they need a special kind of teacher who can help them learn...that's why Daddy was moving far away...to help those kids.

Maybe when they are older, I can explain the other reasons I had to go. Maybe I can tell them that after being it of work for over a year, I needed a job. I needed to feel like I could make a difference in people's lives. I've long taught the message of service to my children, but it had been a while since I felt like I was truly of service. That, and I needed to get myself right...emotionally, financially and spiritually. This is a vision quest for me. I am trying to find how I fit into this world, as a dad, husband, step dad, teacher, healer, music therapist, maybe even as a shaman. How do I best serve this world? I co-created a job in one of the most spiritually rich parts of this country to figure it all out.

Now all of this might be enough to make most of us want to fall apart from time to time...but there's more.

I just found out last week that I got an extension to finish my masters degree...good news, but a lot of work to do. One of my dear friends has been dealing with significant life issues of her own which I would fully support her with, but for the last few months we'll talk or text briefly, then she will say she will call me the next day, and doesn't. Have to admit I wouldn't mind some support from her either.

Another dear friend is dealing with the terminal diagnosis of the man she's been with for years. I feel helpless to do anything, and her pain resonates strongly with me.

A financial situation that will be resolved in the next few weeks may make it very difficult...to do a lot of things.

There is the visit of my wife and stepdaughter at the end of this week that I eagerly anticipate. I hope they're practiced up on their hugs.

With this deluge of emotions, it may be difficult for some of you to see strength in me at all. It's no secret that I am a sensitive guy. Sometimes I have a tough time keeping everything together. I think most of us do, but I think that sometimes it's okay to fall apart. The key is to not stay apart.

One of the many ways music touches us is through lyrics. Every nice in a while, if we are lucky, we find some lyrics that let us know that someone else up there understands what we're going through.

One of my favorite songs for picking myself up after falling apart is "Bounce" by Bon Jovi:

I've been knocked down so many times Counted out, 6, 7, 8, 9 Written off like some bad deal If you're breathin', you know how it feels...

Listen to the song while following the lyrics...it will help you feel like you can keep going after a meltdown.

As for me, my ears and nose are plugged, my throat is scratchy, my glands are swollen and I have a headache.

I'm going to whine until I get my blankie and a backrub.

The Stories We Tell and The Stories We Don't

Since my post "Everyone Has A Story" the concept of life stories has been at the forefront of my thoughts. I've been thinking about this part (the part I'm living through right now) of my story because, honestly, I have a lot of time to think right now. Before I go into my story in the present, I want to share how I became aware of the stories each of us have. A couple of years ago I started working as a music therapist at a rural hospital...25 beds. It was the first hospital gig I had, and I was the first staff music therapist they had. I had some ideas about what a hospital MT should do, but there was a lot of feeling my way through things on the beginning.

Within the first week or two, I figured something out that shaped the way I have lived as a healer and a music therapist ever since. It was at this time that I realized that yes, everyone has a story to tell but, most of the people I served were willing to tell me their story.

I have been told for years that I am easy to talk to. One of my co-workers told me I have "listening eyes." I found is person to be quite intelligent and quite insightful, so I trust her judgment.

Regardless, I soon figured out that music was the gateway for many of those patients to share their stories with me. A familiar song provided a sense of comfort, or perhaps triggered reminiscence. Often these people would discuss their concerns about their state of health, talk about the good old days going to dances with their spouse. Their children, grandchildren...the grandson who just shipped out to Iraq, the young mother who was on the cusp of spiritual enlightenment, but the reality of her unenlightened family and husband was overpowering...

People would share their very personal stories with me and I listened with respect and a caring ear. I offered insight when I could and commiserated at times. Sometimes I cried with them.

I realized the gift each of these people gave me, entrusting me with their stories. I also realized the responsibility that came with those gifts. Sometimes, those people just needed someone to hear them. They needed someone to listen. When I would try to explain this to others, they were often confused. I said, "Sometimes I would see a patient, sing one song, and we'd start talking. I would leave the room 45 minutes to an hour later, and it was a good music therapy session. One song, and it was a good session."

Now my music therapy friends will appreciate this idea. We try to meet the client where they are and take them where they need to go. Sometimes we make music for them. Sometimes we make music with them. Sometimes we cry with them or laugh with them and sometimes we just listen.

If you pay attention to people, they share parts of their stories all the time. There are people that always seem mad at the world, or happier than could be expected of even the most optimistic person. There are varying degrees in between, but I think the point is made. We have to realize that the stories people are willing to share with most of the world is only part of their story. Most of us walk around behind a facade, a mask. It's human nature...a defense mechanism, at least in the Western world. Let's face it, most of us would feel too vulnerable to put out there our real stories all the time. It would be open season on our emotional selves! Who needs that?

I have learned in my experience as a music therapist and healer that my openness can encourage others to be open too. Often that openness helps facilitate the healing process. Yet I keep parts of my story to myself.

This became evident to me at the chiropractor's office the other day.

When one of the ladies that works in the office was doing electro stim therapy on my neck, I shared with her that my wife and step daughter were going to visit me the following weekend and how much I was looking forward to it because it had been a month since I'd seen them.

One of the other girls who works in the office walked by and was teasing me in a good natured way about something that had happened soon after I started seeing this chiro. One day when I came in for an adjustment, this girl asked me if I wanted to do the stim therapy before the adjustment. I became slightly panicked, and stuttered a bit before saying no, I wanted to do the therapy after the adjustment. As it turned out, I was having an especially hard time dealing with feelings of loneliness and missing my family. That one small change to the routine seemed very upsetting.

The other day, this sassy blonde girl was teasing me about not liking change. She was doing so in a good natured way. Anyone who knows my wife, knows I like sassy. And she was just saying those things in fun, but today I decided to share part of my story I hadn't shared with the office staff. In mock exasperation I said, "You know, I've only been here a month and I've never lived anywhere but Iowa and I just got married for the second time in June and now I'm 1200 miles away from my wife and kids, so if sometimes I come in here and I'm a little neurotic, there's a reason for it."

I tired to keep my tone light even though my words weren't. I didn't want her to feel bad, but I felt it was important for her to understand where I was coming from. I'm careful who I tell this part of my story to and how I tell it. I don't want to be one of those people. You know the ones...the people who unpack their drama for anyone within earshot. It's a form of energy vampirism really. "Feel sorry for me so I can get your attention and thus your energy."

I don't want to be one of those.

Sometimes though, I feel it's important to let select people know that I am dealing with some personal challenges and that sometimes I might need some extra gentleness or just some understanding.

This seems to be the time for me to deal with some of these things in a very direct way.

Two different times this week I found myself in conversations where people were asking about my emotional adjustment to my job, my living situation and such.

The first was someone who will be mentoring me in my job. I admitted that around the second week I was here, I was talking to my wife, in tears. I said, "I don't want to be do this anymore. I miss you, I miss my kids. I want to come home."

I nearly broke into tears recounting that conversation.

My mentor's face grew sincere, intense. She asked me, "Can you do this?"

I assured her that even though I had tough days, that I could. I told her, "Besides, I'm a martial artist...I don't give up."

The second was my supervisor asking how I was settling in. He asked informed questions about if I had found a nice place to live and if I was developing a social network. Good questions to ask someone in my situation.

For every story that a person shares with someone else, there are many they keep to themselves. What would it be like if everyone wore their heart on their sleeves? I will guarantee you this: no matter how open and honest someone is, even if they say they are telling you their whole story, there are stories they keep to themselves. Sometimes they realize they are doing it and sometimes it is pure defense mechanism and the stories are buried deep. That's okay though...that's how a lot of us keep our sanity.

My friends, the stories you have collected in your own lives need to be given a voice. Not just the stories you share, but also the stories you don't share. That voice can still be safe, still remain protected. For me, my journal sees most of the stories I don't give voice to anywhere else. Even so, there are some things I keep to myself. But maybe, just maybe we can coax a small bit of one of those untold stories out to share with someone...even if it's only on paper.

You might be surprised though...sometimes the things that you think will shock and horrify people actually encourage them to be a little more open.

"Hey, I have to tell you, I'm kind of a freak."

"What a relief! So am I!"

Who knows?

But I've got a strong intuition that if, as a global culture, we could all share a little more of our inner selves, there would be a lot less conflict in the world. Maybe we could all relate to each other a little better.

More relating to each other and more understanding; yeah, I think that would be good.

Curse of The Modern Family

My sister in law just gave birth to a beautiful little girl a few days ago! In preparation for the blessed event, my wife has been spending every weekend in Michigan (she lives in Iowa) to help out with my three nieces before mommy has the baby.

I've been in New Mexico for a month now, and I've found out that I have a challenge...knowing what time it is where my family is.

My kids are in Iowa, and have been staying there. Easy to figure...their Central Time Zone is one hour ahead of my Mountain Time Zone.

With my wife however, she keeps traveling between Central Time Zone and Eastern Time Zone. Based on her teaching schedule, I can usually tell where she is going to be, but not always.

I mistakenly thought she was going back to Iowa now that our beautiful niece has arrived...

Wrong...

She's staying in Michigan until she has to go to her college alumi weekend this weekend...still Eastern Time Zone...different state.

What time is it here? What time is it there?

Can we talk on the phone, text...Facetime?

First world problem to be sure, but also indicative of a mobile family in the 21st century!

Everyone Has A Story

During my last MT gig, I learned a universal and undeniable truth: everyone has a story. In a follow up post, I'll explore how I learned those lessons. For now, a few thoughts about those stories we all have.

The idea for this post came to me at a restaurant.

I was sitting perpendicular to a table with a large indigenous family...at least twenty people celebrating a child's birthday.

After the cake was served, a couple of the younger kids, three years old or so, started chasing each other...crawling.

I kept glancing at the kids and smiling. A couple of the moms saw me looking and got up and put a stop to the chase.

I don't know if the parents were embarrassed by the behavior or if they didn't appreciate the guy sitting alone in the restaurant looking at their kids.

Then I thought back to something another white teacher said to me. She got the impression that a lot of the indigenous families in the area are strict with their kids...maybe I was witnessing a cultural expression.

I wanted to say, "Your kids are cute! I'm far away from my family and seeing your kids happy gives me hope that maybe my kids are happy too!"

But it seemed out of place to intervene in their parenting...especially not knowing their stories.

It's for similar reasons that I try to make friends with every dog I see...so I don't miss the furry friends I left behind. Or the reason I smile when I see a couple holding hands or talking sweetly in hushed tones. I remember how good it is to be with the love of my life.

I think about the line from the Bon Jovi song Bed of Roses, "As I dream about movies they won't make of me when I'm dead."

He viewed his life as a story, just as I do. I can't count how many times I say something like, "I guess that's part of my story" or sometimes our story when talking with my wife.

I share bits of my story with people here...I'm newlywed, away from my wife and kids...I smile when kids are being joyful children...

Almost as an afterthought, I enjoy "The Most Interesting Man in the World." One of his thoughts seems appropriate here: "It's never too early to start beefing up your obituary."

What will your obituary say?

What's your story?

If you don't like it, change the plot,.change the characters, but YOU write it.

Live your story every day!

Waiting For My Real Life To Begin: Colin Hay's Music and the Dichotomy that is me

Recently, on the drive to work, I was listening to Colin Hay's "Man at Work" album. In recent months, since buying the album, I find that I really connect with a lot of the lyrics. I will admit that I became familiar with Colin Hay by watching Scrubs. I thought "Waiting" was a beautiful song, and "Overkill" was pretty cool too. I was not familiar with the Men at Work version of the song. I guess that goes back to something my mother said often about me...I have strange gaps in my knowledge.

As I was singing along with "Waiting" that morning, I got choked up. As a music therapist, I've learned that one reason music is so powerful is because of the personal connection people can form with it. Hearing a certain song can instantly transport someone to a different time and place.

I have lost a lot of people close to me and music connects me to each of those experiences. "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan came on the radio when we were driving to be with my Dad after my Mom died. "It's Alright" by Huey Lewis and The News was on the radio when we were driving to my best friend Merry's memorial service and I will always think of my Dad's passing when I hear the Adagietto from Mahler's Fourth (a story for another time).

A lot of songs make me think of my beloved wife and everything we have been through in our short time together. "Waiting For My Real Life To Begin" is one of them.

Three weeks after I proposed to my wife, I lost my job. I had unknowingly, and very incorrectly tied my sense of self and self worth to my job...again, a story for another time. When another job did not present itself readily, I slipped into a deep depression. On top of that, my then bride to be took it upon herself to be the primary financial support for me and my children. I kept saying, "I'll make things right by you." She expressed her trust that I would.

I'll throw in a bit a lyric analysis here and there:"Any minute now, my ship is coming in...I'll keep checking the horizon..."

This reflects my sentiment of "I'll make things right by you" and as with other lines of this song, it expresses an assuredness of the wonderful things to come...something I forgot at times.

"And you say, 'be still my love, open up your heart, let the light shine in.'"

This is the voice of my wife. She was my biggest supporter and my strength through this difficult time. More than that, she says things like that to me frequently...fully embody your spiritual self...let your light shine!

"Don't you understand? I've already have a plan, I'm waiting for my real life to begin."

Here is where the dichotomy in my thinking kicks in...but I'll get to that later.

When I woke today, suddenly, nothing happened, but in my dream I slew the dragon...

So many days, waiting for call backs, hoping for interviews, searching for more job leads...wondering why my life was turning out as it was. I was born to do important things! I was called to a life of service and helping people...making a difference. Were those dreams on hold? Had they vanished altogether?

Further into the song we find "Just be here now, forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin"

Something else very similar to the things my wife often says. She is so tapped in to the Universal Wisdom. This woman that I am sharing my life with is truly one of the strongest people I have ever met. She has to be to withstand the torrent of emotions I bring to the table at times. She is also the kindest, most gentle life partner I could have hoped for. She reminds me, "be here, now." She sees through all the masks I have ever worn, and she still loves me. I could not have dreamed of a better woman to spend the rest of this lifetime with.

...and I'll check my machine, there's sure to be that call. It's gonna happen soon, soon, oh very soon, it's just that times are lean.

I know my wife took a lot of flack from family and friends...asking when that next job was going to materialize. In her own sweet way, she didn't really give me a lot of details of those conversations.

Let me say again, she is one of the strongest people I have ever met.

In my moments of clarity and being tapped in myself, I kept saying, "Something BIG is about to happen! I can feel it!" Often she would say something like "That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!"

The she'd would be right there to support me when I hit another rough patch.

Here's the dichotomy in thinking...and this reminds me so much of the concept of "doublethink" that George Orwell discusses in 1984...the idea of saying one thing, but believing the exact opposite.

It also reminds me of something the ordained minister/college professor said during a religion class I took: "I believe that the Bible is the absolute word of God. At the same time, it is FULL of contradictions and inconsistencies."

For purposes of this post, my version is: Waiting For My Real Life To Begin is a beautiful song that connects with me on a very deep level because I relate the lyrics so closely to my own life...and yet the very title of it goes against every belief about how to live life.

Do you read Eckhart Tolle?

The ideas he shares about present moment awareness...truly life changing. The ideas are not new as he admits, but his method of delivery resonate with me. You can find parts of talks he gives on YouTube too.

His book The Power of Now reminds us that ALL we ever have is the present moment. How many times have you said, "I'll be happy when I drive this kind of car" or "When I make this amount of money, I'll be set!" Maybe you think a house, or a baby or new clothes will make you happy...the list goes on.

I know I've done that...hung my happiness on material possessions, or money or relationships.

You can't wait for life to begin. It's happening, right now.

The job that I found took me 1200 miles away from my family, for at least an academic year. Yes, there are breaks, but it is certainly the longest I have been away from my children...my wife too. Sometimes this doesn't seem like my real life. I've thought, "I will be so much happier when I am closer to my family!" I realize of course the error in that thinking.

I believe happiness is the awareness of being connected to the whole of humanity. Realizing that we are all spiritual beings and we're here to help each other out. Joy, lightness, ease, all come from staying rooted in the present moment.

Just be here now, forget about the past...

I try to live in the present moment as Eckhart suggests...that is a work in progress for me. Being in this place, in this highly spiritual place that I have been led to has clarified things for me. Some of the things I used to think we're important, really aren't. Each day, I try to live a life of service; a spiritual life. I remember one of His Holiness, The Dalai Lama's favorite prayers: "Guide me and heal me, so that I may be of greater service to others."

On a clear day, I can see, see a very long way.

What is home? Part 2...it's not what you think

The great irony about my last blog post, talking about moving to Portland, Oregon is that the very day I made that post, the plans I had been making for months completely fell through. I don't need to go into much detail about the reasons why, except to say that nothing in this life is certain, least of all, people's behaviors.

I actually was pretty calm when I found out I had to come up with a new plan after months of work, a week long trip right after my honeymoon and visions of greatness and the positive effect I could have on countless souls. My wife however, was not calm. Things did, as you will soon see, work out.

I will diverge from my train of thought for a moment to say that I had some profoundly spiritual experiences in the days and weeks following the sudden change in my life plans. I am a practicing Unitarian Universalist...a religion that encompasses many spiritual paths. I am drawn to Earth based spirituality (Pagan) and Native American spiritual beliefs. With the help of some friends who are shamanic practitioners, I was able to reconnect with my soul group in a profound way. In my way of thinking, we all have groups of souls in the Afterlife that help guide us through this life...if we pay attention.

During another one of these sessions, one of my friends identified coyote as one of my power animals...an animal whose energy and characteristics resonate strongly with us and can guide us. Coyote is a trickster...those of you who know me personally realize how perfectly that energy vibes with me! My soul group gave me guidance on how to connect with them during that work too, but it seems I wasn't paying attention. It took another session for my soul group to give me the spiritual equivalent of a slap in the face. Under the right conditions, when I concentrated, I began "hearing" in my mind, many voices with words or phrases of guidance. To some, that might sound crazy...I should know, I was put on anti-psychotics for a while when I told the wrong person something like that...but it is how I am experiencing my spirituality.

I was reassured that I would find the right job for me, that I would be of service to many people and the phrase that really caught my attention..."it's not what you think."

During my time of being unemployed, I was looking for music therapy jobs. Not long before my soul group and I reconnected, my wife found a staffing agency that hires music therapists for places all over the country. She got the bright idea to look for jobs for teachers of the visually impaired. Yes, as well as being a board certified music therapist and neurologic music therapist, I am a licensed music teacher and certified teacher of the visually impaired.

Within three days of submitting my resume and cover letter to the staffing agency, I had a job offer. Out of all the positions listed on there website, there was only one left...and it was in New Mexico...Four Corners area.

One of my shamanic practitioner friends, after telling my Coyote was one of my power animals thought for a moment and said, "Portland, huh? Too bad you're not moving to the Southwest."

So I'm finishing up my second week here in New Mexico. I've already learned a lot. I've learned what it feels to be a minority...I've learned that there is less road rage here. I've learned most indigenous people are very friendly and they give directions by the moon and stars instead of by street names and GPS coordinates...and often they expect white people to get lost (and rightly so in my case). There is a rugged beauty here and I sense that the indigenous people here hold an ancient wisdom that the modern world could do well by listening to.

I've learned that it is possible for me to be homesick. Does that mean this is not home? I don't know. I'm trying to be here now and some days I succeed better than others. I cry a lot, missing my wife and my children.

Could I ever feel at home here? There are a lot of great people, amazing culture and awe inspiring natural beauty, but my family is elsewhere. Without my family, something is missing. This space and place won't be a permanent change for me. I won't always be away from my family. For now, this is home. Maybe home, slightly bittersweet home. Even so, I'm doing my best to embrace this journey I'm on. Coyote and my soul group led me here...I have to believe I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. For now, maybe that's enough.

Rant About Music Therapist Job Postings

Sometimes I just get really worked up at the complete and total lack of information potential employers have about music therapists and what we do. This (to be brutally honest) complete ignorance is most evident when employers list the requirements and preferences for their ideal candidate. In that last year, I've witnessed some heinous requirements sections of job postings including postings listing educational requirements as "degree in music therapy or related field." Guess what folks...you can't PROVIDE music therapy without a degree in music therapy! This one I found tonight...and maybe I'm just a bit cranky because it's after one in the morning and I need to go to bed, but this one has got to be one of the BEST examples of the ignorance potential employers have regarding our profession. I copied this directly from the job description:

• Bachelor's degree in music therapy
• Must be able to play an instrument
• Must be certified by the American Music Therapy Association or achieve such status within one year of hire.
• ACMT, CMT, or RMT a plus.
• Must possess at least 1-2 years working with children of all age

Now, let's break this down:

Bachelor's degree in music therapy

Okay, this makes sense. They aren't necessarily looking for someone with a masters.

Must be able to play an instrument

Wait a minute...do they have any idea what goes into a music therapy degree? Even vocalists getting a music therapy degree have to demonstrate proficiency on guitar and piano...so every music therapist can play at least TWO instruments and more times than not, MANY instruments. I think this falls into the "goes without saying" category.

Must be certified by the American Music Therapy Association or achieve such status within one year of hire.

Absolutely EVERY music therapist working in the United States has just been excluded from this position. The American Music Therapy Association does not certify anyone. Our certifying body is an independent organization called the Certification Board for Music Therapists. So this potential employer has done enough research to know that AMTA exists, but not enough to understand that AMTA does not certify music therapists...CBMT does. By the time I read this, I was pretty frustrated at the lack of attention in writing these job requirements.

ACMT, CMT, or RMT a plus.

I nearly had a full blown hissy fit when I saw this. Apparently this organization prefers to hire music therapists that were certified prior to 1998. The credentials ACMT, CMT and RMT actually came from two different music therapy organizations that no longer exist. In 1998, the National Association for Music Therapy (NAMT) and the American Association for Music Therapy (AAMT) merged to form the American Association for Music Therapy (AMTA). At that time, the credentials ACMT, CMT and RMT were no longer awarded. The new credential Music Therapist-Board Certified (MT-BC) was introduced. Professionals who held the credentials from the original two music therapy organizations were invited to keep those credentials or start using the new MT-BC credential. For an employer to state that credentials that have not been available for over a decade are a plus...

Must possess at least 1-2 years working with children of all ages

Again, this part of the requirements makes sense and is not inflammatory.

Try this out...type "music therapy" into Google. What's the first website that pops up? Forget the ads...the first website listed is AMTA's website. This horrific blunder of a job position posting could have been remedied by a simple Google search and some copying and pasting. For some reason, the person posting this description didn't care to take the time to verify whether or not the posting even makes sense to professionals in the field. Does this reflect the lax attitude of some HR person somewhere? Maybe there's a broader implication here. As music therapists, from the moment we enter our undergrad programs, we are taught to advocate for ourselves and our profession. We learn to document everything we do in clear and concise terms so we can justify the wonders we work every day. Even those of us who are not in dual major programs as music therapists and music educators (or equivalency programs) are taught to be teachers. Teach others what it is that we do...teach them about the benefits we can provide for people.

Are we not doing a good enough job teaching the general public about what we do and the educational requirements we have to meet? Or should job description writers get with it and stop being lazy?

I'll be honest about something...I've been out of work for over a year. In a situation like that, a person can get pretty desperate when it comes to finding a job in a chosen field. For most music therapists, it's not just a job...it's a passion.

Even with that...I'll say it, obsession, to find a music therapy job, when I see completely inane job descriptions like that, I have to wonder if it's even worth my time to apply...this employer CLEARLY will not fully appreciate the awesomeness I can bring to their organization if they can't even write a semi-intelligent job description. I posted a much shorter rant about this subject on Facebook several months ago...it was something to the effect of "Don't expect me to take seriously your desire to hire someone in my profession if you can't even write a position posting that makes sense."

I've spent a good amount of time this evening applying for jobs, but I'm not going to lose any more sleep by wasting my time applying with an organization so out of touch. I've got more important things to do...like ranting in the middle of the night.

The Warrior's Journey/Hero's Quest Part 3

As this logistics and planning trip to establish our neurologic music therapy practice draws to a close, my thoughts are turning to the journey ahead. In a couple of days I will go back to Iowa for about a month. In that time I need to organize the pragmatic areas of my life, spend as much quality time as I can with my wife and my children, then pack as much of my life as will fit into my Subaru Outback and head off for the Pacific Northwest and my future. This is one part of the Warrior's Journey...the physical, or outer journey.

The outer journey will consist of over 1900 miles of driving, several rest and fuel stops, truck stop food, motel stays, lots of scenery and lots of podcasts. That journey will also include a stop to meet, in person, fellow music therapist and social media friend Faith Halverson-Ramos. All of these things are sure to be an adventure, but they are all secondary to the most important journey...the inner journey.

All examples of warriors' journeys and heroes' quests we find include the physical/ outer journey. What we find though is that the truly important part of the process is the inner journey the warrior takes. I believe this to be true with my own journey.

There are many places I could say this journey started, but I will begin the tale with losing my last job. Almost three weeks earlier, to the day, I proposed to L. I was elated! I was ready to be in a lifelong relationship again. I was designing and teaching Reiki classes at work, and starting to realize my vision of a staff wellness program through rhythm. Things couldn't be better! Okay, I constantly dealt with anxiety for a reason I couldn't figure out. But I was dealing with it.

Then everything changed. No job, no insurance. The reasons for the position ending are unimportant. In my word against their word situations, I like to remember that each viewpoint is skewed and that the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Right away I applied for a couple of jobs...no luck. I kept looking and applying, but days turned to weeks, then months.

I entered a very dark place. I found myself in a deep depression; a depression like I had never known before. My self confidence and self worth were non-existent. I truly felt worthless. If I couldn't be a music therapist, what good was I? I was a financial and emotional burden to my fiancée, I was no fun for my kids to be around...

I looked the very blackest part of my psyche in the eyes and it scared the hell out of me. I didn't know if I could come back from that place. I very nearly lost myself forever.

That amazing woman that I am proud to say is my wife now kept right on loving me, supporting me...even crying with me.

One day in February she said the words that truly became fateful: "I think you should do a national job search."

If you read Part 2 of this series, you know what happened next.

So what have I learned so far on this journey? I learned that it is foolish and dangerous to tie your sense of self to a job or even a career path...Eckhart Tolle reminds us that none of the external ways we identify ourselves have anything to do with who we reallyare.

I learned that anyone who supports you through your darkest times and loves you for who you are even when you are at your worst, deserves a lifetime of love and devotion...and to see you at your best.

I also learned a new way to look at human potential. It can be best expressed with a quote from Bruce Lee:

"If you always put limits on everything you do, physical or anything else, it will spread into your work and into your life. There are no limits. There are only plateaus and you must not stay there...you must go beyond them."

I decided not to accept limits anymore.

In this lifetime, the most powerful adversary I will face is my own dark side. My journey is far from over. This warrior musician lost faith and hope for a while, but there are many battles left to fight. There are neurologic impairments trying to steal quality of life from people in Oregon and I cannot let that go unchecked.

I now pledge my skills and expertise to this cause. I will not waver from my quest.

I embody these words from Steve Vai:

"I am fearless in my heart They will always see that in my eyes I am The Passion; I am The Warfare I will never stop Always constant, accurate and intense"

The Warrior's Journey/Hero's Quest Part 2

What exactly qualifies as a warrior's quest or hero's journey? For Frodo Baggins, it was a danger-fraught journey to destroy a ring. Luke Skywalker had to become a Jedi and bring peace to the galaxy. For Hiro Nakamura (et al) it was "save the cheerleader, save the world."

I have taken great pleasure in reading books that tell tales of journeys such as these. In one series, The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan and Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson, the characters, even the minor ones, struggle with coming into their own strength and power. At times they are reluctant to claim the roles they have been led into. They continue to grow and adapt, and ultimately succeed.

In The Saga of Recluse and The Spellsong Cycle by L. E. Modesitt Jr., the protagonists are reluctant heroes. They find themselves thrust into challenging situations and make the best of it. They are often praised by others while thinking very humbly about themselves.

So here's my story:

Right now I am in Portland, Oregon. I came here directly from my honeymoon to plan the next chapter of my life. Fellow neurologic music therapist Angie Kopshy and I are creating a clinic specializing in NMT. So many people I talk to are excited that I have this amazing opportunity. Trust me, I'm VERY excited for this opportunity...but this is where my story gets more complicated.

In a recent conversation with my beautiful new wife, she mentioned that most people explore the world a bit in their twenties...spread their wings. I'm 38 and I've lived in Iowa that whole time...born and raised. By 24, I was married to someone who was adamantly place bound. Three amazing children and a divorce later, I still felt place bound. Iowa was all I had ever known...my children were there.

The day I met my wife on the playground as our children were playing, my life changed forever. She is a woman of the world, a traveller. She's lived in many different states, many different countries. She is notplace bound.

After several months of being unemployed, and being severely depressed as job after job seemed to pass me by, my then fiancée quietly said to me, "I think you should do a nationaljob search."

Immediately the questions started flooding in...what about the kids? What about us? Am I really ready to live on my own, that far away from everything I've ever known?

Yes, I said "live on my own." L is a university professor...there is a very established method for profs looking to change location...the process takes at leasta year.

So I started applying for positions in Connecticut, Boston, North Carolina, Minneapolis...places I never thought I would be. Then the fateful day in mid March came. It was late at night and I just found out I had been passed up for a position in Minnesota. I was catching up on Facebook when I saw Angie posted about a NMT clinic in Portland with the simple phrase "Let's get this clinic started."

Angie and I met when we got our NMT training. I thought she was a little bit crazy and she had a quirky sense of humor...my kind of person! We kept in touch through Facebook so when I saw her post, I had to know more.

Long story short, Angie told me of her plans to build this NMT clinic...I offered to help...she accepted.

So here I am in mid June, in Portland. Our first website is up, business cards are ordered and planning is in full swing.

The true journey will be revealed in Part 3.

The Warrior's Journey/Hero's Quest

In just a few minutes I will be boarding a flight that will land me in Portland, Oregon. This is the beginning of a larger journey for me which will result in me moving across the country, alone, (did I mention I just got married a week and a half ago?) and starting a project that could change the course of my professional and personal life. As the boarding call is sounding, I must put off more detail until later, but stay tuned...this warrior musician is just beginning an epic journey.

What is home?

I began writing this post a couple of months ago. But here it is now, as complete as I know how to make it: I woke up earlier than planned this morning. Maybe I'm feeling the excitement of going "home."

Today is Memorial Day. We left home last Thursday to attend my wife's 15 year reunion at Oberlin College. It's been great getting to know some of her college friends and I've enjoyed the sense of nostalgia this weekend has evoked in me about my own college experience (since I have never attended my own college reunions). With all of that, I feel ready to go "home."

So again I reflect on the concept of "home." Of course there is that familiar cliche "home is where the heart is." Who could forget, "be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." (insert three heel clicks here) Daniel LaRusso awkwardly quipped in The Karate Kid II"home is where you hang your hat" (ironic because Daniel doesn't wear a hat at all in the three KK movies he stars in).

This question of "what is home?" really hit me as I left "home" for the holidays this past year. I was driving to the airport and listening to Trans Siberian Orchestra. On their The Christmas Attic album, they talk about going home. One lyric that exemplifies the concept from a song entitled Find Our Way Home: "I think I would be alright, if on this Christmas night, I could just find my way home."

Paul Simon's lyric "gee it's great to be back home...home is where I want to be..." evokes those nostalgic feelings of this ideal concept of "home" but it does not clarify "what is home?"

It seems to me that "home" is a fluid concept for some people.

Until recently, it was less fluid to me. You see, I have lived in Iowa my whole life. For me, Iowa is home. Some people claim their roots by where they are born. I was born in Iowa City. Interesting side story there...around the time I was going to be born, my mom's doctor went missing. Mom found out later that her doctor had been kidnapped at gunpoint by his ex-wife! She handcuffed him, threw him in a car and drove to Missouri. Now Mom's doctor...later my doctor, saw an opportunity to escape. They were in a parking lot, and he decided to jump out of the car and make a run for help. At this point, his ex-wife shot him in the leg! Did I mention that the man who was our family doctor for years is black? So here is a black man, handcuffed and bleeding from a gunshot wound, running through a parking lot in Missouri, in 1974...

I was lucky enough to be a patient of his for many years and even luckier that he was the county coroner who explained things to me with great compassion when my Mom left this life.

So instead of being born in Grinnell, 15 miles from the house I grew up in, I was born 50 miles away in Iowa City.

Is Iowa City "home" because I was born there? The house I spent the first 18 years of my life in Brooklyn...is that "home?"

My wife, Michelle, often claims her New Yorker roots. Born in Manhattan, and living in the city for the first two years of her life, then in suburbs at different times in the years that followed, she embodies the spirit of New York City. At least she embodies the perception that many Midwesterners might have of New Yorkers. That being said, my wife spent many years living in Ann Arbor, Michigan when she was growing up. She still has family in that area, and admits she often thinks of Ann Arbor as home.

I've lived in three different parts of this state during my 38 years. How long does one have to live somewhere for it to be considered "home?" I have limited experience with questions like these.

I decided to ask someone I've known for most of my life. We were on the front page of the local newspaper together in kindergarten with our Valentine's Day crowns on. We had adventures that kids growing up in small towns had and we wrestled with deep questions in elementary and junior high...the meaning of life and things that sort. Our junior year of high school, she was an exchange student in Denmark and that experience changed the course of her life. I asked her when she thinks of home, does she think of the small town we grew up in, or where she's lived in Denmark for many years:

Home is where the heart is! Short and sweet...I'm 37 and have lived in 16 different places in three different countries. I'm pretty much settled now- I hope! But this house is probably not the last place I will live.

Now that I have a family, my home will always be with them. When I was single about 10 years ago, I was living in Denmark but had an opportunity to live in Reykjavik, Iceland for several months in connection with my work. That Christmas my company offered to pay my plane ticket to go "home", and they didn't care if it was back to Denmark or to the USA. So I went "home" to Iowa for Christmas, back "home" to Reykjavik for New Year's and a few months later back "home" to Denmark!

My home is where my kids and husband are now...where I can relax, do and say as I please and "let my hair down." It's where I feel secure, at peace and comfortable.

I've found that it doesn't matter where I live, as long as I can come to my "hideout" and be who I want to be. After having moved so many times I've found that it's easier to keep personal possessions to a minimum, clean up in all the old junk regularly, but keep the relationships with friends and family at the top of the list of my priorities. They will always be there for me, and that's what counts.

It's always a weird feeling going back to Brooklyn. Some things change but mostly everything is still the same. I couldn't wait to get out of there, and I still wouldn't want to live there, but it's certainly not the worst place to have grown up! Brooklyn is still home, but mainly because of the family I still have there. If they weren't there, I probably wouldn't visit.

So, yes, home is where the heart (people you love) is!

By this point some of you may be wondering why I am so focused on this question. I had never really given it much thought until the holidays last year. Yes, I was spending the holidays with my then fiancée and her family, but I felt sadness since I was not with my children. Could I ever truly feel at home without all of the most important people in my life?

I am about to find out.

Soon I will be embarking on one of the greatest adventures of my life. I will be moving from my home state of 38 years, Iowa, to Portland, Oregon. I am going there to open a neurologic music therapy clinic with a friend. But here's the catch...I'm moving there alone.

Being a father of three children, a newlywed husband and a new stepfather, I have to wonder if Portland will ever feel like home. The people I love, my family, will be 1900 miles away. Can I find a home there?

We talk often in our Unitarian Universalist Society about how each of us found our spiritual home. When I move to Portland, I will have the option of attending any one of eight UU churches or fellowships within 25 miles of where I live. No matter where I end up, I think I will always consider the first UU church I attended as my spiritual home. The place that I found as my first marriage was ending. The place I found support and community as a newly divorced single parent; the place where my children first experienced open minded spirituality and witnessed love not bound by traditional gender roles. The place that embraced and nurtured my gifts. The place that I came to with Michelle and all of our children, the first day we met, for a drum circle.

I've even considered this question in regards to the GPS in my car. There is a feature that lets me enter a home address. Then, by pushing one button, the GPS will guide you home. Do I leave my current address in there, as a reminder of the place where my loved ones are? Or do I enter my new address...considering I'm not all that good with directions, especially in cities with many large hills, curvy roads and 2.2 million people, I may have to consider that decision carefully.

But I think in the end, the concept of home means different things to different people. What does it mean to you? How important is the actual space you live in compared to the people you surround yourself with? Those people can be blood relation, intentional family or friends. What makes a place "home" for you?

Is home where the heart is, or where you hang your hat? Is it where you let your hair down; your sanctuary where you do and say what you like?

Maybe it's something that you keep within you. Something intangible. Maybe it's the realization that even if you can't quite put your finger on it, even if you can never put into words exactly what "home" means to you, somehow you know when you're there.

What is WITH music these days?

Having a ten year old daughter who is going on sixteen, I've been exposed to a lot of music that I wouldn't normally encounter. Without naming names, I can't believe some of the stuff she listens to! I mean, what has music become these days? Nothing worth listening to on the radio...her iPod is filled with stuff that would probably be considered "cruel and unusual punishment" by the Constitution...

At first I just thought I was getting older. I can only imagine what my parents thought of the music I listened to when I was growing up. I listen to some of it now and it brings back a flood of memories and I rock out to it. Then I turn a musically critical ear to it and wonder if I could explain the music's appeal to my children, and I'm guessing I couldn't.

Despite the "je ne sais quoi" appeal of the music for "my music" and "my daughter's music", I really started thinking about what was bothering me about the music I'm hearing being produced today.

Disclaimer: The following statements are meant to provide an overview of noticeable trends, not a blanket statement of ALL popular music being produced today.

Someone recently said to me, "the problem with music today is so much of it is done by computers. You've got one person's voice doing all the vocals layered on top of each other and it seems like no one knows how to play instruments any more."

As I pondered that statement, I remember reading an article that talked about music that was TOO perfect...digital editing, synthesized instruments and digitized instruments that never play out of tune or come in at the wrong time.

Is that music?

A TED series video I watched talked about the dangers of listening only to compressed format music. For those of you like me, I enjoy having my entire music library at my disposal on my iPod, but there are consequences. The richness and depth of the audio quality is diminished by compressing the audio file. We lose some of the subtlety and nuance. Our ears adjust to this flatter, less vibrant audio experience and it becomes the norm for us...we lose some of our ability to appreciate the vast aural experience that music is.

And what of technology easily available to both musicians and non-musicians alike (is there such a thing as a NON-musician?)? Music composition miracles can happen with the help of programs like Pro Tools, Garage Band or Finale, among others. With Finale, you don't have to know anything about tonal harmony...just write a melody line and Finale will add the accompaniment for you! With Garage Band and an iPad 2 you can create musical tracks on the go. I haven't used Pro Tools, but I remember a DVD Special Feature from "Once Upon a Time in Mexico." Robert Rodriguez demonstrated how he created music for the entire movie using Pro Tools and a keyboard synthesizer...he claims to be a "non-musician."

Do people even hire studio musicians anymore? It's much less expensive to hire one person who is experienced with Pro Tools to create a whole band or orchestra's worth of music than it is to hire musicians, conduct rehearsals etc. Less expensive and probably less expressive. Has the music industry really shifted toward the bottom line instead of the quality of the product?

My beloved's dear friend recently released her first CD of solo cello music. She debated whether or not to release it on iTunes but in the end decided not to. She chose not to compromise the integrity of the recording, even though iTunes would have opened up a wider audience for her. I have to respect that. Tough call when one is trying to become established as a performer. Nothing but respect.

The biggest fear I have as a result of all of this (besides having my daughter's pop music stuck in my head) is that the art of creating music will be lost. This quickly becomes a slippery slope. Technology makes it possible for people to create amazing music without having to study music for years and years. At the same time, does that accessibility diminish what those of us who chose to study music do?

A composer spoke at a conference I attended years ago. He admitted that most of his contemporaries used computers to notate their compositions. He refused to do that. He used a blank piece of score length staff paper, a pencil and a ruler to write all of his scores. He believed that actually writing music, in a clear and understandable way was becoming a lost art. He did his part to keep it alive. Is music composition itself in danger of becoming a lost art?

As music therapists, we work every day to make music accessible to everyone. Christine Stevens says that music should be an every day occurrence, not reserved for the concert halls and Michelle Shocked says "Music is too important and too revolutionary to be left in the hands of professionals." As a music therapist, I live by ideas like this. I work every day to get people involved in music.

Am I just afraid of becoming obsolete? If Garage Band can teach piano and guitar lessons and Pro Tools can create movie soundtracks and albums, is my role as a live musician becoming outdated in the world? Or will live musicians still be sought after over the canned, digitized perfect recordings that are becoming all the rage?

Do you think people will settle for the quick and easy music or still appreciate the good old fashioned way of doing things?

3 reasons I don't believe in bulleted lists

I'm new to the blogging world. I've only been at it for a few months now. The number of views I get goes up and down depending on what I post. I don't repost links to my posts...some people do, and that's fine for them, but I figure that the people who are supposed to read my stuff will find it one way or another. But I digress.

So here are the three reasons I don't believe in bulleted lists:

• I'm a bit of a non-conformist. I've read "how to" blogs about improving your blog. One of the tips a lot of people mention is blogging with bulleted lists. I'm guessing the idea is that in our fast paced technological life, people want bite sized pieces of information spoon fed to them. I've long been the exception to the rules, and I believe that by blogging without the nice and tidy lists, I'm holding true to my non-conformist nature. Note: I have a lot of online friends that blog from time to time with bulleted lists and their blogs have huge readerships and are very popular...I'm not thumbing my nose at my comrades of the keyboard...I'm gettin' all Sinatra on it and doing it MY way...no disrespect intended.
• You need to slow down! By making my readers work a bit more to extrapolate the truth I'm sharing, I encourage people to take a small break from the break-neck pace of their lives. Mine all the little nuggets of wisdom and sometimes insanity that I throw your way. You may not be quoting a laundry list to your friends, but maybe you'll have a chance to meditate on my words and interrupt the maddening rate at which your life flies by.
• I intend to be required reading. No, this isn't some fanciful thought and it isn't a hyp0manic episode (thanks to the meds). This is me visioning, thinking outside of the box and doing it in a big way! What if, just what if MY random musing became required reading for music therapists in the future? Do you think Sun Tzu ever imagined his efforts in writing "The Art of War" would someday be required reading for every student at a military academy half a world away, thousands of years after he wrote it? I'm hedging my bets that the philosophical writers like myself are more likely to get on a required reading list than list writers (again, no disrespect my brothers and sisters).
• I write for myself. Yes, the title of the post says "3 reasons" and I'm giving you 4...told you I was a non-conformist! Anyhow, I don't write this blog to be popular. I write so that others might benefit from my ideas, but mostly, I write for myself. To express all these ideas I have and take a thing or two off my overloaded mind.

Insatiable cravings for Bob Dylan and bacon

I've been thinking a lot about cravings lately. Several weeks ago I realized there were two things I could not get enough of...Bob Dylan's music, and bacon.

Any time I was in my office, I was listening to Dylan...I'd listen on my drive to and from work...I'd listen at home. I could not get enough. It was almost as bad with bacon. They sell bacon by the strip in the dining room at work...that was not a good situation, let me tell you!

I've heard that when you crave a certain food, it's because something is lacking in your diet. I'm not sure what nutritional value I could have gained from bacon, but I ate a lot of it. What need was the bacon fulfilling? What about the music?

What is it about Bob Dylan's music that I couldn't get enough of?

Did I have a deficiency of 60's folk? Was I needing a touch of social revolution?

I still turn to Dylan quite a bit...so much so that one of my office mates very diplomatically asks to turn it off when she's in the office.

But this concept of craving...desire. The Four Truths of Buddha say:

1. Life is suffering

2. Suffering is caused by the want of worldly things (desire/craving)

3. Suffering will end when worldly things are rejected

4. Seek the eternal, the everlasting...God

Maybe I wanted to keep suffering...that's why I had such strong cravings. I'm also reminded of something Eckhart Tolle says in "The Power of Now"...he relates a favorite technique of a Zen master to focus his students on the present moment. The Zen master would simply ask, "What at this moment is lacking?"

When one is focused in the present moment, which is all we have, then there is no desire, no craving.

Random thought: There's a polar opposite in this respect regarding Jedi and Sith...Jedi are supposed to be without craving; Sith are driven by cravings.

Perhaps this was just a way of the Universe reminding me to stay present. We could all do with more mindfulness. Maybe all of us but the Zen masters and Eckhart Tolle.

Music Therapy...no joke!

Memorial Day brought a barbeque with some friends. Actually we only knew the couple that invited us, and met a whole bunch of new people. During the course of the conversation, someone asked me about the G Mountain Ocarina I typically wear around my neck. A lot of people can't guess what it is and it prompts them to inquire about it.

By this time the person knew I am a music therapist. When I explained that I was wearing an ocarina, and further explained that an ocarina is a vessel flute, the person responded with, "Oh, is that in case someone needs some emergency music therapy?"

I laughed off the comment and said, "Of course" or something like that. But that got me to thinking...

Sometimes people really do think music therapy is a joke.

I can't say that I've ever heard someone joke about emergency physical therapy, occupational therapy or speech therapy...so why joke about music therapy?

I am blessed to work in a facility where most of my co-workers have seen the power music therapy can have. There was one time when the rather dramatic comment "We need music therapy in there...STAT!" was made. I genuinely laughed about that one.

But it seems like there is part of the population out there that is going to make light of things they don't understand no matter what. Maybe they think it's fluffy new age stuff (not that I have anything against new age...)

Maybe they think, like my cooperating teacher for my undergrad student teaching, that music therapy is just playing records for old people in nursing homes...you really need a degree for that?

Maybe they don't understand the education and training we have...I just had a patient say to me yesterday, "So you're a music therapist? Do you have a degree?"

I don't mean to get all serious and heavy duty here, but sometimes it hurts when it seems like people are making light of the beautiful and wonderful thing that is music therapy.

So what am I going to do when the jokes roll in? I'll smile, maybe even laugh (because if we can't laugh at ourselves, we might as well hang it up!) and I'll gently and persistently educate...because to quote from Steve Vai:

I am fearless in my heart

They will always see that in my eyes

I am the Passion; I am the Warfare

I will never stop

Always constant, accurate and intense

The Amazing Power of Children

Yesterday I had a rough day. The kind of day where you doubt the reason for your very existence. The kind of day you where you'd just like to stay in bed, but you don't because people are counting on you.

I'll spare you the gruesome details, but for me, today was NOT all rainbows and puppies.

In the afternoon I had an appointment with my chiropractor/acupuncturist. She does the chiropractic adjustment, then does the sticks needles into whichever points she thinks will help the chi flow better on a given day.

After my session with her, I was feeling better, but still gloomy.

I went to pick my kids up from daycare (for the youngest) and the after-school program my school age children attend. First stop was my four year old's room.

He was picking up a puzzle he had been working on as I was crossing the room. Two adorable girls were reading books on a bench. As I got close to them, one of them stood up and said, "I'm going to tickle you!" and proceeded to do so.

I was taken aback momentarily. With mock surprise I asked, "Why are you tickling me?"

The girl giggled and her friend started giggling too.

Before I knew it, I had a swarm of four year olds descend upon me, tickling me and giggling.

In a matter of seconds, in a purely self defensive act, I began tickling each of them as well. Soon we were all laughing and having a good time.

I asked the teacher if they had been doing this to everyone, or if it was just me. The teacher replied, "it's just you."

Then it struck me...something truly amazing had happened. It reminded me of times when I had cats or dogs in my life. One day you're feeling sick, or maybe you're emotionally off balance, and that dear family pet will cuddle up with, being all cute and endearing and doing what they can to make you feel better. I realized these children were doing the same thing for me!

At the age of four, tickling someone or being tickled is just about the best thing for a natural high. It's fun, it feels good and gets us to smile and laugh. The child who initiated the tickling, on some level must have sensed my emotional unrest, and in a pure, kind and loving gesture, she did what she knew how to do to help me feel better...she tickled me. The innate intelligence of children never ceases to amaze me!

I don't really have a relationship with any of my son's friends...they just know me as his dad. So this act of caring was quite unique and unexpected.

As I was leaving the daycare this morning after signing my son in, I held the door for the girl and her mother as they were walking in...the girl, in passing, reached up and gave me a little tickle. I asked, "Are you tickling me again?"

The girl and her mother both chuckled.

And you know what? I felt better after being swarmed by tickling four year olds than I felt all day.

Self-medicating with music

Typically when we hear the term "self-medicating" we hear it in relation to food, or shopping or illicit drugs, alcohol...the list goes on and on. My oldest daughter taught me something today about self-medicating with music.

The typical scenario in our house on school days finds me choosing some sort of upbeat music to gently wake my children up with. I leave this playing in their bedroom until it's time to head out the door.

This morning was challenging. For whatever reason (perhaps for the simple fact it's Monday), my oldest was having a meltdown. She was upset I forgot to wash the clothes she wanted to wear, she was refusing to take her meds, refusing to get ready for school, refusing to listen...

After persuading her to take her meds, she was even more upset and stalked off into her bedroom. I was exasperated, but tried to continue my morning routine. I soon noticed that the music I had left playing had changed. I heard a cover version of Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds."

The significance of this is not apparent for most of you, I'm sure, until you know that my daughter has been listening to this song over and over again lately. She often sings along with it as she listens over and over and over.

Part of the hook says, " 'Cause every little thing's gonna be alright."

It hit me...she was using the song to soothe herself.

My beautiful, intelligent, spirited daughter was self-medicating with music...and I couldn't have been prouder.