Synchronicity

"The areas in which we feel most stuck and most incompetent may be our richest gold mine of developing material" Free Play

This year, I had wanted to walk the Camino de Santiago across Northern Spain. I have known about "il camino" for over 20 years and it has always piqued my interest. It is something I had promised friends in France that we would do before we were 40. It is seen as a rite of passage for many pilgrims: A mark of their faith, their endurance. Many have spoken of their experiences with their inner gifts opening whilst 'on' the Camino, including Shirley Maclaine. There was a film released this year, The Way, which highlighted how special the Camino route is for personal and spiritual growth. I still managed to love the film, despite some of its cliches, especially the sweeping scenery (all minus the pain of real blisters)! The pilgrims follow the scallop shell of "St Jacques" along the route.

I decided not to pursue this path this year. Trusting that as one door opens.....one may need to stand in the hallway a while till another one opens.....but open it does...and so it has.

I found a scallop shell last week whilst walking along the bay. I saw it as a sign that I have been travelling in the right direction. Making my way slowly and surely. Making my very own Camino during my immersion in Tassie. Following my heart, following the wind and the birds. Indeed the birds had squawked madly as I had been walking the other way, and watching their flight, I had decided to follow them.

Scallop Shell on "My Camino"

Scallop shell on the Camino

A synchroncity of sorts. And a beautiful reminder that we can find meaning in our lives through symbols. It is like when we buy a new car and suddenly all we see are new cars. I often see life play out around me in symbols. I seem to get lots of signs and hints when I am travelling about my internal world. A sign will remind me of a story, a song, a memory and with that I find myself dropping into the labyrhinth of my mind where I can recall, dissect, reflect upon its meaning. It seems to bring about a new clarity, focus, meaning, and I find that the depths of meaning are multi-layered.

I see signs in real life too: Speaking recently with a friend of her dismissal of her deeper feminine aspects, we were treated to a woman jumping out of a moving car at the train station. Really. A moving car. We laughed solidly for the next five minutes at the synchronicity and the strength of the symbolism. If there is ever an image now of how we "throw out our feminine aspects" that is it. And yes, it was a male driver (with respect to the masculine in us, and her masculine at the time). We both laughed at the clarity of how the external meets the internal. For me, this is my reality. There are signs in my outer world which augment, and clarify my internal world, sometimes as if to prepare me for what is ahead.

Jung believed there were many indications of how we are connected: with our fellow humans and with nature in general, through the 'collective unconscious' or "Atman". As we venture deeper into the 'Atman' we may find that we are more and more connected to our internal environment. The Germans have a great way of expressing those who are more emotionally connected to the Atman by stating "Some of us live closer to the water than others" (I can't find the German translation, and yes, if you know it, please comment!)

The artistic journey is one of reconnecting to oneself.  Of making sense of these synchronicities. A way of delving deeply into the internal psyche. An internal journey. One that isn't concerned whether we are sitting on the couch at home or in some ritzy hotel. Although, sometimes it is wonderful to change our external environment to facilitate this inner journey. It is as though it seems to dislodge any internal matter that may be too fixed and stubborn in the quotidien life by being gently jostled from our external environment. 

And by dislodging it, we may find our best song, our most beautiful poem, our richest heart.

xx

Shibumi

"The knowledge, the art, has to ripen of it's own accord from his own heart" Free play

'Shibumi' is a Japanese term which means "Harmony in Motion, Grace, Fluidity, Perfect Motion. A state of 'effortless perfection'".

I spoke to a singer today who described this state perfectly. She was "in the zone" during an important recital. It made my heart smile when she said 'It was so good I could have sung forever'. That is Shibumi.

In a way this state leads us to deeper learning and deeper seeing. The effects of awareness on our understanding, our sense of self, and our sense of belonging in the world is magnified from being in this state. How we may combine our true essence with our sense of creativity and connection with ourselves and the world. It is also an incredible stillness whilst moving. "Effortless effort" is like watching world class ice skating champions skate around the ice so easily we might think we could do it easily too!

How do we reach this state with ease? Are we able to do it in all areas of our life or only some? One thing is for certain: When we are in this state, we know. Time stands still, yet flows, We feel alive and present, and all happens without 'trying' at all. Delicious.

"Every profound innovation is based on an inward journey, ongoing to a deep place where knowing comes to the surface" Brian Arthur

Power of Ritual

"A ritual cannot be created; it grows in accordance with the need to make meaning" N.Hall

"Everything in nature, the sum total of heavens and of earth become a temple and an altar for the services of God" Hildegard Von Bingen.

Deep breath, Melanie Weidner, 2005

Ritual of 
coffee
naps
daydreams
meditation
goodness
generosity
eating
looking at the moon
stretching
dancing
singing
breathing
being...

Ritual heals and celebrates and brings the microcosm into relationship with the macrocosm. (Matthew Fox)  As I contemplate these ideas this morning, I am aware of how one uses rituals to make oneself at home to bring awareness and familiarity to the day. I awaken, look out the window at the day (today's sunrise was spectacular), stretch, breathe, remember my dreams,  put the radio on, put the coffee machine on, and on it goes. Some of these rituals are common to many, some are common to self only. A ritual can deepen when we do it consciously, according to Woodman. 

So I wonder if we keep up these rituals if others around us don't? How strong is our need for it? Are we able to miss a day? In ancient times, rituals were how we survived and gave meaning to life...honouring the seasons, nature, the weather.  We would have harvested at certain times, the animals would have been at a certain watering hole, the tides would have been at a particular level. These days, our rituals do not mean that we die if we do not do honour them. At least not on a physical level. Our biggest ritual may be opening a bottle of wine at the end of the work week.

I love ritualised experiences. I grew up feasting on religious ritual and song. Marius Schneider is an ethnomusicologist. He states that most public ritual is accompanied by music and song as it was in old. Even the football grand final has a musical prelude.  Rituals used to be secret. There were the rites of passage for both males and females. Even the alphabet used to be secret apparently. People still die to this day standing up for their religious beliefs and rituals. 

Tea tree lake, Sister's beach, Rocky Cape National Park, Tasmania

Deep feminine is about ritual, magic, eternity, altered states of consciousness, art, music, lunar cycles, intuition. Ritual is also the primary means by which people get their inner houses into order, both at an individual level and as a community. One of my friends spoke of a beautiful Sri Lankan ritual of allowing prosperity into a new house by over-boiling milk onto the stove. 

How do we set up our lives so we can honour the ritual of our lives? Our society rewards those who have "been busy" not necessarily those who have been deep in reflection without 'anything' to show for it. 'Daydreamers' and 'slacking off' come to mind. Often our modern life is, on the whole, highly structured. In the past, my creative flow has felt stifled at times by the rigid set up of modern day. How many of us would like some days to not face the world, instead finish writing that poem, or song, nap or daydream rather than head off to work. I know many creatives whose lives are mixed between "day jobs"  and a few sacred hours of inspiration at the end of the working day. In such a patriarchal society, the deep feminine, or creativity is not often revered. I had a client say to me recently "I thought what you did was B-S at the beginning, but now I know it works. You are awesome" Yes, breathwork and technique is magic. So is being aware of what we are doing. 

Hildegard von Bingen wrote that "authentic ritual helps us find our inner selves." Lately, I have been exploring the deep feminine in relation to caves. I saw a beautiful river that had etched its way through the honeycomb cave last week. It furrowed in unusual ways. The water had found a way through the seemingly impenetrable structure, little by little making a path for itself that was sustainable and which supported its flow. This would have taken hundreds and thousands of years to achieve. It reminded me that nothing is permanent, such in the Buddhist teachings and knowing on a deep level that all things change with time.

Honeycomb Cave, Mole Creek

That is how I feel I am restructuring my world at the moment. Etching out a new course. It requires more structure, but of the kind that supports me on every level, whilst giving the flow the space, and the breath, to move and change course. I am grateful for this new possibility. It also provides hope that the flow can be a force powerful enough to facilitate change through what seems rock-like substances. Something I perceive as dense and solid might shift with time and persistence of flow.  

Whilst in Vanuatu this year, a ritual unexpectedly arose. Routine combined with an unexpected aspect of song resulting in a magical experience. After an operation, unplanned, the whole medical team walked behind a patient's trolley, wheeling him back to the ward. There were many family members on the ward who were singing beautiful songs of their home and hearts. Their melodious voices floated up as if carrying us all on poop'ed wings. Returning their brother, son, child, future elder back to the tribe after surgery. It was a procession of sorts. A handing over. It was honouring, moving and greater than the individual sum of its parts. I was moved, and the occasion was marked as unique and special. A sign of the great feminine. The kind of experience that gives one body shivers. The power of ritual.

xx

Voice Mysticism: The Harmony of the Spheres

"The knower of the mystery of sound knows the mystery of the entire universe" Khan

Some train themselves to hear in the solitude, on the sea shore, on a river bank, in caves.... 

I bought a book a while ago, The Mysticism Of Sound and Music: The Sufi Teaching of Hazrat Inayat Khan. Several years actually, and since then it has been sitting on the shelf. I "randomly" opened a page today and found answers to questions I have been pondering all year. Right under my nose.  Clear answers. Clearly I have been in training.

I am exploring my sensory engagement to my environment, and associated issues with perception. I have been exploring the melodies that come by exploring natural structures. It is sometimes nudged by the etheric (almost above the tree tops) and sometimes it is the denseness of the physical environment, more like a Pranic energy. Inside the caves, sometimes there is a mixture of both of these.

Accoridng to Khan, abstract sound is called 'sawt-e-sarmad' by the Sufi's; all space is filled with it...the sound of the abstract plane, which Muhammad heard in the cave...Moses heard on Mt Sinai....Christ heard in the wilderness...Shiva in the cave in the Himalayas.

"Space is in the body and the body is in space". Almost like in the caves: being in the cave, and the caverns in the body. Paradox within paradox. Space within the space. Infinite. 98% of our body cells are empty space. 

Those who are able to hear the sawt-e-sarmad and meditate on it are releived from all worries, anxieties, fears, sorrows, diseases and the soul is freed from capitivity in the senses and in the physical body.

A shell, found on Bateman's Bay, possibly
 like the shanka, that awakens in man his
inner tone, his "inner song".

I went to a beautiful concert at the State Library of Victoria "Love and Devotion" back in March. It was on Rumi, one of the greatest poets of all time, in my opinion. It was presented as a combination of the Persian Flute, poems said aloud in both Farsi and English. Such a creative presentation. Exquisitely beautiful. Rumi states that he did not belong to any religion although he was Muslim. Persian poetry is highly symbolic, acting as a bridge that links earthly and heavenly images, spiritual and profane ideas. Shahnama of Firdausi is one of the songs. and so powerfully moving. 

Listening is active, hearing is passive. In his TED talk, Julian Treasure speaks of the concept of 'Sound Health'. (Check him out, there are several other great talks he does. I am a big fan) One of his comments is "It's when the birds stop singing that we need to pay attention". As I woke to the sound of chopping wood this morning, and the distinct absence of bird song, I was reminded of this. He urges us to consider listening consciously to the world around us. He also talks of "earlids" which i like immensely. Except that unlike eyelids, we cannot close our earlids when we do not want to hear something.

Marius Schneider is an ethnomusicologist  who coined the term "Acoustic Spirituality" and stated that all matter vibrates, and therefore everything in the world has a sound.

"The astronomy of the Pythagoreans marked an important advance in ancient scientific thought, for they were the first to consider the earth as a globe revolving with the other planets around a central fire.  They explained the harmonious arrangement of things as that of bodies in a single, all-inclusive sphere of reality, moving according to a numerical scheme.  Because the Pythagoreans thought that the heavenly bodies are separated from one another by intervals corresponding to the harmonic lengths of strings, they held that the movement of the spheres gives rise to a musical sound-the "harmony of the spheres.""
Microsoft Encarta Encyclopedia 2000

In the  TED talk by Janna Levin, she speaks of how the universe isn't silent, but has distinct sounds and rhythms which is the sound of the planets vibrating. Just think, the big bang likely had a song! a description is that it is like a low banging on a drum. Perhaps the future of music is "Gravitational Tunes"? How can we listen to this? Open our ears more to that which surrounds us? What kind of equipment do we need? And because we can't hear it at our frequency, does that mean it doesn't exist ? And because we can't hear it with our ears, does it not impact upon our physical body? Sandra Selig says that there are "hidden rhythms and structures so that we can sense sound through the visual." Evelyn Glennie's aim is to teach the world to listen. As our accessibilty to sound has increased, how can we listen to music with our whole body?

So if everything has a sound, including the trees, caves, rocks, water, perhaps I can continue to make aural landscapes for these visual and kinaesthetic objects. So that they can be perceived on a multi-sensory and multi-dimensional level, and that I may be able to share with others such an aural experience that I perceive.

"We are ourselves works of art, and as we work to bring forward the art within us, we express our inner divinity" Julia Cameron.

Breathing: death, as part of daily life

"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's difficult." Isaac Asimov

"Death is but a door we open and pass through" Targett

I met a woman yesterday who was seemingly startled when I spoke of death. There is a great deal of artwork at Mona that describes death, transitions, new life. We were speaking after such a tour. She had seen more setting suns than I have, and was (possibly) closer to the door than I. Though one can never tell, and I suppose this is part of the questions that we ask in life. How do we address the theme of death? When our whole body is "exposed to the Golden Wind" (Free Play) How do allow ourselves to transition between relationships, jobs, thoughts, dress sizes, emotions, birthdays, cities? Are we someone who hangs on, can't let go, or someone who is onto the next project without a second thought. I heard once that how someone leaves a conversation is how they leave things in much of their life. Do we wave goodbye long after the car has disappeared, are we still crying over long lost love, or do we transition so quickly we forget to thank the person who had served us at the deli?

Transtitions. They can promote rejuvenation on all levels for all senses. When it is done with grace it can be highly refreshing. Transitions mark our society: Some are celebrated and honoured, such as marriages. Some have been forgotten, such as a Levi-Strauss-esque pubertal Rite of Passage. So, how do we celebrate our transitions. I went through a period last year where I bought mini-champagne bottles,  and I would celebrate something at the end of each day that had happened. It was a profound way of acknowledging that it was a day to be celebrated, and a transition marked. Otherwise, many occasions would not be honoured. It allowed me to contemplate an achievement for the day, no matter how small, for in the marking, it allowed me to honour the significance for me.

We transition daily through many aspects of our lives: On and off public transport, in and out of our emotional heart, out of the past into the future and sometimes in the present. How do we find grace in our transitions? Some may feel as if we might never recover or make it throught the transition. It is well documented that most humans do not like change. We know this from our own experiences. Even is something no longer serves us, we may have a tendency to hang on to it, as it is familiar, however not entirely comfortable. Yet, as humans, we are highly adaptable to change. 

Breathing is a constant transition between the conscious and unconscious. Breathing can be a metaphor for receiving. How able are we to allow something into our being, our body, our psyche, and how are we in turn able to let it go? "Expiration" or out breath is also known as a little death. Do we fully exhale before we commence the new with an of inhalation? We get thousands of opportunities to explore this each day. A reason why mindfulness meditation is so fantastic, as we get on average 12 opportunities a minute.

Surrendering to the power of the exhalation, and deeply trusting that the new inhalation will arrive. Our new inspiration. Waking every morning, in the realisation that we have breathed unconsciously whilst we were asleep and then being "inspired" by the day to come. How often in a daily working week do we feel this inhalation as we arise in the morning? Sometimes it is the exhalatory sigh at the end of the day that we notice more. And indeed that could also be a metaphor for where we are in our lives, and what transitional aspect we are in: Have we made a change that feels amazing, or do we know that we need to make a change and have not done so yet. And for some it is the fact that they have been shallowly breathing all day.

According to Woodman, "Most of us keep our breath as shallow as possible because the eruption of feelings is too intense if we inhale deeply". How and why do we keep our breath shallow? It takes a great deal of effort to put in place such a controlled pattern of breath.

Now, I am not a fan at all of the words "breathe deeply" as I know it sets up all sorts of strange body patterns, known to trigger the adrenalin system when we raise our clavicles upwards. I use a great deal of visual imagery: I like a "long and low" breath invitation where we can allow our pelvis and belly to expand. If I say to a client that they are holding their breath, or not breathing, they usually reply with a "Of course I am breathing, otherwise I'd be dead!" The transition to the out-breath is one of release and surrender. It is a path that needs awareness and intention.

Helen Sharp from the BodyVoice Centre speaks of the capacity of the breath to be "curious about entering the body" I love this idea, and have felt it in myself that the quality of the breath changes deliciously. I have seen it in turn with countless clients, where the quality changes from gasping to allowing the breath in. 

Breathing also plays such a role with our  adrenalin system, and in as much our "nerves" Helen Todd in the novella by Amanda Lohrey states "And the nerves are also there because you get tempted to interfere all the time. There's this sense of trusting yourself and keeping out of your own way. No matter how good you become, you can still get in your own way".

How can we breathe, sing and perform all whilst getting out of our own way? Complex. I do not know the answer in its entirety. It is also dependent upon each individual, their history, their body, their emotions. One of the keys is the ability to surrender. To let go.  And then to receive the inhale. To be with all aspects of our body and our breath. To reside within the spaces between the inhale and the exhale. For there "by some alchemy, we drop into direct mystic participation in aliveness or being itself, which is beyond emotion, skill, thought or imagination" (Free Play)

Secrets of the voice

"The muse opens the throat and enables you to speak...It was so believed that the existence of things was not complete unless there was a voice to express it"  Helen Todd, Voice Coach.

A beautiful friend of mine, Catherine, sent me the book "Secrets"by various authors. In it is a novella called "The clear voice suddenly singing" by Amanda Lohrey. May I also say how wonderful it is to receive mail in the post. Such a delight to be so remembered in such a fashion. She had said that when she had read it, she had thought immediately of me.

"The clear voice suddenly singing"brought me to tears on first reading. The portrayal of the power of the voice, as well as how voice teachers can facilitate this connection to our own voice resonated immensely with me. "Some days my voice is so big it scares me". I too have made sounds that seem so enormous that it has made my whole body shake and tremble, almost as if it was going to explode like a fountain. Some of us use our voice in such a way when we are angry, or "seeing red" where our voice seems to take on a completely different timbre and open capacity (possibly to the detriment of those who may be in the vicinity).

It speaks of those who have not always had a voice, both metaphorically and physically; how they have searched to find their voice. This makes up a good deal of my client population. From the "little girl voice" and transitioning to a much larger vocal realm. It is a shift on many levels for people to get reacquainted with their voices. And the immense power we have when we communicate to another.
I regularly see with my clients who stutter, that upon improving, they sometimes do not know how to keep conversations flowing. It had been such an effort to expel even the basics of information that conversation for it's own sake is seen as true luxury: like the Queen Jewels, something they could not possess them themselves and looking at others with a mixture of envy and resentment. "How do they do it?" Indeed how do we. And why do we do it? What makes us do it?

Lohrey speaks of the muse in relation to the Greek myths. How we all need to have a muse. How this can be part of our song. "The singer experiences inner life as something (they) share with the world, not as something that sets him apart from it". (Stephen Schafer) So how do we find our song. The one that is uniquely ours. How do we find our own voice, the subtle, rich and glorious realms of our voice. Often I say to clients, that I do not wish them suddenly to be an extrovert, but that they may become comfortable with saying whatever it is they want to say, powerfully and persuasively, standing in what is true for them.

One of the other "secrets" is the discovery of how complex the voice is. Whoever has stood next to a flailing shower curtain knows how the curtain wants to stick to you, and that is the same way the vocal  cords connecting happens: The Bernoulli effect!

In the modern day of Reality Idol programs and such, there are many who think they can sing. Often, however they lack the appropriate technique that will carry them through big sings, 8 shows a week, concert after concert. "In some ways being a singer is like being an athlete: both are external expressions of who you are" (cited from Lohrey's novella) When I started Vocal Athletics in 2007 I had seen the voice as an athletic structure: an opera being like a marathon. How we take the voice to the highest realms and stay there. Prevent injury. Feel good. 

To be an excellent athlete, we need many factors: external and internal physicality, mentality, emotional strength and flexibility and faith in ourselves. There is a "Singer Personality Profile" which is interesting indeed (another time, perhaps). In 'The science of breath" by Yogi Ramacharaka he states that in the West we are paying a great deal of attention to the external muscles. "But in their enthusiasm, they must not forget that the exercise of the external muscles is not everything. The internal organs also need exercise". 

Breathwork, and singing provide excellent internal work. Our pelvic muscles can be "fit" with the breath and singing. The Transverse Abdominus (TA) is vital for supporting the breath for singing, as well as speech. We know when they are working if we have had such a big belly laugh that all our insides ache. Athletic on the inside and outside. I have seen many women who have had gynaecological issues or injuries as well as men who have had prostate difficulties present with reduced breath into this area. (Not always the only reason, of course) And hence, not as vocally powerful as they would like to be.

Often retraining the breath into this area and using the core muscles again can have a dramatic impact upon the quality of the voice, as well as the quality of the breath. An idea of toning the organs, likening it to an internal massage. One such client  had had an emergency Caesarian many, many years before, and had never breathed "down there" (her words) since.  With gentle physical and verbal encouragement, the breath fluttered gently into her lower belly, and so too did her tears. Her voice found a deeper resonance with less strain for the breath was able to reside in more of her. Interestingly too she had had stomach troubles since the Caesar: a sort of internal holding of the musculature.

Many speak of using the singing voice as a healing modality. That voice resonates where words cannot. It allows us to access that aspect of us which is primal and pre-verbal. A place where we can breathe easily. New born babies do this effortlessly: make sound, move, roll, breathe. And perhaps that is indeed the secret. How can we re-find that effortless aspect of ourselves? For there true athleticism, movement, flexibility, strength, endurance and freedom is likely to reside. 

xx

Body Awareness

Peace interrupted. "Our Consciousness is the perceiver that can change the perceived" (Jung)

That familiar feeling that I had known so well, had not lifted up its head until this morning. Already on shaky ground, 'work' invaded the artistic space. I was no longer able to reside in the feminine (or I chose not to reside there anymore and then felt resentful). The voice of the masculine was loud and structured. I was unstructured and soft, unsure where to put my footholds. Withering under the pressure of the need to have answers, immediately, I felt myself become unstuck. I have loved residing in the world where there is movement and flow, and no outcomes. It allows my body to breathe easily, to rest, to be nourished and for me to feel connected: to myself, and to the world around me. How does the feminine voice be sustained. The one that says "Wait, stop! The darkest hour is before the dawn. Don't give up just yet. It will all unfold."

What felt like a strong, long spine and loose jaw only moments ago, has altered into a feeling of tightness and constriction, with doubts and a gut that is highly unsettled. It doesn't take much to disrupt the balance for me. A little bit like the temperature of a new born baby's bath I like to have a steady temperature on all levels. How do I get back to centre? Well, with many of the strategies I teach others. The power of breathing, the genius of mindfulness, and the gentle space to sit with both whilst allowing it to unfold.  It is waiting for the calm voice. And realising that there might be a couple of waves before the voice appears in its clarity. How do we sit with ourselves so that we can be fully available to the answers? Martha Graham states "The body does not lie". So can we handle its honesty?

Often in our modern society "fitness is confused with body awareness" (Woodman). I had a client a while ago, who was so in tune with her body that she knew it was decisively out of tune. As we  carried through our sessions, she made reflections about when certain aspects of her body changed, whether through illness or accident or other. As we pieced together her body puzzle relating to her voice, she made some startling realisations. One of which was that she knew all the strategies and exercises I had given her. She had been at Drama school some 30 years before. It was then almost as if a door between her younger self and her current self was opened and she was able to shift into the present. Needless to say she made a good recovery and rather quickly too.

So, returning to centre, returning to the breath, listening to the wisdom of the body, watching it a little like the ocean. Thanking it for doing all it does each day: heart beating, digesting, processing, thinking, assimilating. We are all in our complexity. "Without reflections on our inner world, we succumb to broad generalisations" (Woodman)

So I didn't have to 'snap out of it' to find peace again. That would have pushed it further into the body. Sweeping it under the metaphorical carpet.  I had to bend like the bamboo, gather myself and gently re-centre, breath, be. Gracefully. In my own time.




With thanks to Marion Woodman 'Conscious Femininity" 1993

Sound Intimacy

"Music and sound influences our perception of the world. At this juncture in time, music, among other things, needs to point to nature - the un-built spaces on our planet. One of my goals as a composer is to create music that point to these places. My weird compositional process involves extensive "fieldwork" where I seep myself in these places. Overtime, my ears, like eyes acclimating to a dark s

pace, gradually tune into the sounds and fluctuating systems that define these places and a certain intimacy is gained. This acclimation time and gained intimacy is a key component to my compositional process and reinforces the music I compose. When I return home from "fieldwork" I will use the collected "artifacts" to render a music that points to these place, amplifying their imperceptible resonances and rhythms." Erik DeLuca 

I love this quote. I love that Erik deems fieldwork and deep resonance with nature as important in the creative process. Somehow I feel that is validating my current artistic process. I remember being sent it from a dear friend whilst I was reading "The secret teachings of plants" by Harold Buhner. A remarkable book that speaks of heart energy and how plants can teach us to be more engaged with our own bodies. Yes, it may be a little left of centre for some. It speaks of our nervous systems and how we can "tone" the parasympathetic nervous system. It has been recently discovered that the heart has an energy all of its own. It is separate from our neural network. So how can we combine both and have the brain waves sitting atop the heart waves for the ultimate in inner peace and creativity? A true combination of mind and body and our emotions. Especially in an age where the adrenaline system (aka as "busy") is seen as King. 'I'm bringing the parasympathetic back' is more my mantra.

Today I went on a little adventure (not of the adrenalin kind). It was down to Fossil Cove. I attempted to walk the trail yesterday only to be stopped a third of the way down by a strong force. I made a recording at the junction, becoming swamped in mosquitoes. Mother nature knows my relationship with her beloved mosquito and I is fraught, and so I retreated back up to the car, attempting not to itch. Kind of like not throat clearing after you have a cold, or been overusing the voice. It always makes it worse once the itch has been scratched....better not to do it in the first place.

So second time lucky today. A steep decline through gorgeous bush area, with lush vegetation, signs of animals and birds everywhere. I came to Fossil cove and it was beautiful. It reminded me of the french "Falaises d'Etretat" made famous by Monet, which I visited 20 years ago, but on a smaller scale. And much more remote, clearly.

Fossil Cove, Tinderbox

Falaises d'Etretat, Monet

The tide was becoming low (I had checked as I certainly did not want to not be able to re-traverse the water). Initially I was able to walk the fossilised ledges and discover small inlets, small bays and small cavernous areas. The area under my feet was ancient. I wondered how many people actually had stood in this cove. A few hundred? Maybe more. Still pristine. When the tide lowered some more I could make my way under the overhang and adventure to the other side. 

Listening to the waves, the roll of the water, noticing her feel; her stillness and sometimes her strong movement.

Just being with nature, sitting a while in contemplation. Noticing the small sea creatures. Finding small cave-like areas where the resonance would change and shift. Knowing from experience now that if it is still damp there is a better chance of it resonating.  Singing. Breathing. Making sound. Being silent. Listening. Being curious. Exploring. Being Queen of being present, and noticing when I wasn't (often the mosquitoes distracted me...)

Buhner talks of the breath in the city "The breath cannot be taken in deeply in such places, it rises shallow and short in the chest. The heart is racing an rapid, then it is thunder muted and soft. Like a tiny bird seeking release, fluttering desperately inside the chest".

I notice the difference in the ability to breathe here. The ease with which the inhale arrives and how the deep surrender of the exhalation can occur. Helped by being in proximity to the trees and vegetation and the ocean. I feel my body can let go inch by inch into something new and wonderful. I am planning on resting deep and anchoring all that I have done into the Earth and continue with this intimacy of "fieldwork".

Wild Cave Sound Adventure

"It feels as if there is now a cave in my mouth" Client after a session, 2012

Looking at the cave from the inside. I see the river as the breath, the entrance as the mouth and the small rock atop as the uvula. I seek to convey the similarities between the microcosm of our mouth and throat with the macrocosm of the cave. Caves require humidity and hollowness inside the cave to make resonating sound. So do humans- our vocal cords and tract require hydration. The caves' acoustics are dependent upon the humidity and moisture in the air creating a unique harmonic environment. Water is a great carrier of sound. And some say that if we 'travel the waters', it is related to our superconscious. 

So I never thought I would be the person to don King Gees, gumboots and a helmet with a torch and go caving. I have been scared of her power (and by my fitness level). But indeed I did.

 I met up with Deb from Wild Cave Tours and had a real experience of nature unlike one I had ever had before. Seeing aspects of caves I had not seen, nor felt. Its raw beauty and its fragility and strength. The mighty power of Mother Nature. The freedom to get  covered in mud and wade through water was liberating. Going headfirst down small tunnels into more open, yet enclosed spaces. The myth of the womb re-entered my psyche. The many residents of the caves in myths and fables. Making gorgeous ambient sound in the supported circular space. Caves were the first homes of man, and our mother's womb is our first place of residence and nourishment. It was a deeply nurturing space, and again the sense of aliveness arose after exiting the cave. An elixir of youth of sorts. The cave altered my body and aspects of  my mind, especially my spine.

We explored "Honeycomb Cave". This is the cave where they filmed The Hunter which I had serendipitously seen earlier in the year, and truly loved.

Deb was an amazing guide.  A true guardian of the cave. Quite different from the guides who run the tourist caves. Practical, fierce, strong, lithe with utter respect for the cave and its many life forms inside the cave. She watches the cave and her tour members intently, acutely aware of all movements. I trusted her and felt safe in following her clear instructions and her footsteps. She is gifted in transitioning between the outer and inner worlds. She treats the cave with love and care and for the sacred space that it is. We had two other members in our group, whose time was sorely cut short for several reasons. Interestingly their jobs were about transitions, once being with babies, and the other with the unemployed. Transitioning between worlds, areas of light and dark, between seen and unseen.

At one stage I was left alone in a dark part of the cave (at my request) so Deb could escort another tour member out of the cave. I could hear their footsteps and their voices trail off into the distance, and I was left on a rock in the dark with just a sliver of light from the outside coming in. There I made a sound recording. Warm and content in the shadows. Listening to the song of the cave, hearing the flow from the river, listening to her breath, I was moved to make sound. Deb and I improvised in other places, with her on her flute and voice. Intuiting and toning the sound of the cave. Exploring how different formations make different resonances, finding the perfect fit between its structure and my sound. I was truly blessed to have such a mulit-talented guide.

Sarah and Deb post adventure (yes, there is always a daggy picture to honour such a beautiful event!)

The structures of the caves have been there for millions of years. A sense of timelessness under the ground. One could get lost within the cavernous walls. Slightly Coleridge-esque"a stately pleasure dome decree, of caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea".

I saw the hollow spaces of the rock as uniquely feminine (the yin) and the rock structure itself as masculine (the yang) I am in awe of her beauty and her presence. There was an ability to surrender to her in the caves, and yet still be aware, mindful and present on what was in front of me.

The cave seemed to reinforce the saying "Not with the flow, or against the flow, but in the flow". It was a glorious space to reside in.

Sound and Silence: a(n) (H)earpoint

“The important notes were the ones I didn’t play.” Louis Armstrong

Contemplation and meditation, as well as musings gathered from regular ocean walks, helped me to become aware again as to why sound was so important to me. People around me seemed to be able to be with a lot of loud noise, a lot of the time. Not so for me. I am starting to make silence a regular part of my day. Without it my nervous system becomes over-stimulated and the parasympathetic nervous system becomes elusive having all sorts of body ramifications.

From birth I was significantly vision impaired. I needed to hear and touch the world. I could not see things and did not see things as others saw them. I was exposed to an alternative sensorial environment: one where sound was paramount. Individuating people and their moods from their unique sound “aroma”. I have vague early recollections that this led to a great deal of fatigue; where silence was a balm when I did not have to be on alert. When i did get glasses it was a whole new way of information entering my psyche, which I adored. I would read to excess, under the covers, even though my eyes hurt.  

Even at this age, I had such a strong desire to know more; to understand the world. It wasn't until I was in my mid 30's that I had a true experience of depth perception: seeing the world in 3D. Oliver Sack's book "The Minds Eye" tells the story of a woman who has 2D vision (unable to sense depth). I  related to that instantly upon reading it, where much of my visual world then made sense. From this visual lack, my auditory and kinaesthetic worlds are my strength. I am lucky for as a voice specialist, visual detail is not the most important aspect. I can hear the voice in a uniquely different way from so many early experiences where this was vital to my survival. It now acts as one of my primary tools of differentiation.

I looked to my creative world for silence to fully immerse myself in the experience of sound at its most delicate. We are exposed to copious amounts of “ambient” noise each day. On any given day in a local café, I could hear the sounds of gulls, traffic, cups, coffee machines, people chattering, exhausts, skateboarders and many other noise cues, as well as music. Interestingly, it was also here in noisy places that I had the opportunity to become aware of my body, my thoughts, and emotions. It seems that when there is too much sound (known as auditory bombardment), I have the opportunity to not listen to any of it (for short periods only).

I was able to contemplate auditory selection versus bombardment in reading the journal of  Acoustical Society of America (ASA) (2012) “Although we have little awareness that we are doing it, we spend most of our lives filtering out many of the sounds that permeate our lives and acutely focusing on others -- a phenomenon known as auditory selective attention.” 

It is interesting that those who get hearing aids for the first time often give up for this exact reason. It takes up to 6 months for the neural re-structuring to filter out unwanted sounds. For many, they wear them non-stop for 3 days, become auditorally 'burnt out', place them in a drawer and never use them again. There needs to be a making peace with the sound world again.

The balance between sound and silence is a unique aspect of my musicality and performance. 

I began to look into my creative sound world through a lens of selective attention to express increasingly subtle nuances of sound. I started to question if could invite people into my auditory unique world: To show them a prism of my conscious world; an invitation to sense another viewpoint. Or a(n) “(h)earpoint.”

This led me to further performance musings.What state does one have to be in in order to truly hear and to be here? Does selectively hearing make us more present to our environment? The idea arose that there might be multiple stages of presence. What would guide people to be more present to themselves and the sounds around them? 

How could I invite others to be present to sound in performance? Is it through shock- as I have seen so many others do, such as in horror movies or certain theatre performances. Or is it through subtle sublime-ness, which I have also seen, such as a performance by Chamber Made Opera and Rawcus theatre company in their show “Another Lament”. Here there were definite feelings in the silence. Some silences were peaceful and others were strident. 

In performance I have a sense that I want to wait until the echoes have ended. Call and silent response, silent response and then call and so the cycle continues. 

Finding ways to strike the balance between sound and silence, for therein lies the power and the harmony between us and the world around us.