Hamam songs

The seven lights on the steamed dome roof seemed to call in the seven sisters of the Pleiades. We numbered seven in the room who were singing.

A while I was privvy to an evening of bathing decadence at some outdoor thermal springs in the middle of winter. The moon was waning, and the night sky was darkened. Cloudy at first, and later a glorious web of stars in the sky was revealed.

Might I say that it was not myself nor my 2 companions who started the sound. It was a group of 4 young people: 2 with booming bass notes and 2 girls who sat cross legged as if opening themselves up to the wonders around them with open throated "ahhhhh's". What gloriousness to be spontaneously creative. Was it also due to the dome, the curvature, the essence of water or of the slight vision altering of the steam that made it easy to commune and make sound with people not yet met. The unifying nature of the voice and sound was palpable and powerful. Together we made sounds that luxuriated, reverberated and rejoiced. Hearts full with beautiful intentions of making sound to fill the wondrous space around us.

"Sacred chants paid as much attention to the way the tone was reached as to the tone itself- just as a true lover considers the way he or she approaches the beloved as important as the act of love itself" Rudhyar

The joy of hearing others make sound. The pleasure of making reverberations  enhanced the beauty of the environment. New friends made, new joys shared.

I heard one of the girls say "As she sang... I felt my whole body release"

A special gift from above that said "People want to use sound to be happy, to release, to be social"

Caves: echoes of the past

“For echo is the soul of the voice exciting itself in hollow places.” 

                                   ― Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

The Newdegate Cave at Hastings  was glorious. Cheeky, and filled with a lightness that desired interplay. Many small chambers that resonated with a gloriousness remnant of some of the best cathedrals in the world. A long acoustic. Longing to be sung in. A symphony of sorts...

Newdegate Cave, Hastings Tasmania

So it was with a great appreciation that I had been largely on my own whilst I have sung and explored these caves. The sense of stillness is deeply satisfying. There is something again about residing in the silence, and then making sounds from the ethereal heavens which seems to open up hidden places. 

I was reminded again that I had been to many caves before this year. I went to Sung Sot Cave whilst I was in Vietnam several years ago. My memory of this time was that it felt unstable, and that there were literally thousands of tourists who were traipsing through with little respect for the cave. It had been said many people had taken pieces of the cave and touched much. What i witnessed was this lack of respect for the natural formations. In Australia, and in particular Tasmania, it seems that we are lucky that there is still so much that remains pristine.

Gunns Plains Cave, Tasmania

In Gunns Plains Cave, there was a moment, when the lights were switched off. And the gurgle of the flowing water through the cave was all one could hear. If there was a sound of amniotic fluid, and a recording of this, I imagine that they would be so similar. I was moved to silent tears. A sense of being soothed and safe in the dark. Delicious. Where time stands still. And in that moment I could have stayed there forever. A sign of the divine. Timelessness pervades deeply.

Geoff, the guide spoke of how he is often rejuvenated after a walk through the cave. Going in tired, with aches and ills, and coming out the other side, in a sense reborn with newfound vigour and delight. This was a theme amongst the guides all stating that they always felt better after tours than before. My body felt more energised after being in the caves, and I found my sleep to be deep and strong after such days. 

They do concerts in the cave. This seems to be a new, cool thing to do. It seems the cave energy can now support a new level of sound. Using the cave, and using sound to make the vibration of the cave change. I mean it has been there for over 440 million years. Since the ice age. How amazing is that? And lest we disturb it with our travels, our ramblings, and using sticks on columns to make sound( a little like playing the organ of bones in the Goonies) hopefully it can be preserved for many more years to come.

Cave experiences may not be for everyone, but it seems that once we have tried it, it fits like a comfortable shoe. Picasso describes his creativity as the "descent into caves of initiation and secret knowledge" One woman on a guided trip exclaimed a fearful "OOOH" when it went dark, yet was the first to say "I could have stayed there forever" once the lights were turned back on. Delightful. That seems to be the transformation and residing in process.

Metaphorical language of the caves.

*They caved into their cravings
 *My throat/heart/will caved in"
*Like a child in a magic cave"
*Aladdin's cave

Metaphorical language of caves then reminds me of the breath...

*our first breath

*he took my breath away

*he gasped in fright

*our dying breath

*he was a breath of fresh air
*I walked on air

Newdegate Cave, Hastings

If you know any others, I would love your comments....

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.

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.