Photo by Toshimasa Ishibashi/Flickr Creative Commons

Sometimes I say to a poem,
“I don’t have the strength
To wring out another drop
Of the sun.”

And the poem will often respond
By climbing onto a barroom table:

Then lifts its skirt, winks,
Causing the whole sky to
Fall.
—Hafiz (14th Century Persian mystic and poet)

Years ago, I did something kind of insane that changed my life forever.

When I was in my twenties, I was a music therapy intern at a state psychiatric hospital in Connecticut. Why I chose this as a career was a little crazy in and of itself… I wasn’t all that good of a musician, and I was fairly petrified of talking in front of people much less singing in front of them.

One day, the lead music therapist at the hospital strongly encouraged all of us interns to go to a workshop at the Omega Institute in New York with a woman named Susan Osborn. The workshop was called “The Seeds of Singing.” I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I signed up.

As it turned out, the five-day workshop entailed about 40 of us going through all kinds of exercises to loosen up our vocal cords but more importantly our egos. On the last day, each person was to step forward into the center of the circle to discover and share his or her unique song — a song without words, a primal sound that comes up from the root of our being. The rest of us witnessed that process.

When my turn came to offer a song, I was scared as hell. But some foundation of trust had evolved over those days — trust in Susan, trust in the group, and most importantly trust in myself.

I closed my eyes, took time to get in touch with my breath, found a way to override the fear that had a grip on me, and finally gave sound to the waves of emotion that were arising inside. I remember Susan coming over to me, looking me in the eyes with complete love, and encouraging me to go deeper, like a midwife helping to bring a baby into the world.

All my life I had told myself, “I can’t sing.” That day, I busted through that belief. The sound that came out of me that day was utterly amazing. It was the first time in my life I had ever heard my true voice. Not a voice that was trying to sing like everybody else, not a voice that was trying to hit the right notes, just my own imperfect, raw, yet beautiful voice.

Like so many others in the circle, I was overcome with tears of joy. I felt like I was born that day. It was one of the most liberating moments of my life.

The lesson I learned was that a “song” is much more than hitting a series of notes with perfect pitch. It’s what comes from our hearts no matter how raspy or off-key…which explains Bob Dylan!

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I thought of that Seeds of Singing experience over the past month as I questioned my direction with this blog.

I love writing and connecting with people. That’s the driving force behind the Liberated Life Project and what keeps me going week after week.

Creating a blog is fun. But keeping it going for the long haul can be a lot of work and a lonely road. Sometimes when I write a post, it feels like that true voice that I experienced all those years ago in Susan’s workshop. Sometimes it doesn’t. But always it’s about putting one foot in front of the other and continuing to move forward, creating, sharing.

There are days when it’s hard for me to remember why I’m doing this. Some days I wonder if anybody reads these posts. I wonder if this makes a difference to anyone. Maybe I should just pack it in and quit, spend my time doing something else.

I look around the Internet and find hundreds of people writing about the same topics, some of them doing it quite beautifully. (Lately, for example, I’ve really been digging Tiny Buddha and appreciating Lori Deschenes, the author.) I look at some of these other blogs and ask myself: When something has been said so well by someone else, do I have anything new to offer?

I mean, really, why do I bother?

And then I think of music, again.

There are only 12 notes. Yet over hundreds of centuries, how many beautiful pieces of music have been created with those 12 notes? Those notes come together in infinite variations, tempos, instrument combinations. And most important of all is the heart of the musician who offered them.

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Recently I’ve been clarifying my personal mission statement. This is my latest version:

I’m here to help build bridges and connect people,
thereby making good things possible.

Nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shaking, but honestly, authentically, me.

Sometimes I think liberation is about releasing ourselves from the idea that we have to be the ‘best’ or ‘most’ of anything. Sometimes hanging out behind the scenes and simply being ourselves is what’s most important, raspy off-key voice and all.

Over the past couple of weeks, this blog has reminded me of that gift I have to offer. A couple of readers have shared with me how they connected with each other through the LLP. Next year, one woman will be headed to Thailand with musician Jami Sieber on the same elephant trip I took this past January. Another will be taking an online sewing course — the “Stitching Buddhas Virtual Apprentice Program” — that she found out about on these pages.

And best of all, there is the story of Britt Reints, author of the blog In Pursuit of Happiness. She found out about the Stalnaker family in Louisiana and their need for a car through last month’s Love Drop post here on the LLP. Britt and her husband were in the midst of a big transition and ready to let their car go. The result of their generosity and that connection was absolutely magical — take a look:

You can read Britt’s account here which includes a wonderful video.

And so… stumbling along through the darkness, I’m finding the song at the heart of me.

How about you: What song is yours to sing? How can you support your own beautiful voice to come forward? We’re listening…

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