“Without music, life would be a mistake.”

                                         –  Friedrich Nietzsche

I don’t know when I first heard this quote but it has always resonated with me. I once had one of those horrifying “Sophie’s Choice”-type conversations with a friend: “If you had to lose either your vision or your hearing, which would you choose?” Well, loving to read the way that I do this decision seemed almost impossible until I realized that “reading” would still be available to me through Braille or someone else’s voice, but music? I simply can’t imagine life without music.

Maybe this is because music serves so many purposes in my life. It’s not just entertainment. It’s language and memory. It’s a way to time-travel and a way to center myself. It’s a mood-producer and mood-enhancer. Given this love affair with music, one would think that I’d be endowed with some talent in this department. Oh, I can play a little piano-by-ear but that’s about it. Perhaps I was a great composer in another lifetime but this time around I’ve just been given a huge fascination with the subject.

I love reading about song-writers, particularly those that composed during the decade in which I grew up, the 60’s. I’m captivated by the lives of people who have music running through their brains, and this love of the lifestyle has led me to some very interesting places.

For instance, in the early 60’s I adored the harmonies of Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. I found that the combination of their voices on songs like Surfer Girl, In My Room and Warmth of the Sun calmed me in ways I couldn’t describe. (Since I didn’t understand the harmonic attraction, I attributed my feelings to the looks of their drummer, Dennis Wilson). Although I didn’t stay a fan through the 70’s and 80’s, I found myself coming ‘round again in the late 1990’s. I was becoming familiar with the internet, and someone suggested that I try looking up sites connected with old interests.

So I searched out The Beach Boys and Brian Wilson and wound up in a chat room. Not only did I learn a lot about the production of music, I also (incidentally) met my future husband there. I’ve actually come to believe that it wasn’t incidental at all; rather, that those seeds were planted in the early 60’s (or who knows when in cosmic time) so that when the hour came, Roy and I would recognize each other through our mutual love of this sound, and have the opportunity to build on that.

Obviously we’ve all been attracted by different kinds of music and artists and bands but how much of that attraction has wound itself into our life stories? I’d be willing to bet that it’s a large amount. Not only the people we’ve met along the way, but the way music helps us process these relationships. (Aside: my daughter is about to marry a hugely talented musician.

For me, music is a special doorway into the past that is powerful beyond my comprehension. It unlocks memories and emotions that I can’t get to any other way.

I’m currently working on a memoir of sorts and I find it interesting what I can recall and what stays stubbornly just out-of-reach. When I get stuck, I play some songs from the time period I’m working with and it’s as if the key suddenly appears and smoothly turns the lock on the door containing those memories. And even if I can’t remember the specifics, I can still feel the emotion of that time. Tracking the emotion often gets me back to what I’m after.

Have you ever been plunged into a forgotten phase of your life just by hearing a song from those days? It’s an amazing experience. I have such a vivid recollection of when I was maybe 5 years old and was in the den with my father. He was listening to Ravel’s Bolero on our new stereo and I was “marching” to the music around and around the coffee table. I was mesmerized by that composition and the way it kept getting louder and more insistent. I believe that it was one of my early major “flow” experiences. And I remember being in 6^th grade music class when a very inventive teacher suggested that we close our eyes, listen to Peer Gynt’s “In The Hall Of The Mountain King” and then draw whatever the music made us feel and see.

I have such respect for musicians (and of course other kinds of artists) who work intensely for years, honing their craft and then creating out of the best their imaginations can offer. We’re all so fortunate to be able to enjoy their creations, and then take those gifts and use them to inspire gifts of our own.

photo credit Andrew Burrows

Summer was  always my favorite time of the year for treasure hunting with the kids. And what kind of treasure were we after (?) you might ask. Answer: The treasures to be found inside our own house.

My readers know that I’m a big advocate of updating your life regularly so you stay current with yourself. One way of doing this is to explore your home to see what items no longer resonate with you, which is basically a clearing-out activity. Another way is to unearth items that you haven’t thought about in ages and experience the forgotten pleasures of reconnecting with something that still gives you joy.

I love doing this with children because their expressions of delight are so genuine. Watch their faces when they come across a forgotten book or toy that they loved and still love. My daughter, Lauren, was once going through an under-the-bed drawer and opened a box full of memorabilia from her grandfather who had passed away a few years before. I will always cherish the memory of the way she gently picked out his pocket watch and pressed it against her cheek.

Many of the wonderful things that we find have to do with special relationships with family, friends or pets. In my Organizing for the Spirit workshops, I used to have people bring in their treasures and was amazed at the variety which ranged from a collection of valor medals from World War II to a tiny china cup and saucer, to a picture of a very happy puppy. There was an audiotape of a band and chorus belting out, “When the Saints Come Marching In”, a wooden fish, an artificial orchid and a beach plum from Cape Cod.

In doing our family treasure hunting, I was also teaching the kids the value of revisiting their stuff regularly to assess how they’d grown and changed and how to understand how their stuff related to them today. This turned out to be an invaluable exercise in helping them prepare for the many moves they’ve undertaken since they left for college.

So start when they’re young, do it regularly, and make sure that you, too, make time for treasure hunting. You’ll better appreciate the value and meaning of possessions that represent the best that life has to offer.

photo credit mathiasdradams

It’s been a bit of a strange week. I was feeling under the weather for most of it but am finally up and about again. Tonight we went out to dinner at Sedona’s oldest continually-operating restaurant (from the early 1900’s), and were entertained by a marvelous Beatles cover band. During a break I was chatting with one of the female backup singers and shared that my only regret in life is never having performed onstage with a band. Unfortunately, I confided, I don’t have any talent that qualifies me to get up there, but I loved her response. She told me that she became part of the band after she retired from her first career and that it’s never too late to experience your heart’s desire. “Buy a kazoo,” she said, “and join a rock band. Go for the dream.”

You know, that idea isn’t so far-fetched. My future son-in-law is a musician. Maybe if I got a kazoo…

This weekend was what you might call a blast from the past. Saturday night we went to a concert by The Heavenly J’s, a cover band featuring departed rockers from the 60’s and 70’s whose names all began with “J”. The musicians were superb and nailed their characters. Today we took a Harley ride to Williams, AZ, the former last outpost on fabled Route 66. It was truly kitschy but fun.

It’s time for my 40th, and the planners had 365 days to choose from when selecting a date. So which one did they end up with?….Yup, the same day as my daughter’s wedding. I already missed the 25th because I was giving a  workshop at Hopkins. This seems so unfair because everyone knows that I’m the most nostalgic student to ever attend WHS. Oh well.

I do want to give a call out to several alumni whom I’ve lost touch with over the years: If Joie Potter, Judy Wheeler or Terri Fisher are out there somewhere, please contact me via sunny at suncoach dot com. I miss you!

I read about the death of Bea Arthur today (“Maude”, The Golden Girls”) and it started me thinking about my dad who passed away six years ago next month. I located this scrapbook lay-out that I had done around a favorite picture of him with the kids and thought about the importance of laughter in my life. Many of my favorite memories have to do with laughing along with someone important to me. I don’t know why but the laughter seems to cement the memory. I miss hearing my father laugh.

And I will miss Bea Arthur, too. Thanks, Bea, for delivering so many memorable lines in your own inimitable style. R.I.P.

A blast from the past. (Please excuse the flash; I was pretending that I had an old-style Instamatic camera.)

In Stacy’s Library of Memories class, we’re exploring how to use memorabilia in lay-outs, and I was delighted to be able to pull out this collection from the 60’s. Among the items are an article and pic from Life magazine, a clipping of a local movie theatre showing of “Thunderball”, and a bubble gum card picturing the character Pussy Galore flipping Sean Connery. Now where could you find that today?

photo credit cdedbdme

Roy was reading a new book by Greg Braden, Fractal Time, and shared this with me. I love it: “As we sifted through the boxes and bags that held the accumulated history of our entire family, we found ourselves engrossed in the memories and the meaning that the contents brought to mind. Every few minutes I would hear Mom’s excited voice coming from somewhere behind a stack of boxes taller than she was, asking me to look at the treasures she had rediscovered. “Oh look at this,” she would say, holding up something that my brother or I had made for her more than 30 years before. Like the Valentine’s Day card that still had two Tootsie Roll chocolates (now nearly fossilized) taped inside. My brother had made the card and given it to her when he was in the second grade…”

This is from a book about nature’s patterns (mostly scientific) but points to the cycle of human life and the pleasure that is there for the taking. Enjoy those moments when they come around.