Quantum States and the Music State: Paradox?

The Paradox

What if two facts are true simultaneously? Example: "We learn from history that we do not learn from history," wrote Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel in 1832. Another is Murphy's Law: "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." One of my favorites is Schrodinger's Cat...  

This made me laugh:

Art (c) Jeff Kubasak in "Common Genus January 2012"

What is Schrodinger's Cat?

(just in case)

Simply put, Schrodinger created a "thought experiment" to help folks in the 1920s deal with "modern" quantum physics (think Einstein). He wanted to illustrate that objects which could (theoretically) exist in two different physical states assumed one state or the other once observed.  The experiment lasted one hour and (theoretically) sealed a cat into a metal box with some simple equipment that might or might not kill it. Schrodinger's point was that the cat will be in one state or the other when the box is opened, but not both, that is, both simultaneously alive and dead. Seems silly, but quantum physicists deal with such things all the time, and the issue with the cat was meant to demonstrate the logical fallacy that some quantum particles can be in two states simultaneously.

Before going further, to clarify: we're not discussing objects whose state is changed by observation, just objects whose state could simultaneously be two ways until observed. That is, what have we really learned from history? That we've ignored the lessons of history (failed to observe them)?

Why does this matter to you? Bear with me...

A Musical Thought Experiment

As a thought experiment, let's (theoretically) lock a listener in a windowless soundproof booth for an hour with a hip-hop sound track playing at +75dB. In our experiment we predict that the poor soul will be either asleep or awake when we open the booth at the end of the hour, but not simultaneously asleep and awake. (Yes: I have met people who can fall asleep to hip-hop, and you can imagine for yourself what their "normal" waking state must be like.) What state is the listener in at the end of the hour?

OK: I admit that it's stretching the analogy a bit -- from a quantum particle to a human being -- but bear with me here....

Music has predictable physiological effects. We know that certain kinds of sounds trigger release of certain hormones, neurotransmitters, etc. With this knowledge, we can (theoretically) predict how listeners will respond to music. Except that it doesn't always work that way; some folks fall asleep to nature sounds and some to jackhammers, right?

Here's where it gets interesting.

Whatever your musical preference might be, you can't change your physiological response. Try it. Put on some house music or hip hop (or swing if you were born in the mid-1900s) and try to resist the effect of that amazing beat. Play new age piano or harp music (or Mantovani) while you work out and see if your end-of-workout physical results are the same as the music you normally use (and if you normally work out to new age or smooth jazz, try working out to disco or hip hop and see if there's a difference). Listening against your preference is bound to annoy you, it's true, so please don't torture yourself! But if you approach this as an experiment, you may be surprised.

Now, here's where it gets more interesting: you can be in two states at once -- a bit more complex than alive or dead and it involves time travel of a sort.

You can, simultaneously in the present moment and in the past and future.

Before we get to "why," here's how....

Being in two states at once

The various effects of music, which work in real time (that is, in this moment), coexist with the part of our mind that thinks analytically about the past and the future. For example, have you ever been driving home thinking about what's for dinner and whether you need to stop at the store on the way while at the same time listening to and maybe singing along with a favorite tune? We used to call this "left and right brain" -- (the "left" brain is thinking about the drive and dinner and the shopping list while the "right" brain engages with the music) -- and that's still an apt analogy, although modern neuroscience is starting to leave the left/right metaphor behind in favor of a more holistic one, which I'll explain in a moment. The point is that both states exist within us simultaneously, independent of observation. We humans are, in fact, each a unique, living, breathing paradox.

So why would you want to be in two states -- past/future and present -- at once? Let me ask that another way: why would you want to use less than half your capability?

The "civilized" world generally rewards left-brain analysis and productivity much more substantially than right-brain creativity. Creative folks just don't go into careers where thinking outside the box is not welcome -- much better to stay under the radar at work and have a hobby at home. "Starving artist" and "Internet millionaire" are a part of our lexicon...and why? Because these terms tend to be true: the trend has been toward rewards for conformity, with tacit admission that an occasional outlier will advance the accepted ways of doing things in some really wonderful way. Let's face it: even Amazon and eBay really aren't that groundbreaking, but they are better than having to go to a bookstore or hold a garage sale, so they made their creators wealthy. Society is willing to reward out of box thinking provided it is still mostly within the acceptable realm, so Jeff Bezos is rewarded for re-inventing his industry (publishing and fulfillment) and Pierre Omidyar for transforming his (auctions). Neither was as great a step forward as, say, the printing press or the notion of exchanging good and services of value, but both are equally good examples of how our society rewards innovation.

Here's the "why..."

What could happen in the world -- or to YOU -- if you engaged both halves of your brain? Since your mind is already capable of being in two states at once, wouldn't it be a good idea to use it fully? How would my occupation be advanced by my full presence instead of merely my analytical/production appearance? How would I be outside of work if I were more fully present? What kinds of new opportunities are open to fully-present folks?

How, I hear you saying, shall I do this?

Fully Engaged in Being

We know that, if you engage in your music you can fully engage your mind. Therefore, if you fully engage your music you have also fully engaged YOURSELF.

Here's why the left/right analogy is breaking apart -- leaving the brain itself behind if you will. It turns out that HeartMath (and other research institutes) are learning that the "right brain" actually has a lot of similarities to what has been called the "autonomic nervous system." This is the part of your human system that functions below the level of consciousness to beat your heart, breathe, digest food and...wait for it...experience emotion. These systems are very "real time" and work independently of whatever you are "thinking" about (left brain). They are also intricately tied up together, so that a piece of music with a house beat will increase your heart and breathing rates and get you moving (fight or flight response), whereas your mother singing you a  lullaby will have the opposite effect. Music is one possible access point, not just to the creative sub-consciousness and everything else stored there, but to command and control of our "autonomic" physical machinery. 

I'll say it again: listening to music can change the rate at which we breathe, the rate of our heartbeat, the focus we bring to mental tasks, our physical endurance, our perceptions of enjoyment or displeasure, and our feelings (emotions) just to name a few of the basics. Music can, in fact, give the whole human system a literal tune up: we can use music to become more connected to other human beings or to isolate from them; to throughly investigate our responses to fear or pain or trauma or grief or joy; to smoothly experience overwhelming events such as weddings or funerals; to learn facts quickly and reliably recall them instantly. It's a fact: human beings have responded to sounds for as long as we have been able to hear them.

Embracing the Paradox

I believe that the best way to deal with a paradox is to embrace it. Perhaps there are some of you who require evidence-based studies before embracing a new idea, and I respect that, but the evidence emerging from the amazing paradox of the seven-billion-member human race may not reach you in time to make a difference in your life. Plus, science has difficulty creating evidence when two equally valid responses to a stimulus exist. So why wait? Make some of your own evidence. It costs you literally nothing to try: Spotify, Pandora and Songza are all waiting for you (yes, we musicians would appreciate your purchase if you find something you really like, and you can find most of our music on iTunes or CDBaby).

Try this simple two-state experiment: for just one of the "left-brain" tasks you must do every day, give yourself a musical sound track. If you already have a sound track for one or more of such tasks, create more sound tracks to support you with the stuff you currently do without music. (Clearly, there will be some tasks where music would interfere; don't do this for those tasks!) Chart your performance of those tasks versus doing them without a sound track. See if anything changes. I promise you: it will.

Putting your intention behind supporting your "right brain" (actually, most of the sensory/physical part of you, which is literally most of you!) with real-time music can vastly improve your life. If you aren't experiencing improvement, don't give it up, just change the music you chose; after all, you don't want your music to work against completion of a task. After a while, you may find your preferences intuitively pair music and activity in a way that works for you. This is embracing the paradox of being a dual-state human: your entire system works for you when supported in this way. In time, if you really lock in to the playlists you build for working out, doing the dishes, etc, you will find that your brain remembers the music and your body responds to it even when you think about it!

Go ahead and expand this task-based supportive music experiment to thought-based jobs, creative projects (ever daydreamed to music?), emotional processing...just about anything. Keep track of your results: Was it easier to come up with the solution to that problem? How effectively did I process that  workplace emotional injury? You can expect to experience some insight of your own as you progress. Allow yourself to have some silence, too, as you move from sound to sound or sound track to sound track.

And, by the way, it's a lot of fun doing this.

Back to that cat....

Schrodinger is best remembered for the paradox that bears his name. There are many -- in fact, we humans seem to be quite fascinated with them. Wiki has a great list of paradoxes here. I suppose that we are so compelled by them because we are, ourselves, each a living breathing paradox. It's easier to just get along without exploring the richness and power of a paradox, whether it's Murphy's Law or the reason you can both love and hate your relatives...but where's the fun in that?

If you feel encouraged to jump into your own unknown and explore the power you have there by sound-tracking your life, I look forward to hearing the playlists you assemble. You can share them with me on Spotify.

I wish you great listening.

(BTW, no animals -- or humans -- were harmed during the production of this blog)

Noticing

Worth Noticing

Fathers Day, 2013

I walk more slowly now

So as not to miss the sound

Of jacaranda blossoms fallen

On this path, slowly browning,

Crushed under the sandals

I wear instead of wingtips

Or running shoes.

I walk more slowly now

So as not to miss this grass

And how it brushes my ankles, asking

To be noticed in its green summering

While gardeners neaten it

Filling the hot afternoon with a

Scent made only by fresh cutting.

I walk more slowly now

Even in the office

Between cubicle and coffee room

And rest room and meeting room, noticing how

“Busy” doesn’t inspire this new more intense

Energy that has found me.

I move more slowly now

Getting myself from waking

To rolling sideways to sitting

And carefully feeling the carpet

With my feet before pushing it down

Under my full standing weight.

I don’t want to miss a thing any more.

I used to let so many things

Go un-noticed; now is the time for noticing…

Rich soil overturned, plowed under, planted,

Harvested and plowed again…

I remember the way rich brown earth smells

And how so many miss that

When the world wants grain.

There doesn’t seem to be a way to slow enough

To catch it all.

And then the page turns, or my wife’s sweet voice

Reaches in, or an iridescent small green bird

I’ve never seen before

Shivvers stunned on the patio

The way birds do after crashing into glass

…and my thoughts sing in my wife’s sweet voice

As I lift the bird to safety – and

For one moment, I am there,

Aware of Everything –

And the next moment arrives

With all its new wonders and questions and senses

As I lean – slowly – in to it, a little melancholy
Wondering how much of the very last moment

I missed

Wondering if I’m fully prepared to be here

In this new moment

Wondering if I can somehow slow time enough

So that I will capture every wonder that remains

As I move

More slowly

Now.


copyright 2013 Wm L Protzmann

Teach Yourself Codependence with Music!

...I would die for you baby

but you won't do the same....

Bruno Mars -- "Grenade"

We have evidence-based studies that the words we learn to music become part of our permanent memory. Think about the songs you learned as a kid: do you still remember the words and the melodies?

We also have studies suggesting that the music we listened to as adolescents is "our" music. Music we enjoyed when when we were young -- whatever it was for each of us -- evokes stronger memories and nostalgia than music from other periods of our lives.

Lastly, there's plenty of evidence-based data and an overwhelming body of "anecdotal evidence" that early childhood development enhanced by music results in ... wait for it ... more promising children.

So back to my facetious headline, and I'll phrase it again the form of a question:

Is your music teaching you what you want?

Codependence is so last century. Or not. Bruno Mars seems to have found fans willing to pay for it. If I were a psychotherapist (and I'm not) I'd fly my banner ad wherever "Grenade" appears online. Here's why:

Every -- no mistake -- every relationship animated by "Grenade" is in the codependent danger zone.

Brain researchers these days like to say that "neurons that fire together wire together." That's a powerful sound-bite. If you aren't aware that this is happening to you every time you hear your favorite songs, here's a news flash: there's a good probability that your favorite songs are neuro-plasticizing you into choices you aren't aware that you are making.

Don't get me wrong: I have no issue with you expressing your commitment in such powerful terms. Many of us are prepared to die for our beliefs, or for our families and significant others. There's a certain kind of honor in that and I have no problem teaching myself how important it is to feel that deeply.

My issue is that, in "Grenade," the singer accuses his significant other of not feeling the same way he does: "I'd die for you...but you won't do the same." Check out the complete lyric here.

As "Grenade" gets embedded in your brain, so does a subconscious message that it's OK to be in a one-way relationship. Maybe you're already familiar with such things; in that case "Grenade" functions as a kind of affirmation that codependence is OK. Maybe you're just learning about relationships and the message of "Grenade" becomes a subconscious measuring stick, similar to the way the tune for "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" acts as a key for recalling correct alphabetical order. 

If you weren't aware of this until now, good: you have a chance to make a conscious choice about the message in the music. If you were aware of this already, good: you are already making choices about your musical diet.

Let's try another. I love Coldplay's music, but the song "Fix You" is a total whiner. But wait but wait! It's beautiful and entrancing! Yes...and it has a powerful message: our relationship can start with me trying to repair whatever is broken about you. That's a noble goal, but the truth is that nobody is going to get fixed until they themselves take some action to do so.

The singer in "Fix You" tries to make the point that his love is strong enough to cushion the fall of his lover's rebound, and worse yet he attempts to convince his lover that self worth is all about giving this new relationship -- with him -- a try. Wrong-O: this guy's already screwed up by thinking he's going to be able to fix his new S.O. (who most likely is screwed up, too, for thinking anyone else can be the fix she -- or he -- needs).

This is going to sound so old-school of me, but I just have to say it:

Are these the kinds of messages we want our kids to hear?

Here's a challenge: take a quick inventory of the music you love, especially songs with words, and then focus on the lyrics. Both the words and music are already a part of you: you remembered them.

Think carefully about the lyrics to your favorite music. Can you do this objectively? Ask yourself: Can I see someone else singing those words to a third person, as in a movie? Can I see the possibility of something satisfying resulting from that movie, or something dissatisfying? If you can't "put it on the screen" you may want to talk with a close friend about how meaningful your music is to you, even if the lyrics give you a feeling of satisfaction, to help put a little objectivity into your music. I promise you that doing so will promote your objectivity, and that's a good thing.

I also promise you that this can be hard work. Being able to separate myself from a musical message is a powerful tool that took me years to master, and I've been deeply engaged in music for almost 50 years. Don't get me wrong: I appreciate music, but I have to tell myself to make a choice when it comes to viewing lyrics objectively. Here's how....

If I could talk to the singers in "Grenade" and "Fix You" I'd ask them to get help before they hurt themselves or anyone else. It sounds like "Grenade's" S.O. already has the right idea and I hope she/he gets the hell out of that trap fast before becoming collateral damage. I'm more concerned with the S.O. in "Fix You" who's about to repeat another disturbing romance without healing from the last one -- this isn't a good spin cycle.

I hear you saying: "Bill, you're full of it!!!! How can a simple song do that??!!!" Think about the commercial jingles you sing (to yourself!): do advertisers know how well this works? Duh.

It's about your choices -- the musical ones. If you now have a deeper awareness of -- or some curiosity about -- what those choices mean to you then I've done my job. Let me know how it goes!

Being three dimensional in a two-dimensional world

Imagine for a moment that you're giving a presentation or speaking one-on-one with someone about a topic that interests you, and you suddenly realize everything you're saying is going unheard. You look back at blank stares, or at a personal gaze aimed anywhere but into your own eyes.

Perhaps you have something vitally important to post on your favorite social media site -- some insight you've worked really hard to achieve, or a poignant moment to reveal -- and you craft a pithy post, only to have it go virtually unseen or overwhelmed by the latest political blather, crude joke or pet pic.

Is there wisdom in the world that would probably benefit each of us? Of course. Are more and more of us seeking something more than a flat, banal and reasonably safe slide through life? I hope so....

I've been fascinated for a long time at the general malaise, apathy and what's recently been called the "low information" aspect of politics. We have so much information available these days: why is the general polarization of politics getting more and more snarky and less and less "informed?" I imagine a similar fragmentation of religion back in the day, where theology simply wasn't discussed in "polite company." Mainstream religions fractured into factions anyhow, and God help you if you were even seen with "those other people" who belonged to "that other church."

Is there some kind of safety in choosing not to ask the hard questions? Does it feel more secure to just accept some things on faith -- religious or political or personal -- and throw in with others who do, too? Does strength in numbers really serve us when so many of us, quite possibly, no longer think for ourselves? Stock market and real estate "bubbles" that burst are painful and recent examples of the cycles of collective awareness: things are looking up, then things are looking down.

Does mass consciousness really matter? Sure; it's comfortable to leave the heavy lifting to others, but how does that serve you if you are part of the mass?

Example: If you are one of the few who made a lot of money trading stocks or real estate, you are also by definition out ahead of the collective awareness -- willing to think boldly before everyone else took the hint and began glomming on. In one sense, you might have been a leader, particularly if you used your early adoption to help inform others of their potential. You would have helped to shape mass consciousness. Sadly, you may have also been the brunt of the backlash when the bubble of mass consciousness burst -- part of the 1% that the 99% love to hate.

Even more tragic, you might be one who profits by making certain that "victims" (eg those who lost it in the crash) remain victimized. Think of those who are invested in making sure the downtrodden don't have a chance, in keeping a subservient populace "in their place," in profiteering from oppressing others. History is full of them.

Just like the financial 1%, there are 1% leaders in religion, politics, science and many other fields. I'm not talking about the 0.0001% (or less) who are tyrants. I'm focussed on the folks who aren't afraid to ask the tough questions, even if it means shaking the foundations of what 99% of us rely upon. These are the thought leaders willing to risk upsetting the two-dimensional apple cart of boom and bust, light and dark, good and bad -- willing to posit a third dimension where opposites aren't the only choices. These are the folks whose social media posts go virtually unnoticed. These are the folks with the quietly bruised egos. These are the people who simply must think and investigate and research and share their ideas, even though many times there's no one in the room to hear them.

Someday when you have time, read up on "the commons," or "alternative currency" for some insight on economic thought leadership today. Take a look at how micro lending is transforming third world economies. Check out organizations like The Heifer Project, that was using "pay it forward" long before that notion became a movie script.

If religion is your thing, Rabbi Michael Lerner might interest you. Or search for "redefining religion" and read what you see. There are reasons the traditional ways of faith and fellowship are morphing: we believers are starting to be aware that two dimensional thinking no longer serves us well enough...we want God to give us more than just "the old time religion." The polarization of religion between peaceful worship and killing infidels in the name of one's beliefs is shocking today...and it always has been. Faith can no longer be blind.

Fascinated by science? Read the research by Rupert Sheldrake. Or venture to the edge of matter with physicist Maria Spiropulu.

If you are already living at the boundary of what you used to accept on faith in whatever realm of endeavor holds meaning for you, then welcome to the paradox where opposites no longer attract. As you open up to the third dimension, even while you continue to live in the world of opposites, be aware that those around you whom you love dearly and are still thinking in two dimensions will offer you...ridicule, disdain, mockery and -- worst of all -- silence. But not to worry...

...there's a chance -- a small one -- that you could find a home on the three-dimensional map of the new universe. You might even find others willing to gaze across to your place from theirs, maybe even notice you there in your new enlightened aloneness. You're in great company...but most of those who've dared to boldly go there before you are, sadly, dead: Columbus, Galileo, Martin Luther King, Ghandi, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther himself, Mohammed, the gentlemen who signed on to America's Declaration of Independence for example...it's not a bad crowd, really....

Perhaps we will recognize one another out there in that unknown. I hope so. You may not be able to see me, but I expect you'll hear music. I will probably be close by.

Experts, Wisdom and Experience

I have been struggling with the fascination our world has with experts. Please understand, I, too, am also amazed at the facts experts bring to light: studies that reveal the previously unknown, or theories that explain phenomena we don't understand. But what about a personal experience you may have had years ago that's only just now receiving confirming "expert" research?

A book I've been reading called "Seven Thousand Ways to Listen" by Mark Nepo helped me in the paradox. What Mark Nepo refers to as "saging" -- being wise -- holds a certain truth about experts that I feel is relevant today.

As Mark Nepo tells it, in ancient Greece, seven sages were identified as the wisest of all thought leaders. Everyone agreed...and then began to debate which of the seven was greatest. In Western civilization, this marked the beginning of the sagacious "middleman" and the demise of wisdom based on direct experience.

There's still plenty of saging based on direct experience these days. But when it comes to "acceptable" fact, don't we still look to the great writers and thinkers and poets and philosophers and scientists and researchers for the conventional wisdumb, instead of going to the well ourselves? It's convenient, I suppose, to take someone else's word for it as opposed to actually doing the hard work of self-saging. Whole religions are built on this model, and schools, and even governments. Certainly businesses in the industrial age are working models of how a wise middleman can massively change the world and profit from doing so, perhaps to the detriment of the ones who borrow wisdom instead of winning it for themselves...

...and the detractors, especially those who are themselves educated scientists, are still maligned for daring to doubt the mass acceptance of the "fact," whatever it may be: the world is flat, the Earth is the center of the solar system, the atom is the smallest particle, nothing travels faster than the speed of light, etc.

Also this last week an email arrived wondering whether I have any music "programs" for sale. It would be nice to have a shelf full of ready-made programs with music wisdom in them -- click to add to your shopping cart, free delivery in five to seven business days. Or better yet, streamed online to your mobile device. There's probably a business model there somewhere. I could probably make a lot of money doing it. There's only one flaw: I can't give you the music you need. I could teach you something about how to listen to your own inner musical wisdom, but even at the moment I put that into a "program" and offer it to you for sale, I've foreclosed part of the magic of your own experience of discovery -- and caring for your self is as much about the experience of learning how to do that as it is actually giving yourself care.

It rankles me that some yoga teachers feel the need to license their methods, and then prosecute other yoga teachers who they feel are teaching something proprietary without a specific license. I worry that Music Therapy may be headed in this direction, and that, at some not-so-far-off day, music venues will have to pay a fee to some licensing board somewhere in order to cover the possible transformative experience some in the audience might have....

How does it serve you if I compact all of what I know about music and transformation into a 12-minute TED talk? Even if that was both feasible and marketable, your momentary thrill of hearing the talk wouldn't last, and would definitely never take the place of your own self-aware transformation. There are already plenty such talks, and while mine might be a little different, what I want for you is to spark your own inquiry into the power of music, not to give you all the answers. I want you to learn to sage yourself.

Does it serve you to soak up expert knowledge? Of course it does. But recall the paradox: Buddha may have had it right when he turned his followers away from him and toward his teaching. If the expert you trust opens you to your own experience of his or her knowledge, your trust is well placed. If the expert you trust has you convinced that he or she is the only arbiter of the wisdom you want, in my humble opinion, that expert is suspect.

I believe an expert -- a sage -- ought to open you to questions. A true expert can lead you right up to the paradox and show you great grace as you begin to wrestle with it. But no study or theory or religion or science can take your place at that moment, and neither can any expert, no matter how wise. Only you, armed with whatever inspires you and gives you courage and strength, can wrestle with your personal paradox, and either you will win the deepening you want...or not. No sage (or therapist or doctor or minister or guru!) no matter how wise, can do this for you, and anyone who claims to have that ability -- again, in my humble opinion, -- ought to be regarded with suspicion.

I know how heretical this sounds, but please think carefully about what you believe: can you prove it for yourself? Are you content to lean on the purported wisdom of others without testing it? Is it even possible to test your own beliefs? These are big questions. They are hard to answer without a lot of thought -- without a lot of experience. Maybe it's easier to let the experts do the thinking.......?

And that, too, is a paradox.

Why does any of this matter to you?

Simply because the quality of the music you choose, just like quality of the food you eat, the water you drink and the air you breathe, is fundamental to your quality of life.

I know this fact because I have experienced it, and I'm passionate about it because I want you to experience it for yourself. Research and expert opinion have weighed in on it; "anecdotal evidence" is plentiful. When your own experience matches the expert opinion -- especially when you can prove that opinion for yourself at will -- well, that, my friend, is the best kind of wisdom, because you won it for yourself. That is self saging.

It doesn't take a PhD or a board certification in Music Therapy to experience the  wisdom of music for yourself. All it takes is becoming aware of the "music" that is around you, and how it impacts you. If you can distinguish between how you respond to the sound of a jackhammer and how you respond to utter silence you have made a start. If you can put together a list of the music you like to hear when you work out or bike or run or swim versus a list of the music you use to relax, you are more than halfway there. To go all the way, simply become more conscious and make informed choices about your sound track. That's it.

Can this simple starting point open you to an experience of transformation that is uniquely yours? Try it and see. Choose music you can use to amplify every single aspect of your life: mental, emotional, physical, spiritual. If you are healing, music will help. If you are hurting, music will help. If you need answers, music can open them up to you. If you are alone, music can care for you. If you are with others, music can connect you more deeply than you can imagine. Using music, perhaps, is a way toward self saging. Or not. You decide.

The world needs your wisdom, your well of feeling, your strength, your insight. If you prove for yourself that music -- or anything else you can find! -- has power to open these four aspects of your being, you will meet the paradox of expert versus experience more skillfully, from a place of deeper trust in your self, and you will come to trust your own wisdom more powerfully, and become a powerful voice of reason in the world, perhaps even an expert. Or not.

You decide.

Life, Death and Music

There was something else on my mind until I learned about the Oklahoma tornado and the lives lost to it.

How do you deal with the death of a loved one?

The closest I have been to the passing of a loved one was when my Mom died. Although there had been time during her illness to anticipate that she might not survive, and though I was blessed to have family and friends around me for comfort, I couldn't cry for a few weeks. Not until the day Mom's ashes were scattered at sea. The Neptune Society provides this service, and there were perhaps twenty of us -- several families -- gathered at Shelter Island as the motor yacht with the remains of our loved ones cruised slowly by, then headed out of the harbor to the open ocean. That did it. I watched that boat until I couldn't see it any more for my tears and when I couldn't cry any more I watched until it disappeared beyond the horizon.

It took even longer for me to mourn the death of my friend who took his own life by self-immolation in the presence of his parents, wife and kids.

I had no rules for how to mourn, or grieve. I knew I was supposed to, but I didn't know how. I've learned that some societies have such rules and that makes a lot of sense to me now that I've been at a loss for them. But at those two times, I held deeper sorrow in my body than I'd ever felt before, and I had to invent a way to experience it fully. I wasn't able to do that right away.

It helps to have loved ones around you as you let go of your connections to one who has died...but they, too, may be in mourning. Shared grief is powerful, but it's not your grief -- your specific, unique connections to the one who has gone. My sister had a different relationship to Mom, and her experience of Mom's passing was different than mine because of that. We both miss Mom in the thousands of ways Mom was privately special to each of us, and while the tears on each of our faces are the same, in each tear are the memories of a mother's individual love for her daughter or for her son. Somehow each of us has to put our arms around our own grief -- no one else can.

Losing a loved one suddenly can create a shared shock. We have seen this publicly when entire communities react to mass shootings, horrors of war, terrorist attacks. Coming together in this way helps us to open to grief: strangers brought to awareness of our shared humanity by a forceful, tragic intrusion. But what happens next, after the memorials and homilies, when we return to our homes that are empty of the presence of the one we mourn?

After the shock, after the funeral, after the long drive back home, what then?

David Whyte, a poet I admire, has written that, at the bottom of the well of grief, there is treasure ("The Well of Grief"). I believe he is correct: when I have really worked at grief, it has a certain reward. I do this by using music.

Music connect us safely and instantly to emotion -- to feeling. I prefer to "find the bottom" of feelings such as grief rather than wallowing in it. And, when I have difficulty letting grief take me, music can ease me in to the journey.

Mom's memorial had music -- Amazing Grace -- but I didn't cry then. As beautiful as that music is, it didn't open the safe place for me to really experience the loss and sorrow I was holding inside.

My friend's memorial had music -- I don't remember what it was because I was still in shock at his suicide. It was only years later when I thought again of taking my own life that I came to terms with the music I needed to deeply feel the loss of my friend. It was a single piece of piano music I've played many times that came to mind me, and in it I finally managed to swim to the bottom of the well that held all the grief I had stored for my friend.

This takes time: time to be patient with one's sorrow. I have great respect for the societies whose rules put mourning on a timeline, but that isn't how I grieve. I have to wait for the right music -- looking for the trigger, some might say -- to release me into that safe place of utter loss. No sense shedding a tear here or there: I only want to go with the full desperate Monty and have done.

The bottom of that well came sooner with Mom than with my friend, and that was all right with me.

The point here is that there's no hurrying this experience of grief -- and there's no point in just sweeping these feelings away for another day. Yes, it's better (I think) if we can experience a kind of communal sorrow, and funerals are good for that, but the real impact of the passing of a loved one -- for whatever reason -- goes on for much longer. Even grieving fully doesn't remove the melancholy of memories shared with the one who's gone. There's a kind of slow transformation from the piercing sharpness of loss to an emptiness that lives within us. My emptiness sometimes reminds me of happy moments with Mom, and sometimes trying ones, but it is never full the way it was while Mom was alive. It is the same with my friend: the way his son looks sometimes, or when I speak to his parents about him and their grand kids.

The beauty of such pain is that we are not alone. In my grief, I have a sense of belonging somehow to a tribe of strangers who also knew Mom, loved her, and miss her. Closer in, my Dad and I experience Mom's passing in ways we can share, memories we can relive. My kids and I sometimes remember "GM" together in beautiful ways that keep her alive: my singer/songwriter daughter wrote and performed a song for Mom, shared with the family on YouTube. My son the lawyer keeps Mom's memory alive in the way he chooses to show his compassion for animals, or when his eyes soften as he speaks of her. These little things are tributes to Mom. I share such things with my friend's parents, too.

So as I think of Oklahoma, my own midwestern roots kick in and remind me that the ones who love each of the ones lost will mind their passing with shared grief, yes, but also with resilience -- with the fortitude that keeps us strong, with the stiff upper lip I've come to know and accept about myself -- with strength to rebuild and quiet honor to persevere in memory of those who died. May a beautiful song find each of us in our mourning to ease us gently through our loss, and may we share that music together as together we share our grief.

"Don't Leave Before the Miracle"

One of the things I get to do as a volunteer is present graduates of the Guitars for Vets program with brand new guitars. I was doing that this evening at Veterans Village of San Diego (VVSD), and I stuck around to hear a couple of VVSD alumni talk to the 150+ VVSD residents about the incredible place they're in.

(VVSD is incredible -- for residential treatment and recovery, for job search and career counseling, for providing an opportunity for folks who have served their country to make a fresh start, free of addiction.)

One of the alumni spoke of the amazing place VVSD is, especially for Veterans who graduate. Her point, and the reason for this blog, was simple: "Don't leave before the miracle."

If you visited VVSD, you would find Veterans there in various stages of "recovery." That's the world's term for it. I think there's a better one: 'authenticity.' Dealing successfully with addiction is not pleasant, but it comes down to one thing: rock bottom. When you're at that place, you get authentic real quick. The average new VVSD resident has been homeless, involved with the criminal justice system and addicted to one or more mind-altering substances. Deciding to change all that is a choice made in a very raw place -- a place where the only options left are few. Deciding to enter the VVSD program is the first step toward a new life, and it is a hard step to take.

I have met new residents in their first few days of "coming home" to VVSD.

One of them joined the Guitars for Vets program within his first week; he took the practice guitar issued to him and sat there in the courtyard alone, just playin' and singin' like there was no tomorrow. Now he's the leader of a Veterans rock band composed mostly of VVSD residents and graduates.

Another VVSD resident who had never played the guitar joined the Guitars for Vets program, practiced hours every day, graduated Guitars for Vets with distinction and was given his brand new guitar. He then left the VVSD program before completion. He hasn't been heard from since.

The effort made by both of these Veterans was exemplary.

A VVSD resident can either graduate the program employed and recovered, leave voluntarily before graduation, or be "exited" for failing to remain clean and sober during treatment. By far the hardest choice is to stay in the program. It's the hardest choice because, in the middle of transformation, the easiest choice is to relapse.

When nothing is left -- rock bottom -- and a tiny part of you decides that there is a chance of something better, that's only the beginning. It won't be until a long time later that you can even look back and know that transformation happened. Sure, you'll see signs, but during the process, it's hard to believe the miracle that is really taking place.

That miracle is YOU, becoming authentic. Stripping away the stuff that was how you behaved but wasn't you. Laying off all the ways of being that aren't the core -- the real you. Coming to understand, maybe for the first time, how the real you looks, feels, acts. In that place, where it is all new for the first time, there's no kind of trust that a miracle will happen -- it's enough for the next day to happen. It takes time to feel the power of leaning into the change -- starting to open your arms and your mind and your heart to the possibility that something -- anything other than same the old crap -- could happen to you. It's a tough place to be.

It's not a place where a miracle seems likely.

I promise you: being authentic is hard work, but it's hard work that pays off in ways you never notice when you're less than authentic. Rescuing a fledgling bird that somehow found itself stunned in a busy walkway takes on a whole new urgency when you're authentic. Being called "brother" by a fellow addict becomes a firm foothold for the next step forward. Watching a brother fall off the wagon again is like a death in the family. Authenticity can suck.

It's also the only way forward. It hurts to change. It's supposed to. Some of us humans are good at learning facts and figures; some of us only learn when there is pain involved. It's a good motivator: pain. It forces us to make clear choices: more pain, or less pain. In places like VVSD, the option of less pain can be a better one...and it can also be painful.

As a piano player, I'm fairly useless when it comes to teaching guitar, but as a musician, I share some attributes with guitar players. Some of those are the way we respond to music...the way it changes us. Observing the change that happens to guitar players at VVSD is remarkable. The VVSD program is opening all the wounds and cleansing them; the Guitars for Vets program is soothing the rawness. It's unbelievable to watch this happen. It affects me mentally, emotionally, sometimes physically. I cry when VVSD loses a resident who has been in the Guitars for Vets program; I'm overjoyed when someone graduates. You can't make music together and not respond to another's experience. Music allows for that -- it's all about a different sort of connection. It's all about the miracle.

Of course, I'm powerless to force anything to happen. Music isn't like that: it's subjective. You make music, whether together or for some listeners, and things happen. Sometimes they're what you wish would happen; sometimes they're not. The authentic musicians just keep on making music, hoping for the miracle.

A musical project I am in is like that. Three of us -- guitar, bass, keyboard -- mostly improvise behind a singer who also improvises melodies, using as her lyrics the words of the poet Rumi. There's no way to practice for this except to be the best you can at what you do and show up to see what happens. It only works when all of us are completely raw -- completely authentic -- and open to the inspiration of the moment and to each other's authenticity. No sensible musician would take that chance on stage in an ensemble, but somehow we do. It's like cliff jumping without a rope: you never know how far down the ground is or whether it's water, or sand, or snow, or rock. It's like choosing to enter VVSD: no promises of a soft landing.

The miracle is that, if we are all raw enough and open enough and authentic enough and lean in together just enough to feel each other's presence...I can hear the guitar moving in just such a way and the bass boiling up under it, that a chord here or a melody there is just right. The singer takes it to another place and we all follow; the words inspire us to mirror some poetic nuance...and the miracle happens.

It can only happen when there's no safety net. It can only happen when there's no looking back. It can only happen when there's no ego. It can only happen when...there is no other way left.

It can only happen when we show up -- as raw as we can be and as ready as we can be -- and anticipate the miracle. We can't predict it; we just take the leap and trust that it will be there.

And do you know what? Many times, we don't really know what happened. Something we did might have worked -- seemed OK at the time as we played -- but it's only afterwards when the perspective of time has worked on us that we really get it -- really appreciate the risk that was taken and how it paid off in some miraculous way that none of us on stage that night could have scripted or anticipated. These moments don't shake the earth; they are intimate and appreciated only by the few of us who were there, but they happen. Often.

In hindsight.

Being aware enough to say as the miracle happens -- like it could make its entrance on cue -- "And now, my friends, here is the miracle!" is fallacious. I suspect we aren't supposed to know until later -- maybe years later -- the magic that happened to us at that moment. Usually it just feels benign. Only later, momentous. The bird was rescued from the busy walkway. The Veteran graduated VVSD. Some musical moment happened.

In that place, where, much later, we will look back and say "That was a miracle!" -- that place is where the real work happens. VVSD is one such place.  The paradox is that, until you are a VVSD graduate -- sometimes many years afterwards -- you won't know that a miracle happened to you at VVSD. Only people who have been there before can tell you that, until. somehow, some day, by some personal miracle of your own, you realize that it happened to you.

I wish for everyone who read this that, sometime later, perhaps, you will look back into your life and know with the surety of your being that you have been blessed with such a miracle. Or maybe a few of them. If you have done the work, you are ready: you deserve it.