Singing and the Therapeutic Process by
Dr Elizabeth McCardell, M. of Counselling, PhD
Jan 2013
Jan 2013
Singing is 90% mental,
so my singing teacher tells me. Of
course, practically all of human existence is carried out in the mental realm.
What is wonderful about singing, though, is that the very act of doing it brings
into sharp focus the wilieness of the mind and the slipperyness of intention.
To put one’s intention
squarely on the act of music making, in the production of sweet notes is to be
present in the art of it.
I am reminded again
and again of the way in which we set ourselves up for failure by concentrating
on past problem stories in a recursive back-peddling that really gets in the
way of fresh and decisive being right here, now.
I love what I’m
learning about myself in my singing practice. I’m enjoying being able to watch
how and what and why I trip myself up. Watching, too, what it feels like when
fully present. It is the difference between unadulterated clear musical notes
and the murkiness, and blockedness, of my inner stories. I am no different from
anybody else in this regard.
Having singing lessons
is like having good therapy. Therapy isn’t just about finding ways to lessen
feelings of anxiety, depression, grief, etc; it’s also for bringing awareness to
what we do to perpetuate our difficulties and thus find other ways of doing
things.
There is, of course,
just the pure pleasure of participating in the making of incredibly beautiful
music. And this, too, is coupled in the therapeutic process. How so, you might
ask? The therapeutic conversation is often intense, but this is interspersed
with soaring moments of insight where the dialogue becomes incredibly
beautiful. I’m thinking of a fairly recent example where a client realized his
overly lenient behaviour towards a disrespectful relative was paralleled in his
extremely generous gifts to a person in his employment. He realized in an
instant that both behaviours were both similar and inappropriate, as well as
extremely costly emotionally and financially. He had not seen a connection
before, and, seeing the connection, allowed him to reconsider what he was
doing; the first step to altering his behaviour. It was an ‘Aha’ moment, just
like the making of a clear, pristine note, the beginning of a lovely melody.
I am endlessly curious
about the way I, and the people I work with, get in the way of
myself/ourselves. Why do we do it? Again, I’ll refer to my singing lessons to
attempt to trace what happens to me so that I can hint at what I think happens
to other people, recognizing that my processes are both unique to me and
similar to others, as far as my studies and experiences have indicated.
At my last singing
lesson I was having difficulty singing a particular phrase. I wondered about
it, and remembered then a conversation I’d had with an acquaintance who’d said,
as he sat down to speak with me for the first time, that men and women were as
different as apples and pears. I’d said to him, that we were still fruit (!) and
in my life I’d come to realize we were not really as dissimilar as some had
made out, and clear delineations between men and women was problematic. He then
went on to say that really women were inferior and needed men to survive. That
got my goat, and in that instant, I realized why my throat felt stuck. I told
my singing teacher of this event, and then set about singing the phrase again.
This time, my throat opened and I sang clearly. I’d stumbled on my own
indignation, upon my fury at some lingering social arrogance regarding the
supposed differences between men and women. I’ve had to carve my path through a
lot of this cultural nonsense throughout life, and some of it still has the
power to seize my throat.
In the above example,
I trace a bit of my internal processes, pointing to a way in which recursive
thoughts tripped me up. When I’m working with a client, I can hear the old
ideas that trip him/her up. I can also hear, much like my singing teacher hears
when in the presence of a student, the beautiful quality of their, as yet, not fully
realized inner voice (their unique me-ness). Talking about what it is that gets
in the way of speaking, hearing, and acting on the integrity of their being
really helps, for singing and in therapy.
Singing is creating beauty
in process. Doing and receiving therapy opens us – in a process of the
therapeutic conversation – to our own beauty and less problematic modes of
being. Ah, to find our clear note of awareness, our simple unique voice.Copyright @ 2013 Dr Elizabeth McCardell
