Journal Prompt #2 (Who are you again?)

Image via WikipediaWow! First, let me thank all of you who were kind enough to join me in this path of self-reflection and exploration! It has been so neat to hear from you and read your thoughts and responses. I've truly been honored that you've taken the time to share your experiences, and I'm excited to hear/read/see more as we progress!


For my part, I have started to make short videos after some of my sessions (particularly with clients who challenge me or about whom I find I have a lot of feelings) in which I share my thoughts and reactions regarding the therapy experience on that particular day and then play a musical improvisation describing what it was like to be in the session.


It has been interesting for me to hear how being with different clients "sounds" (at least from my own musically and verbally expressed point of view). Of course, it's hard not to hear my own issues and musical patterns creeping into the music (oh, yeah, therapy 'til I'm dead, baby). 


I'm sort of wanting to share some of the videos, but I want to be sure I'm not violating any ethical rules and/or regulations in order to do so.

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Meanwhile, it got me to thinking about Journal Prompt #2:


For most of us, during our busy weeks, we see lots of clients. And there are always the people we work with who stay with us and stick in our minds. 

But there are also clients we completely forget until we see them the next week.
And I started to wonder, why?

Who am I forgetting? Do I forget this person/group all the time? Or is there something going on with this particular client/group that I just want to avoid? Or that I don't like dealing with for some reason? 

What is this person triggering within me? Is it something about this person? Or is something going on with me? Why is it this person/group that I forget?

What is it about this person that feels "forgettable" to me? What might the fact that I'm forgetting this person/group be helping me know/learn/wonder about how this person perceive(s) him/herself? 

How does my forgetting this person/group have meaning in the context of this individual/group's life?

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As you can (plainly) see, it was kind of difficult for me to formulate the questions, but, for me anyway, that's part of the process- figuring out better questions to ask myself. If you come up with a better question to ask (or simply find a better way to word the questions I already tried to ask), do tell.


As always, if you feel comfortable sharing, you're welcome to use the comments section to offer your thoughts or (if you blog) post a link to your blog post or You Tube video. Perhaps you might want to play contrasting musical portraits (a Ken Bruscia suggestion) of a client you think of often and a client you tend to forget, and either video or audio tape the improvisations. Or write a song about a client you've forgotten and share it with us. 


I so look forward to your latest installments!

Journal Prompt #1 (The sounds of silence)

Inspired by the very pleasant time I had with the "Joys of Journaling" workshop participants last night (thanks, guys!), I thought it might be cool to dedicate a weekly (or so) (we can always hope) blog post to sharing ideas with you of things you might like to explore and process in some form of journal.


You could do your journaling in the "old fashioned way, with pen and paper and keep it private (which would be glorious). Or you could do it in an alternative (and more public) form (such as in a blog post, a vlog, as a song, a musical improvisation, a piece of artwork, poetry, or in whatever fascinating form you come up with that I haven't even thought of yet).


The way I see it, you'd be welcome (heck, you'd be encouraged!) to share your thoughts through the Comments you leave (just share a link to the web-place you'd like us to visit to check out your thoughts, ideas, insights and artwork). 


So, in honor of this being the very first journal prompt (hence the title: Journal Prompt #1- not a particularly inspired title, I know, but this is about you and your journaling journey and not so much about me and my weird blog post titles), I'll invite you to think about what we worked on last night:


Think about the experience of silence in your sessions:

Have you had a session in which there was silence for a period of time? Either your silence, your client's silence, or a silent group?

Explore what this silence felt like?

If you could have given it a sound, what sort(s) of sound would best express this silence?

How do you usually respond to silence (outside of your work)? Why?

What was it about this silence that evoked the particular response/reaction you experienced?

Ask yourself: if I were to visually describe this silence (or perhaps create a piece of art or movement), perhaps to kinesthetically express this silence, what would it look, sound, and/or feel like?

What are the qualities you'd find yourself exaggerating? And what are the qualities you might have ignored?

If there aren't any silences in your sessions at all, what's that like? And why?

Go for it, my friends! 

The Joys of Journaling

Image via WikipediaI will be conducting a workshop tomorrow evening (that would be on May 5th, or Cinco de Mayo, as it were) on The Joys of Journaling. It's a part of the Kardon Institute for the Arts Self-Care Series down in Philadelphia.


In honor of this event, I dug out my very first diary which I got for Christmas when I was ten years old. (I know, I know, why the heck is a person with a Jewish mother and a Muslim father getting Christmas presents? What can I tell you? We like giving/getting presents in our family, and we like Christmas songs. I mean, what's not to like?)


Anyway, I've been reading some of the things I wrote back when I was a mere 10, and I have to say they are hilariously funny and sort of poignant from my now forty-five year-old perspective. 


It's interesting (okay, and it's a little embarrassing) to re-visit my younger self and to remember what was so important back then that it caused me all manner of angst. 


It's been an absolute delight preparing for this workshop, because it's no longer (ahem) 1976, and the options for journaling have expanded exponentially. I mean, with the advent of technology (let alone the gradual expansion of my no longer all that young mind) there are, literally, no limits to the many fascinating and creative ways we can come up with to record and to explore our thoughts, feelings, reactions, ideas, identities, and general...stuff!


Admittedly, even though I very much enjoy writing (and reading!) blog posts, and I've certainly written my share of songs that started out in journal form, I remain true to my favorite form of journaling: I have a big stack of trusty wire-bound, college-ruled notebooks filled with the scribbling of whatever comfortable fine-tipped ball-point pen was serving me at the time. 


Now, the plan for tomorrow is to try out some journaling exercises, and I'm hoping to work some music-making in there as a part of the self-discovery process as well. I'll be taking along my little Flip camera and my tape recorder (yes, I did just say that- it's a great gadget, and I adore it for writing songs), so we can try out some alternative journal forms. 


I truly love the act of journaling (even though I sometimes actively avoid it for a period of time until I'm ready to jump in there and look at my stuff). The way I see it, journaling is a conversation I have with myself. 


In terms of being a music therapist, it's helped me define who I am, what I think about the work I do, and, most importantly, it's helped me to learn how to pay attention.


Writing in my diary gives me a chance to say things I can't say to my clients, and it helps me think about why I want to say those things in the first place. It gives me a chance to think through sessions that confound me, and it's a wonderful way to explore the things within me that make it hard for me to hear what my clients (and the other patient people in my life) are trying to say. 


I'm wondering if there are others of you out there who find journaling to be helpful in terms of deepening your work as a music (or any other kind of) therapist. I'd love to hear of your experiences.