12/22/09 Quote- a patient defines music therapy

Florence Tyson is one of the foremothers of music therapy. And, happily, I've been at this long enough to remember her presence at  conferences back when I was a baby music therapist (she died in 2001).


Her book, Psychiatric Music Therapy: Origins and Development, (1981) has a quote from a patient at the Creative Arts Rehabilitation Center (which has since closed). I put it up over my desk at work, because I think it captures the essence of music therapy so beautifully. Evidently, Florence Tyson felt the same way, because she included it in her book (pp. 71-72).

In music therapy, the music therapist, by the very nature of musical accompaniment, makes a profound psychological statement to the patient. He says: 'With this musical experience I will journey with you from the beginning of the piece (your struggle) to the end (transformation). I will go with you through anxiety, rhythm difficulties, fantasies, whether you finish or not. I will listen to you speak, even musically.' The good therapist becomes aware of this statement and when warranted becomes a guide, brother, sister, the good friend. There is the basic reality of patient and therapist coming together, one human to another. 

With accompaniment assured, the patient can explore strengths and weaknesses, realize his or her own potentials, and define problems. A patient even may become, in a monumental step toward maturity, responsible for his or her course. This reality also may occur in a highly structured session as long as the structure is always realized by the patient to be directed toward his growth, stability and self-discipline -- as long as the demand aims at the patient's eventual responsibility and individuation.

I think that pretty much captures it, don't you?

The joy and rapture of questions

Image by Oberazzi via Flickr

People who read my blog know I'm a big fan of questions. And that I obsess over, well, everything. 


Why?


Because the only way to find out more is to ask more. And if we're not willing to ask ourselves questions, then we run the risk of walking around in life in a state of automatic. 


As music therapists, if we don't learn how to ask ourselves bigger and better questions (it really seems to be about learning how to ask ourselves better questions, I think), then our work stagnates. 


And we stop paying attention.


So I thought it was interesting (okay, yes, and delightful) that, in one day, I happened on two rather interesting items related to questions. I thought you might enjoy them as well, so I'm sending you along to have your own questioning party.


Here's where to go:

1. One is an excerpt from the book, The Interrogative Mood: A Novel? by Padget Powell. The entire thing  seems to be written in the form of a series of questions! And they're great questions! I've ordered it, and I'm awaiting it with great anticipation.


2. As if there weren't enough glorious questions in that bit of readery, I somehow discovered Jeffrey Tang's blog, The Art of Great Things. And, darn if he didn't just make a case in his most recent post for the good people of the world to ask the difficult questions. 


In keeping with the spirit of questioning, I have to wonder: What's next?

12/16/09 Quote- effortlessness, waiting, self-awareness

Image by jhave2 via Flickr

From an article by Wayne Muller, "Effortlessness", in Unity Magazine, May/June 2003, pp. 4-6:

Deep within all things there is a natural rhythm, a music of opening and closing, expansion and contraction. Our heart, our lungs, the seasons, the oceans- all life expands and contracts, opens and closes, softens and hardens and then goes soft again. This potent opening and closing cannot be forced to happen, nor can it be stopped. It is simply the way of all things.

We need only remain clear and awake to listen for how things really are, to feel how the smallest changes of energy and attention move in us, in our relationships, in our work. We can learn to follow the spaces between things. Not to fight and push and cajole, but rather simply to wait until the true way reveals itself easily and clearly in this moment. 

My thoughts as I read this:
This seems to me a wonderful (and poetic) reminder of why it's so necessary for us, as music therapists (as any kind of therapists), to examine and to be aware of our own issues and motivations in our work. If we're not aware then we run the risk of "pushing, struggling and cajoling" our clients into getting better (behaving better, functioning better) instead of simply being with them and trusting that they will move forward at their pace. 


When I notice myself reacting in a session with a sense of urgency and "I must do something right now"  this passage reminds me: sometimes I just have to wait and be with my client(s) until s/he/the group is ready to move forward.


When I'm not willing to do that I know my focus has shifted to myself and to my own fear that I'm somehow not fulfilling this idealized (and delusional) notion that I have to be "the perfect therapist who can fix it all for her clients."