The disfigured butterfly

It was nearly 5:00 p.m., and I was finally able to drag my body out from underneath the covers where I’d spent the entire day and night before. It wasn’t that I wanted to get out of bed. My head had been throbbing with the pain of a migraine of epic proportions. The thought of food made me want to hurl as if I was the whale holding Jonah in my belly. Light stung my eyes and made them water. I couldn’t even stand the sound of my own breathing anymore. It was just too loud for this migraine. But I needed to get up. I needed to spend a few minutes with my husband after his long day at work. He wouldn’t have cared if I had stayed in bed, under the circumstances. He’s just that kind of guy! In fact, he ate dinner at the kitchen table in near darkness – blinds closed, no lights on and a dark, damp day made the sun seem as if it had set hours earlier.

There are many things that bring a sense of calm to this weary and anxious mind: music, writing, reading. But all of those things would have brought more pain. While conversation was light, I didn’t want to just sit there for the rest of the evening so I decided I would color. Yes, I said color. I love coloring! Maybe it takes me back to the simpler days of my childhood when my imagination came to life in the wild pigments I displayed on paper and keeping the colors contained within the lines was my biggest worry of the day. But, this 40-something woman still likes to color from time to time!

I squinted my eyes every time I selected a different pencil for the masterpiece I was working on; a butterfly. Each time I began to spread a new color across the page, I realized that the color I had chosen wasn’t exactly the one I had in mind. It wasn’t as green as I’d thought. It wasn’t as crisp or soft as I’d hoped. Before long, my masterpiece looked like a confused collection of strange hues. And then I realized: each new project I take on as a writer never ends up looking the same as I imagined.

The last year has had me chasing two dream projects that seem to be crumbling before my eyes. I have given my heart and soul to both of these projects and kept pushing and pushing, believing that I was following the right path – choosing the right colors. My intentions were pure: To honorably tell stories that I believe need to be told. I have traveled the world over, giving of my talents while asking for nothing in return (including money) and all of it because I believed in both projects. And I believed that my efforts would lead to something bigger and better. I have met some of the most amazing people along the way; many of whom have become my dearest friends and Sisters.

Yet, I feel I have been betrayed, ignored, pushed aside, misled, and had numerous carrots dangled in front of me only to watch them be snatched out of my grasp as soon as I reach for them. I’ve been stuck in the middle and asked to answer for things other people have done all while not having the necessary information to satiate curious appetites.

Why do I keep picking the wrong colors? My writing life looks as confusing and disfigured as the butterfly with all the wrong shades. I have come to doubt myself as a writer; as someone with something of value to contribute based on years of experience. How do I keep writing? Will the ones I’ve been trying so hard to reach notice if I stop spreading my wings? I just don’t want to deface anymore butterflies with every new dream. I don’t want to be the blemished butterfly anymore.

The Art of Healing: For Monique

For the first four years of her life, Monique didn’t speak. She didn’t speak because she couldn’t hear. But she went undiagnosed until a teacher suggested her parents consider hearing loss as the culprit. It was then that her parents decided to send little Monique away to a special school. She needed help they couldn’t give her.

With hearing aids, she could hear, but barely. She had to learn to read lips. She had to learn to speak. She learned to “feel” music through the rhythmic sensations that resonated through the floor. All Monique knew was that she was away from her family. She returned home each weekend but it was only long enough to whet her appetite for more. Her sisters had a family. She had… no one.

Feeling unloved and unlovable, Monique sheltered herself from friends until she met the man who would become her husband, Rene. They met when she was just 16 but he was committed to loving her for who she was despite her limitations. This was going to take some getting used to. By the time she was 18, she was bed-ridden with depression; torn over this new-found unconditional love and a history that suggested she wasn’t worth such a fairy tale ending. Add to the confusion, new technology and upgrades to hearing aids that made discovering new sounds possible yet frightening.

Monique and Rene, who live in the Netherlands, added two children to their family. Her depression worsened. She was unable to leave her home because of the anxiety she felt due to her hearing impairment. She was unable to work, to sustain relationships outside of her marriage, unable to care for her children. Rene continued to stand by her side as she began therapy for her depression. For Monique, it was a long, agonizing process of coming out of her shell.

Only three years ago did she finally have the willpower to step outside of her home and do volunteer work to help people with mental challenges. As she helped others, she continued to heal. In March 2010, a colleague where she volunteered gave her a CD of a group called the Canadian Tenors. Monique took the CD home, pressed play and sat at her table to grab a bite to eat.

Without warning, her body began to shake uncontrollably as tears streamed down her cheeks. She trembled as she listened to the voices but couldn’t fully hear the words emanating from the speakers. She listened to the song again and again. And slowly, the words became clearer. The four different voices were now distinct. The instruments were vibrant and melodious. And for the first time in her life, she could feel the music. Only this time, the music didn’t start from her feet. It started at the center of her being and spread through her entire soul.

The words of the song, “Home I’ll Be” have a special meaning for Monique. She has discovered that she is now indeed Home. No other voices have touched her and helped her heal from her depression like that of the Canadian Tenors. No other music and voices has helped her to feel music in the same way – with pure, unadulterated emotion. No other music has inspired her to reach beyond her comfort zone to a world outside of her home to attend concerts in London and Vancouver, vacation in Italy, and to do volunteer work for Bulembu, for which the Canadian Tenors are ambassadors through Voices for Bulembu.

For Monique, music has brought her to a place of healing that, although not yet complete, is a place of comfort; a place she can call home.

What is the Art of your Healing?

Voices for Bulembu: A Conversation with Fraser Walters

What do you want for your birthday? A new car? An iPOD? Want to celebrate with a big party and lots of friends; indulging in cake, ice cream and whatever else is your fancy? These are the images we conjure when we in the western world think of birthday celebrations.

Two years ago, Fraser Walters of the Canadian Tenors, had what could arguably be one of his best birthdays yet. And it was also one of the most emotionally challenging for him. Fraser marked the occasion of his birth in Bulembu, Swaziland with fellow Tenors, Remigio Pereira, Victor Micallef, former member, Jamie McKnight, and the children of the local orphanage. (Current member, Clifton Murray, will make his first visit to Bulembu when the Tenors return there in August.)

“I couldn’t imagine a better (birthday) gift than to sit there for several hours with these kids,” he said of the occasion.

And sit there for a few hours is exactly what he did, bouncing children on his lap, playing guitar and singing with them. It’s that experience that has brought new meaning to birthdays for him since he made his first visit to the town the Tenors have vowed to help transform.

Bulembu has been ravaged by massive unemployment since 2001 when the main employer left town. Add to that the highest prevalence of AIDS in the world, and you’ve got the makings of devastation beyond measure; devastation the Tenors saw firsthand.

When I visited with the Tenors a couple of weeks ago, I asked Fraser what his most joyful and painful experiences were while in Bulembu. He reflected that both occurred on the same day, which happened to be his birthday.

“You sort of cycle through what it means to have a birthday, and what we usually associate with that,” he said. “You see the full spectrum of what they have, which is literally nothing in terms of materialistic things or even family structure. But they have an incredible amount of joy.”

Seeing the joy that emanates from the community and family that remains is what helped Fraser put things in perspective. He told me of some boys who had a small bag of dirt tied together with a string.

“They were throwing that thing around (as a toy) all day,” he said with a pensive smile. “They were taking pleasure in the small things. Seeing that, you learn to not take anything for granted.”

While every day had its own inspiration, it also had its own heartbreak. There was a dramatic contradiction of expression that flowed from Fraser as he admitted to an emotional journey during his time there. His eyes reflected the ache he clearly feels over the conditions the citizens of Bulembu wake up to daily. While he is always mindful of what they are going through, his face lit up when he told me about the time he spent with the children, including the concert where they performed with a children’s choir.

His biggest smile came when he spoke of a surprise they received during the show.

“We had this impromptu intermission where the women came to us in their traditional garb and asked if they could do a dance for us,” he said, beaming. “While they were doing their dance, some men in the back of the room went to their homesteads and gathered their traditional garb. They came back and danced for us when the women finished. It was mind-blowing! Those types of experiences are just incredible.”

Fraser insists the power of music is what helped break down barriers and allowed for the unplanned entertainment, adding that each of the Tenors believe in the idea of giving back one way or another.

“Music, for me, has always been a medium to share on a greater level,” he said. “We’re just realizing those dreams, collectively, as we go.”

Perhaps that’s why it seems apropos that the Canadian Tenors sing “Instrument of Peace”, for that is their mission. Conflicted in the ongoing struggle they know the people of Bulembu cannot escape yet, but confident in raising their voices to bring the hope of a future; one of healing, prosperity and peace.

Join us on Monday when we have a conversation with Remigio Pereira. In the meantime, please click on the banner to learn how you can Raise YOUR Voice for Bulembu on behalf of the Canadian Tenors.

Oh, What a Feeling

Most of my days are filled with silence. At least that has been my preference ever since I lost my connection to music after the events of 9/11, as I described in a previous post. Before my intimate encounter with terrorism, I listened to music constantly. It was part of the fabric of my being. But the numbness that greeted me that day left me wanting nothing but silence; not even music could move me anymore. If I did listen to a song on the radio, I often felt worse, knowing what I was missing and being reminded of what I once had; pure joy, passion, excitement, peace, intimacy with my Heavenly Father. I was in enough pain, so why torture myself with more. I often felt turning on the radio or popping in a CD was a useless attempt to recapture what I was certain would never return. So, in my car, which is where I usually listened to music, I drove in silence.

All of that ended when my soul was re-awakened the first time I heard the Canadian Tenors when they appeared on Oprah earlier this year. Since getting their debut and Christmas CD’s downloaded on my MP3 player, I am rarely without the sounds of music. More specifically, I am rarely without the sounds of the Tenors! At times I listen just to see if my soul is still alive, as if the emotions I experience through their voices would no longer rise to the surface. Thankfully, that has not happened!

But I mostly listen because I simply love their music and the sound of their voices. I hear something new practically every time I turn on the player. I can once again hear four-part harmonies, which always send chills down my spine. Clifton brings such a gentle strength to the ensemble through his wide vocal range. You can’t help but stand a little taller anytime he sings. Remigio’s enthusiasm is exquisitely articulated through his voice and in the strumming of his guitar on various songs. (And if you’ve never listened to any of his solo works, you’re really missing out! This guy is talented!) Victor brings romance through his operatic voicing; the kind that makes you want to grab the one you love and just let nature take over! Fraser has the most pure-sounding voice I have ever heard. He forces you to connect with the music in such a way that leaves you feeling as if you are one with him and the song. But the intimacy and emotion he exudes allows you to melt willingly. Who else can do that?

My husband and I just returned from a road trip to South Carolina to visit my parents. I brought lots of writing material and, of course, my MP3 player, intent on listening to more of the Tenors. It is about a 10-11 hour drive, and I’m certain I could have listened to them repeatedly for the duration. But I decided to spare my husband and used the earplugs. But even then, I couldn’t exactly ignore him through our entire commute. And I wouldn’t be able to use the earplugs during my leg of the drive. When I climbed behind the wheel, I chose some of my old favorites, just to pass the time. I played Celine Dion, Carrie Underwood, some old gospel music, Point of Grace, and Faith Hill; songs I hadn’t heard in a long time. And I couldn’t believe what happened.

Instead of the emptiness I’d felt so much before, I felt full of life listening to these artists and their music. Instead of the dark clouds that hung over me, I felt clear skies, as if God was caressing my face with the sun. I found endless wonders in the melody and strains of the instruments. It was almost like what I had experienced the first time I heard the Canadian Tenors, albeit not as intense. It was just like before 9/11 robbed me of the sweetness, purity and innocence I felt in life and song.

I wasn’t expecting this surprise. But isn’t that how God works? Mysteriously and usually when we’re not looking. While we’re busy looking for the burning bush, He sends His love in the soft, melodious sounds through the voices of the children He created. And, oh, what a feeling.

What do you feel when you listen to music?

BONUS: Check out this sneak peak of the Canadian Tenors and their upcoming PBS special (The Canadian Tenors: Live in Toronto)

The Canadian Tenors, continued

In continuing with where I left off on my post from March 18, 2010 on how The Canadian Tenors helped me return to music in such a way that has filled me with such profound joy (and every other emotion you can think of), I have decided to do what comes naturally – spread the word through more writing!

I confess that I’m being a teeny bit selfish in my efforts but it’s really not a “bad selfish”. It’s a win-win. You see, my dream is to write a book about them. I’m a story-teller, and I believe theirs is a story that needs to be told. Every day I read posts and comments about how their music and voices have positively impacted so many people; how they’ve returned smiles to sad faces and breathed new life in empty souls. God is doing something special through these men, and I am determined to tell the world about them! It’s the least I can do considering all they have done for me. So, that’s the selfish part. (Feel free to help me in my efforts in whatever way you feel led!)

The not-so-selfish part is that I really do want the rest of the globe to know The Canadian Tenors for all the reasons I listed above. I’m a writer and an expert in public relations. I know they’ve got a top-notch group of experts stationed in the neighborhood to our north. But why not give them an extra hand in the publicity department here in the US? Again, it’s the least I can do for them.

So, here’s what I want you to do. If you live in the Buffalo, NY area, please tune in on Saturday, May 1 at 8:00 pm to your local PBS station (WNED) to watch the debut of Live at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto. You’ll be blessed with an evening of spectacular music hosted by The Canadian Tenors with special guests such as David Foster, Sarah McLachlan, The Faith Chorale, Fern Hill Children’s Choir, and Mark Camilleri(MD).

If you’re not in the area, feel free to bug your local PBS affiliate to get the program aired. And, there’s always the DVD that’s coming out in May. Pre-order your copy here: www.shoppbs.org.

Trust me on this… you won’t be disappointed!

The Canadian Tenors: Live at the Royal Conservatory of Music Toronto

The Canadian Tenors – Return to Music

The last nine years have been frustrating for me in many ways regarding what I witnessed on 9/11. So much was lost that day; for some the loss is unfathomable. For me I lost my sense of security, my conviction that, with time, all wounds heal and the feeling that I belong. And there is more but I can say that one of the things I lost that day is what hurts me the most: I lost music.

Music wasn’t especially a big part of my family but it was the biggest part of my life. I dreamed of performing on stage professionally for the rest of my life when I was in my youth! And even though I didn’t go on to become a Rock & Roll star, I still enjoyed performing through community theater well into adulthood. And music remained, flowing through my veins thicker than my blood. Music filled me with such peace and calm. The intricacies of every type of music and every instrument took me to the Throne Room of Heaven like nothing else could. I always felt enveloped by God’s love through the sounds of music.

And then life was interrupted. Research shows that people who are exposed to, are witness to or are the victim of a traumatic experience have those images almost seared into their memory, and as a result, many are diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder. A trauma is a wound; PTSD refers to a deep emotional wound. Among the many consequences is an emotional numbness which may present as a lack of interest in activities that used to be enjoyed; an emotional deadness.

My PTSD diagnoses came in 2005, four years after my 9/11 experience. I wouldn’t say that I was entirely dead emotionally but I certainly was numb. And I still am; numb to everything that once brought me great joy, including music. I listened to music constantly and only felt emptiness. The music of my favorite singers and musicians seemed to echo as it flowed flatly through my soul. Eventually, it stopped flowing altogether. I can’t even begin to describe how lonely it is to be without music. Turn it on and turn it as loud as you want, it won’t matter to me anymore. I got to the point where I though I would never find what I once had before.

And then I was introduced to The Canadian Tenors (www.canadiantenors.com). Let me preface this story by saying I am NOT an Oprah fan. But I turned on her show one day last month because my favorite singer, Celine Dion, was scheduled to appear. There was a time when Celine’s sweet, angelic voice could bring me to my knees, and even after 9/11, I still loved her voice. It just didn’t hit me like it used to. I knew she hadn’t changed; I had. So, I tuned in, and discovered the four men of The Canadian Tenors, who were under the impression they were on the show to highlight hot new acts. Instead, Oprah schemed to have Celine, their hero and inspiration as well, surprise them on stage to sing along on their hit song, “Hallelujah” (Cohen).

The instant (member) Fraser Walters opened his lips to sing, I stopped breathing. I didn’t need to breathe anymore because music streamed through my veins again and kept my heart beating through the entire song. Thinking it was a fluke; I downloaded their debut CD and have since felt emotions I haven’t felt in nearly nine years. Listening to these four amazing voices has left me smiling profusely, weeping with joy over the majestic sounds emanating from their vocal chords, striking my soul and returning me to the Throne Room as I did once before, and rejoicing in God’s handiwork. Their giftedness has allowed me to relax every inch of my body and rest, and believe me, that is not an easy task (hyper vigilance – another result of PTSD).

I wish I could say I have experienced the same emotions with other music but it hasn’t happened yet. But I am so thankful for what I have been able to feel through the music of The Canadian Tenors; so much so that I don’t ever want the feeling to end. Unfortunately, once the music stops, so do the emotions. But, wow – what a special, cherished gift I receive when I hear them sing.

Time to grab the MP3 player and return to the music.