Learning How to Sing

The sun is shining, there's not a cloud in the sky and over 80,000 acres of forest are burning in New Mexico, yet I feel happy. The sky is not very blue this morning. The accumulated smoke from the fires around the state as well as those in Colorado and Arizona makes the sky a dimmer blue than usual. The smoke particles in the air reflect the sunlight and wash out the blue color that the Oxygen and Nitrogen molecules emit after they absorb the photons of light from the sun. The same amount of blue light is available but it's awash in a sea of smoky gray light.

I am singing with my wife this week. We are practicing the song she wrote so we get more comfortable with the lyrics and the harmonies as we sing together. I sing in a chorus and I sing by myself, but I can't recall ever singing duets before. It's a new experience and I enjoy the intimacy of singing together. Since the song is basically a welcoming song for newborns and a healing song for people who were wounded during or traumatized by their birth experiences, we are experimenting with singing to each other so that we can learn to communicate it better.

The first time we sang the lyrics to each other, I was flooded with emotions. I felt the song's content more deeply than ever as I sang it to her and, at the same time, I felt her love and caring for me as she sang to me. It was beautiful, intense and distracting, making it difficult to remember the lyrics or what part of the song I was singing. Nonetheless, it was a remarkable feeling and significant improvement in my ability to feel the song as I sang it.

I notice that as we sang the song a few more times, I became more comfortable singing and expressing the song. I am amazed that I felt such newness and shyness while singing to my wife. After 21 years of marriage, I feel comfortable and familiar with her. By singing to her, I felt myself enter new territory in relationship with her. I was communicating more emotionally and verbally than I tend to do. I look forward to exploring the song more with her and seeing what opens through singing it to her.

A line from e. e. cummings comes to mind: "i would rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach a thousand stars how not to dance."

Finding Pleasure in Upgrading

Just when I thought that I was ready to focus on music, something else has come up. I have reached a place with Logic Pro, my recording software, that I am comfortable recording, editing and mixing the audio and MIDI tracks, so that the recording project on which I'm focused right now is progressing well. I was just thinking that I might start reviewing music theory so I can create arrangements for the flute melodies I've written and record them one of these days.

However, earlier this week, I wanted to work on the graphic design for the CD cover for my music project but couldn't open the version of InDesign I have been using. I thought I could play around with the design in PhotoShop until I could find a way to open InDesign and found that I couldn't open PhotoShop either. I purchased them at least three years ago, so when I contacted Adobe and asked about ways to get past the problem, they could only suggest upgrading to the current versions. So, I purchased the latest versions of InDesign and PhotoShop in the Creative Suite package. It looks like I must take some time to learn what's new and different in these versions so I can use them for my projects.

I have to say that I am intrigued by the new software. The various parts of the software package are well integrated, making the design work easier. I remember how excited I was when I first learned PhotoShop. That excitement comes back with the new software as I see all the amazing and wonderful creative adventures I could have with this software. And yet, that isn't the point right now. I want to get familiar enough with the workings of the new versions so I can continue what I was doing before.

My inner child brings up all the possible uses for the software and all the ways I could use it because he still believes that I don't have a career and need to find some way to hire myself out to large corporations. He wants me to develop a skill that I can market, as my dad used to tell me. So, he is putting pressure on me to really learn the software so I can make a lot of money and salvage something out of my failure of a life.

The adult me, on the other hand, is looking forward to learning enough about the changes in the new software so that I can use it well. I am happy with my life and the work that I'm doing, so I am not looking for a new direction. I simply want to continue using these fabulous software tools for my design work.

So, even though my inner child is convinced I'm a loser and that I have to learn the new software perfectly so I can make enough money to salvage my wrecked life, I perfectly and completely accept myself. I'm ready to have some fun, now.

Enjoying the Present Anyway

I often feel internal pressure to finish projects, a stress that seems unnecessary. I'm sure that it originates with my inner child who is convinced that I am lazy, good for nothing and defective. He believes that the only way to get me to work hard is through making believe that I must complete the current project to avoid disaster. In his fantasy, I won't be happy or content until I finish the project perfectly. I can't be happy working on the project, according to him, or I'd never finish the job.

He's a perfectionist. He is so convinced that I am a defective human that it's only by doing something perfectly that I can prove that I am as good as others. He doesn't notice that many people are not perfectionists but he believes that they would do a perfect job if they wanted to. However, he believes that something is wrong with me so he has to really push me to get me to operate at that level.

In my transitional process, I want to appreciate the present moment rather than be product oriented the way that my inner child is. It makes sense to focus on what I'm doing and what I want to do rather than having the product or outcome be the focus. I notice that I enjoy creating websites and designs for cover art. I enjoy creating music with my wife as well as editing and mixing the sounds we record in the recording studio. I also enjoy engaging with several of my clients find ways to create sales for their products online. I also enjoy creating songs and arrangements for songs.

In other words, I enjoy all the activities that constitute my work life and yet my inner child is programmed to add stress and pressure as if that is what makes me do it. I don't need the pressure and stress to keep me working. In fact, the opposite is true. When I feel too much pressure, I don't function as well and tend to get obsessed with finishing the activity so that the quality of my work suffers.

As an educator, I always looked for ways to make learning fun because I believe that learning is easier when the activities involved are engaging and entertaining. I actually enjoy the activities in which I engage during my days and that is reason enough for me to happily do them. In addition, I love being creative in anything I do and my work is creative from beginning to end. It's an ideal situation, especially since the music I help to create is spiritually uplifting and helpful for the listeners.

The one thing that I don't like is the pressure, which is coming only from my inner child, the programming that I am defective and need motivational pressure to operate at a high enough level to do well. I don't need it and I want to stay conscious of that fact so I can ignore it, release it and enjoy the present anyway.

My Soul's Agenda

I face an unusual situation, today. I use PhotoShop and InDesign to work on my design projects and yet I can't open either of them. I still use the versions of InDesign and PhotoShop that I bought in 2003, PhotoShop 7 and InDesign 2. Both programs have been upgraded twice since then, and the current versions of both are given the adjective Creative Studio 2, or CS 2. So the current version of PhotoShop is PhotoShop CS 2.

In the meantime, I have upgraded my Apple computer's operating system every time it was changed, and recently purchased an Intel iMac, which has its own unique version of the most current operating system. As a result, I have had intermittent problems opening the PhotoShop and InDesign software, it tends to get stuck trying to download updates to the online manager. Two days ago, I wanted to do some work on my design project and couldn't open either one. I called Adobe and was told that the software versions I own are no longer being updated and I would have to upgrade to the current versions to run them on my computer. I imagined that was the problem so I wasn't surprised.

That leaves me unable to work with my design projects for the next few days. As I thought about this, I immediately remembered that I have a website project waiting in the wings. I promised a client that I would redo the pages for her website and load them onto a server that could host it at her web address. I haven't had time to do this but I've had it on the back of my mind to work on it as soon as I had an opportunity. I guess today is that opportunity because I cannot even open the software to do design work.

When I have several projects going at the same time, I don't always find the time to work on the one with less visibility. My client's new printing of her CD's has her website address on it but the website does not currently exist. I would say that my soul and the universe have conspired to get her site into the foreground for today by conspiring to shut down some of my other options. I have puzzled over the software problem, wondering what the point was, until I remembered that I need to build this website for her.

The sudden malfunction of the versions of my design software probably has more sophisticated ramifications in my life than just getting me to finish the website work, but it's nice to understand this much of it. At times like this, I have the feeling that whatever is happening in my life is related to my soul's agenda.

Thoughts About a Premonition

I stopped at Whole Foods, yesterday, to buy salmon for dinner. I didn't have much time because I needed to meet my wife at the pool where my son works to leave a car for him to drive to his fencing class. As I walked toward the door, I thought to myself that I didn't have time to talk to anyone that I might meet in the store. Then it occurred to me that I would see an old friend whom I hadn't seen in six months.

I went into the store and headed directly to the fish counter. On the way there, I saw the friend that had just come to mind. We exchanged greetings and made a plan to get together over July 4th weekend, and I hurried to make meet my wife.

How does that happen? I thought of my friend and then saw her within two minutes of thinking of her, yet I hadn't seen her in six months. Did I have a premonition that I would see her? Was it a coincidence that I thought of her just before seeing her? I like to think that I had a premonition that I would see her, which would explain why I was looking around to see if she was there when I went into the store. I almost felt chills when I saw her.

I'm thinking that it was somehow relevant for us to meet and if I hadn't been looking for her we might have missed each other. She and her husband are friends of mine that go back 25 or 30 years, yet we rarely see each other. I know that their lives have been complicated by illness, injuries, job changes and family crises but I don't know the details. I'm curious to know what's happening and how they're doing. I don't know what the relevance of our meeting and finally getting together is, but the fact that I met her in such a numinous way has accentuated the experience so I'm sure to take note of whatever comes of it.

I believe that my soul wants me to notice this meeting for some reason and that's why the premonition took place. I have run into her and other friends at Whole Foods over the years but haven't been particularly impressed by the chance meetings. By having a premonition, the experience stood out and now I'm aware of something unusual about meeting her. It's interesting to have an experience like this and note that my soul has given it some importance while not making a big deal out of the psychic nature of the premonition. It seemed natural rather than extraordinary so it fits into the fabric of my life.

When I was younger, desperate to prove myself worthy of spiritual experiences and wanting to feel special in some way, having a "psychic" experience was significant in and of itself. I now see that such experiences seem natural and expected, though still unusual enough to focus attention on something. The fact that it brings attention to the meeting rather than prove something about me demonstrates that I am maturing in my self-confidence and in my spiritual understanding of life.

Do Yogis Really Fly?

When I was a graduate student in Physics, I had two classmates from India who enjoyed telling me stories of their experiences there. They liked to surprise and shock me with accounts of seemingly impossible events since we were trying to understand reality by studying physics. One story was about going to see a Yogi give a talk in an auditorium. As the Yogi spoke to the audience, he lifted off the stage and floated out over the audience while continuing his discourse. Even more amazing to me was that no one in the audience thought it unusual or strange, "no one batted an eye," as my friends said. As he spoke, he eventually floated back toward the stage and settled down at the original place where he began.

I thought a lot about this story over the years, particularly when I was attempting to understand the relationship between my consciousness and my reality. I used to wonder what I would have observed if I had been in the audience for that Yogi's talk. Would I have seen him levitate off the stage and float over the audience like the people who grew up in that culture or would I have seen him remain in place on stage the whole time? I came to the conclusion that I would have seen him sitting in one place on stage the whole time simply because I had not been trained to see any other possibility.

In other words, I don't think that the atoms of the Yogi's body actually move around while he's talking. I imagine that it's more like a dream in which others can participate. It's like the Yogi is a master hypnotist and the audience members are all good subjects. They all engage in the same vision intuitively while I would be sitting there watching atoms piled together on the stage. In my studies of India, Hinduism and western science/spirituality, I realized that the cultural milieu in India differs greatly from America's. People growing up in India have highly developed intuition and imagination, while Americans are raised to be objective and rational. In spite of my wish to be able to see beyond the cultural barriers, I don't think I would watch the Yogi with the right eyes. Were I trained from an early age to see with my inner eyes and let my imagination participate in the my perception of what's happening, I might see a Yogi levitate.

So, the question arises about whether does the Yogi actually does fly or not? In other words, were I to interrupt his talk midway through the experience, where would his body actually be? I don't think that this question has a simple answer. According to Western Science, his body would remain on stage so the Yogi didn't fly. However, the Yogi's spirit interacts with the spirits of everyone in the audience so that those who are open to his suggestions can see him levitate off the stage. It seems like both realities are unfolding simultaneously and participants from both worlds have their perceptions confirmed.

I believe that reality is subjective so that both perspectives are equally true, even though they apparently contradict each other. It comes down to deciding whether reality is comprised of atoms and molecules or spirit and imagination. I am convinced that spirit rules but my western scientific programming still makes it difficult for me to see the Yogis fly.

Blessings from Elisa

A friend who died over 15 years ago is on my mind this morning. Elisa was an artist, a dancer, a movement therapist and a mother. She was also married to one of my best friends in a passionate and tumultuous relationship that resulted in their divorce after something like 12 years. She died when a motorcycle struck her while she was crossing a street.

I want to tell you that you had a positive influence on me and my children when you lived with our family in New Haven and again in Santa Fe. I never told you that I was inspired by your independence and your willingness to explore things that mattered to you regardless of how others perceived you. My independence was something that I struggled with during my life. In both my marriages, I struggled to establish an independent identity from my husbands and to find ways to value my choices and my preferences. Meanwhile, you were searching for your identity in unusual places, not hesitating to enter an ashram or teach high school science classes as you explored life.

I never told you how much you inspired me to believe that I could find myself and be at peace. I was impressed by how little the cultural judgments against searching and not knowing got in your way. You continued to take psychic development classes, work on understanding your dreams, meditate and do yoga long after it was fashionable to explore these activities. And you didn't let career and money get in your way either. You had this simple faith that life would support you as you followed your heart and you always had enough. You were also one of the most content and satisfied people I knew, even though you had very little.

When I divorced, I wanted to spend time with myself and get to know myself outside the social roles with which I had identified earlier in my life. I wanted to know who I was and what I wanted independent of my children, husbands and lineage. I watched you struggle and grow, developing more strength in yourself and gradually finding what interested you the most. I was impressed that you were willing to take the time to find your way, rather than stick with the skills you developed when you were growing up. Most everyone else I knew took themselves far too seriously to allow them to question their motives and recreate their lives differently from the direction they took in school. So, I began a similar process in my 50's to discover myself and recreate my life in a way that I could enjoy more.

I didn't need to continue my inner process and rediscovery for very long because that was the lesson that I most wanted to learn in my life. I wanted to open the door to exploring possibilities and expanding my boundaries, and I did. And I want you to know that you had a large part to play in giving me the courage to try it so late in life. Even though we don't communicate very often, I still think of you warmly and send you love to help you on your way. I'm glad that you are happy, now. You still have gifts to give and many gifts to receive, so enjoy the unfolding process that is your life.