Playing 'my' Music in the Sun
Playing 'my' Music in the Sun
The Artist's Way and Healing
It’s a Sunday evening on a bank holiday weekend. I’ve spent the last two days basking in the sun. I don’t think I’m alone. Like lab rats who’ve not seen the light of day for months, everyone’s out in the hot rays of this late spring sun. We’ve been so lacking in this, it’s palpable. We as living beings need the sun. It is the source of life. Like breathing it in, filling every cell with light force energy and coming back into full bloom. The ingredients of this weekend have included:
Bike ride
Nature
Good company and Friends
The countryside
The sea
Community and Dreams
Open Mics
Playing music in my mum’s front garden
Playing music on the beach
The sun allows us to be outside and live beyond the constraints of four walls, be it home, office, gym, friend’s place, event’s place, food place, some place or other. You get what I mean. With the sun we can be free to wander so much more and linger outside, soaking in the rays quite literally. And something I’ve started doing on the incoming sunnier days we’re now being blessed with, is to sit on the bench in my mum’s front garden and play my songs. Just me, my guitar and my voice. I’m playing for me, yet I’m in a rather public place: pretty much in the street. As I sit and play, feeling the morning anxiety I’ve been waking up with dissipate and be replaced with a renewed sense of peace and presence, I observe what’s happening around me, as well as internally.
The first time I did this, sat in the garden just on the other side of the brick wall to the street, with passersby literally a couple of metres away from me, and played my songs, I observed an interesting feeling: guilt and intrusion. I didn’t want to impose my music onto people occupying a public place. Where the hell does this come from!? Each time, it is becoming less and less. I have seen this emotion and inner story and now I’m moving beyond it into a more conscious and healed place. Yesterday there was a particular turning point.
Before I start playing, I like to do a meditation, so I had my headphones on and was trying to follow a Joe Dispenza morning meditation to get out of the emotional funk I’ve been waking up with. I actually start with getting on my mat and doing a mini Ashtanga practice and then move onto meditation and I’m loving it. On the days I’m not having to get up early and head out the door pretty much straight away, and go to my job in stonemasonry (nope, didn’t quit and am actually enjoying it and learning a new skill!), I am relishing the time that is mine. This is something that can be taken for granted when you are out of work and time is literally all you have, yet instead of being a gift, it is an infinte, unstructured place of worry and financial woe all too often. Anyway, back to the point. I’m sat in the front garden meditating and suddenly I hear this deafening and obnoxious repetitive high-pitched beeping. I look to my left and there’s an oversized lorry reversing into a space. The noise - and disturbance - doesn’t end there. A rather uncouth man next goes about opening the back doors, banging the clunky metal doors against the side of the lorry, making an absolute racket.
It’s just gone 9am. It’s Sunday morning. Sunday. What happened to respecting those who may need the rest time? Perhaps being aware of our surroundings and not clunking our way through life and society.
The banging didn’t stop there. Every single thing that he did was loud. That was my meditation shot. I persevered but it was hard to ‘get into the zone’ with all of that going on.
The bad mood continued.
I then picked up my guitar, cautiously and shyly, aware complete strangers would be passing by soon and would be privy to my playing and the songs which have come through me since picking up the guitar to learn last year. I start playing. Something magical happens when I play, internally. I start to shift from being in my mind, thinking about the past or the future, and am totally immersed in the music - and the here and now. As I am relaxing, I look up and observe the passersby.
Some people are head down, neck bent, eyes glued to their phones. Ear pods block out the sounds from near them, so they may be walking but they’re anywhere but present. Hunched over, they immediately taken on a sunken and hollow posture and emanate much the same energy. There’s a passivity that comes with it. I remember Jordan Peterson saying in his book, '“12 Rule for Life”, that we can create extra serotonin just by taking on a more empowered and positive stance: back straight, sticking out your chest, shoulders back and head high. How we look at our phones, especially when we’re absorbed by something, is anything but. What is that doing for our internal chemical reactions and emotions consequently?
Other passersby aren’t on their phones, but they have ear pods in and are totally oblivious of the sound and noises happening around them. Don’t get me wrong, I am one of these people, who looks at their phone sometimes when walking, but especially who listens to music or podcasts (or friends’ long soliloquy-esque audio messages, you know who are you). I am merely observing what we collectively are doing, so any external observation in my view is also an internal one.
As above, so below; As within, so without
So they too can’t hear me and don’t even realise I’m there. Every so often, one of these less present individuals, especially the ones without ear pods on, will look up and turn their head in my direction, aware there’s sound happening, and then look straight back down at their phones, no reaction whatsoever. It could well be my music. Perhaps they don’t care for it much and it doesn’t move them. It’s a personal thing after all. However, it is curious that the majority of the people who’ve interacted with me and truly noticed me - and appreciated the music - have all been more present. No smartphones. No ear pods. No rushing. Walking, present, engaged with their surroundings. And most of these individuals look my way, take in the sight of this woman playing her music in the sun in the front garden, sometimes with a chubby ginger cat sunning herself next to her, and here’s the key bit: they smile. Eyes and lips.
They breathe in music and emanate joy. Something lights up in their eyes. I’ve even seen some people perk their heads up like hyenas in the desert (is that where they live?) and scan the area until they find where the music is coming from. Then they stop for a moment, take it in, smile and then go about their way. Others talk to me, thank me, tell me I have a beautiful voice. And the old feelings of being in the way, or being a disturbance, dissipate even more and I sink into the realisation of how deprived we are as a Western, ‘civilised’ society of live music. Simple, live, acoustic, community, everyday live music.
This is why busking is so important. Music is in all of us. We all resonate to it. We all possess vocal cords, body rhythm, the tapping of feet to a beat. It’s ancestral. It’s in our DNA. So bringing music to public places is fundamental for our communal joy, conscious evolution and connection. I was going to write ‘human connection’ but I actually had a crow sing with me the other day when I was playing on Seaford beach. And the crow had rhythm and timing!
Later today I went down to the seafront with my guitar and some friends. There’s hardly anyone playing live music just among friends here. In my community of friends in Portugal everyone plays and everyone is always playing and singing and dancing. It’s so much more present in their lives. It’s the expat spiritual community that is evolving in Portugal in an incredible way. It’s not the only place, but it’s curious and, I’d even go so far as to say, essential that we become more conscious and aware of our surroundings, of the here and now and how little communal music there is. It can be found in pockets, here and there, but for the most part, in mainstream society, it’s bluetooth speakers, recorded music at best. I feel the period in history we’re living through is a wake-up call, regardless of one’s views and reality. And in that wake-up call, we’re finding our true selves, healing inner traumas, finding connection and community, wanting more connection with nature, aware of our healing capacities and the importance of the arts, especially music.
Want to learn the guitar? Get one and start!
Want to sing? Sing under the shower and listen to the acoustics of the tiles; join a choir or get some lessons to discover your voice!
Want to dance? Go to an ecstatic, conscious dance, learn Tango or just shake and move and feel. sing, dance, play, smile and bring joy to the world.
The world needs more music. We need more music. Crows need more music.
How does music make you feel? Do you want more music in your life? Leave any thoughts below and keep sharing and smiling!
tis a beautiful thing to hear music on the street or anywhere outdoors - id like to see you duet with the seaford crow and for him to fly around after for any tips