Early in life I knew I wanted to do music. I had dreams of being a conductor. I had wonderful experiences of singing in a community. Some people hide themselves in music but for me it was an experience of who I was being reflected back and also served as a grounding tool. I needed this reflection because after a failed surgery resulted in facial asymmetry, I felt different and was sometimes trapped in that difference. I gravitated to singers who expressed suffering in both their lyrics and voices. Buffe St Marie is a good example, as well as flamenco singers. When listening to them I felt recognized. I needed the grounding that first singing, and then after I lost my singing voice, guitar brought me. I could not do either of these things without being embodied. Playing music brought me out of chronic dissociation and reconnected me with my sense of myself.
When I began to write songs many of them were healing songs: I was talking to myself, re-parenting myself and giving myself a vision of my future. How do we develop our sense of self? Much of the process is a mystery, but attachment processes have a strong influence on how it happens. Our parents and other adults reflect us back to ourselves, we resonate with certain aspects of them and incorporate that into our identity. These incorporated qualities are called ‘self objects’. Our identities are a combination of reflection in, and imitation of, our environments. And genes have a role of course! (as in I am a dark-haired woman) Most everyone recognizes that through attachment processes, parents help us to define who we are. Music, and many other non-human attachments, can also be self objects. How do our favorite songs help us to be more of who we want to be? Mahalia Jackson sings in her song, “I’m gonna live the life I sing about in my song” and repeats it many times. She is talking to herself through the lyric. Repeating words in a melodic phrase locks them into our brain. The song resonates through our lives and helps us to be our self. Many of my lyrics centered around smiles: “Big Smile,” “Don’t Lose That Smile,” and “If I can Smile” are a few titles. This makes sense as I tried to ground myself in a positive view of my unusual smile. It worked—not to change my smile but for me to inhabit my face in a more relaxed way and not be so nervous in social situations. My smile songs helped me become the friendly person that I really was. (as a young adult I often got called standoffish) Recently, in the process of preparing my podcast on this subject, during a havening session where I was strengthening my connection to my ‘self objects’, a song lyric came back to me. It was “Don’t Lose that Smile”. Ironically, I had lost the song and the melody in a spell of depression caused by losing my singing voice and the large part of myself connected to it. Luckily I had the lyric archived and realizing now many years later that it was good I included it in my podcast. During the reading the interviewer started crying and I realized that the lyric didn’t only speak to me but also to others who had lost their smile due to trauma-- physical or emotional. It is always rewarding for a songwriter if their song moves someone to tears and I was inspired. The original melody was gone and I could not find it anywhere but a few days later a melody came to me and for the first time in ages I was singing the song in my head, adjusting lyrics and playing it on my guitar. I had found my smile (music) again. My protest songs were my way to help alleviate suffering—my own and others. My father had been a big protestor (against war and other things) and though I didn’t exactly follow in his footsteps, I felt my songs would ease people’s pain. And sometimes they did. They certainly helped me to stay connected to him after he passed. I am a great admirer of the choral traditions of the world especially represented by the Estonians who used singing protests to help free their country from Soviet occupation. When people sing together it stimulates our Vagus nerve system which is part of our social engagement system and our calming system. I believe and have experienced that when this happens, we become more connected to each other and more kind—more ourselves The documentary, The Singing Revolution describes how they used their strong singing tradition to create unity. The photo above shows that energy. It is my hope that all of us in our own way will use music and singing to become more ourselves, more connected to each other and more caring of our world. Here are the lyrics of ‘Don’t Lose that Smile” Don’t Lose that SmileFor my tiny legs her house was far across the field But she could see my dreams knew they could be real And when I felt as lonely as a seed in the wind She’d open up her arms and bring the sunshine in Chorus You are so beautiful don’t lose that smile When the world turns it’s shoulder let it go by Cry like the rain if it eases your pain But whatever you do don’t lose that smile She revealed a way of following our feet And how to see what is underneath Then she taught us to wonder what lay beyond the stars And what it is that makes our heros who they are Chorus When she read to us each story came to life Then she’d play those keys and we’d sing all night And even though I lacked the usual grace Round her table every person had a place Chorus It’s a way of listening That gets a growing heart to flower That makes a friendship In a few precious hours Chorus Link to podcast interview Early in life I knew I wanted to do music. I had dreams of being a conductor. I had wonderful experiences of singing in a community. Some people hide themselves in music but for me it was an experience of who I was being reflected back and also served as a grounding tool. I needed this reflection because after a failed surgery resulted in facial asymmetry, I felt different and was sometimes trapped in that difference. I gravitated to singers who expressed suffering in both their lyrics and voices. Buffe St Marie is a good example, as well as flamenco singers. When listening to them I felt recognized. I needed the grounding that first singing, and then after I lost my singing voice, guitar brought me. I could not do either of these things without being embodied. Playing music brought me out of chronic dissociation and reconnected me with my sense of myself. When I began to write songs many of them were healing songs: I was talking to myself, re-parenting myself and giving myself a vision of my future. How do we develop our sense of self? Much of the process is a mystery, but attachment processes have a strong influence on how it happens. Our parents and other adults reflect us back to ourselves, we resonate with certain aspects of them and incorporate that into our identity. These incorporated qualities are called ‘self objects’. Our identities are a combination of reflection in, and imitation of, our environments. And genes have a role of course! (as in I am a dark-haired woman) Most everyone recognizes that through attachment processes, parents help us to define who we are. Music, and many other non-human attachments, can also be self objects. How do our favorite songs help us to be more of who we want to be? Mahalia Jackson sings in her song, “I’m gonna live the life I sing about in my song” and repeats it many times. She is talking to herself through the lyric. Repeating words in a melodic phrase locks them into our brain. The song resonates through our lives and helps us to be our self. Many of my lyrics centered around smiles: “Big Smile,” “Don’t Lose That Smile,” and “If I can Smile” are a few titles. This makes sense as I tried to ground myself in a positive view of my unusual smile. It worked—not to change my smile but for me to inhabit my face in a more relaxed way and not be so nervous in social situations. My smile songs helped me become the friendly person that I really was. (as a young adult I often got called standoffish) Recently, in the process of preparing my podcast on this subject, during a havening session where I was strengthening my connection to my ‘self objects’, a song lyric came back to me. It was “Don’t Lose that Smile”. Ironically, I had lost the song and the melody in a spell of depression caused by losing my singing voice and the large part of myself connected to it. Luckily I had the lyric archived and realizing now many years later that it was good I included it in my podcast. During the reading the interviewer started crying and I realized that the lyric didn’t only speak to me but also to others who had lost their smile due to trauma-- physical or emotional. It is always rewarding for a songwriter if their song moves someone to tears and I was inspired. The original melody was gone and I could not find it anywhere but a few days later a melody came to me and for the first time in ages I was singing the song in my head, adjusting lyrics and playing it on my guitar. I had found my smile (music) again. My protest songs were my way to help alleviate suffering—my own and others. My father had been a big protestor (against war and other things) and though I didn’t exactly follow in his footsteps, I felt my songs would ease people’s pain. And sometimes they did. They certainly helped me to stay connected to him after he passed. I am a great admirer of the choral traditions of the world especially represented by the Estonians who used singing protests to help free their country from Soviet occupation. When people sing together it stimulates our Vagus nerve system which is part of our social engagement system and our calming system. I believe and have experienced that when this happens, we become more connected to each other and more kind—more ourselves The documentary, The Singing Revolution describes how they used their strong singing tradition to create unity. The photo above shows that energy. It is my hope that all of us in our own way will use music and singing to become more ourselves, more connected to each other and more caring of our world. Here are the lyrics of ‘Don’t Lose that Smile” Don’t Lose that SmileFor my tiny legs her house was far across the field But she could see my dreams knew they could be real And when I felt as lonely as a seed in the wind She’d open up her arms and bring the sunshine in Chorus You are so beautiful don’t lose that smile When the world turns it’s shoulder let it go by Cry like the rain if it eases your pain But whatever you do don’t lose that smile She revealed a way of following our feet And how to see what is underneath Then she taught us to wonder what lay beyond the stars And what it is that makes our heros who they are Chorus When she read to us each story came to life Then she’d play those keys and we’d sing all night And even though I lacked the usual grace Round her table every person had a place Chorus It’s a way of listening That gets a growing heart to flower That makes a friendship In a few precious hours Chorus Link to podcast https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-XDVObpEEI
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AuthorKristi Magraw is known for having developed a unique synthesis of Eastern healing (Five Element theory) and Western ways of working with the mind, called the Magraw Method, which she established in 1979. This method uses metaphoric language and release techniques to help people heal physical and emotional pain. Archives
September 2023
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