Tuning the harp is something I’ve learned to love. You have to make it fun because it requires so much time.
Switching from piano to harp as my primary instrument required a learning curve that was unexpected and quite challenging.
Tuning. And for a long time I hated it. Today, however, I can look back and see that it was the endless, enforced tuning of the harp that released my repressed musical self. Comprende?
On Saturday afternoon, Nov. 7, I will be playing with my harp at the “Downton Abbey Tea” a fundraiser for a local library. The event will be held at a local tea room.
Come! Listen to me tune & play & tune again! You’ll love it.
Now, back to tuning. Along the way I stumbled on the frequency debate of 440 vs 432. If you are a musician who tunes you probably know what I’m referring to.
Or maybe not. Recently at the Harper’s Escape I met a very accomplished harpist who I immediately wanted to know better. Later in the weekend, after we had shared a few classes, I asked to borrow her tuner. It really doesn’t take much to knock a string out of tune. However, immediately i noticed that her tuner was set to some bizarre number like 437……I corrected her device, with her permission, and then began to tell her what I’d learned about tuning frequencies. For the time thus far into the weekend she had been unable to tune her harp so that it was in tune with the rest of us. It was beyond frustration for her. I explained what had happened and our friendship was forged. The electronic tuner, like all devices, enable us to create settings that were nearly impossible before.
The difference between 440 & 432 hz is quite an interesting read if you’re interested. You might want to start here.
This Sunday I am hoping to participate once again at the monthly Circle Of Stories. It’s open to anyone and if you want the time/place details let me know.
StoryTelling is a new art/hobby/practice for me and I’ve enjoyed watching the process that I put myself through to get from inspiration to presentation. It’s usually exhausting and exhilarating both at the same time. I wonder why am I doing this. It’s stressful, yet fulfilling too. What keeps me coming back is the creative challenge to be authentic, entertaining, and deliver a message in three short minutes.
I’ve learned that it really is best to prepare. Write things down. Stand in front of a mirror. Practice enunciation. All that kind of stuff.
My plan today for this Sunday is to continue the story that began with the ill-fated cruise in the Caribbean. The ship broke down under a full moon sky and we remained motionless in the hot, humid Atlantic air for more than 12 hours. What happened after that was amazing!
But, you’ll have to come on Sunday to find out!
I appreciate the oral tradition of storytelling. So much more gets communicated than just words alone, especially if such words are simply fonts on a screen. Old fashioned cursive writing on your paper of choice adds minimal, non-verbal detail to our words. But, the wisdom and knowledge that gets communicated through the sound of the voice reigns supreme for not just understanding and wisdom, but also for entertainment and healing.
Thinking about bringing my harp but undecided yet.
I came across this old post and thought you should re-read it now that the Cardinal Cross is here.
Waking up to ice on my windshield on April 15 is a stunning reminder that things are indeed changing.
Wow! Sunday was my first-ever storytelling performance with a harp, and the audience was delighted. I recognized some serious applause and I was told later that everyone was talking about me, although, I don’t think it was really me they were talking about….it was really about the harp. Once again I forgot how utterly mesmerizing this instrument is to most people….and me too, of course. For all the worry, anxiety, and practice….the music just flowed exactly the way it was supposed to.
Chiron teaching harp to Achilles
In the first person, I told the story of Chiron’s Birth and why he came to be living in a cave with his harp.
This centaur, known as The Wounded Healer, is a mythological story that has captured my attention for the past 20 years or so and I’m frequently referring to his symbolism in my lectures/workshops and yoga therapy classes. He’s got a powerful story for our times, for sure. So many of us feel wounded, shamed, abandoned and just plain old sad. I’ve blogged a bit about Chiron, the asteroid, and this post gives a pretty good overview of the astrological Chiron. Today Chiron is traveling thru Pisces which supports healing thru music.
This was the first time, in a long time, that rather than teach or facilitate, I practiced Performance & (intentional) Drama. I was totally unprepared for the sheer joy that I experienced after it was over and thruout the following day. It was wonderful to find a new, creative outlet that brings together so much of what I love to do, and still challenges me in new ways. But four minutes is nothing when your hands are on the strings, you know?
Already, I am planning Chapter 2, and expanding my story to maybe 10-15 minutes? Who knows? For now, Storytelling is a new hobby/activity for me and I am so excited to see where it takes me.
Call it luck. Call it politics. Call it whatever you want. I call it a godwink that I didn’t get a ticket for a moving violation today.
I was ‘cruising’ along a wide open waterfront street in a local town when I spotted the police car. I looked down, and I was going a gentle 40mph on a 25 mph road. Oh! God! No! But, I didn’t get the ticket for speeding. I also didn’t get a ticket for not having my (newly re-newed) car insurance with me. That fine would have been expensive. However, I did indeed receive a ticket, for obstruction, and he pointed to the old, faded, sun-bleached malabeads that have hung off my rear-view mirror for over 20 years.
Immediately I felt saved by the god of my understanding. I smiled at Patrolman P., took the beads off the mirror and then handed them to him as a gift, explaining at the same time that they were a gift to me from a beloved swami and that I felt it only right to pass them along to him.
He smiled at me, his eyes were twinkly, and I could tell he was happy to only serve me with a ‘mild’ offense. He refused my gift and we said goodbye.
Om shanti, peace to all beings.
ps. I put them back a few miles down the road. 🙂