If you knew me as a kid, anytime up through college – and even into my mid-20s – you knew I was a musician. That I played piano, flute, and sang in choirs. That I spent many summers at Interlochen Music Camp. That I chose to go to Oberlin College for my liberal arts education, while being able to take advantage of the world-class Music Conservatory there.
If, however, you and I met after I was already on the cusp of my 30s – and anytime in the 25 years since then – you probably have no idea about my musical background. No surprise: this aspect of me has been close to 100% dormant for almost the entire last two and a half decades.
I say “close to dormant” because some of you reading this do know me as a Vedic Chant student and teacher—an aspect of my yogic practices that have been very active in recent decades. Certainly, throughout my years of this practice, I’ve felt the benefits of my musical background as a solid foundation upon which I was able to stand. And without question, developing my chanting voice has done wonders for my “voice” in multiple dimensions. But still, I never equated Vedic Chant with “making music.” (And Vedic Chant is actually not considered music; it’s exalted speech, a resonant recitation of the ancient Indian texts in a combination of three “notes.”)
Anyone who was on my yoga email list (and actually read my e-newsletters) may recall that back in the late summer of 2020, I did write about the re-entry of music into my life… sort of… at least at the level of bringing the piano out of the closet, literally. This, as a result of several months of pandemic “lockdown” living – and a heck of a lot of clutter-clearing and rearranging of the house.
But at the same time that I was feeling the pull to bring music back into my life, I was also sensing that I did NOT want to play the way I used to, i.e., by reading other people’s music – even if it was beloved Beethoven or Chopin, Taffanel or Takemitsu, Bach or Britten. This vague inner sense became demonstrably concrete when my mother, after learning about my desire to rekindle my relationship with music (and as a result of her own clutter-clearing process), mailed a big box of all my old sheet music and scores across the country to me. I specifically remember my visceral response: “No!” (With all due thanks, I took in the box and stashed it in the newly freed up space in the closet where the piano had been stored.)
No. Something else was being lit inside. Something altogether new and novel. Somehow, I wanted to use my own vocal chords more than any other external instrument like the piano or the flute… I wanted to sing… I didn’t know what. Just not what has already been written.
And so, in this new world that we live in, with ubiquitous online learning opportunities, I signed up for this six-week course here, that one-day workshop there… I began experimenting with the potentials of my voice beyond Vedic Chant and regular everyday speech. I had the luxury of exploring these new facets of my voice in the privacy of my own home (and notably, “on mute” while on Zoom so that no one other than me and my cat could hear!). It was all very raw. Felt exceedingly vulnerable.
And yet, after only a matter of weeks, I found myself on a Discovery Call with Isaac Koren. A second call a week later, that included Thorald Koren. And then suddenly, I was enrolled in a private Songwriter’s Journey with The Brothers Koren. Little did I know, I was embarking on one of the most incredible journeys of my life.
Now, almost two years later (I took my time with this; I think most people on the BK Songwriter’s Journey don’t take that long!), I have two song babies that are ready to be birthed into this world! Stay tuned for more details, coming soon!
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