Sing it out

lpIt has been years now since I sang in the bass (really I’m a baritone) section of a community choir. We’d got together from very small beginnings , a few folks in a room of a community health project that thought and knew that we felt better when we sang. Not great singing, just enough to suggest to the passing ear that we could ‘ hold a tune’.

The well-being dimensions of the all-ages choir were multiple – regular rehearsals with like-minded souls gave structure to my weeks, the rhythm of rehearsals and concerts (yes , we performed) scaffolded the year. The social elements of the choir brought new friends into my life and a commitment to put something back into the local community meant that we all did more than ‘ just sing’. We turned up at community events, sang at weddings of members and friends… funerals too sadly. We joined up with like-minded choirs across the country and beyond.

Learning new and unfamiliar tunes and styles challenged the voice and the mind, and instilled confidence when , after hours of slogging it out and bashing through the notes, it came together.

But soon it became clear that for  many it had became a life-line, a way of connecting with self and others that was truly unique and effective. Most of us could tell in some way of the way it enhanced our lives.

I was pleased and interested to read then of a  recent research project at Edinburgh University.

It has been exploring how singing together improves mental health. And it has proven such a hit that its participants are continuing to rehearse and perform even though the research has been completed.

In the summer of 2016, HarmonyChoir recruited around 50 singers, half of whom have experienced mental health symptoms. During eight rehearsals, singers were asked to rate various aspects of their state of mind, such as their sense of well-being, how much they were enjoying themselves, their “connectedness” and their ability to concentrate. They also completed more in-depth surveys at the beginning and end of the series of rehearsals.

The project culminated in a performance at Edinburgh’s Just Festival at the end of August, and singers also performed a flashmob at the Meadows during the Festival Fringe.

Findings from the research are currently being formalised, but there is clear evidence that the experience was positive for the singers: the choir has fresh performances planned for the autumn and winter, and aims to continue into next year.

To thine own self be…

via Daily Prompt: Pretend

There’s a huge attraction in being ‘ other ‘ than we are. Who wouldn’t, and doesn’t, want to pretend and step away sometimes from the limitations of the self we create and maintain in our lives.

But in the therapy room I believe that my invitation to the client is to be ‘real’,  to risk the unfamiliar and to experience her/him self as fully as they are able to in the presence of another.

wp-1473372814997.jpgWhat of me in that ? How ‘real ‘am I?  The task of therapy I am engaged in is often an uncovering of reality and the discovery by the client ( one hopes) of new ways of living, confronting long-held disguises or unleashing hidden assets that can be re-awakened for the good. Sometimes that can be a challenging route not only for the client but for the therapist. My job entails being aware of what of my ‘stuff’can get in the way of being fully there for the client. At times that can be tough to notice until you’re in it !

It is said that Freud apparently made some remark about having his patients lie down on a couch so that he wouldn’t have to be stared at for hours on end. I certainly see the value of the couch for some clients who would prefer to lie down and not see me.  At times, what is being spoken of can be done only out of clear sight ( even the client sitting can choose to look at the ceiling or become fixated by that so enthralling mark on the carpet.). He/she may wish to pretend that I can’t see or hear them.

I see a parallel too with the trap that easily lures therapists when the going is tough. I recognised some time back that often when I feel implacably drawn to use some formulaic  or neat exercise to demonstrate the ‘ diagnosis’ and  ‘solve’ the issue , I’m probably avoiding the difficult reality of what is happening between me and the client at that point. Not always of course … sometimes the theoretical expertise is usefully employed. But I know that the danger is always there that I too can pretend that we have it worked out.

Rollo May in ‘ The Discovery of Being ‘ described this beautifully;

The creative process, which should absorb him, transcending the subject-object split, has become temporarily broken; he is now dealing with objects and himself as a manipulator of objects.  (1983,  p.162, pub W.W. Norton)




wp-1473372777207.jpgMy grandfather used to have a saying that went’ if you can’t afford a holiday, change your baker ‘. He had a cheering ability to make the best of a bad lot !

I suppose in these days of austerity ‘staycations’  for many, the reality is that we can discover new things closer to home. Not sure , mind you , if changing your baker works today in the mass-produced world of our daily loaf.

Experiencing the familiar in the unfamiliar, can of course be comforting as well as a smidgeon disappointing. Change is often burdened with unfulfillable expectations, born out of the rhythm of our routine; the internal voice pleads”Please let there be something more out there “.

Clients come into therapy, rightly often, expecting change. “So how would you like to be different, by coming to therapy ?”, posed  by the therapist with an air of gentle enquiry, that masks how impossibly difficult that it may be to put in words. Sometimes, of course , it ( that change) can be stated, defined, practically put, worked towards, achieved and understood.

But even if we can sometimes find the words to describe the ‘change’ we seek, my own experience has often been of  too easily anticipating the new thing I want with with a heady unrealism whilst deftly avoiding the impact of the ancient wisdom that ‘there’s nothing new under heaven.’

Jung said :”The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.”

That’s not about existential change; that’s about acceptance. Living in a new accord with the familiar and the not entirely- comfortable, may go against the grain for some, but it may free us also from the illusory search for the change that will bring about the perfect me.