Six Years Old: I had a two-hour bus ride to and from school. Each morning, I would take a seat by myself, settle in, and “go deeply into” the drone of the bus motor. Transcending gears and pistons, I would find myself enveloped in what I can only describe as the sumptuous tones of an immense choir sounding rich harmonies in the ethers. I was riveted, listening intently as the chords moved and shifted like a sonic kaleidoscope being turned ever so slowly. It was fifty or sixty years later that I came to understand what it was that I had heard, and that I was a member of that choir.

Seven Years Old: It was an evening sometime before Christmas. Mom and I were in the kitchen together. As was typical of Mom, she broke into a spontaneous song—“It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” And suddenly, the universe exploded! At once, I understood harmony. I was over the moon. And I opened my mouth and added my first 3rds and 6ths to her melody line. A midnight clear, indeed!

Five Years Old and Beyond: Music had become my safe house, my home, my church, and my clock radio was my high priest. When I wasn’t practicing piano, I was listening to a big stack of LP’s—Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Gershwin, Leroy Anderson, Gordon Jenkins, and every Broadway musical I could get my hands on. Rachmaninoff and Chopin became my best friends. Whenever I was “with” them, I didn’t feel alone in life. Their music let me know that there were others who carried the same intensity of passion that I knew within—a passion I was trying desperately to hide so no one would make fun of it or try to destroy it. But on Saturdays, everyone went shopping or golfing or visiting at friends’ houses...and the space was mine. I would improvise my heart out hour after hour after hour, and the love inside of me was released into the heartmosphere, safely.

Twenty-Three Years Old: I was in graduate school in Nashville (oddly, not in music). My friend, Louise, rented the second floor of an old house, where she had a baby grand. On this particular day, Louise had to go to class. But she generously invited me to stay and play as long as I wished.

It was a steamy Southern summer morning and the windows were wide open, so I was only too aware that the downstairs couple would hear me if I played. But I was young and insecure, and I wanted them to hear! I wanted to impress them with my brilliance, intelligence, and musical sophistication. So, I went at it for two or three hours, non-stop, at race horse speed. I pulled out every complex chordal modulation I could, until finally, exhausted and soaked in sweat, I plopped my head down on my hands on the keyboard, utterly spent…or so I thought.

From beneath the ash and rubble of that musical masquerade, an urge to put hands to keys again stuck its head up out of the ground, like a pesky little vole. But I knew that if I surrendered, I would be outed. The world would know the truth—that my true melody is as sophisticated as a newt. It is, rather, the essence of utter simplicity and childlike innocence. My heart was shaking...and I lifted my hands above the keys and set it free.

Thirty-Two Years Old: I was living in LA, writing and performing my music, and had been working for several years on a musical theater piece with three other very talented and wonderful female singer-songwriters. We had gotten the attention and backing of one of the top television production companies in Los Angeles. But I was not a happy camper!

It had been several years since I had awakened to my spiritual, artistic mandate—that I was to use my talents to give body to the highest of my spiritual vision. And, yes, I was doing that…to an extent. But there were still areas of hold-out. It still mattered to me if I “made it” in the music business. I still needed to be recognized as talented, important, valuable, and worthy of respect and love—“adoration” would be a more honest word choice.

So here I was, on the verge of having those wishes, hopes and dreams fulfilled, and their emptiness was staring me starkly in the face—I didn’t want to be a slave to the need for fame, love or attention any longer.

So, I got down on “the knee” of my heart, and with everything in me, prayed: “Please, let me be a fly on the wall, but let me be a fly on the wall of Your Kingdom.” Apparently, the Architect of Life, the One who had given me the talent in the first place, took me at my word, because it wasn’t more than a month or two that I found myself a thousand miles from LA and the music business, living for a time with kindred spirits, happily cooking and cleaning house. I didn’t give my music “career” another thought.

Then, about a year and half later, with no efforting on my part, opportunities opened up for me to share my music and my self in ways and in places where the gift might contribute in some way—in Canada, England, Japan, Dehli, the former USSR, and various places throughout the US.

Sixty-Five Years Old: I asked inwardly of my Architect, “What, if anything, would You wish to speak through me now?” The answer was immediate. And the new album, “Let the Unknown Carry Me,” is nearing completion. If you wish to know when it is available, sign up on my mailing list on the "Connect" page, and I’ll be sure to let you know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

..."This is a sacred union

This is a holy bond

This is a braided mission

That you and I are on

Not one drop on human want

Will this pure chalice hold

When all we want

Is fed to Flame

There's nothing left

but gold"...

 

 

 

 

 

..."Don't reach for knowledge

Don't reach for gold

Don't reach for anything

To be bought or be sold

For there's nothing to cling to

In the eye of the night

In the breaking

And the shaking

Reach for the Light"...

 

 

 

 

 

..."You are the melody

Of the summer sun

I am the rhythm

That the moon has spun

Man, Woman, One"...