The Solution Inside the Song

In the middle of the writing process, challenges always arise.  A melody won't sit right at first, or a rhyme won't seem to come.

When we remain attentive to whatever we've written so far--even if it's just a chord pattern or a few lines of lyric--we might discover that the solution is already there.  When the most natural or "right" note is played, we are surprised that it was right in front of us all along.

This is true in nature and in other challenges we face in life.  A solution is often readily available, easy to access and enjoyable to carry out.  Often the way to find it is simply to relax with whatever good things we already have, and listen for more of the same.    

Struggle

At the end of any given Wednesday night meditation, it's not uncommon for our leader to ask, "How did it go for everyone?  Did anybody struggle?"

There's never a rush to answer.  Maybe nobody wants to admit that they struggled, or maybe they really did just fine, thanks.  In any case, the 45-minute session is over anyway, which is a relief, along with whatever struggling might have occurred.  

Still, Wayne asks about "struggle"--because he knows that it's part of spiritual practice at times.

It's not easy to sit in stillness for long periods, especially if we're new to it.  Sometimes we wonder if we're doing it right, or whether we can keep going.  We may start worrying about the wondering...and struggle happens.

It happens in songwriting too.  We may struggle with the gap between our desire to write a great song, and our ability to write only a fair one.  We may struggle to write lyrics that say something meaningful and that also rhyme.   We may also struggle when we notice a self-critical streak that interferes with the joy of simply making music.

Why do we struggle, we struggle so?

That line, I discovered today, has a lovely lilt to it despite its challenging subject matter.  Intuitively, we know that beautiful things can come out of struggle.  In fact, when it comes to art, tension and resistance is essential.

And yet, it's not fun for most of us.  We want our songwriting experience to be pleasant, harmonious and flowing...and our meditation to be calm and peaceful.  Perhaps our desire for struggle-free anything is what trips us up?

As our leader gently reminds us, struggle is to be expected.  We can explore it without anxiety, instead of denying or avoiding it.  Staying present and focused, we realize that we can hang in there.  We don't have to give up on meditation, or a song, or learning to swim, of making a souffle, or maintaining a relationship.

When we keep showing up, despite the effort it takes, we will come to appreciate both the flow and the struggle...the back and forth that affirms we are alive. 

The next small step

One of the most valuable aspects of the songwriting process is that it forces us to focus on one thing at a time.  

We must make simple, clear decisions.  Which note sounds best in the melodic sequence we're composing?  Which chord creates the right mood?  Every small choice is important.  

If we lose focus on the next step in the process, we can become overwhelmed by the sheer volume of choices available.  Also, we can become distracted by our extravagant hopes for the finished product.  Fear and anxiety enter in, undermining the creative process.  

The same is true of life.  Focusing on the next small step is often more productive than contemplating the "big picture"--as important as we may believe it to be.  For anyone inclined to be overwhelmed by the world's problems, any spiritual practice that focuses on the next small step (note, word, breath...) will support emotional and spiritual health.

Steady achievement of small goals can also, in time, add up to bigger accomplishments, such as finished songs that have integrity and insight. 

Whole lives of integrity and insight can only be created the same way.

That reminds me of...

Sometimes, about midway through writing a song, I notice that something about it reminds me of something I've heard before.  It could be a general mood or a similar riff or an approach or a chord pattern. If it's too close to the original, I change it.  But often I notice that I've built in a little nod, an unconscious tip-of-the-hat, to an artist I admire.

As human beings, we're continually reminded of people we know, places we've been, songs we've loved.  By noticing and appreciating them, we integrate all of our experiences into a uniquely meaningful life.  We do this all the time, simply by being aware of what we value: what we love. When we "create something", we just arrange some of that good stuff and put it in a frame. 

So, next time you pick up your instrument and think...hmm, that reminds me a little of [insert song here], play with it until you make something new...but celebrate the fact that your song is connected to every song you've ever loved.

Open Mic, Open Heart

If it weren't for community open stages, I'd probably still be singing alone in my house.

But I notice, sometimes, that open mics can bring out my "shadow" side.  (Something to do with the lighting in those venues?)

Carl Jung first conceived of the idea of the shadow: the part of yourself you hide from the rest of the world--and even yourself.  The shameful stuff we don't like to see.

When we start noticing our shadow, we can start working with it more consciously.  That self-awareness is bound to help our songs.

Many features of open mics can challenge the ego and bring the shadow "into the light", so to speak. Here are a few:

• Do we feel superior to this singer or inferior to that one?  Compassionately noticing our competitiveness can help us develop humility and self-confidence. 

• Are we impatient, waiting for our turn to play?  When we notice this, we can practice being grateful for the present moment. 

• No time to warm up or adjust the sound system?  People talking over your set?  A golden opportunity for intolerant perfectionists. 

• Your performance isn't as good as hoped?  Are you beating yourself up?  Notice that...and practice being kind to yourself. 

The funny thing is, those shadowy aspects of ourselves may be exactly the thing we hope not to show from the stage.

But even if (maybe especially if) our songs are all about peace and love, we've got to wrestle in the dark with the shadow (anxiety, intolerance).     

Only by opening up to every part of our experience--both the light and the dark--will we truly grow.  

Question and Answer (Songwriting as Magic 8 Ball)

When I was growing up, a friend had a Magic 8 Ball that offered answers to the perplexing questions of adolescence. It was fun to consult the mysterious oracle and see what it said.  (I just looked it up on Wikipedia, and was reminded of some of the answers: "It is decidedly so" and "reply hazy, try again". I think I got that "hazy" one a lot.)  

I think that our songs act as oracles sometimes.

When we pick up our instrument during a time of questioning, interesting answers will come out.  

They may not be the ones we're expecting. They may not give us step-by-step instructions on how to proceed. But they can help us understand what our intuitive wisdom is trying to tell us. 

We need our "left-brain", logical sides to make decisions...but we also need our dreamy, "right-brain" sides.  Artistic activity kick-starts both sides at once.  This is great news for complicated lives like ours!  

I just realized that over the last few days, I've been using my songwriting as a kind of oracle.  Two different songs emerged in answer to the same question.

The interesting thing is, one song is "better" than the other.  It's much easier to remember and sing.  It's catchier...more likely to stick.  

Ask your songs to answer your questions.  Then listen to what they say.  

Blessing Songs

John O'Donohue (1956-2008) wrote that "a blessing is a circle of light drawn around a person to protect, heal and strengthen."

O'Donohue was a poet, philosopher, theologian and Catholic priest.  In his last book, "To Bless the Space Between Us" (a beautiful, kind and inspiring work) he wrote that everyone is capable of blessing others, and that "when you bless another, you...reach below your surface mind and personality, down to the deeper source within you, namely, the soul".

It seems to me that when we write songs that come from our soul, we bless the world they came from.  That is, the Sacred Wholeness that is bigger than ourselves. Perhaps we also bless the people or things or events that inspired the song.

I also wonder...could we bless our songs (or the music we make...or our instrument...) for healing, in the same way that a priest blesses water or bread? 

Could we draw a "circle of light" around a musical phrase, an affirmation of love, a rhyme or a chord?  In doing so, could we strengthen our songs and guide them toward the fulfillment of their purpose?

When we approach our songs this way, perhaps we treat them with the care and reverence they deserve. 

Perhaps we honour them and seek their highest calling, for the blessing of the world.

Our Best Songs

Frederick Buechner once wrote that one's true vocation is found in "the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

I believe that our best songs are found there, too. 

Our best songs are the ones that delight us fully while also nourishing others. 

If a song entertains only us, it may not represent our highest calling. But likewise, if it is only written to please others (or to gain recognition or fame), it misses the mark too.

Our songs must speak to our own deepest values first.  Then they can move, in their own way and in their own time, beyond our personal sphere...to that place of divine connection with others.

We seldom know exactly how that will be accomplished, or when, but that's okay.

It's enough to start with the deep gladness, and the deep hunger we all know, and begin to sing. 
 

Old Song Stuff (or "'Auld Lang Song")

This Christmas, my son gave me a wonderful homemade gift: a bottle of "Stuff Be Gone".

He put a hand-drawn label on a spray bottle, filled it with green-tinted water  and warned me not to spray anything I genuinely love.

He knows me really well.  He knows that "stuff" has always been a challenge for me. (I've written several songs about it, too.)  Sometimes I'm afraid to let go of what I don't love--even if it causes actual problems for me. Gradually I am getting better at making choices, letting go, appreciating more and accumulating less. 

As songwriters, sometimes we notice an accumulation of "song stuff": lyric fragments, half-finished songs, musical motifs and titles. Meanwhile, we might wonder why we haven't been able to finish many songs. We might feel simultaneously overwhelmed and empty...and troubled by feelings of guilt because we haven't "done anything" with our song stuff.

If this rings true for you, this is a great time to start anew. 

Rip an ancient notebook into tiny shreds. Throw away CDs or cassette tapes (yes, some of us still have those lying around!) with unfinished musical work on them.  Better yet, have an old fashioned bonfire fueled by unfinished songs.

After you've burned those old almost-lyrics, sit in front of a blank white sheet of paper for several minutes.  Don't write anything.

Just appreciate the peace--and the promise--of that blank page.

Happy New Year!  

Songwriting is painful

One of the great misconceptions of artistic creativity is that it should be an effortless, gentle and fun process.

In my experience, birth is accompanied by a fair bit of pain. 

Imagine the birth of a song like the beginning of labour.  You know the song is coming...you can sense its shape and energy and movement.  You know it already, and yet you don't.  You haven't seen what it looks like in the light of the world. 

In the final stages of labour (and at the beginning too, if memory serves) feelings of anxiety and even panic may come.  Can I do this?  Am I up to it?  How much more pain and time and stretching must occur before the birth takes place? 

I find that at both the early stages of a song's existence, and right at the end, I often feel deeply unsettled and jumpy.  Sometimes it's hard to eat or sleep. 

Not coincidentally, those are the same feelings that can arise when one is falling in love, working out a conflict, interviewing for a job, organizing a group project, or preparing to walk onstage. Something anticipated is coming, and it's exciting and scary, and it requires my full presence and commitment in order to come out okay.

For all the joy and excitement of bringing new life into the world, it's hard work.  It's often slow and painful and inevitably messy.  That's exactly as it should be.

If you feel uncomfortable when you're writing a song, it's a good sign.

Suspending Judgment

Yesterday I wrote a new song, during (and in response to) a day when I felt tired and slightly depressed.  By the time the first-draft stage was complete (the essential structure and melody in place, the chorus and most of the verses written, fine-tuning to come) it was the end of the day and I was tired.

Last night, when I went out to play, I told a songwriter friend about my new song.  I added casually "but I think it might be crappy".

My friend told me to shape up.  He reminded me how damaging it can be to say negative things about myself or my work, especially at the fragile early stage.  He said it's not for me to judge, and that for my own sake and the well-being of those around me, I needed to stay open and positive.

The truth was, at that moment I had no idea whether the song was "good" or not.  And yet, I felt compelled to to make a  pronouncement.  I have a tendency to judge.  Is it "good" or "bad"..."right" or "wrong"..."this" kind of song or "that" one?

My friend reminded me that judging isn't always necessary. 

Yesterday afternoon, I felt tired and over-saturated.  My state-of-mind coloured my perception of my work. 

This morning, I played the song again...and loved it.

Follow that song!

Recently I've come to the irritating recognition that my best songs are "better" than me.

They tend to affirm a higher calling or value (faith, love, forgiveness, generosity, hope...) that I want to live up to, but can't all the time.

A good song, though, lives up to a higher calling quite nicely.  It expresses its main idea consistently and clearly, and doesn't mess up.  Songs say something like "I believe in you" and leave out the real-life verse that goes, "even though I didn't act like that yesterday morning at breakfast".

Both parts of life's song are true...both the "good" and admirable part and the "ugh, I don't want anybody to know that" part.

Sometimes a little of that embarrassing stuff finds its way into a song and gives it depth and authenticity.  Other times, the ungraceful, messy and unfinished parts are for our ears only.  (And I think that's a good thing. The whole extended play version.) 

When a song lives up to our highest callings, reflecting our deepest values in a clear and resonant way, we must continue to sing it--both for others and in our hearts--especially at the times when we lose confidence in ourselves.  When we forget what we know. 

In those confusing times, we can let our best songs lead us.  They know the way.

Songs and Survival

The other day, at an open mic, a friend asked a question:

Would you be alive without music?

Some of us answered "no", some said "maybe"...but we all understood the point.  For many of us, music (or songwriting, or whatever creative activity lights us up) is a sustaining necessity.

It keeps us alive: connected to life, connected to others.

This is easy to forget sometimes, especially if we confuse "keeps us alive" with "earns us a living".  They're not the same thing.

When we affirm that music (Creativity) provides essential nourishment, we can enjoy it like food.  We can play (eat) everyday...savour every note...let it quench our thirst.

Music is surely not the only food we need.  And yet, it might be our favourite food.  Our comfort food.

So let us bless this food, that keeps us alive... the songs that sustain us on the journey. 

Practice Anytime

Songwriting as a spiritual practice can take place anytime.  We don't have to have our instrument with us, nor do we have to be sitting down in a quiet place with pen and paper.

In fact, when you're in the middle of "something else", your songwriting practice may be precisely the centering tool you need.

Some ways to do this:

- Notice your present experience so that it sounds like a lyric.  "One more day"..."if I only understood"..."peaceful street at night"--whatever arises.  As you notice that aspects of your life could be part of new songs (and you might write them!), you may also start to see a larger "song of life" surrounding all of your life experience. 

- Notice the song going through your head.  It will very likely contain a clue as to how to handle your current situation.

- Imagine elements of your life as part of a song.  For instance, how is your family like a chord? (Which one?)  How is your relationship like a melody (what kind?)  What tempo is your life moving at (and would you like to change it?)  

If these reflections turn into new songs...great!  If they don't, that's fine too.

Either way, you'll start to see your life in songwriting language...and use your life story in creative ways that make for meaningful songs.

A love song to life

Make every song a love song.

It need not be about a romantic relationship.  But it needs to be built on loving connection.

Your song needs to be intimately connected to something (or someone) you care about--something to which you belong.

Your song must be in love with itself.  Each line needs to love the one next to it.  Each chord must love the note it underscores.

The rhythm and style of your song must be devoted to your song's subject--must support it and care for it.

Your song must love its hearer. It must be written in such a way as to honour and bless its audience.

You need to love your song, and your song needs to love you.  Write the song that will care for you when you are sick, be present to you when you are lonely, delight you every day of your life.

Write the song you can commit to, that will commit itself to you.

Write the song that you love singing, that proclaims your love for the guitar, that speaks to your love of language. Write the song that testifies to the rhythm of life.

If your song is not a love song, it will not find its way into anyone's heart.  But if it is, it will live with you forever.

Even if your song is about loss, or longing, if it is written with love and reverence, it will reveal the underlying beauty of the world. 

Make every song a love song to life.

Write the Song You Need

I remember talking to another songwriter who said, "I don't want to write songs that will only be played in my bedroom!"

I know what she meant.  She wanted to write songs that were high-quality enough, other people would benefit from them, too.   We all want to do that.

But we have to meet our own needs first.  (It's like donning your own mask first when the aircraft suddenly depressurizes.)

Taking this approach can have big benefits down the road. 

This morning, as I started a new job, I had a few minutes to spare.  What to do?  Pray?  Meditate?  Fuss with my hair?

Suddenly I knew that the best thing I could do was to play one particular song.  It was the song I needed when I wrote it...and I needed it now.  I'm sure that in the years to come, I'll need it again.    (As it happens, it's also one of my most "commercially successful" songs...which is to say it's made some money and has been appreciated by many people.)

The point is: you matter.

When you open yourself up to the song you need (as opposed to the song you want or the song you think will impress others) the Creative Power is invited in.

Your own needs get met...and sometimes your song meets the needs of others, too.

Even if it doesn't, you will be strengthened by your song, so that you can serve the world in ways you may never have imagined.

Making Life Sacred with Song

When you take any part of life—a relationship, a life experience, an emotion—and frame it in a song, you treat it as a sacred thing.

By framing your experience in chords and melody, by writing about it in words gracefully arranged in rhyming patterns, you connect that experience to the divine process of creation.  

Whatever it is—something pleasurable such as falling in love, or an unexpected challenge such as losing a job—writing a song about it will allow you to be present to that experience in a way that allows for harmony and integration. 

Whether your song turns out to be "popular" doesn't matter. 

Simply by paying enough attention to your experience to respond to it authentically in song--by taking the time to try to write the song well--you will be paying attention to yourself in a new way: through a process that invites growth and transformation.

William Blake wrote “Everything that lives is holy”.  The experiences of your life are holy. 

When we see them as sacred, and use them to inspire our songs, we bring out a beauty in our lives we may never have seen before. 

Is every song a topical song?

Every song is written in a specific time and place, by a particular person.

As soon as the song is finished, the writer has grown and changed. (Remember the concept of wabi-sabi: nothing is perfect, nothing is finished, and nothing lasts!)

Ideally, we want to pay close enough attention to whatever's going on in our lives to we reflect on it accurately and with real depth of feeling. We can take that approach to any topic: whether it's feeding our two year-old or responding to coverage of a major international event.

The details will be different, but the task is still the same: to create something that honestly reflects one moving human experience, in a way that others find meaningful.

---

Last year I wrote the song "Prayer for Port au Prince" in response to the Jan. 12 2010 earthquake in Haiti. In it, I tried to make reference to the current events and historical facts, while wrestling with personal issues having to do with charity, religion and response to global suffering.

Here's video from a concert performance, with proceeds directed to Medicins sans Frontieres.

Baffled Songwriters in Cyberspace

This article was first published on Roots Music Canada on January 3rd.


The word was “rhapsody”.

I was looking for a rhyme for it. Ever since I was twelve years old, I’ve puzzled over lyric lines, looking for the right word to fit into the right space.

When I get stuck, or I’m feeling lazy, sometimes I pick up a rhyming dictionary. I have a pocket-sized hardback Webster’s that I like. But on this particular day, it wasn’t on my desk.

So, in a move that reflects the Internet’s increasing influence, I idly typed “What rhymes with ‘rhapsody’?” into Google. To my horror, I discovered a website with hundreds of rhyming questions, posted by modern-day poets and songwriters hoping to be rescued by social networking.

We are entering a new age. Writers used to take long walks, fill blank notebooks, and mentally scroll through the alphabet letter by letter, searching for the best word to complete a verse. Today, aspiring poets and songwriters type in questions such as “What rhymes with trampled?”

Before I go on, I should tell you that according to the website I consulted , a good rhyme for “rhapsody” is “crap city” . Unfortunately that didn’t work very well in my song. But it didn’t matter, because, thus distracted, I suddenly found myself much more interested in the would-be verses of the online community than in my own ballad.

As I scanned the list of questions, I found myself feeling a deepening kinship with my fellow poets worldwide. "What rhymes with frankincense?" wrote one. (I typed in "common sense", trying to be helpful.) “What rhymes with urbanization?” wrote another. (Hmm…"colonization", "state of the nation", "rate of inflation”?)

Some writers seemed genuinely confused, such as the one who asked, "What is a word that rhymes with both big and wall?". Others were simply asking too much, such as the one who inquired, "What rhymes with the element ytterbium?”

Now, I admit, some words are very difficult to rhyme, and as a serious songwriter, I know how hard it can be to make them work. I honestly wish the best for the guy writing a song about rodeos, and I sympathize with the poet who's committed to 'audiovisual'. But sometimes you have to change course, let a beloved word go, try another idea. For the sake of the song, move on!

I think of the great lyricists of days gone by, people like Ira Gershwin and Cole Porter . Of course they got stuck on words, of course they struggled to find rhymes! They didn’t type them into the Internet, hoping to be bailed out. I doubt that Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan do today, either.

To be fair, it’s clear that many of these anonymous, online rhyme-seekers are children. In fact, they’re probably the same age I was when I started writing poetry and songs. As I look over their questions, I can’t help but think that our wired society is failing them. Wouldn’t it be best if the boy who typed “What is a magical person that rhymes with lizard?” came up with the answer on his own? Is there a sadder commentary on the current state of storytelling than the question “What rhymes with tuffet?”

One of my favourite baffled cyber-poets was the person writing about bonfire night. Over the course of an evening, he or she posted two specific questions: “What is a word that rhymes with rocket and is related to bonfire night?" followed, several hours later, by the equally vexing "What rhymes with colours that has to do with bonfire night”? (Mmm… crullers , anyone?)

O bonfire night writer, ye of little faith! If you are moved to write about that bonfire, you can stoke the sputtering embers of your imagination to come up with crackling words on your own! Instead of consulting Answers.com, invoke the spirits of every poet who’s ever moved you, whether it’s Joni Mitchell or Bob Marley , William Shakespeare or Fiona Apple . They would tell you: there are as many ways to write about bonfires as there are people in the world, but only you can write your poem. It is your own answers you are looking for, and they cannot be found on the Internet.

Finally, to the girl or boy who wrote “What golf words rhyme with Grandpa?” I would say: run away from the computer, pick up paper and pen and write down every “golf word” you know (ball, swing, hole, club, tee…) and every “Grandpa word” you know (tall, strong, old, loves…me!). Connect them up in a way that you like, and see what a wonderful poem you will have made.

Take your time, when you need a rhyme. Your brain is still the greatest search engine of all. It can help you find a rhyme for “rhapsody”…or maybe something even better (“rhapsody” reminding me too much of a Burton Cummings song anyway) as it finally did for me.

The 10-Minute Restart

Sometimes a song gets stalled. Maybe you have a good title line or a hook, and you're excited about it for awhile, but suddenly...nothing.

Your enthusiasm vanishes, the song can't find a comfortable groove, the ideas are flat and muddled. Ick.

When this happens to me, I have to reboot.

That means I put the original idea aside, for at least a whole day. Instead of working diligently on it, I completely drop it.

Then, a day or so later, I devote ten minutes of creative "prime time" (for me, that's first thing in the morning, around 9 a.m.) to the song.

And here's the really important part.

I don't go back my original idea. I start completely fresh, with new chords and melody and rhythm. In fact, I try to make it as musically different from my original idea as I can. (Often I recycle lyric ideas, but usually just the title line.)

Usually in that "10 minute restart", a new song emerges that is much better than the first.

Try it next time you're stuck.