Barbara Music & Well Being Blog

Hello Braveheartwomen,

Thought I would ask for your feedback on this "at home" recording of a song created by the remarkable team of writers, Marilyn & Alan Bergman and Michel Legrand called, On My Way To You.

On My Way To You

I am starting a podcast. I plan to sing a song at the beginning of each podcast, then talk about the theme of the song in terms of "well-being" which is the mission of my website.

With this song the proposed theme would be, "dealing with regret."

If you take time to listen, thank you!
Much appreciated.
Barbara

SINGING INFORMATION FOR YOU! especially if you are returning to singing after some years in another field...

or if you are a person who has always dreamed of singing better, but only now have the time and energy to devote to developing your art!

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WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO COME BACK TO SINGING?

I have taught many singers who are returning to or beginning to sing more seriously later in life.

One of the problems for adult singers is that there is very little information tailored to this unique life-decision. Older singers have different needs and concerns than younger vocalists.

Here are a few suggestions for those of you who are just beginning to consider a return to singing - as you follow your dream to "sing out" the music that is inside you!

1. Give yourself permission

First, you must give yourself permission to launch this new effort. Think through how much time you can give to your singing passion. Think about how your decision will affect others in your life. Keep them in mind as you claim the time you need to sing. And make a flexible plan about how you will start.

2. Overcome friends and spouse's questioning looks

There is no need to apologize to friends and family about your desire to sing. Instead, involve them in your passion. Tell them what you plan to do and what it means to you. Let me see how important it is to you that you re-discover this route to self-expression. And remind both yourself and those who may wonder about the wisdom of spending your time in this way, that singing benefits both the body and the soul. Here are few examples: read more here

(Please read the full version here: http://bit.ly/aNfU2l)

I lost my brother to suicide when I was in my early 30s. My emotional response to his death was a deep and profound sadness – although I was not surprised when I got the call because Jim was not a happy man. And over the years, he had mentioned the possibility of ¨ending it.¨

But when it happened, I still asked the unanswerable questions: First, ¨Why?¨ And then, that age-old cry-from-the-heart, ¨What more could I have done?¨

WAYS TO DEAL WITH GRIEF
As a long-time professional singer and songwriter, one way for me to deal with the grief was to write a song. Some people might call it ¨grief music.¨ I felt that it was a song of healing. I called it ¨Lullaby for a Deep Sleep¨ – a song about surrender and letting go of pain. It is sometimes known as the ¨Letting Go¨ song.

¨Lullaby for a Deep Sleep¨ really took shape several months after Jim´s death, when my cousin, Cathy who was like a sister to me, died of a brain hemorrhage. A different kind of grief hit me at that time. While Jim had died alone, (he jumped off a bridge in Vancouver, Canada), Cathy, in her 40s, was surrounded by the people she loved. She died peacefully, at her home in the arms of her visiting mother.

¨Lullaby for a deep sleep¨ which reflected both of these death realities, became a song that touched a lot of people who were trying to recover from their own deep sense of grief. Click here to see the music video.

SONGS OF HEALING
I have sung ¨Lullaby for a deep sleep¨ in concert many times. Because it hits a common nerve, I have often found myself talking with audience members after concerts and with friends about ways to deal with grief.

So fifteen years later, when my wonderful husband of 30 years suddenly died, I had ¨lived¨ with and talked about the process of grieving for a long time. And that may have made it easier for me to absorb the loss of my husband and soul-mate, Nicholas.

(Please continue HERE - for the more interactive version of this article...)

Romantic Words & Actions – 7 Tips To Keep Your Love Aglow!

For many of us, Love is the center of life. And when love is not flowing, our days can feel empty & dry. This flow of love could be with a new boyfriend or girlfriend. Or it may be the precious love from/for a long-time spouse.

ROMANTIC WORDS & LOVING ACTIONS
Keeping that stream of love in motion is a challenge that many of us face day to day. I was married for 30 years until my beloved husband suddenly died. And now, 4 years later, I am fortunate to be enjoying another wonderful full-time relationship. I´ve always had a great interest in finding simple words and actions that will give my lover a boost.

Here are 7 things that you can say and/or do to help keep that mysterious feeling that we call ¨love,¨ aglow.

Talk – Romantic Words
1. ¨I am so grateful to have you in my life.¨ – These words are magic. Ten simple words that speak volumes and can mend torn feelings. During our hectic days, we tend to overlook an expression of gratitude for one another as a way to stay close. Say this to your loved one at any time, but especially when something nice has happened between the two of you. These words can deepen the feeling of trust and appreciation. (to read more, go here...)

Hello to all who listen,

I was very inspired by Aung San Suu Kyi's request for songwriters to create music that supports the Burmese cause.

So I wrote (and recorded) this song for her several years ago. I sing it at most of my concerts and talk about what has happened recently in Myanmar.

i hope you enjoy it.

My best,
Barbara Lewis

I used to write personal stories for a web site called, Red Flags. I wrote this story about my friendship with a wild racccoon while living in Vermont...

FRIENDSHIP WITH ANIMALS

How we treat and value animals says a lot about who we are as individuals.As a young girl, I was fortunate to have a mother who loved all forms of life, and a brother, Jim, who, as a little boy, was a nature enthusiast.

When Jim returned from his outdoor walks, his coat pockets were often treasure troves of insects, worms, frogs and snakes. My mother usually expressed enthusiasm for his "friends," even when she found them in his sock drawer. 



The two of them would look carefully at the snake or the beetle and then she would walk him outside to free them. It was a good lesson for both me and my brother. At the time, I thought my mother held mystical powers over animals. Rabbits, birds, frogs, squirrels — they all seemed to be drawn to her. But now I think it more likely that she simply felt a genuine and deep respect for them. And they sensed that.



We had the more traditional dog and cat pets in our family, too. And once, I mysteriously earned the interest of a steer that roamed the expansive field near our house where we lived in the country. He often loped over to the gate where the school bus deposited me every day and stood waiting to be greeted. On occasion, he also allowed me to ride him through the field to our house.



But it wasn't until many years later that I had the great pleasure of experiencing a long-term "friendship" with a wild animal. A friendship that changed, in important ways, how I viewed animals.



My late husband, Nicholas, and I lived in a house built high on a tree-filled cliff facing the Green Mountains of Vermont. On our first day in the 3-level "tree-house," we met a young raccoon that became a big part of our lives over the three years we spent there. We called her Molly.



She often brought her kits (4 or 5 of them each year) over the roof and onto the deck to visit with us. And during those times when she had no kits to feed and educate, she became a daily visitor.
We never saw her as a pet. She remained a wild animal, although she did put up with being bopped on the nose. She eventually grew so relaxed with Nicholas that she would climb onto his knee for a few cereal snacks in the afternoon as they both sat on the deck together, side by side, staring out at the mountains. 



For three years in a row, she delighted Nicholas by introducing us to her latest brood of kits on his mid-June birthday. On the exact day, three years running.



This relationship with Molly gave me precious insight into the complexities of a wild animal's life.
I watched how she carefully taught her offspring both hard and amusing lessons. I saw her ferocious animal nature come to the surface when she was threatened by other raccoons. And the intelligent, probing looks on her face when she was offered new kinds of information to evaluate.



As a singer and songwriter, I was interested in how music would affect her.
While I sang some early, awkward versions of new songs, Molly would sit on the deck near the open screen door with her head cocked to one side, then the other. She was attentive, almost thoughtful as she observed me. Three years is a long relationship with a non-domesticated animal. They live dangerous and demanding lives that require a lot of stamina, cunning and intelligence.



Through Molly, I learned things about nature that were both haunting and deeply satisfying. I have never looked at wild animals the same since that time.

As a first blog entry, I want to share a poem written by a friend of mine who is also a very fine poet, Nadine McLaughlin.

Poems come to her when they choose to come. And she runs home to write them down. She has learned to listen and be ready, but not to force her art. I like the idea of being in a state of readiness for inspiration to appear. Here is how Nadine describes this state:

The poems come,
whenever they
decide they
want to come;

And often on
a subject
about which
I’m not keen;

(But, hardly ever
is the topic
of a poem
me).

They fly on wings
I dare not clip
to try and keep them
near;

(For wingtips have
a point, sometimes,
that I can’t
always see).

They come,
without a warning;
with me surprised
they’re here;

But, if I try
to call one down
from some place
I have been,

Or shape them out
of fabric from
events I may
have seen,

The unresponse
is loud;
and I
am left far out at sea,

Just drowning
in my own confusing
verbiage
debris.

So, I have learned
to trust that when,
(and if),
they come again,

I will know better
than to try
to force them
to come more;

Instead, be pleased
if even one
will spread its wings

and soar.

- Nadine McLaughin