Laughter filled my body as I fell back along the rough, hard concrete. Licking my last bit of ice cream, I looked over at my friend Katie laying next to me. The cobalt, calm Lake Okoboji was sitting at our feet, dancing to the rhythm of the wind. Our stomachs ached from a combination of all of the food we had consumed and the nonstop giggles from the entire evening. Pedestrians passing by were carefully stepping over us and probably thought we were insane. We didn’t care though, because we were having the time of our lives. Singing our favorite songs in our screechy loud voices next to my favorite person was something that never gets old. I snapped my head to my right to examine this human being who, within such a short amount of time, had
“Most people go to their graves with their music still inside them.” The idea was expressed by George Bernard Shaw and I found it in Barbara Mcafee’s book “Full Voice”. In my 20s, I was hunted by the conclusion that I have a Stradivarius but I don’t know how to use it. Years later, questions as What is my music? and How do I best introduce it in the world? still mark my existence. This is a universal human problem or wonder. Many of us feel the need to bring into the world what we have inside, to be authentic, to grow. Have a voice, give voice to your passions, give voice to your dreams, raise your voice, are all beautiful prompts. How do we do that, though? I searched for answers and I compiled information offered by 4 Ted Talk speakers on the subjects of voice and the better use of it. I also include information from one of the speaker’s book, Barbara McAfee’s “Full Voice”.
You know the feeling when everything’s perfect, and suddenly your heart just stops? The 1 hour 48 minute drive to Lake Ontario was just like any other. Movie playing, siblings arguing, music blasting. My family hosts our annual 4th of July party up by Cape Vincent. With the warm air filled with the scent of the grill, and the sounds of laughter and music,that weekend was turning out to be just like the rest. Or at least that’s what we thought. 1311 Failing Shores Lane was never quiet during any of the previous events, but for some reason a dead silence draped over the lot.
On Tuesday, October 17, 2017, I attended a musical concert. This was the first time I had ever been to a concert and did not play. The concert was not what I expected. I assumed I was going to a symphony that featured a soloist clarinet; however, upon arrival I quickly realized that my previous assumptions were false. My experience was sort of a rollercoaster. One minute I was down and almost asleep; next I was laughing; then I was up and intrigued.
At the start of the afternoon, everybody just wished they were at the beach. By the end, all we could think about was how much fun we had playing board games. After Mom won for the hundredth time, we decided it was time for dinner. The smell of hotdogs and hamburgers floated throughout the house. Laughing, talking, more laughing, and even more talking echoed around us.
SWISH! I turn my head to the right with a grin and see my mom cheering as I scored my first points of the season. The last game of the season I scored my first points of my middle school basketball “career.” Now sit back and relax as you read the story of how I got my first points in middle school basketball.
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
Last quarter we discussed the massive emotional power it has, and how it allows people to experience emotions in a safe space. In Musicophilia, Sacks stresses music’s helpfulness in organizing thoughts. Patterns and rhythm make it easier to remember most things; such as when bards use the action of playing specific tunes and melodies to first memorize, then call upon knowledge. Furthermore, both presentation and participation music serve a purpose in society. Participatory music is organized for togetherness. It’s structure and tendencies create a collective identity and build a desired sense of “us.” While presentational music isn’t as enabling for community it has other benefits -- although community can be found between those watching and experiencing the music. The indiviual(s) performing are a part of a stratified society in which praise is assigned to musical people who understand the dynamic between the audience and performer. The main goal of presentational music is displaying achievement and celebrating individualized talent. By the performer receiving accolades, and the audience experiencing together, both benefit
Using narratives to gain an insight into human experience is becoming an increasingly popular method of exploration. Assuming that people are in essence narrative beings that experience every emotion and state through narrative, the value of exploring these gives us a unique understanding. Narrative is thought to act as instrument to explore how an individual constructs their own identity (Czarniawska, 1997) and explain how each individual makes sense of the world around them (Gabriel, 1998). It may also give us an understanding into individual thought processes in relation to individual decision making practices (O’Connor, 1997). It is evident from studies such as Heider and Simmel (1944), that there appears to be an instinctive nature in people to introduce plots structures and narratives into all situations, with an intention to construct meaning to all aspects of life in its entirety. The value of narrative is that it is a tool that allows us to understand what it means to be human and gives us an insight into a person’s lived experience whilst still acknowledging their cultural and social contexts. Narrative is thought to be significance as it is ‘a fruitful organizing principle to help understand the complex conduct of human beings (p.49)’ (Sarbin, 1990) The construction of a person’s narrative is thought to be dependent on each person’s individual awareness of themselves and the circumstances that surround them. However, a debate to whether a person is able to formulate a valid narrative in the face of a mental illness such as schizophrenia has emerged. Sufferer’s symptoms are often thought to interfere with their abilities to perceive within a level deemed acceptable to their society’s norms and therefore the validity ...
She stared at me for a long time, watching me wipe my endless tears away with the sleeve of my jacket, saying nothing until I had settled down. I looked up at her, my eyes were blood shot from crying and my hair ran down the side of my face limply. She gave me a worried look and said, “Esther… I need you to be strong now, your mom has a mental illness, and needs special care. You now have to live with another mommy. I am Ms.Banulous, your social worker.” From that moment, my life began again.
me of how powerful music is. As soon as we starting singing while we were putting up
I twirled in circles as the crystal-clear, waist-deep pool water speckled my body. Cradled in my slender arms was my 6-year-old cousin. Delighted giggles escaped her lips as her coffee-colored eyes met my gaze. I smiled back in return, and asked quietly, “Can you hear the water, Brooke? Listen!” I paused from spinning and brushed the transparent water back and forth with my cupped hand. She stood still a moment, and then copied my hand motions. An amiable grin spread across her charismatic countenance. At that moment, under the immense clouds and soft, spectacular sunset, I knew this was going to be a day she would never forget.
As we all waited in line to go into the concert there was a thrill of excitement in the air. I was standing there with two of my friends. when we saw a few other people we knew. " Hey, come over here!" I bellowed.
At first the shock of the water is electric and thrilling. I plunge deep down into the cold water momentarily held in by it’s belly. The water envelope’s my skin and there’s a brief silence that I find calming where everything stops, thought’s stop, it’s only me in the deep blue water; an empty envelope that doesn’t need to think, to move, to talk, or to explain. My mind respond’s to the feeling of being underwater. The bone-crushing pressure of gallons upon gallons of water, the way my lungs feel like their suffocated, and bursting. The way my brain beats pounding on my skull, the way my heart almost jumps out of my skin with the adrenalin rush I’m experiencing along the way. As I fight for the surface all while feeling void and alone with merely only all my thoughts amplified to their fullest extent that merges with the water, with not drowning being the loudest of noises and then I submerge with a huge gasp for air. I’m breathing, I’m fine and I’m very much alive. After coming to my senses I swim back to shore, all of us are laughing and joking about how stupid, reckless and brave we are. It was the best night that we’d never forget, a night that lets us all live our lives’ fearlessly and forever that night would stay in our memories not for the company but for everything we felt that
It was dark that night, I was nervous that this dreadful day was going to get worse. Sunday, October 23, 1998 I wanted to start writing this to tell about the weird things i’m starting to see in this new neighborhood. Gradually I keep seeing pots and pans on the sink suddenly move to the floor. I would ask my sister but she is out with my mom and dad getting the Halloween costumes. When they got home I didn’t tell them what I saw because i've seen Halloween movies and I have to have dissimulation otherwise the ghost will come out and get me first. October 24, 1998 I think I got a little nervous yesterday with the whole ghost thing. 12:32pm, Went to eat lunch with the family today and I go to get my coat. I heard the words furious and madness,
Then audience members who were perfect strangers who were screaming loudest would turn to each other with knowing glances and smile because they were sharing the same excitement and connecting with one another over their love of this man’s music. There was no pushing or shoving to get closer to the stage – it wasn’t that kind of crowd. Instead, there was mutual respect for one another’s space within the confines of the too-small venue. Nobody wanted to be the person who ruined it for someone else. It was this respect that made the audience members’ connections with one another that much stronger – we were all here to listen to this wonderful man’s music and see his performance – and, of course, we were here to enjoy it.