music

Leaves floating downstream

When my daughter gets a song stuck in her head, for whatever reason, listening to the song on the radio helps free her mind of the song. So quite often I hear her voice from the backseat of the car saying, “Daddy. [insert song title] is stuck in my head. Can you play it?” She tends to be extremely sincere and generally honest, so I at least believe that the song is stuck in her head, but I’m not entirely sure whether this trick of playing the song to get it out of her head actually works or not, or if she just uses this as an excuse to ask me to play the song for her.

Either way, I typically humor her. I don’t mind playing music she likes while I’m driving. It helps me understand her a little better and it’s an opportunity for us to bond. There are times, however, when I simply want to listen to my music, either because I’m simply not in the mood for hers or because I want to expose her to something new. She tends to be fairly understanding, at least as understanding as a child can be, and it gives us a good reason to talk about music, which is something I have always enjoyed. 

Tonight, maybe I simply wasn’t in the mood to listen to the song she said was stuck in her head or maybe I was just being stubborn, but when she asked me to play a song to relieve her of the torture of it running through her mind, I said no. But I wasn’t being cruel. I turned it into a conversation about intrusive, obsessive thoughts, something I have struggled with for as long as I can remember, and a healthy way I have learned to manage, or even transcend them. 

When she told me that the song was stuck in her head and she couldn’t make it go away, I explained that I have the same problem sometimes. In fact, we all have minds that often seem like they are entirely out of our control. Even when we want them to be quiet, they simply won’t and we live with the constant chatter of hope, worry, anger, fear, frustration, excitement, anticipation, shame, regret, etc. running through our minds. Sometimes it is so loud and chaotic that it almost seems quiet, but it is anything but. 

We think about the past, the future, and all the things that have happened, could have happened, may happen, or may never happen, and we are rarely, if ever, simply at peace in the present moment. This, I explained to her, is one of the reasons I meditate every day. “Really?” she asked. “Yes, dear,” I replied. “When I don’t meditate, my mind races, obsesses, and does all sorts of crazy stuff to drive me crazy. Meditation helps to quiet my mind down a bit, or at least makes me less susceptible to getting carried away with the thoughts that bombard me from every direction.” 

I then explained that, in the style of meditation that I practice, known as centering prayer, I pick a simple word that I can repeat whenever my thoughts become intrusive or my mind wanders. I sit quietly and, when thoughts arise, I simply say the word in my mind as a way to let the thoughts go. I don’t try to fight the thoughts or deny them. Rather, I acknowledge them with my word, and let them gently go on their way. “It doesn’t matter how many thoughts arise or how often, I explained, only that I return to the practice of repeating my word every time I need to return to center.” 

Intrigued, she started throwing out some words she might be able to use to release the song in her head. At first, she chose “Stop,” as her word, but then I explained that it’s preferable to use a word that is softer and less of a command. “Remember,” I said, “The goal is not to resist the song, only to free yourself from it.” “Please” was the next word she chose. “That’s closer, dear, but it’s still engaging your thoughts. What we want is a word to remind us to let the thoughts go, not to directly engage our thoughts.” 

“Here’s a visualization I once heard,” I said, “That has helped me better understand the practice. Imagine your mind is a stream. It’s cool and calm, with the water quietly flowing by. On top of the water are fallen leaves. These leaves are your thoughts. As they float down the stream, you will be tempted to hold onto them or to follow them, but the goal is to let them be, to simply acknowledge them and let them continue to float downstream. Your word is there to remind you to let the leaves go and to keep your mind on the stream itself.” 

As I explained this all to her, it occurred to me that it may be a bit much for her to comprehend. After all, it’s a bit much for me to comprehend and I’m the one practicing it. But then I realized that, even if she doesn’t understand or utilize this practice now, it’s something she can recall when she is ready. I merely planted a seed, a seed I wish was planted for me earlier in my life, but which I am grateful to have received when I did. 

We pulled up to our home and unloaded the car. I went upstairs to take a shower after jiu-jitsu class while my daughter sat down to eat. After my shower, I came down to eat and my daughter, now done with her dinner, went upstairs to get ready for bed. After she showered, brushed her teeth, and read for a while, my wife tucked her in and turned out the lights. As she lay in bed, from downstairs I could hear her every few minutes saying a single word. “Leaf,” she said and then some time would pass. “Leaf,” and some more time would pass. “Leaf,” she said again, until eventually she fell asleep. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Art won’t make itself

The thing about art is that you have to do it. The painting won’t paint itself. The song won’t play itself. The book won’t write itself. The dessert won’t cook itself. You have to do it. 

And it’s not easy. It’s not easy to do well. It’s not easy to make good art. It’s even more difficult to make good art and to find an audience for that art. 

But if you don’t make it and you don’t share it, no one will ever see, hear, taste, or feel what you have to offer. It will just stay in your head and that is where it will die.

So do something. Make something. Make something terrible. Make lots of terrible things. Keep doing it until you get better. 

When you feel like your art is halfway decent, like it even somewhat resembles that which you were aiming for, share it. Don’t wait to share your art until it is perfect. It will never be perfect. Share it when it is shareable. 

Then, make more art. The more art you make and the more art you share, the better your art will become. There are no shortcuts. Your art isn’t going to make itself. 

Sound like yourself

My favorite bands don’t sound like anyone else. They sound like themselves. 

The music I like the most, the first time I heard it, I wasn’t so sure. Nothing in my previous experience had prepared me for it. It was unusual, somewhat foreign, and sometimes even quite jarring. 

Sometimes it took me a while to settle into it, to get comfortable with it, and to hear the beauty and the truth in it. 

That’s the thing about new ideas. In the beginning, they have no audience. They can’t have an audience because they are new. They haven’t been heard or experienced before. 

It’s difficult to relate to new ideas. Something about them feels off. They make us uncomfortable. But if they are true and we give them a chance, they will change us. 

Music changed me. A thousand times over, it turned my inner life upside down and transformed me into someone new, someone I would and could never be if I hadn’t experienced it. 

I can say the same about books, paintings, films, poems, and even certain meals. 

When someone creates something, and they do so with love, truth, and conviction, it is transformative. It has the power to change the lives of those who experience it.

This is why it is so important to share your art. Even if it is nothing special to you, if it comes from your heart, if you mean it, and it is uniquely your own, you never know who will be moved by it. 

Remember, the best music doesn’t sound like something else. It sounds like itself, like the person or people who created it. For this reason, the best art is a courageous act. 

So act bravely and make art that sounds like you. We may not understand it at first, but we may come to thank you for it later. 

My daughter wrote a song today

My daughter and I listen to a lot of music together. Some of it is music that I like, some is music that she likes, and some is music that we both like. I’m just happy that she is open to hearing new music, new to her at least. 

Whether it be funk, soul, or rock-and-roll from the 60’s and 70’s, hardcore punk from the 80’s, hip hop from the 90’s, or some obscure avant garde artist that I learned about from listening to Henry Rollins’ radio show on KCRW, she will give it a chance. That doesn’t mean she likes it or that she doesn’t ask for her music, but she listens. Every once in a while she will even ask me to add one of my songs to her playlist. 

She also asks me about the artists from time to time. Who are they? What are their names? Where are they from? She loves the story of Ian MacKaye and Henry Rollins growing up together, being inspired by Bad Brains, and becoming punk legends in their own right. Her favorite part of their story is how Henry Rollins started as a fan and eventually became the lead singer for his favorite band, Black Flag. She loves hearing about it I love talking to her about it.

I hope that my daughter is as moved and inspired by music as I was and am because, when I had no one else and nothing else, I always had a song for the occasion. Music, more than any other art form, has always kept me company. It has made the lonely times less so and the happy times more so. I hope that my daughter finds a friend in music like I did, but she wrote a song today so I’m pretty sure she already has.