Reclaiming Narratives

Working as the Resident Musician in a hospital has its unique rewards and challenges. I’d already had a lot of experience helping young adults write group compositions as a facilitator, and having a background in jazz I am used to collective improvisation with other musicians and spoken word artists to create new music on the spot. 

 

However, the people who made up the hospital community at St Georges and Queen Mary's hospitals where I worked were not there for the sole purpose of taking part in creative health workshops or to develop their songwriting skills. The hospital really does represent the general public, and tragically most people do not consider themselves a creative person. A lot of people think that music, poetry and art is just not something they do. There’s an assumption you can only do that sort of thing if you’re a professional. And here I was showing up to their hospital bed or waiting room asking them if they wanted to do some music or try writing a song together! (I mostly performed music to patients and staff, but I was always aiming to get them involved with creating if possible). 

 

If someone did say yes to my surprising request to make music together, I'd let them lead the session, aiming to help them find that perfect intersection of curious yet comfortable. Children especially might dive into the process. When we are small, it seems our creativity comes as naturally as breathing, and is just another way that we play. They'd start telling me stories about unicorns or baked beans and we'd be off on a songwriting adventure, singing about fantasy worlds or what they wanted for lunch. 

 

As many people grow up, most of us “grow out” of this inherent creativity, this unbounded expression of ours. We think that it “isn't for us”. That is, unless we decide to make it part of our whole identity, maybe pursuing it professionally, adding it to our Linked-In and tax returns. But if we are doing it professionally, most of us are not approaching it in a way that feels unguarded and free, and we’re probably not able to write songs about baked beans and unicorns.  

 

To help adults get back in touch with their inner artist I had a special tool to help me: a magnetised board with words stuck to it. Much like fridge magnets the words could then be arranged into different sentences. The vocabulary was limited to only a few hundred words, and only 100 or less could fit on the board at one time. The rest I could fish through in a plastic file, which would be a nightmare when I dropped it and all the words fell out. It was worth it though, as when I gave people the board and the words to fish through they would slowly find words that appealed to them. Maybe “autumn”. Maybe “blue”. And they would slowly piece together a sentence, and then another one. Sometimes that was all the creative prompt they needed and they would start saying more phrases. I’d write their stream of consciousness down in my notepad, after which I might stare at it for a second and quickly try and improvise a verse or chorus. Accompanied by a few simple chords from my guitarlele (a cross between a guitar and a ukelele, perfect for being portable and audible), I’d be able to make up a quick structure and melody and then sing them the song we had just written together. In the best case scenario, they might feel confident right away to sing their own song. In this way, they had been able to make their own mantra. 

 

In my background as a sound healer, mantras are very important. Mantra are repetitive sounds or phrases that we sing to bring beneficial effects to ourselves and others. They are found in cultures throughout the world, and I’ve studied practices originating from India, Tibet and Africa, stemming from three different major world religions. When chanted in community, mantra can be important for rituals where the collective energy of chanting is hoped to create certain effects. There are mantras for strength and mantras for peace. But universally, mantras are a healing tool. Mantras have been developed for specific bodily organs or systems and to treat certain conditions. 

 

Therefore, finding your own mantra to repeat can be very powerful. At its etymological root, mantra means “tool for the mind”. It can set the mind on a new path, like affirmations or positive words we say to ourselves. I remember one particularly touching session for me with a patient in the Oncology department receiving chemotherapy. While she was attached to the drip and physically restricted from movement, she wrote about dancing and being free, and was able to sing her new song with so much joy.  

 

What I started to learn was that often, while my personal agenda might be to persuade people into writing brilliant works of music and poetry, sometimes the greatest benefit I could give them was a listening ear. When listening to patients at the hospital I really wanted to know how they felt, what was important and dear to them, and what sparked their joy. These are the things that fuel artists to create something meaningful and to share from their soul. As a songwriter, I realised that during my creative process I am listening deeply to how I feel to try and pull up some beautiful poetic jewels from my well of human experience. Whether we express it through artistic expression or conversation (and some artists might argue they’re one and the same), we as humans have a deep need to be really seen and really heard as we are. Even if we are in a hospital bed, dressed in a blue and white patterned unisex hospital gown and bright red crippy socks, there is so much about every one of us that makes us uniquely who we are. We are a whole person, defined by our relationships and experiences and hopes and dreams, and definitely not defined by any illness that may cause us to be hospitalised. And it feels very healthy to express that, whether it is through being prompted to write a song or poem or just through a long conversation with someone who is really listening. Because being truly seen and heard for who you are is one part of what it is to love someone. And don’t we all know that love heals? 

To find out more about Arowah's work please visit: musicalmeditation.co.uk