Speaking Music, Raising Consciousness and Saving the World

An Alternative to a Clinically Oriented Conception of Music as Therapy

by Rick Soshensky, MA, LCAT, MT-BC, NRMT

 

In the Beginning… 

I have been a music therapist for over 30 years, and music has been a defining feature of my life since childhood. I began my professional music life in early adulthood as a guitarist and singer/songwriter, but as time went on, my dreams of hitting the big-time did not seem to be panning out as I’d hoped. I started considering what else I could do. I lived in Brooklyn at the time and found out that New York University had a master’s degree program in music therapy. I didn’t really know what music therapy was or what music therapists did. I didn’t know there were different schools of thought or different approaches in the field. But as NYU was the only possibility I did know about, I decided to make an appointment to talk to somebody. When the faculty member I spoke with very kindly asked me which clinical population I might be interested in working with, I thought to myself, I have no interest in referring to people as a clinical population. After many years as a conventional musician, I spoke music. Labeling people with psychiatric or medical terminology felt like a form of dehumanization to me. So, when we finished our meeting, I walked out feeling this wasn’t for me. 

Obviously, I was able to find a way to get past that initial objection, but I remained uncomfortable with the American Music Therapy Association’s definition of music therapy as “the clinical and evidence-based use of music interventions to accomplish individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a credentialed professional” (American Music Therapy Association, 2005, para. 1). I am in total agreement with the importance of credentialing and training; however, there is also a question as to the nature of the training students are receiving. Veteran music therapists and educators Matney et al. (2024) critically evaluated the current university training of music therapists, writing: 

We are concerned about the ways in which music therapy musicianship has (or has not) … been taught in academic training programs. We believe that in the US (and perhaps beyond), academic training programs may not be training music therapy students to fully develop and value their unique identities as musicians. (p. 2) 

I appreciate that the American Music Therapy Association, its predecessors, its regional organizations, and many dedicated professionals have worked tirelessly over the years to establish music therapy as a legitimate, rather than fringy, field and it is not the intention of this article to disparage that enormous accomplishment, nor am I intending to be critical of any other approaches, philosophies, or techniques. This article is simply meant to question whether the essence and efficacy of music as therapy needs to be perceived from a clinical viewpoint in order to be valid. A leading researcher in the field, Dr. John Carpente, using EEG data to investigate how neuroscience and music centered, relationship-based music therapy practice may inform one another noted that in most cases, a client’s primary motivation is to participate in music, not to achieve some nonmusical clinical goal (Carpente and Aigen, 2019). For me, music was a spiritual and artistic language that could not adequately be understood through a reductionist and scientific lens. As the renowned conductor and composer Leonard Bernstein (2004) characterized music: “No matter what rationalists we may profess to be, we are stopped cold at the border of this mystic area. It is not too much to say mystic or even magic” (p. 11). 

Music, throughout history, has been deeply integrated into the rituals, ceremonies, and celebrations that related to the deepest needs of preindustrial tribal communities. Instruments such as bone flutes more than 50,000 years old have been discovered (Tramo, 2001), and archaeological remains of prehistoric cultures indicate that music was associated with mating, battle preparation, celebrations, supernatural rituals, shamanistic practices, and other survival-related and social functions (Nettl, 1956). Music is a transformer of human subjective experience, providing a channel for our struggles, hopes, fears, and conflicts and raising us above them so that we can live with them. However, as music therapy began to establish itself as a profession in the Western world during the mid-20th century, it tended to align itself with the dominant medical and psychiatric models, a point noted by the esteemed music therapist and professor emeritus at the University of Oslo and the Norwegian Academy of Music, Even Ruud (2008), who wrote: 

Most of music therapy is under the influence of a positivist paradigm, tending towards biological and neuropsychological explanations of human behavior under the influence of music. Within a cognitive-behavioral and sometimes experimental paradigm, this conventional medical model approach tends to align with the evolving evidence-based regime in order to be accepted by the medical authorities. (p. 47) 

Maybe the field gravitated towards this frame of reference in order to differentiate music therapy from that which it was often considered by the medical and psychiatric fields: as a form of entertainment or recreation in clinical and special-needs settings. Popular psychologist Stephen Pinker (1997) called music “auditory cheesecake” because obviously people liked it, but it didn’t seem necessary or important to him. A dictionary definition of the word “clinical” relates to the observation and treatment of disease and to be dispassionately analytic. Can we make music that is dispassionately analytic? I’m going to say no. Can music be prescribed, standardized, and managed like physical therapy, speech therapy, or a medication? Again, I’m going to say no. In my experience, observable client progress arises because my focus was on helping my clients find their unique form of musical expression. We can assess clients’ strengths and limitations; we can determine goals and document salient points of their sessions, but finding a way into music comes first. An overemphasis on nonmusical approaches and perspectives may limit music’s full influence. This is not to say that disciplines outside of music have no relevancy to the practice of music therapy. They may contribute valid and illuminating ways to interpret music as therapy. My inclinations were supported by key ideas of pioneering theorists who had the courage to break from the prevailing conventions of their time, in particular: 

• Nordoff and Robbins (2007) — Music itself, in all its forms, its range of expression, and its structural constitution as an artistic discipline, provide the sphere of experience, means of intercommunication, and basis for progress as therapy. 

• Carl Jung (1969) — The approach to the Divine is the real therapy. 

• Abraham Maslow (1968) — Fulfilling innate human need stems from shifting the focus from mental illness to human potential, centering on the positive qualities in people, as opposed to defining them by their symptoms. 

• Carl Rogers (1961) — The therapist’s role is not to cure or change a person but to provide a relationship that clients can use for their own personal growth. 

• Carolyn Kenny (1982) — Some of the processes inherent in music that can be used for healing have been ignored because of a strictly clinical orientation, one of which is “Music is Magic.” 

• Rudolf Steiner (Lamb, 2024) — Music originates from the spiritual world, helping individuals to transcend everyday consciousness, feel connected with the divine, and experience unity with the cosmos. 

Goals 

Music is a means of nonverbal communication and an uplifting social interaction in which music therapy clients can find freedom and release from psychosocial, neurological and, sometimes physical, constraints, limiting stereotypes of identity, and other restrictive conditions. If the primary function of music therapy is limited to a clinical approach (i.e., assessment, diagnosis, treatment plan, interventions, and goals related to improving functional skills) to address areas that have been determined to be deficient (i.e., impulse control, expressive speech and speech prosody, gait training, eye contact, attention span), it may entail a truncated version of music: perhaps a structured activity or song that sets up a “correct” way to respond, or even less than a song—a repeated phrase or a few bars used as a positive reinforcer or iterative exercise. The focus in that case is not really to play music but to use music as a tool or a stimulus to get to something else—an observable response the therapist is seeking. This may create the appearance of a successful and measurable outcome, but it also may limit unforeseen possibilities, behaviorally and emotionally, in the unlimited expressive and artistic freedom inherent in music. Music is an in-the-moment experience, and it is not always possible to predict or control what is going to occur. Philosopher Jerrold Levinson (2007) argued that a musical experience requires the participant to surrender to a present-focused attention where the unfolding notes, harmonies, and rhythms become the entirety of our reality. 

If the orientation is widened toward developing a musical relationship and seeking entrance into the language of music, we can still maintain an awareness of the areas in which a client may need support or expansion, but we also leave room for all the mystery and synchronicity inherent in music. I have witnessed the phenomenon countless times. Suddenly, through deep engagement in music, a client is “being who they aren’t and doing what they can’t” (to paraphrase prominent UK music therapist Gary Ansdell, 2005). In heading toward the music rather than the treatment goal, we may discover something new or unexpected: the beginning of a personally meaningful original song, a new insight, a previously unseen capability, a higher sense of joy, or a new way to relate to others. Music can lead us beyond the known, the predicted, the cognitive, the verbal, and into a higher realm of consciousness as we provide our clients with the space to expand without agendas, preconceptions, and assumptions. It is incumbent upon the therapist to be as present and flexible as possible in developing this musical relationship by exploring and discovering a client’s preferences and responses, utilizing principles such as: 

• Active and responsive listening to the musical offerings of the client, making immediate adjustments in the development of shared music. 

• Intention aimed at exploring and discovering the client’s preferences and positive responses in furthering the development of musical engagement and a shared musical language. 

• Trust in music, in the self as musician, and in the client’s musicality. 

• Respect for the unique musicality and musicianship of the client, no matter the seeming level or function. 

• Authenticity in what the therapist brings into the experience, including their music skills, background, preferences, and their own vulnerable humanity. 

Jonah: Speaking Music 

Jonah is an 11-year-old boy with an autism diagnosis. He said a few words occasionally but did not use sentences, exhibit conversational capability, or engage in any conventional verbal communication. In his early sessions, he showed interest in various instruments but engaged with something for only a few seconds before moving on to something else. He did not give any indication of knowing or being interested in any particular songs, and his family members could not offer any information about his musical preferences. He used instruments in novel ways, such as tossing a drumstick in the air to strike a drum. He was interested in the electric keyboard but changed patches constantly, played glissandos, and seemed more interested in experimenting with pure sound rather than playing with any apparent musical organization. From my point of view, it seemed as if he enjoyed sabotaging any music I was attempting by playing in a discordant manner more than making any attempt to connect musically. 

In spite of our initial sessions being characterized by this type of behavior, I carried on playing as best I could in a spirited manner with a positive attitude, seeing it all as musical expression, experimental though it might be. I tried out different songs and styles using either guitar or piano, by singing, or with any other instrument that occurred to me or in which Jonah showed an interest (harmonica, drums, boomwhackers, tone bars). I played melodies I thought he might have heard: famous classical themes such as “Fur Elise,” “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” “Jingle Bells,” and popular songs. Sometimes I played them straight; sometimes I took them in improvised directions, melodically or lyrically. I used my full musicianship in trying to interest him. I would reflect something he played, whether it seemed musically organized or not. Sometimes I continued with something I was already playing, even if he seemed to be ignoring it or intentionally disrupting it, so I would not feel too manipulated or disoriented by his short attention or chaotic playing and behavior. He would leaf through music books rapidly, sometimes landing on a particular song. I had no idea if this was intentional, but I played it anyway. Sometimes it seemed to pique his interest briefly. He also seemed intrigued by the concept of time: what time it was, how many minutes were left in the session, etc., so I created or adapted several songs related to time. We also came up with an original greeting song that became “de rigueur” for the start of any session. At no time did I chastise him or attempt to compel him to play or behave in a way more to my liking. He did express an interest in my being “happy,” so if I became too frustrated, I would say (or sing), “I’m not happy.” He would respond, “You are happy.” It didn’t necessarily change his behavior, but I also adapted songs about being happy, such as “Happy Together,” or “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” In general, I accepted anything he did and tried to respond musically. I did not relate to him as a demanding adult or attempt to communicate verbally. I spoke music to him. 

As I was to eventually discover, all this was not in vain. Jonah spoke music. In fact, he spoke it fluently. Over a period of approximately two years, he began to reveal himself as musically gifted. He had perfect pitch and, in spite of not having any previous training or experience, he displayed an extraordinary ability to hear the melodies and harmonies in any piece I initiated. He began to join in, playing complex parts, arpeggios and rhythmic phrases accurately on the piano. As our musical relationship and repertoire grew, Jonah’s length of engagement increased, his disruptive style of playing diminished, and he even began singing full songs! These are the types of goals any music therapist would consider worthy, but they were all accomplished strictly through musical communication, pure and simple. Although not every client is as musically sensitive as Jonah, I have witnessed this phenomenon in many cases.  

To witness Rick and Jonah having a music conversation, go to this link: 

Mitakuye Oyasin—We Are All Related 

Rather than setting up a framework that divides people into symptoms and diagnoses and seeks interventions to accomplish goals meant to address areas assessed as deficient, consider a worldview where no one is broken, unnecessary, or less than anyone else. Everyone and everything come from spirit with a purpose and a meaningful place. The Lakota concept known as “Mitakuye Oyasin” translates basically as “we are all related.” From this perspective, individuals with psychological and neurological differences typically referred to in Western culture as “disabled” might be considered “Heyoka” in the Lakota language. This can translate directly as “sacred clown,” but not in the Western sense of clown, meaning someone comically tragic and ridiculous to be laughed at, but rather as someone whose gift of a different reality challenges the community to see beyond entrenched cultural norms and beliefs. In this way, Heyoka bring new types of learning to the tribe that may be considered to come through a powerful connection to “Wakan,” the “Great Spirit” or “Great Mystery.” This portal to the supreme creative power that is present in everything, energizes the community and helps it to evolve and grow. As such, Heyoka are honored and considered to serve an important role in their tribe (Ross, 1989).  

Daniel – Between Heaven and Earth 

Over the years, I’ve worked with so many clients labeled with various diagnostic profiles from a medical/psychiatric perspective who went on to demonstrate amazing gifts in music therapy, but perhaps nobody more dramatically than Daniel.  Daniels was 25 years old; blind and diagnosed with Autism, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Tourettes Syndrome. At my first meeting with Daniel, accompanied by his adoptive mother, Patti, it was immediately clear he loved music very much. Patti said Daniel listened to the radio constantly and could play a little piano. Although verbally capable, he would not engage in a typical conversation. His speech was full of stream-of consciousness and seemingly free-associated comments and he would cut off the thread of discussion at any time, saying, ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ even if he initiated the topic. At his initial music therapy session, he sat down next to me at the piano and began requesting song after song, mostly “oldie” rock songs or standard folk songs. He would not sing, although Patti said he sang at home. He could instantly locate the tonic on the piano without assistance, and he played insistent eighth notes on that one key throughout the song while I sang and played guitar. He obviously knew hundreds of songs and, as one song was coming to an end, before the last line or two, he was already blurting out his next request. After a while, I taught him to play a two finger chord on the 1 and 3 instead of just one note but he kept on playing staccato eighth-notes in a driving style reminiscent of early rock and roll. As time went on, I found he could play a powerful hard, strong and steady drum groove using a snare and high hat. Soon he was also trying his hand at piano, picking out the melody of any song he chose. He could do this effortlessly and immediately without any practice. Ater a while, he became willing to sing. Sometimes he knew all the lyrics. Sometimes he only knew them partially but either way, he threw himself into the song, singing expressively and with abandon. His pitch, range and rhythmic phrasing were outstanding. 
 It became apparent how talented Daniel was and how valuable this music time was for him, particularly in contrast to the mind-numbing and condescending treatment he’d been subjected to in the day habilitation for adults with developmental and intellectual disabilities that he’d previously been attending. Patti began bringing him to music multiple times during the week. I introduced Daniel to other clients and before long he was coming almost every day, attending individual sessions, groups and eventually doing some public performances. His joy in playing music, his confidence, competence and ability to collaborate as a musician increased exponentially. According to Patti:  
 His whole world has opened up. You can’t possibly understand what you are  accomplishing through your efforts. Music has helped Daniel to find himself through the adversity and handicapping of his autism, OCD, Tourette’s  and  total darkness in blindness. Music truly has given him the gift of life.  (personal communication, November 21, 2019). 

While Daniel’s musical gift is wonderful enough in enriching his life, there are other gifts he has to share. First, a little background – Daniel was born to a poor, unwed mother in an Asian country. Given up at birth, he was placed in an orphanage and resided under deplorable conditions. He was strapped into a crib and left by himself for most of the day with no attention other than the minimum feeding or cleaning – no interaction, no stimulation, no play, no toys. Patti said that underprivileged, discarded babies like Daniel were simply left to die. Daniel is blind because he was born with congenital glaucoma that would have been curable with treatment. However, it was not addressed at all, no care, no medication. But to die a forsaken baby was not to be Daniel’s fate. A representative from a U.S. adoption agency that traveled worldwide seeking such abandoned, disabled, but possibly adoptable children, spotted an eighteen-month-old Daniel attempting to amuse himself with a shiny object that fell into his crib. He was passing it back and forth in front of his one eye that still retained a slight capability to discern flickers of light. The representative thought maybe the boy still possessed just enough spirit and playfulness to be adoptable and so brought him back to the U.S. Luckily for Daniel, he came to the attention of Patti and Peter, a couple that had adopted a number of children with challenges. Patti and Peter were told by doctors that Daniel was severely intellectually disabled and could not be expected to talk or socially assimilate. But also luckily for Daniel, Patti and Peter had an eleven-year-old biological son, Patrick, who took an interest in Daniel. Patrick was not blind but he was also visually impaired and he wanted to help Daniel. Patrick and Daniel became inseparable. Contrary to the experts’ prognosis, Daniel did learn to talk. He was actually quite chatty although he appeared internally preoccupied, frequently talking to himself and making strange, non-sequitur statements. Still, he was friendly, social, spirited and he went to a school that served children with special needs. People seemed to like him and to be drawn to him but Patrick remained his closest relationship. Then, when Daniel was ten, tragedy struck. Patrick suddenly died of an aneurysm. Although Patti and Peter Sr. were devastated, Daniel did not appear to be. Patti noticed him talking by himself in a way that seemed conversational, as if he was listening and responding. When she asked him about it, Daniel said he was talking to Patrick. This was very hard for Patti to handle as she was in deep grief over the loss and, in any case, she wasn’t too sure what she believed about life after death and people communicating with the dead. Daniel would tell Patti things Patrick said such as, “Don’t cry, I’m still here.” This may not sound too convincing for skeptics but Patti also said that sometimes Daniel would ask her questions based on information he couldn’t have possibly known, saying Patrick told him about it. If asked about Patrick, Daniel would speak about him in a matter-of-fact manner, as if he was right there or was away at the moment and would be back soon just like any family member at work or school. One Christmas morning, Patti was sitting on the couch and Daniel came over and said, “Move over Patrick. I want to sit next to Mommy.” “I couldn’t handle that one,” said Patti.  

Patti and Peter prepared Daniel for life ahead by enrolling him in a residential school for the blind. The school also reported that Daniel would sit in his room and apparently talk to himself and, when asked about it, would say he was talking to Patrick. Daniel graduated at age eighteen, having learned essential skills about navigating the world as a blind person but when he returned home, there wasn’t too much for him to do. He was an energetic, happy young man but because of his unconventional behavior, verbal outbursts, talking to himself, self-involvement and so forth, he couldn’t be expected to hold any type of regular job or volunteer position. His mother took him to a day program, swimming lessons, adaptive sports programs, horseback riding and, eventually, music.  

Daniel’s gift touched my life as well. One day when Patti brought Daniel in for his session, she said on the way he kept saying over and over, “I have a message for Rick.” When I asked what that message might be, he said, “Dottie loves Lise.” That’s it; no further elaboration. However, Dottie is my deceased mother and Lise is my sister, people I had never mentioned to Daniel. When I told this story to Lise, she began to weep. She said that very week she had been experiencing a profound wave of grief over the loss of our parents eight years prior and was reading a book by a renowned psychic that outlined methods to communicate with the deceased. She was trying, without success, some of the techniques in the book; seeking a connection, a message of some kind. Through Daniel, our mother found a way to console her, to express her enduring love. Another example occurred a few months after that. I was climbing a mountainous rockface with my teenage son. About halfway up, I realized it was more difficult and dangerous than I first realized and there was a potential for either I or my son to have a serious fall. As I paused on a precipice and tried to manage a brewing panic attack, I realized there was nothing to do but go on so I took a deep breath and everything worked out fine although I was a little shaken up. The next day, when Daniel came to music, Patti told me that during the time I had been panicking on the ledge, Daniel had blurted out (inexplicably for her at that moment), “Dottie is afraid Rick is going to fall.”   

Daniel began passing along other messages from deceased loved ones. He used their names; names of people I never mentioned to him in any way; some of them my grandparents with uncommon Russian-Jewish names. There are far too many examples to recount, and they are too uncanny and filled with information he could not have possibly known about to be happenstance. These include a premonition of the exact future date his father would pass away, a clear and detailed description of a serious medical problem my sister was facing and what was going to happen, information Gerri told him that Joan (Daniel’s swimming instructor) needed help and when Patti asked Joan about it, Joan broke down crying, saying that Gerri was her deceased sister and Joan was indeed in emotional turmoil; overwhelmed, depressed, and lonely taking care of her invalid father. Daniel can never elaborate or answer follow-up questions beyond his initial statements. “You have to understand,” said Patti, “these are things he hears. He doesn’t know what they mean.” (Personal communication, May 6, 2021)  

Daniel also passed on a message from my Uncle Dave, my father’s younger brother. He had been a successful artist, illustrator, calligrapher and painter; fun, creative and much beloved by my sister and me when we were children. Then came the day when I was 12 years old that I learned Dave had been hospitalized and diagnosed with schizophrenia. He spent the rest of his life in a residential program for people with psychiatric illness. Shortly before Dave was completely overwhelmed by his mental illness, he painted a series of eight watercolors which he gifted to my parents. They were hung on the wall in my childhood home and I must have passed them 1000’s of times growing up. Years later, when I started my music therapy studio, my parents gifted them to me. Dave had passed away not long before that and my parents passed away shortly after. Dave’s paintings hung in my music therapy studio. Daniel, of course, being blind had never seen the paintings and I never mentioned anything about them or Dave to him. One day, out of the blue, Daniel said, “David is happy Ricky has the paintings” (Dave usually referred to himself as David even though I called him Dave and he called me Ricky although most people, including Daniel, call me Rick). And then Daniel added, “David wants you to remember it’s his birthday.” I had no idea when Dave’s birthday was so I called my sister and asked her. She didn’t know but said she had a copy of Dave’s death certificate in her files. She found the certificate. It was Dave’s birthday.  

If one believes Daniel’s gift to see beyond this mortal coil holds credence, then it is clear he has much to offer, answering some of the deepest questions of humanity. His imparting of messages to me from deceased family members, mentioning names and verifiable information that he could not have known by any stretch of the imagination, constitutes to me indisputable evidence of the life of spirit after death. What a gift! Is this not the central mystery of all humankind? Carl Jung (2017) emphasized that effective healing is a mutual relationship and both the client and the therapist must be open to being transformed. Daniel has certainly transformed me. It was music that brought us together and if not for our musical relationship, Daniel would likely appear to me as he does to most people, an eccentric and incomprehensible disabled person. His paranormal abilities that reach beyond person, time, space and death suggest that he is a highly evolved soul. What does Patti think about all this? We have frequent conversations and she often follows up with further thoughts in an email. Following one of these conversations, she wrote:  

I believe that Daniel was put in my life for a very distinct purpose. I most likely will never live to comprehend the entire sanctity of the true passage he presents  to me. Then I say it matters not to analyze and purport into my interruptions. I don’t feel that’s important. Others have said it’s too bad Daniel is hindered by  his blindness and his spectrums. Imagine, they say, how talented he could have become. To know Daniel as I do, I say he’s perfect just the way he is. The real  beauty in Daniel’s spirit is not in what he could have been or could have  produced. Daniel’s beauty is in the message he’s attempting to show this world  of cookie cutter persons that he is beyond all those expectations. His gift with music is showing us the comfort and absolute resolve a human finds in being  lifted with such an exhilaration it soars to unimaginable heights. There is no psychological therapy or drug therapy to release the mind into utopia that music  therapy can give us. I find this so evident just to witness Daniel enjoy his time with you exploring more and more of his world. I treasure each session I can  attend with him to give me the feeling that life ultimately does give us goodness and to celebrate each day. In conclusion, I believe Daniel connects to you, Rick,  as you are the direct link to his uncultured talent. Daniel is as a funnel to the spiritual world. The souls on the other side are drawn to this funnel as a port to  interrupt unseen to most in this world. Because you are key to his purpose many will speak to you through him. You are unique in your abilities to find the gifts of  the disadvantaged and to display these gifts on the world’s stage in life. You possess a genius undercurrent to again relate what is unseen by much of life.  Daniel had come into our lives as a messenger to try to heal, if you may, some of the abomination that is around us in daily life. Life is in need of direction right  now. How many will possibly understand the disadvantaged give us insight to the gift of peace? (personal communication, 10-1-2020). 

To witness Daniel and Rick playing together, go to these links:   

Zip A Dee Doo Dah  

She Loves You 

Love Me for Who I Am 

Honoring people for who they are, as opposed to diagnosing, characterizing them, and isolating them from the flow of everyday life, is expressed in the song “Love Me for Who I Am,” which was written during a group music therapy session in an inpatient residential institution. There were 12 participants, and all had some significant form of impairment related to brain injury, psychiatric diagnosis, orientation impairment, or memory disorder. Some could barely speak. Some hardly knew where they were. A germ of an idea started about a better world. People started suggesting lines. My job was to listen and take notes, to give everyone the respect of being heard and having a voice, even those whose voice was one word, a hesitantly articulated contribution from a seemingly disoriented person who, perhaps, is not used to having anyone listen. One line I will never forget came from a man who had been a successful businessman, but following a catastrophic car accident, he was in a wheelchair with a very serious traumatic brain injury, barely able to move or speak. His contribution, offered in a quiet, raspy whisper, was the incredibly understated and poignant line, “Life is risky.” As we fit the pieces together, little by little, our lyrics took form. One lady who could play piano came up with a few simple chord changes and a melody, a Latin-Caribbean-influenced rock feel. And we had a song: 

Love Me for Who I Am 

I may not look like you 
I may not talk like you 
But I have feelings 
And my heart beats like you 

If you take a little time 
Then you might find 
If you get to know me 
You might come to love me 

Though ages may pass 
It must come at last 
When the lion lies down with the lamb 

The miracle is revealed 
And the world will be healed 
When you can love me for who I am 

Ashes to ashes 
Dust to dust 
Life is risky 
But in God we trust 

Sadness will continue 
To play its game 
Until we realize 
That we’re all the same 

Though ages may pass 
It must come at last 
When the lion lies down with the lamb 

The miracle is revealed 
And the world will be healed 
When you can love me for who I am 

Could any song be more socially significant and have a more timeless message? Mercedes Pavlicevic and Gary Ansdell, authors of the book Community Music Therapy, pointed out that music’s “ripple effect”—its tendency to spread outward, naturally attract people, and move them into increasingly wider social contexts—can create links between people and foster well-being (Pavlicevic & Ansdell, 2005). In this case, the song connected multiple people: the clients who wrote the song in the original session and were proud of their accomplishment, those who heard it and liked it at the time, those who learned and performed it several years later, the audience that witnessed the live performance, and those who saw it later online after the performance was filmed and shared on social media with participants’ consent. Peter Jampel (2011), a pioneer in building community and integrating performance in music therapy, wrote that through this process, individuals can experience meaning, identity, engagement, and ultimately belonging (p. 173). 

This highlights another key difference between music and most clinical treatment – the concept of privacy. In medical or psychiatric treatment, patients engage with the practitioner in a personal process or, at most, within a relatively small group, with the understanding that anything they say or that is revealed about them will be held in the strictest confidence. This is appropriate ethical and legal treatment. The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) was passed by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services in 1996 as a federal law to protect patients’ personal health information. If music therapy clients are going to share potentially personal information about themselves in creative work, we must ascertain that they or a responsible guardian have given appropriate consent.  

In music, we move into a wider field beyond personal identity and private pain. Why do serious musicians practice every day for hours? Why do composers struggle to find the right combination of notes, the right style, tempo, and lyrics? Their greatest desire is for their music to encapsulate and communicate some truth, some feeling, that will be meaningful to others. Music is an act of sharing. Its deepest impetus is to connect, to heal, and to respond to the needs of the present time as much as it illuminates the future. Music’s ability to touch hearts and raise people’s consciousness is of supreme importance in this world. Here are a few public comments: 

• “Thank you for sharing. Amazing message. We need music therapy   everywhere!” 

• “Thank you for sharing. You made me smile and feel hope.” 

• “Awesome!!!! Beautiful song and so true. You all did an amazing job. It brought me to tears.” 

• “I absolutely loved this song! The words and your performance is beautiful! Thank you so much. I love you all!” 

To hear “Love Me for Who I Am,” go to this link: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uw7P3foQHrM 

Saving the World 

Inspiring feelings of joy, connection, and acceptance of self and others through music may go beyond facilitating personal growth, well-being, and inclusion. Dr. David Hawkins (1995), renowned spiritual teacher, psychiatrist, physician, and researcher, proposed that all thoughts, ideas, decisions, actions, and events are accompanied by energy fields that not only influence the attitudes, interpretations, mood, and behavior of those directly involved but also move beyond their source and interact with the energy fields of others wherever they may be. In other words, Hawkins claims, thought-generated energy influences the whole of unified consciousness like the rising of the sea level affects all ships.  

This concept runs through ancient belief systems as well as modern physics. The Zen concept of “dependent origination” holds that all phenomena arise, exist, and cease together in a web of interconnected conditions (Gunaratana & Ziegler, 2024). One of the most significant theoretical physicists of the 20th century, Erwin Schrödinger (1967), believed that the apparent separation between individual minds is an illusion, famously stating, “The total number of minds in the universe is one” (p. 135), suggesting that the same consciousness experiences all of life. What we think of as individual minds is actually part of a single, universal consciousness, comparable to light from the same source streaming through many windows in a single house. Another prominent 20th-century physicist, Dr. David Bohm (1980), also regarded the universe as a single, unified field of consciousness that he called the Implicate Order. Dr. Bohm felt that in music, one is directly perceiving and influencing this universal oneness, and Dr. Kenneth Bruscia (2012), among the most eminent and respected authors and theorists in the music therapy field, also contended that music therapy offers its greatest meaning through contact with the Implicate Order. Dr. Bruscia proposed that music expands our consciousness as it connects with personal and transpersonal realms. 

Dr. Hawkins developed a “Map of Consciousness” (1995) that defines human emotions, attitudes, and energy levels. It charts high-energy states such as acceptance, reason, love, compassion, joy, and peace down to low-power, destructive states such as shame, blame, hatred, hopelessness, fear, desire, anger, and pride. The intentions of people interpreting and acting primarily from the lower states of consciousness, including, as we are all too painfully aware, many influential government and business leaders, are ones of egotism, ruthlessness, and ambition that have led to endless conflict, war, and poverty, as well as the ravaging of our planet. 

We are all susceptible to lower states, but that doesn’t mean it has to define our view of life or we have to live there all the time. Hawkins held that making the effort to raise one’s state of consciousness is the greatest gift anyone can offer the world. “Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy,” claimed Beethoven (Sullivan, 1936, p. 193). As music therapists working with music’s capability to uplift, inspire, and enlighten, we have possibly the greatest asset of all at our disposal to influence positive states of consciousness. The good news, according to Dr. Hawkins, is that people experiencing the higher states of consciousness act as a counterbalance to the destructive tendencies in the world. As we move up the scale, the people experiencing and living from the higher states are, quite literally, saving the world from destruction. 

And in the End… 

If we accept that true consciousness is unity consciousness, then music therapy is not only a modality for personal growth, facilitating an uplifting spiritual experience, or even simply an enjoyable activity. In the words of Dr. Bohm, that is not actually the point at all. 

Individual salvation actually has very little meaning, because, as I have pointed out, the consciousness of mankind is one and not truly divisible. Each person has a kind of responsibility, not, however, in the sense of answerability or guilt. But in the sense that there’s nothing else to do, really, you see. There is no other way out. That is absolutely what has to be done and nothing else can work. (Bohm, as cited in Weber, 1987, p. 419) 

With our intention to honor and empower some of the most humble and downtrodden people on the planet, we work under the premise that as we access higher levels of spiritual energy through music, it brings value to every human being and, indeed, to the whole world. The spiritual value and higher levels of consciousness generated through music are a gift to life and a form of love for humankind. Applied from this perspective, music therapy can be an inspiration and a medium for advancing socially progressive ideals, particularly for disenfranchised people: 

• Rejecting systems of oppression and stereotyping 

• Creating life-affirming community and meaningful purpose 

• Enhancing opportunities for social equity and inclusion 

As we can learn from the Lakota people, ancient wisdom, philosophers, and contemporary scientists alike, the correct worldview is one of interconnectedness. There is no hierarchy of importance. Superficial identities are not what matters. As we project our music proudly into the world, we acknowledge and amplify the presence and power of those who might otherwise be marginalized. In so doing, we offer our contribution to humanity’s collective evolution toward higher states of consciousness. 

References 

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Ansdell, G. (2005). Being who you aren’t; doing what you can’t. Voices: A World  Forum  for Music Therapy, 5(3). https://doi.org/10.15845/voices.v5i3.238 

Bernstein, L. (2004). The joy of music. Amadeus Press. 

Bohm, D. (1980). Wholeness and the implicate order. Routledge. 

Bruscia, K. (2012). Ways of thinking in music therapy [Audio podcast]. American  Music Therapy Association. https://www.musictherapy.org/new_amta-  pro_podcast_featuring_dr_kenneth_e_bruscia/ 

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Sullivan, J. W. N. (1936). Beethoven: His spiritual development. Alfred A. Knopf. 

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