by Rob Hueniken on Thursday, October 29, 2009
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Rooted in the deepest parts of our brains is our love of music. Starting with our body’s natural rhythms and love of patterns, music winds its way through us, to us, and from us.
Everyone loves music — some type of music. And everyone makes music, whether it is a skilled performance on an instrument, singing a bit of a song, or tapping our feet.
Music is the natural joy language of all humans.
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Mitch Miller,
loving the music
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We each have a personal musical path through our lives, woven by deliberate forces such as radio and TV, shared experiences such as concerts and our friend’s iPod, and in the random, spontaneous music of our community. We each experience a unique combination of musical influences, which are entwined with our moods, perception and life moments. So while many people “like” a particular song, the way it affects them and moves them is very personal.
As a child, much of my musical environment came from my parents. My father loved the clarinet solos of Benny Goodman and the trumpet work of Louis Armstrong. In a pre-rock era, these guys rocked, and their music crackled with creativity and energy.
My parents ran a small tourist resort, called Bala Cozy Cabins — 16 cottages on Moon River. Once a week we’d have a big bonfire for the guests in the late evening. When the fire settled down we’d roast hot dogs and marshmallows. As darkness fell I became more aware of the music piped down to the beach by my father. I would pause in my game of hide-and-seek, and hear songs by artists like Mitch Miller, who lead a choir in songs like “You are my sunshine” and “Heart of my heart“. Around the glow of the fire we shared the music.
As a young teen, I remember a Christmas in which my parents gave me a Donny Osmond album, when what I had in mind was Led Zeppelin. In that moment a realization came to me: that no matter how much I loved someone, I would have my own choice of music. My parents respected that, and I believe that everyone does.
Music can be communal — winding us together in shared vibrations, moments and even dreams. But always music is personal — a deep celebration of the world around us and within.
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by Rob Hueniken on Wednesday, October 21, 2009
At the core of our lives are two powerful traits: responsibility and compassion. While they sound like lofty ideals, responsibility and compassion are actually life’s calls to action, built into each of us. We know there are things we should do, and we know when we should be helpful and sensitive to others. Knowing these things doesn’t make us responsible and compassionate — it is acting on these feelings by participating.
When we are young, most things are done for us. Mothers, fathers and caregivers watch over us, and try to give us what we need — both physically and emotionally.
As we get older, we learn skills and develop an understanding of the needs and emotions of both ourselves and others. Life prepares us, step by step, to move beyond receiving to giving and doing.
By the time we are teens we understand the power of action, and experience the sometimes unsettling shift to our own vital role in making things work out. We become aware that there are things to do, and feelings beyond our own that are worthy of care and consideration.
While each of us needs times of rest and self-focus, being active and involved provides satisfaction and a joy of life that is felt on many levels.
As any elderly person with arthritis will tell you, there is a joy to being able to use our hands. Our bodies and minds like to do things, and there can be pleasure in simple chores — even washing the dishes or taking out the garbage. Human hands are wonderful creations, and using them to help ourselves and others is not just their essential purpose — it physically feels good!
Responsibility and compassion are essential for all successful relationships. We live in community, and though each of us needs our private time, being involved with others is a big part of our lives. When we make the shared parts of our lives better we all benefit. The key word here is “better”, and as anyone will tell you, “better” doesn’t happen on its own — making things better takes action; it takes effort.
There is a special, intense feeling of joy when we bring a smile to others. Some of the best smiles result from sharing a moment of appreciation, celebrating our shared efforts. It is a smile that says “We are doing this together“.
When times are tough, knowing that someone cares brings strength and hope, but when someone takes action we see our situation improving, and that is a powerful inspiration for people. Seeing progress — even a slow, small bit — can be like a train starting to move out of the station. It is exciting even if it is mundane, because action moves us forward.
Each of us has personal goals, and knows how good it feels to have something we care about work out. The same positive feelings are experienced for the goals we help others with. In fact, helping others can feel even better than helping yourself.
While ideas and knowledge are good things, it is the doing of things that makes life good.
There is a happy middle ground between exhaustion and idleness, and between servitude and insensitivity — it is being responsible and compassionate.
When we share in what needs to be done — helping each other, and being sensitive to each other’s feelings — we can get the right things done. We can help things work out.
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by Rob Hueniken on Monday, October 19, 2009
Stepping into my father’s workshop always takes me back in time. Not only are my parents collectors of memorabilia, but they continue to make good use of the things they already have. So when I look around my father’s garage I see tools that have existed since I was a boy, including a vice, a band saw, and various ancient screw drivers.
While my mother prepared our lunch, my father showed me his latest project – to add a second door to the front hallway, to keep the cold air out, but with a window to keep the light flowing in. Their front door already has a window in it, so a second door with a window would let my parents keep the natural light.
Being a resourceful person, my Dad took an unused door, removed a wooden panel, and was busy inserting a Plexiglas window into its heart. It was at this stage of the project that I arrived – to help my Dad nail in the Plexiglas.
As he prepared to starting hammering, a big smile came to my face – he was using the same finishing hammer that I had used as a boy. It was a bit more worn now, but it was still the same light-weight hammer I had used, before I was strong enough to use a regular hammer. But in my Dad’s case, he knew that this job required a finishing hammer, so that is what he was using.
My role turned out to be supplying my father with one inch finishing nails, one at a time, while he hammered them carefully into place. He has a steady, practiced hand and not once did he bend a nail or dent the door with an errant hammer blow.
As I watched him working carefully and skillfully, I remembered my own hand on that hammer, and him helping me on projects. To be working together, with the simple job of handing him the next nail, was a sublime and satisfying joy – one that transcended the moment — connecting the two of us through years of building and sharing time together.
One hammer but many moments together – the joy of working side-by-side is not secondary, but the most important product of my father’s hammer.
If you enjoyed this article, please read my poem about cleaning my son’s workshop area.
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