I often wonder if singing, like writing, creates a third space, as is the case of any art that is designed to be shared. And when we sing something beautiful, to someone that we love, we get to dance in the spaces between together- that are filled with love and loss and grief and hope and all the things that make us human. I feel like singing, especially during moments just before sleep, when it is peaceful, creates a thin place.
Thank you for this writing- it is truly beautiful. Much love to you xx
This is beautiful Lisa. It reaches the tender place in me that feels grief over my decision to not have biological kids. As someone with mental and physical health issues, the cost to my wellbeing feels too high. But the grief lingers. I appreciate your acknowledgment that some aches will always be there and that’s ok.
I used to sing Wildflowers while pregnant with my second baby. Now at 5 that song holds a special place for and calms her upset when things are especially tricky. I can remember being 8 months pregnant, singing to her while tears streamed down my face and not knowing why. Your insight that it was both of us being held and lulled resonates deeply. Sending you love and peace today. May you find light and holding in the longing and know how many others are trying to do the same along side you.
Beautiful. May you be the maternal spirit that your heart needs. Your Tears are a physical manifestation and outpouring of love, anointing the time and space🥰
My eyes immediately filled with tears as I read your story of singing to your daughter, as I have a very similar story with my own daughter and your words reassured me that what I experienced was not imagined. I listened to and sang Audra Mae's cover of "Forever Young" throughout my pregnancy. Whenever I would begin singing it to my infant daughter, she would settle comfortably in my arms and give a little smile. At the trill of "may you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift," her brow would furrow and she would make a small, pitiful whine, as if lamenting that the song was almost over.
Our daughters' recognition of our chosen songs is not imagined; our unconscious choice of songs for our daughters is not random.
Love this post. I have a very specific memory of singing this song. I was back
home in Iran doing research for my dissertation and reveling in the generosity of my extended family. One night, which happened to be my mom’s birthday, we went to a dinner party. It ended, as so many Iranian parties do, with everyone sitting together and talking and singing after dinner, over tea, dessert, nuts, and fruit. There was a classically trained singer there and she sang a beautiful traditional Iranian song, hitting very high notes, and bringing everyone to tears. Suddenly everyone insisted I should sing a song for my mother, in English, because that would be novel and befitting my outsider status as someone who left Iran at the age of 6. At the time, I was only starting to understand my troubled relationship with my mother. I didn’t want to do it, but knew I had to, and the song that came to me was Landslide. I sang it, acapella and sober, and my mom thanked me profusely after. It was all a lot, but I will never forget it, nor my third cousin’s husband who hilariously yelled “Hotel California!” from the back of the room as everyone wiped their tears and I waited for the attention to move away from me.
Lisa, my heart is tender today (this past week). I’m so grateful for you and your generosity today. I particularly loved and needed your reflection… “I know there will be times where a part of me needs to be sung to in the ways I sing to her. I know there will be times I need to ask for more hugs, for an extra chat with a friend, for time alone to be with what’s swirling. I know I’ll need to carve out space to feel the sadness of what I missed, of what I still sometimes miss and wonder about. I know I need to meet the bubbling grief with curiosity, with the welcoming warmth of a mother. And somehow, all of this feels much easier, much more gentle, much more doable than battling the desperation for all the hurt to go away.” ♥️ thank you, sitting with you
I've recently started listening to Fleetwood Mac a few days ago and was really surprised that your latest newsletter revolves around one of their songs.
I've always thought that music is sort of like a bookmark to our lives. You discover a song and it becomes a soundtrack of that phase of your life. And then years go on, you hear the song once more, you're back at that page of your life for a short while.
I often wonder if singing, like writing, creates a third space, as is the case of any art that is designed to be shared. And when we sing something beautiful, to someone that we love, we get to dance in the spaces between together- that are filled with love and loss and grief and hope and all the things that make us human. I feel like singing, especially during moments just before sleep, when it is peaceful, creates a thin place.
Thank you for this writing- it is truly beautiful. Much love to you xx
The thin place -- yes. That's exactly it. Thank you 🧡
Oh yes! I think so. A very special space. :-))
This is beautiful Lisa. It reaches the tender place in me that feels grief over my decision to not have biological kids. As someone with mental and physical health issues, the cost to my wellbeing feels too high. But the grief lingers. I appreciate your acknowledgment that some aches will always be there and that’s ok.
That's okay, yes yes 🧡
I used to sing Wildflowers while pregnant with my second baby. Now at 5 that song holds a special place for and calms her upset when things are especially tricky. I can remember being 8 months pregnant, singing to her while tears streamed down my face and not knowing why. Your insight that it was both of us being held and lulled resonates deeply. Sending you love and peace today. May you find light and holding in the longing and know how many others are trying to do the same along side you.
So beautiful, thank you 🧡
Love it!!
Thank you so much for your vulnerability, it confronts mine in an unexpected and necessary way. And I feel a little bit less alone. Love.
Thank you 🤍
Beautiful. May you be the maternal spirit that your heart needs. Your Tears are a physical manifestation and outpouring of love, anointing the time and space🥰
😭🤍
My eyes immediately filled with tears as I read your story of singing to your daughter, as I have a very similar story with my own daughter and your words reassured me that what I experienced was not imagined. I listened to and sang Audra Mae's cover of "Forever Young" throughout my pregnancy. Whenever I would begin singing it to my infant daughter, she would settle comfortably in my arms and give a little smile. At the trill of "may you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift," her brow would furrow and she would make a small, pitiful whine, as if lamenting that the song was almost over.
Our daughters' recognition of our chosen songs is not imagined; our unconscious choice of songs for our daughters is not random.
It is not random 🧡🧡
This gift is so powerful. Wow!
Love this post. I have a very specific memory of singing this song. I was back
home in Iran doing research for my dissertation and reveling in the generosity of my extended family. One night, which happened to be my mom’s birthday, we went to a dinner party. It ended, as so many Iranian parties do, with everyone sitting together and talking and singing after dinner, over tea, dessert, nuts, and fruit. There was a classically trained singer there and she sang a beautiful traditional Iranian song, hitting very high notes, and bringing everyone to tears. Suddenly everyone insisted I should sing a song for my mother, in English, because that would be novel and befitting my outsider status as someone who left Iran at the age of 6. At the time, I was only starting to understand my troubled relationship with my mother. I didn’t want to do it, but knew I had to, and the song that came to me was Landslide. I sang it, acapella and sober, and my mom thanked me profusely after. It was all a lot, but I will never forget it, nor my third cousin’s husband who hilariously yelled “Hotel California!” from the back of the room as everyone wiped their tears and I waited for the attention to move away from me.
This is so moving -- thank you for sharing 😭
Thanks for reminding me of it !
Oh yes! Love those brave responsive moments.
So beautiful and tender, thank you for sharing this precious thread with your daughter. And that song,
“But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older too”, gets me every time xx
Every time 🤍
Flower-loving honey is precious, as also this letter ❤️
🤍🤍
Lisa, my heart is tender today (this past week). I’m so grateful for you and your generosity today. I particularly loved and needed your reflection… “I know there will be times where a part of me needs to be sung to in the ways I sing to her. I know there will be times I need to ask for more hugs, for an extra chat with a friend, for time alone to be with what’s swirling. I know I’ll need to carve out space to feel the sadness of what I missed, of what I still sometimes miss and wonder about. I know I need to meet the bubbling grief with curiosity, with the welcoming warmth of a mother. And somehow, all of this feels much easier, much more gentle, much more doable than battling the desperation for all the hurt to go away.” ♥️ thank you, sitting with you
Thank you for reading and being here 🤍
This is the essay I needed on this Mother’s Day morning.
🤍🤍
This is so moving and beautiful. Thank you for sharing these beautiful words and your experience here. 💗
Thank you for reading 🤍
thank you for these blessings, Lisa. "here it is. How can I tend to it?" is such a beautiful practice. that one's going to stay with me awhile 💚
Thank you for reading 🧡
Exactly!!
I shed a tear reading this today! So beautiful, lisa!
🧡🧡
Just beautiful! 💗
🧡
I've recently started listening to Fleetwood Mac a few days ago and was really surprised that your latest newsletter revolves around one of their songs.
I've always thought that music is sort of like a bookmark to our lives. You discover a song and it becomes a soundtrack of that phase of your life. And then years go on, you hear the song once more, you're back at that page of your life for a short while.
I remember a few years ago there was a viral video of someone singing a beautiful rendition of Landslide in the subway. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x--yddOolRQ
Love this 🤍