A DEEP, DARK EMPTINESS IS THERE

Posted on December 9, 2010 by Judy

It took me over a month to gather my thoughts in order to reply to the comment below:

Comment on Post #61 WHAT IS MOST HELPFUL

Judy, you wrote:

“The only people I wanted to be with were those who were grieving too.”

While I know that someone who has not experienced a significant loss can sympathize with someone who has, do you think they can truly empathize? Did you ever find someone who understood what you were going through if they didn’t experience it for themselves? Sam

Hi Sam,

Thank you for your thoughtful comment. I’ve decided it’s worthy of a thoughtful response. I am going to write another post about grief.

Judy

Does true empathy in grief exist?

Empathy is a word that is very close to sympathy. I looked up the definition, and empathy means “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.”

I have often suggested that it is helpful for people who are grieving to seek out other bereaved people with similar circumstances in order to find understanding of the anguish being experienced.

When I was involved with Compassionate Friends, many bereaved parents complained about the lack of empathy over and over and over again. They were searching for it and not finding it.

I wonder if other bereaved parents would agree with me on what I am about to write.

So here is my truth (and my truth alone because grief is unique to every person):

I have finally decided that my answer is a resounding no, since it was impossible for anyone to comprehend my level of pain after Jason died – even if they had also lost a child!

I hated to write that sentence above. However, it just wasn’t possible for me to find empathy from anyone, even people who had experienced loss in their life!

I really felt no other human could understand the pain of my loss. They had no idea about what I had lost; nor could I about their loss.

Grief is very lonely. I believe it is the most isolating of human experiences.

I have often heard of amputation as an analogy for grief. Like an amputation, it is hard to imagine how it might feel to “lose a limb” unless it is actually cut off. The loss is always there, and eventually one might learn to compensate for it.

The difference is that while an amputation is visible; an amputated soul is not!

Also I believe it is a blessing not to experience deep grief, to not understand. I can certainly remember the innocence of my prior existence. I had an “unblemished heart.”

If I were to imagine losing a second child, I could not even imagine how that might be!

I believe it is completely different to imagine horror than to actually cross the threshold into bereavement. Simply projecting horror is a pittance to the experience. It’s almost like one of those “close calls before a car accident.” You might imagine the thud, breaking windshield, and injury. But until it happens, there is just no description of how it actually feels that adequately matches the horror.

I think that is why it is so frightening for many people. I have heard my friends tell me that losing one of their children is their greatest fear.

With that level of fear, it makes it very hard to approach someone who is grieving!

I remember trying to offer comfort to a woman whose son committed suicide. She told me that there was no way I could understand her situation.

She was right.

It was then when I realized it was truly impossible for me to imagine the grief of someone else. It was especially difficult if the circumstances were suicide or murder!

After Jason died, I searched for another bereaved parent who had lost a child of the same age. I desperately wanted understanding. It didn’t help. I searched for someone who had a cardiac child who had died. I actually came close. It still didn’t help.

My “fellow grievers” did have understanding for many situations which arose as a result of grief, and that was very helpful. They understood what it was like to avoid places where I used to go with Jason. Cleaning out his room, and emptying his closet held tremendous anguish.

Therefore, my “partners in grief” were useful for their “understanding” but could not ease my pain, nor could I feel theirs.

Bereaved people are still humans with unique personalities and what goes along with that. Often, bereaved people have completely, different timetables as they move through their grief.

Experiencing loss can affect and alter personalities. I’ve met bereaved parents who drove others away during the angry phase of bereavement. Grievers are wounded and not much can be expected of them. This can cause them to be further isolated.

Friendship developed over time for me with my “grief partners” at Compassionate Friends.

It was always better for me to not have any expectations of them. Even though I was still “alone with my grief,” it helped me to crawl along with them. We all watched each other eventually begin our “first steps” back into a new existence.

I still felt I had to go it alone. It was not possible for anyone to “pull me up.” When I went to visit my friend Lori, I did not pull her up; she suffered and had to survive one minute at a time on her own.

I was grateful for our friends, Josh and Jeanne, for their companionship. It truly did help Michael and I during our bereavement.

The pain was “what it was,” it couldn’t have been any worse or any easier. Initially, the shock was simply a cushion for the impending anguish.

Although I couldn’t comprehend empathy while grieving, I do believe it is a beautiful thing for another human who has experienced grief to try to comfort someone grieving.

I always appreciated caring and support. Some parents who had children the same age as my deceased son had difficulty facing me. I recognized the courage of those that stayed close with me throughout my ordeal.

As far as what to offer someone grieving, at best, it is simply the statement of “I wish I could do something to help you and I’m so sorry.” That might be the most comfort that can be offered.

As I healed, I started more and more to feel the pain of other’s grief. That was when empathy returned for me personally.

My insight about empathy, therefore, was that what I was unable to find during deep grief came back into my life later on.

The intensity was startling. I felt empathy for people who were suffering even when I knew they could not grasp my sensitivity to their pain!

I have tried to be very honest in writing about my grief.

When I was deeply grieving, I wanted to die because it was so painful. I have never felt that way before or since.

I believe grief is a process. It never ended for me; it only changed.

I truly did not see color in the world; everything was in black and white for years and years.

Sometimes I wonder how I kept on illustrating. I wonder how I continued to parent my living children.

I simply survived. And then one day, I saw color again.

A picture of me from my “prior existence.”

A comment by one of my grief partners, Riva:

I think you stated it beautifully, Judy. For me, the proof that my grief was truly understood hinged on whether people could bring themselves to mention or ask my child’s name. I longed for that, almost as if that simple act gave continuing validity to my missing child and it became my criteria for a true measure of knowing where I was.

Message to a Grief Forum:

Subject: I’m leaving this group!

On Dec 7, 2010, Joanne wrote:

As much as I love everyone here, I just had the 3rd anniversary of my son for being in Heaven. No one acknowledged it. It was a VERY tough day for our whole family…. my heart goes out each and every one of you and I know that heartache too well. It’s too much for me… hugs to you all Joanne


Dear Joanne,

Don’t leave this group!

Everyone who has “anniversaries of the heart” knows it was a tough day for you; yes, they are fellow grievers and should understand! But grief is very lonely, and those “grievers” are incapable of dealing with anything more than their own pain. But they are the closest thing to finding comfort because they might understand the challenges of what you are going through!

There were no intentions to hurt you – so that’s what is important to remember.

In the end, all that is left of Tyler is you and your love of him for the rest of your life. You will always have that and must hold onto that to help you through those difficult days. Although it would have been nice to have acknowledgment, that is never enough anyway. The true pain is that he is gone and no one loved or knew him as you did. He would want you to feel better!!!

My son died 18 years ago and I have never forgotten any of it. I am not telling you how you’ll feel better or when. Someday, I pray you will feel better and understand how beautiful it was that Tyler was in this world and is always with you!

And by the way, it definitely is too much for you! It is awful! There are no words to describe such a loss. I am really sorry.

Judy

Messages from others responding to Joanne’s message in the grief forum:

I am sorry that I didn’t respond. I have Jeremy’s coming up on January 6, 2011. It will be one year. I am hating all holidays and I want to be left alone. Always remember he is there for you no matter what…. Jeremy’s mom, Marcy

I think as time goes on, people tend to forget these days that are burned in our hearts. On Alex’s first birthday after he was gone, our house was filled with people; last year it was just the family. This year, I plan to put it out there. Maybe if you remind everyone they will come next year. We wish we didn’t have to remind them but it is such an important a day for us. Had a second heart attack on Halloween but I did quit smoking…. Alex’s Dad, Larry

I don’t post too much, but I am still here. I lost my daughter 6 years ago. It still hurts like hell. I think of her daily and wish things where different. I wish I could help people in this group. Have a good day all. Judy R

Comment from Sam:

On Dec 7, 2010, Sam wrote:

How terribly isolating it must be…even within the group…is there any way out?…Sam

I believe grief is the most isolating of human experiences.

It is a prison without walls.

Ask any bereaved parent – they’d trade their own life in an instant (rather than live in a torture chamber) if their child could live again.

You might try to imagine losing one of your beloved kids – never to hear or see them grow up. However, it’s unimaginable. It’s like going from thinking about hunger, to never tasting food again.

With time comes acceptance, but the pain is never really is forgotten. It is forever.

Judy

Ps. Sadly, most bereaved parents dream their way out is by believing they’ll see their child once they die. I am in a place of acceptance and I remember the pain clearly but don’t feel it the way I used to.

Message to my friend, Lori (Post #2):

—–Original Message—–

From: Judy

To: Lori

Sent: Wed, Dec 8, 2010

Subject: Matthew’s birthday

Hi Lori,

I couldn’t believe I ran into you at Target the other day. Another one of those amazing coincidences! Especially, since I had just revised the post “I Opened the Box” that morning and read your comment there.

This morning, I was thinking of you. I remembered it was Matthew’s birthday “anniversary of the heart” last week.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know I remembered that. I’ve been thinking about writing something about grief and the holidays. You know, the time where the holidays hurt like hell.

Hope all is well with the rest of your family. It was great seeing you.

Love, Judy

On Dec 8, 2010, Lori wrote:

Hi Judy,

It’s always wonderful to see you too!  This year Matthew would have been 17 years old. It’s been 15 years since he died. It’s so unbelievable to me that so many years have passed!

I think your idea to turn your blog into a book is a wonderful idea. I remember early on in my grief, feeling like no one could understand what I was going through except for the people at the Compassionate Friends meetings. It would have been wonderful if a friend, family member, or even my son’s doctor could have handed me a book to read by a mother that has found her way through her grief. It would have been a spark of hope!

I hope you and your family have a wonderful Hanukkah! Keep on writing and singing Judy.

You are truly an inspiration.

Love, Lori

A song that was written before I experienced grief. I wrote this when I was 17.

My last words are to remind everyone that holidays pose a particular challenge to anyone who is grieving.

The loneliness and anguish are intensified with the memories of past holidays filled with joy rather than excruciating sadness.

If you know someone who has lost someone whom they loved, swallow the fear and call them. If they are angry, listen. If they are silent, stay close.

If they are sad, allow it. Don’t feel your purpose is to remind them “life goes on.” They know that. Unfortunately, it is going on around them!

Your presence can mean so much. And if you are “rejected,” don’t take it personally.

Don’t give up either.

Grief is a horrible thing. However, it is part of life and is arbitrary. It can happen to anyone at any time.

That used to be a scary thought for me. It isn’t any more.

That is why I have so much appreciation for my life right now.

I wrote eleven pages like this in one day. I read it into a tape recorder for Jason’s funeral.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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SOMEHOW I’M STILL PLAYING

Posted on December 8, 2010 by Judy

Peaches Chrenko when I saw her for my lesson yesterday. I told her, “I need pictures for my blog! My kids won’t let me share any!” 

“The beautiful seeds in my musical garden”

Yesterday when I went to my voice lesson, I couldn’t sing.

The world felt heavy upon me. Even when I smiled, I could feel the squeezing pain of stress.

I had so little enthusiasm for singing that I didn’t even bring my digital recorder along to share clips on the blog. Peaches gave me a hug; I needed it. Over her years of teaching she told me she had many lessons filled with tears. She told me sometimes that was just what a singing lesson was about.

I was glad Peaches understood how I felt. I tried not to get emotional when I shared with her how rejected I felt to receive an email message from the manager of Simi Valley Border’s over the weekend. The message read:

“I wanted to thank you for your Friday night music but as of today I’m going to cancel your performances here until further notice. If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Ironically, this past weekend I wasn’t feeling that venue was a good one for me. On Friday night, I waited awhile for someone to open up the storeroom, and then I had to carry out the speakers and amplifier by myself. My other Borders location always had the equipment set up for me.

I was courageous. I decided to call the manager and face what she had to say.

The manager told me that customers complained my music made it hard for them to talk or read. Our conversation was cordial and the door was left open for future performances. We both decided a break would be a good thing, and after I got off the phone I felt better.

Most of my stress related to the current situation with my parents.

My mother’s cardiology appointment was postponed until next week. However, no one bothered to tell me until the morning of the appointment! My mother suffered the most with her anxiety about it. I have decided not to tell her about any future appointments.

This past weekend was quite difficult. My mom became very agitated when I arranged for her to meet a second, possible caregiver. Her unhappiness toward my father, the whole situation, and myself was quite painful for me.

She questioned my motives, which were all about trying to make things easier for her. That hurt!

Yesterday when I took her out to dinner she said, “You know your father signed a paper allowing me to die!” I was unable to convince her otherwise that it simply wasn’t true.

I spoke up to her and said I didn’t want to hear her saying any more statements about my father and her perception that he was cruel to her. My father visits her practically every day of the week to “put her to bed.” He also visits her on many other occasions. He is suffering also!

A picture of my parents when they were first married.

My mom’s dementia has caused her to become angry and paranoid. At this moment, I want to punch the air because I’m so angry, too.

Where is my mother? Who stole her away from me?

I miss her and I really dislike this “other woman” who has replaced her. I feel horrible to admit that!

This morning my mom was found in the bathroom alone; she had gotten out of her wheelchair! She has started acting out in a dangerous manner by trying to walk and risking a fall.

She said to me, “There if no point to living if I cannot walk or be independent again. I plan to go back to assisted living!”

I was completely at a loss because I could not even think of a single, helpful response. Nothing at all!

I changed the subject.

Yesterday, there was the one element to my day that brought me back to life – it was music!

When I listen to my music, it travels through my heart and feels like an IV infusing comfort into my soul!

A picture of Peaches and I after only a few lessons in March.

As I discussed my music and songs with Peaches, I was revived.

I shared with her that I made the decision to pursue improving my vocals for another few months before committing to selling a CD. I played for her another, new recording of “Alabaster Seashell.” This time, my friend Steve was able to change the key. The lower key was interesting for me to try. My song could never be performed in this lower key for a live performance, because the guitar chords wouldn’t sound nearly as good if they were transposed. However, Steve was a genius with Pro-tools!

I explained to Peaches about the emptiness I have felt inside since “releasing” all my songs. However, I wasn’t completely empty. My song sheet pages from thirty years ago still had two songs that I thought might be worthy of remembering!

Both songs needed considerable work. I slowly began working on them this week. One song had a fabulous chorus. The other song consisted of three verses with haunting chords and lyrics.

I pulled out my guitar for Peaches. The sound of my arpeggiated guitar chords filled the room.

My voice wasn’t warmed up, and it wasn’t easy to sing songs that were unfinished. Hesitantly, I sang my uncertain melodies – I wasn’t too worried about being perfectly accurate with my singing.

Peaches listened. She said, “Judy, these songs are as beautiful as any of your other songs – how could you feel they might not be worthy?”

I replied, “You know, is it a flaw that I cannot let go of my youthful compositions? I have wondered why I haven’t done something completely new. I thought I was done with my old songs. I guess I just couldn’t let these two go. I hear their melodies in my heart and I am inspired to finish them!”

Peaches nodded and said softly, “When I hear your songs – I’m transported. They’re so calming, beautiful, and soothing.”

Then she added, “Judy there’s a reason for all of your songs being rediscovered. Another way to look at it is that they were seeds. They weren’t ready to be planted a long time ago, and you couldn’t grow them until they were ready. Now those seeds can blossom, because you finally planted them during this magical time in your life. It is so beautiful that you can nurture and grow them now!”

I loved her metaphor! I couldn’t have imagined a more touching way to look at my songs.

I left our lesson with my heart and soul singing. I had the knowledge that two more songs I was initially doubtful about were soon to be born.

The musical of my life will continue!

Lyric excerpt from my song “Retreat:”

Retreat – escaping into the serenity of music

It eases – the desolation and becomes my sole companion . . .

My childhood friend, Joni, commented on Post #13 THE BEAUTY REMAINS

On Tue, Dec 7, 2010, Judy wrote:

Dear Joni,

Your comment was beautiful – thanks for sharing it with me. I wondered why I didn’t really answer your question. I think you’re right – there’s no answer as to where creativity comes from. Nurturing helps, but I think it is something you’re born with. Some people can carry a tune, or draw like I did when I was very young. But it’s there.

Everyone has gifts. I’m glad you’ve come to appreciate yours. I have learned to be grateful and to enjoy my talents – the best part has been from sharing them. Having you there to watch me at Kulak’s has been indescribable. Coming to visit your home and hearing you listen to my music while cooking in your kitchen was amazing!

Love, Jude

I have to tell you Jude, that your music always brought me home.  When I felt lost and lonely and had the opportunity to listen to your music I just wanted so badly to crawl up inside your music and go to sleep.  I felt like I belonged nowhere and really felt unwanted even though that was not the message my parents wanted to send me, but that is how I felt.  Love, Joni

On Tue, Dec 7, 2010, Steve wrote:

Hi Judy,

I feel the same way about my creativity as Joni expressed.  I can make something better when the basis is there, but as for creating a song or something from a blank slate, that just isn’t there, and I don’t think it’s a matter of knowing music theory or playing an instrument. Joni wrote:

I like that, I can understand that completely.  And I agree with this too –

Steve

Hi Steve,

I feel much better. I was despondent for a bit – I had such a hard time with my mom at dinner.

Your message is so sweet – thank you!!!!!

It’s interesting, I listened to my songs today while shopping and driving around – it was soothing. I can hardly believe they’re mine. For me, the creation of them was as if they existed and came out of me. It’s kind of divine. I can’t really explain. Whenever I’ve created chord lines – the chords seem to progress by themselves. It’s like there is only one way I see them going and I hear it. Melodies are like that, too. There are lots of possibilities, but I’m always certain with what I choose to go with. It’s like my music is only waiting for me to discover it!

I used to struggle to write down musical compositions (when I knew how!). The few I did wouldn’t help me now, since I can’t read them! Recordings help me because I have the ability to “play by ear.” That’s what I used to do to figure out other guitarist’s musical “riffs.”

I “invent” almost all of my own chords for my songs. I experiment to find interesting sounds, and that’s why my “voicings” (that’s what they call guitar parts) are a little unusual.

I’m appreciating my blog more as I edit from the beginning. I’m shifting some of the photos and stories around. Black is so much more readable. Sometimes I feel discouraged about life and then I am so blessed to know that my “creations” are out there and appreciated.

I’m writing now and it’s so much more fun than editing!

I appreciate you and your friendship, Steve. it is so interesting how this amazing journey happened as a result of my mom’s illness.

Judy

During stressful times, it is always helpful to have the support of good friends. I received a nice card from my friend, Susan. It was perfect timing!

(Excerpts)

Dear Judy,

Today I finally sat down to listen to your CD and was once again astonished by your many talents. I enjoyed hearing your new songs, such as the first one that is about the alabaster seashell. I particularly enjoyed the intricate chord progression on the guitar (as I also did on your instrumental number).

You have become such a confident performer. You sound so relaxed introducing your songs at Kulak’s. I thought you did an excellent job on “More Than You Know.” You have become so proficient on the guitar. I love the chord progressions.

Your voice sounds powerful particularly on the sixth song where you sing, “I’ve had all my chances before.” All your practice is quite evident.

Even though I have heard “how hard it is Just Saying Goodbye” before, I love the very rhythmic quality of the song. It has such a catchy, upbeat musical quality to it. It is a great song and reminds me of the 70’s.

Love, Susan


© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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A PERFECT IDEA FOR A POST

Posted on December 2, 2010 by Judy

This photo was was taken a few weeks ago when I performed at my mom’s nursing facility.

per·fec·tion·ist n

1. somebody who demands perfection in all things, especially their own work

2. somebody who believes in the doctrine of perfectionism

per·fec·tion n

1. the quality of something that is as good or suitable as it can possibly be

2. the process of becoming or making something perfect; of reaching for

the highest attainable standard

“Some perfect examples for my life”

This morning I felt like I had to look up those words above.

The reason was that I had been feeling that “perfectionism” might be holding me back from “committing” to creating a CD of my music.

It was interesting for me to see where I fell in with this definition. I most definitely wanted my music to be as good as I good possibly make it!

Yes, then I am a perfectionist! But my “highest attainable standard” is to do the best that I am capable of – not to try to achieve something another singer could do (and probably a lot easier than it would be for me!).

With my rapid improvement over this year, I realize that I have no idea how far I could continue to improve. Currently, I am aware of what I am capable of vocally (or not), and I certainly realize I will never be a Streisand!

I’ve learned so many lessons as an illustrator. Doing my best was all I could ever do, and in some cases it wasn’t enough for certain clients. However, if I knew I “gave it my all” I was satisfied with myself!

I performed my most recent song at the open mic last week. As always, I liked to introduce myself and/or my songs with a very brief statement.

When I took a “performance workshop,” I was told never to talk about a song – it was better to “let the song tell the story.” However, it was important for me to share my revelation that my song held meaning for me beyond how I originally wrote it.

My introductions are usually “unscripted,” and I was surprised that I actually mentioned I was a bereaved parent and my song was “for my son that died.” As soon as I said that, I became apologetic and added the line, “It just happened!” That was my way of explaining unfortunate circumstances that changed my life – as it is for most tragedies that happen.

When I perform this song again, I plant to introduce it differently without adding such a “sad” association.

I like my songs to be relatable. This song was originally written about a young girl and her lover. Even though I could relate this to “my child that was gone,” anyone could also consider this song to be about their child that has grown up and is “now gone” in that way.

Before I recorded this song, I shared my lyrics with my friends. I have found the advice I’ve received back to be very helpful.

My newly, rediscovered friend, Carol, is a neurobiologist – and she had great insight. Here was what she suggested:

“About the refrain, but “it once held a living thing” is more accurate, biologically, than “it once was a living thing” and I think sounds less awkward.”

Because I was forgetful, I did revert to “once was a living thing” on my first chorus while performing my song. However, I remembered the second time! I will probably play this song again, because this was not my best performance.

George pointed out the three words in my song he disliked:

alabaster, wasteland, refuge

I decided to replace “wasteland” with “dune like.” I still haven’t adjusted to that change! I might change it back.

Lately, I haven’t felt like writing because I’ve been spending so much time reliving my life as I edit my blog back from the beginning. It has been very time-consuming!

I want all of my posts to be “meaningful,” so I’ve been deleting a lot of the ordinary, daily “drivel” (That means I’ll probably delete this post later on).

However, at the moment it is fun for me to share my passion!

When I recorded my song, Alabaster Seashell, with George this past Sunday – it was another one of those incredible experiences with a musical genius. He did not say anything negative to me about my vocal performance. George was crazy about my song.

His arrangement was exquisite as usual, and I was quite excited about it. I always share my song immediately with my childhood friend, Steve. He usually creates Protools “mixes” for me with different enhancements. It has been a lot of fun sharing with him.

He has spent a lot of his time helping me! I was anxious to hear what he thought about George’s arrangement of my newest song. Here was his message:

On Nov 29, 2010, Steve wrote:

I did listen to the new recording. The vocal performance didn’t sound very strong; maybe it’s just too high. Perhaps you could try to record it at home sometime using the Shure microphone and recording along with George’s arrangement and I could take that performance and put it together with George’s pro tools recording. Or if you have another appointment with George you could try it again. Thought the mix was a little muddy, wasn’t quite sure what was going on, I’d hear some guitar here and then something else covering it, and it would come up again. What did others think of it? (Not the ones who only say positive comments for every single song).

If you went to Kulak’s, hope that went well.

Take care, Steve

I did laugh at his line about “Not the ones who only say positive comments.” That would probably be his mother he was referring to!

Later on, I sent this message to my friends:

I think this performance at Kulaks is okay to share – however, I wish I didn’t make all those “clicking noises” with my finger pick! Glad I could share with my friends.

Judy

On Dec 1, 2010, Sam wrote:

I would never have even noticed them if you didn’t point them out…so funny how we can be so critical of our own performances…your eye contact with the audience was terrific..that I noticed…I don’t think you looked at the guitar once!

On Dec 1, 2010, Steve wrote:

There was a lot of clicking, which was almost better than just a little as it kinda added a rhythmic element to the sound, especially in one place where some people might have thought it was intentional. I did notice the eye contact was good.

When I went to my voice lesson this week, all of this was on my mind.

Clicking the blue links below play audio from my recent voice lessons with Peaches Chrenko:

#1 Voice Lesson with Peaches – 12/1/10

#2 Voice Lesson with Peaches – 12/1/10

#3 Voice Lesson with Peaches – 12/1/10

Regarding perfectionism, I’ve decided that it would be detrimental for me only if it led to “paralysis.”

That has not happened for me. Striving to do my best has actually allowed for me to improve in every area of my life. It is a process.

Is it achievable? That would be the question that might carry the negative connotation. It is not. That is why the process of improvement is something that I will continue for the rest of my life.

As a human, it is impossible to reach perfection; it is unattainable.

Perfectionism can fuel growth, or cause discouragement.

Up until this morning, I was apologetic and embarrassed by my perfectionism. However, I prefer to look at it in a positive way.

Now I truly understand what it’s about.

“Once UPUN a Time”

I will end this post with an exchange of puns that I enjoy. (Sam’s puns are in brown.)

As far as those clicking noises go, well, don’t fret about it!…Sam

Let’s not get started with guitar puns – (and by the way, I love ones that use fret in it!)

I know better than to challenge you to guitar puns…that’s a bridge I won’t cross!

You know you have to pick your battles. I’m really not that adverse to guitar puns. Of chorus, I’ve never had anyone to tell guitar puns to – so these are all new. You’re strumone I never dreamed I’d find.

Regarding the seagull noises added to “The Alabaster Seashell Song,” I know I won the last round with “Ugully.” Therefore, I’m definitely “out of tuna!”

We’re tune of a kind!  Sorry if these are any treble…don’t mean to be off bass!

Well Sam, if we’re tune of a kind – is that on a scale of one to ten? That’s a double pun – fish and music!

Of course, you did a double pun with bass!

Now this is getting weird. I’ve had a pun exchange with my “ex-boyfriend,” Sam. My old friend, Carol, who was once engaged to Sam is now joining in:

On Dec 3, 2010, Carol wrote:

Hey, Judy,

Re

garding your PUNishing exchange with Sam at the end of #215, I have to ask you–I know Sam is a good sounding board, but do really think it’s fair to string him along this way?

 

Ha, ha, couldn’t resist!!

XO, Carol

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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ALABASTER SEASHELL-PART 1

Posted on November 28, 2010 by Judy

ALABASTER SEASHELL

 

Click the blue links below to play audio:
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It was still dark outside. My husband had left for work and the house was quiet. I felt the chill and rubbed my hands together for warmth. While still in my bathrobe, I picked up my guitar and began to scrawl the lyrics that were forming in my head.

A few moments earlier, I had been lying in bed thinking about my song. For several weeks, I was uncertain how to finish it. Now these new lyrics would tie my song together. All the pieces were filled in; completing my song was just like a puzzle!

I felt enthused and excited to have a new song to record. It wasn’t completely “new,” because it was inspired by three, old verses of lyrics and their chords.

I have recorded songs that I’ve left unchanged from how I wrote them thirty years ago. And then, there are a few songs that truly, feel new for me. This song does in many ways. I wasn’t in a rush to record it the way it was originally written.

As an illustrator, I have always liked the structure that came with receiving an assignment. Having perimeters, gave me a place to start rather than having to come up with completely, new ideas. When there were too many possibilities, I never knew where to begin!

Having “partial lyrics” and chords, was the structure that allowed for me to feel creative. My newest song still required a lot of chord composing, as well as melody and lyric additions.

I have wondered about whether I am closer to writing a song “from scratch.” I have no idea about where my journey is going and whether musical composing will be in my future.

Although I wanted my newest song to be unique from my other songs, it wasn’t meant to be. Even though it was about a seashell, it still reflected two, common themes of mine.

Those themes are: memories and the love that remains later on.

My songs, Memory of Love and Beside Me Always reflect this. I’ve decided my song can still be beautiful, even if the theme is repetitive. As I finished my last line of lyrics, the memories flooded back. My song was originally written about a young girl being given a seashell memento by her lover – so I thought!

However, as I sang my song, I flashed back to a day at the beach with my child. He was holding a seashell to add to his collection.

Seashell 3

For this song, I knew I had a painting somewhere of a white shell to use for a “song cover.” For fun, I’d like to share some of the choices I played around with!

“Selecting” (that’s also a Photoshop term) which seashell I’d incorporate reminded me of the thousands of hours I spent developing my extensive, “library of stock images.”

MORE ABOUT MY SEASHELL PAINTINGS ON THIS POST:

#115 SHE SELLS SEASHELLS

When I created “stock images,” I put in an extraordinary amount of time developing keywords. I was hopeful that all those keywords would allow people to find my images through search engines. I have not made much money selling stock illustration!

If I ever decide to write another seashell song, I would have plenty of inspiration for new lyrics by looking at my list of keywords on one of my seashell illustrations at Alamy. I really did want to find an alternate word for “alabaster,” but I couldn’t find one I liked as much – even with this list!

Here are the keywords that correspond with the illustration below it:

seashell shell sand Volute collection triton shallow shore collect clam variation specimen spots delicate exotic group bunch spiral shadow mollusk scallop cowry limpet seashore beach cockle oyster whelk helmet cone volute spiny auger common bivalve mussel conch pattern grains barnacle bury medley ornamental graceful murex whorl bulbous lines cylindrical polished aperture gastropod painted natural search periwinkle snail tusk luster pearl marine tide tidal fragile durable beautiful realistic real photorealism coast extension body hue numerous bright perfect shine waxy assortment arrangement arrange whole horizontal format unique simple contrast saturated vibrant brilliant smooth surround striped striation attached “olive shell” “worm shell” “top shell” “rock shell” “pen shell” hinge concentric chiton ribs wentletrap stromb turret mantle whorl organic exquisite remarkable scatter resting buried sprinkle granular grains warm prismatic limpit mollusk Triton cone volute spindle shell nature


THE ALABASTER SEASHELL

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The alabaster seashell rests

gently in the sand

the tide sweeps to its refuge

leaving it to gleam

in drifting, dune-like patterns


The alabaster seashell rests

gently in his hand

he tells her how he found it

a treasured memory

and reminder of his love


That seashell once held a living thing

It’s beauty remains to always bring

reminders of days like the one

combing the seashore in a brilliant sun


The alabaster seashell rests

gently in her hand

she feels his love is with her

even though he’s gone

the seashell glistens with her tears


That seashell once held a living thing

It’s beauty remains to always bring

reminders of days like the one

holding him tightly in a setting sun


The alabaster seashell rests

gently on her stand

it gathers dust with time

like the love that is

among her treasured memories

like the love that is

a treasured memory

Below is an excerpt about this story from my audio book:

 

My song, “Alabaster Seashell” began with three simple stanzas I wrote when I was 17. I vaguely remembered only part of the melody for the “Alabaster Seashell.”  But it was the beautiful chord progressions, which utilized a different guitar tuning, that enraptured me. I knew my song needed something more, but I had no idea how I was going to expand my song about a seashell. I started to experiment to see what I could come up with.

 

I have always loved seashells and deeply appreciated their indescribable beauty. When my art career first began, I received an assignment to create a series of eight, large paintings of seashells, which would be marketed as prints. As I painted dozens of seashells, I became quite familiar with their intricate shapes and colors.

 

I was surprised how telling the story of a seashell memento also stirred up many emotions inside of me. My memories of collecting seashells began during childhood. I kept jars of them in my bedroom and each shell represented a beautiful memory of a day spent searching the seashore. With those feelings, I started to compose some new lyrics to add to my song, but then I had such a major revelation with “The Alabaster Seashell” that it took my breath away.

 

My song was originally based upon the story of a boyfriend giving me a seashell when I was in my teens. With that story, I pictured myself older and looking back at the treasured memory my boyfriend gave me long ago, after we were no longer in love. But as I sang my old melody, suddenly my heart took me somewhere else. I was swept to a clear day at the beach. I squinted as the brilliant sun warmed my soul. My young son was walking with me along the seashore. Then, he bent down and excitedly cupped a sparkling white seashell in his hands to show me. His blue eyes were shining. The revelation of how my song had changed and the memory of that tender moment caused me to become overwhelmed with emotion. I realized that I had discovered how my song could be expanded.

 

I decided that a seashell was a beautiful metaphor about seeing death in a positive way. The creature that once inhabited the seashell left something beautiful behind when it died. Although the creature was gone, the seashell could bring comfort with its beauty and with the memories. The “Alabaster Seashell” reminded me of a magnificent day combing the beach with Jason. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I quickly scrawled out additional lyrics for my song.

 

The chords and melody to those new lyrics easily flowed right out from my heart. I was amazed at the process; it was as if they were simply waiting to be discovered. My song was now complete; it had two new choruses and an extra verse that even mentioned my tears. On the second chorus, I decided to change one line. I switched “combing the seashore in a brilliant sun,” to “holding him tightly in a setting sun.” With that change on the second chorus, I vividly pictured myself holding Jason that day at the beach. The setting sun represented how I felt in my heart that I would lose him someday; I knew our time together could not last. Because of this, I treasured every moment with him. Composing my song was also a parallel to the way I currently feel about my life; I strive to make each day count.

–

Below are links to more stories about this song, written years later:

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ALABASTER SEASHELL-PART 2

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 ALABASTER SEASHELL-PART 3

— –

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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