myjourneysinsight

MY SHINING STAR-PART 2

Posted on August 4, 2017 by Judy

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Links to lyrics and other stories about this song: MY SHINING STAR

Click the blue links to hear audio:

My Shining Star Arrangement Mix 12-230-18

My Shining Star guitar and piano 6-4-18

This song holds so many meanings for me. The most moving part of my song is the line about holding onto our dream forever. A long time ago, grief was a nightmare that destroyed my dream.

But one day, I found my dream again. Even though I have tears when I imagine the dream of how I wished my son had lived, I am grateful for my love for him. He fuels my heart with joy when I create the music that I love.

I am a passionate songwriter and picture myself as a “song gardener.” I continue to grow and develop my songs; they are blooming for me. My life is filled with inspiration. I freely share my music and love what comes back. Nothing feels better for me than knowing my music has helped other people.

A grown man wrote to me and said my meditation music caused him to cry for the first time in 25 years, which helped him release long suppressed feelings of loss. I was extremely moved by his message.

I’ve grown from every part of my journey and learned so much from my former arranger, George. Last December, I began working with a new arranger named Doug. Our relationship is completely different and I have been learning how to arrange songs myself on Protools, which has been very exciting for me. At the beginning of this post, I share my recent arrangement of “My Shining Star.”

My guitar is central to every arrangement and I enjoy creating multiple guitar parts. Despite creating lush arrangements, I prefer my voice to be only with guitar tracks. I plan to share my new arrangements as meditation tracks on Insight Timer soon.

My sessions with Doug usually last four hours and I’m very tired after. I look forward to coming home to edit my recordings.

A month ago, I stopped first to get some gas and saw a message on my phone that grabbed my heart. For five years, I had written to a bereaved mother named Sammi who was very special to me. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I read her heartfelt message.

I thought of Sammi whenever I sang any of my grief-related songs. Just that morning, I had recorded vocals for my song “My Shining Star.” The lyric line that stuck in my head was, “You whisper in my ear to heal.” I was certain that her son whispered those same words in her ear every night.

Five years ago, it was the desolate and hopeless nature of Sammi’s writing that drew me toward her. I felt compelled to counter any hopeless statement she made with gentle disagreement. I wondered sometimes if I annoyed her with my unrelenting positive replies.

But she knew I had been there. I once suffered from desolate grief and it was 18 years before I found true peace and joy again in my life.

I cannot speak for anyone else’s grief – only my own. I am not afraid to express that I have experienced healing. I want to offer proof that healing is possible, especially since I never believed it when I was grieving.

I share below an example of one of my dialogs with Sammi:

Sammi: The nights and early mornings are the worst. I am reminded every single day that my child is dead. The pain of awareness meets me every single morning when I awaken. I dread falling asleep, because I fear waking and facing the pain that I know is waiting. Every single day.

Judy: Sammi, you have accurately described the horrible anguish I remember so well. It was like living within a nightmare. One day, my pain left. Occasionally it knocks on my door, but it has left my room. I pray it will be that way for you someday.

Beliefs are powerful and every person chooses what they want to believe. Those words above that you posted might be true for some people. I’ve known people who died carrying heavy grief.

But for me, I’ve chosen another path. It wasn’t one that I searched for – it just came to me after many years of suffering. I wouldn’t ever say that “time heals.” But for me, healing came and I am thankful for that.

MY SHINING STAR

Shining star so bright

You wink to me every night

Moonlight glows upon my bed

I hear your voice inside my head

Shining star so bright

Surround me with your lovely light

I reach for you in my sleep

You comfort me while I weep

In my heart you will stay

I’ll hold on to our dream forever

The stars above, remind me of our love

Each and every day, wherever you are

You’re my shining star

Shining star so bright

Even though you’re not in sight

With my eyes closed, your breath I feel

You whisper in my ear to heal

Shining star so bright

I’ll dream of you tonight

In my heart you will stay

I’ll hold on to our dream forever

The stars above, remind me of our love

Each and every day, wherever you are

You’re my shining star–

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Sammi’s message:

In the beginning, I used to feel lonely on this road. I couldn’t see the others that were traveling it with me. My pain was all-consuming. My heart and soul were ripped out of me and the wound was open and raw. I couldn’t breathe. It hurt to just be. I didn’t know what to do or how to deal with all the sensations that were bombarding me at once.

I was lucky to find a grief site that was small and it was there that I met my friend Judy Unger. I call her my friend because I truly feel like she is. No, we have never met. No, we have never spoken to each other. Yes, we connected in a way that would be hard for others to understand. She knew what I was going through, she knew my pain, she understood. She lost her beautiful son Jason when he was 5-years-old. She knew.

Judy has been with me on the journey even though I hadn’t seen her on this road at times. Why she chose me I will never know but I know that I am truly thankful to have her at the extreme low points on this journey.

I look ahead at the road before me. It is straight and unforgiving. There are no twists or turns. There is only one way to go. Forward. I cannot see an end point. This road fades into the distance. I look behind and I see, off in the distance, black sky, roiling grey clouds, thunder and lightning. The road has deep dark holes that used to cover the entire surface but have lessened to show more road than holes. I can maneuver this part of the road easier. It still has its pitfalls. It will still be wrought with pain. How could it not be? I can, however, walk a bit easier.

I miss so much of what I used to have, but it is good to learn that light is out there. Judy was right.

Judy: I am speechless, Sammi. I read this as I was coming home from a music session. I was exhausted and getting gas for my car. I saw your post with my name there and my eyes welled up with tears.

What a beautiful tribute! I feel like I’ve learned so much about grief alongside of you. Even though I was farther ahead on my grief journey, taking your hand didn’t pull me back – it propelled me farther ahead.

I am honored and quite teary knowing I’ve made a difference for you. You’ve certainly made a difference for me and perhaps one day we will actually meet and hear each other’s physical voices. Until then, our writing connects us and it is a very solid chain. Much love to you.

Sammi: I’m not sure what I could have taught you Judy but if I did, and it helped then I’m glad. I haven’t connected with many who know this journey. I have kept to myself a lot. You are the one that was there from the start.

I always knew I would get a response from you when needed. When I go back to the beginning of this journey and read my first posts, it is so painful – so much heartache. Going through until now I can see where I have made progress and where I have not. I never believed it was possible but…here I am and….so are you.

Thank You.

Judy: I do hope that one day we will have a chance to meet.

Sammi inspired my song “It’s Not Forever” and I share a link to that story:

Story behind IT’S NOT FOREVER-PART 3

Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged acoustic guitar, composing, creativity, grief, Grief and Bereavement, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, guitar, haunting melody, having hope, healing from grief, healing music, hope, hope of healing, hopeful and optimistic, hopelessness, I hear your voice, I'll hold onto our dream forever, in my heart, inspiration, Judy Unger, longing for love, loss, loss of a mom, love, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, maintaining hope, Music, music and healing, my shining star, optimism, original songs, performing, projecting love, sadness, shining star, singing, song, song arrangement, songwriter, songwriting, the stars above, uplifting music, writing | 8 Comments

INSIGHT TIMER RECORDING

Posted on June 30, 2017 by Judy

On July 31, I was given the honor of choosing the meditations on Insight Timer (a free meditation app) for the upcoming week. I’ve excerpted part of my recording where I tell my story and I’m excited to share it here.

My speech will be broadcast to the people who signed up for the 365-Day Playlist (55,000 subscribers). It will also be available to those who aren’t signed up. It is a very large audience for me!

I am honest when I say that I felt a little inadequate to speak on the topic of meditation to cope with grief and loss. I did not meditate when I was in deep grief. I do believe deeply in music and healing, which saved me many years later. So to round out my speech, I sought out input from my friends at Insight Timer. I have made connections all over the world that I treasure. My friends were very helpful.

I learned that many people listen to meditation music while driving, walking and/or going to sleep. I do those things. My music gives me joy: it soothes and heals me of all my sorrow. So perhaps I do meditate after all!

I wrote a story recently about meeting the CEO of Insight Timer, Christopher, and his assistant Maddy. It was truly a thrill for me. #547 My Fairy Tale Life.

I’ve created a page that is linked to Insight Timer. I want people who come to my blog to be able to easily navigate stories related to the meditation music that is available on Insight Timer.

My Insight Timer page link is under the header, just above the post title.

Right next to that page is another one I’ve named “Recent Music.” On that page, I have links to hear my most recent music recordings. They are being compiled for my next CD and until then, I’m happy to freely share them.

Posted in Insight Timer | Tagged acoustic guitar, arrangements, blessings, composing, creativity, expressing feelings, Friendship, guitar, guitar arrangements, healing, healing from grief, healing music, Insight Timer, inspiration, inspirational, inspirational life, Judy Unger, love, lyrics, meditation, meditation music, meditation songs, Music, musical inspiration, musical passion, original songs, overcoming grief, passion for music, rediscovery, Set you free, singing, songwriting, staying positive, writing | 9 Comments

A LONG TIME AGO, I FELT HOPELESS

Posted on June 18, 2017 by Judy

A long time ago, I thought it was hopeless that I could take an enjoyable vacation with my three children. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enjoyable most of the time!

I laughed when I noticed one of my ear buds was hanging out of my fanny pack in many pictures. I actually didn’t really listen to music much on my trip. This picture was taken during the time in Seattle before our cruise.

With my sons . . .

and with my daughter.

For some reason, I haven’t felt like writing much about my recent trip. Alaska was beautiful and I was able to spend a lot of time with all three of my children. I adore my kids, but to be honest – the dynamics of all three of them together are something else. I did my best to relax and enjoy my vacation, but I’ve come to the conclusion that my life at home is a vacation!

I treasure my current peaceful life because it wasn’t always that way. Sometimes I look back with awe that I managed to raise children with challenges, oversee my elderly parents’ care, shop for a large household and pay the bills. I did all of this while working as a commercial artist, too.

When I began my blog, it was fabulous therapy for me. Now that I am peaceful, I find myself unsure of what I want to write for my blog. I wait for inspiration to come and spend most of my time pursuing my passion for music.

Even though I am peaceful, I’m still very much attached to the subject of grief and healing. Lately, it has been on the forefront of my mind because I will be sharing my story soon to a large audience on the meditation app named Insight Timer.

I will upload my Insight Timer audio recording on this blog when it’s done. But today I have a story I want to share. Past memories and present moments intersect; when I feel moved I find myself writing again.

I have a good friend – her name is Janis. Her son, David was a good friend of my son, Jason. I have pictures and stories related to their friendship. It has been many years now since Jason died and Janis told me that her son doesn’t remember him anymore. The important part is that my friend helped me through that difficult time and remained my friend. I hold onto that.

Jason loved to sing. In this picture he is singing with his friend David, who is holding Jason’s guitar.

I took Janis out to lunch and for an inexpensive Thai massage on her birthday last year. After our massage, she said, “Judy, this is so wonderful! It’s reasonable and we should do this every month. We’ll put it on the calendar and treat ourselves to it!”

I smiled and agreed. Although we didn’t do it every single month, it became a new routine to add into my peaceful life. And it was always nice to see Janis and catch up with her. Now it would be more often than our usual once or twice a year birthday lunches.

I don’t consider my feet to be “pretty,” but with a pedicure it’s a definite improvement! And it’s another thing I enjoy regularly in my “peaceful life.”

At our most recent lunch/massage last week, we talked about how things were going for our children. I updated my friend on what was new with me. I was back from my Alaska cruise and excited about the new musical arrangements I was creating. But I had received a message a few days earlier. It wasn’t an ordinary message. It was extraordinary.

It came from a woman named Sammi whom I had corresponded with for almost five years. When her adult son died, she was inconsolable. I felt compelled to respond to almost every message she wrote related to her grief. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure that what I wrote was helpful at all. But her recent message thanked me in ways that were too beautiful to describe. It was so inspirational that it deserves another story, which I will write soon.

My post title is a line of lyrics from my song named “It’s Not Forever.” That song was inspired by my dialog with Sammi. I recently recorded a new vocal for my song.

With a few tears, I read aloud Sammi’s message to Janis and she agreed that it was indeed special. At the end the message, Sammi mentioned that I was right about grief becoming easier after five years.

“It’s interesting that she mentioned five years,” Janis said. “After my divorce, I remember hearing that number. Of course, divorce is quite different from the death of a child – so please know I’m not comparing it. But I read a book that talked about how it took about five years to adjust and come out of the tunnel.”

I looked at Janis and said, “I’ve got chills! I separated in July of 2012. Do you realize that next month it will be five years for me? It is so true.”

I added, “I’m thankful my dry eyes are better and I’ve lost weight – I feel healthy again. Oh, and last month, it was also the fifth anniversary of my father’s death.”

I didn’t remember telling my friend, Sammi that her grief would ease in five years. A memory of mine that was buried deeply began to form.

A long time ago, I was given hope that I’d feel better when another bereaved mother told me that it would take seven years. Perhaps I hadn’t had the courage to tell Sammi seven years, I said five years instead.

I could not find any respite during my deep grief. It was horrible and indescribable. There are few words I can find to describe the suffering.

It was like living in a fog, except it was not really living.

During that time period, I remember I had a friend who wanted me to have a pedicure. She spoke very highly of her pedicurist. I never had one before in my life and she gave me a gift certificate to get one for my birthday.

It was the last thing I wanted to do. In my desolate state I somehow followed through and made an appointment with her pedicurist to redeem my gift.

The pedicurist’s name was Maddy. I told her my friend spoke very highly of her and that this was my first time having a pedicure. I think I cried during the entire process and Maddy spoke gently to me. She told me about her son that died from leukemia many years before.

When she mentioned her surviving son, I shared with her my inability to comfort my own surviving son. He screamed nonstop and we watched videos of Jason to help us cope with our grief.

Maddy’s surviving son’s name was Mitch and then a light bulb went off. Her last name rang a bell because I went to middle school with her son! I never knew he had a brother that died and it made me feel very sad for him.

When my pedicure was done, I tearfully hugged and thanked her. She had given me so many words of wisdom to help me with my grief. I was still in a fog, but I felt lighter.

I never saw Maddy again and it was twenty years before I had another pedicure. In my peaceful life, it is something I enjoy having on a regular basis.

But I couldn’t forget Maddy’s words to me.

“It will take seven years for the agony to subside. In seven years you will definitely start to feel better.”

Not long ago, I attended my 40^th high school reunion. I even connected with people who didn’t attend the reunion. This was due to a lovely Facebook group/page dedicated to my high school graduating class.

After the reunion, I decided to post something about myself on that Facebook page. Many of the people I met who hadn’t seen me in decades, remembered me as a maze artist. It was a big achievement for me to have published a book of mazes while in junior high.

Link to my story about my mazes: #2 MY AMAZING JOURNEY

I enjoyed the lovely comments people made who remembered me. And then I saw his name. It was Maddy’s son, Mitch!

I couldn’t believe Mitch still had one of the mazes I drew for him in Junior High! He mentioned how he turned his life around and I decided to ask him about his mother.

With an open heart, I shared my feelings about his mom with him. There was no reason to sidestep mentioning my memories. I wanted to counter the part where he called himself a “stoner.” After experiencing the kind of loss he went through, it explained how he coped with his pain.

I believe everyone has his or her own lonely path to follow with grief. I consider it to be a lifelong journey that led me somewhere else; never back to the place I was in before it happened. I used to mourn that, but now I accept it.

After seven years, my agony did subside. But true healing and joy did not return for me until the rediscovery of music 18 years after my son’s death.

Every day, I am thankful for the miracle of healing in my life.

Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged acknowledging grief, adjusting from grief, Alaska scenery, child's death, comforting music, composing, death of a child, discouraged about healing, discouraged by grief, expressing feelings, finding happiness after losing a child, Friendship, grief, grief and healing, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, healing and grief, healing from grief, healing music, hope, hope carried me, hope for healing, hope of healing, I once felt that way, inspiration, It's Not Forever, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a child, love, music and healing, music arrangements, optimism, optimism after loss, original songs, overcoming grief, pedicure, performing, Sammi, singing, songwriting, staying positive, surviving grief | 7 Comments

EVERY SEASON – PART 3

Posted on May 29, 2017 by Judy

Links to more stories, recordings and performances for this song: EVERY SEASON

When I wrote my song “Every Season” in 2011, it helped me to release my sadness over the death of my son, Jason. With every passing season, I remembered his life and mourned that he would “never grow old.”

I originally wrote these lyrics: “and my sadness will always be, every season you come back to me.”

Sadness will always be

When I created a new arrangement for this song this past April, I decided to change that line slightly. I revised it to: “my love will always be, every season you return to me.”

I have many songs about holding onto love. I felt that line was a triumph over the grief that ruled my life for decades. How could I be healed and still sing that my sadness would always be?

But when I went to sing this change, it ended up not working out as well as I had hoped. I wasn’t satisfied with how it sounded vocally and decided to keep my older line.

I concluded that my sadness isn’t something I have to dismiss. Remembering sadness doesn’t negate the fact that I am peaceful now and able to find joy in life. I embrace honesty. I will always carry sadness over his death and the fact that he never had a chance to grow up.

A picture with my brother, Norm.

I just returned from a cruise to Alaska with my three adult children. It all came about because my brother, Norman and his wife, Jo were celebrating their 25^th wedding anniversary and invited me to join them and their children.

It was hard for me to believe it had been 25 years since their wedding. And of course, Jason participated in it – he was so excited to be their ring bearer. He died five months after their wedding.

On the last day of our trip, I was fairly exhausted and ready to go home. I wished I had actually spent more time with Norm and Jo, but the trip flew by and we were all busy with our children and the many activities we had planned.

Thankfully, I did spend some time with Norm and Jo on an excursion in Skagway, Alaska.

It was on our last day when I ran into them, as we were getting ready to leave the ship to go to the airport. I put down my suitcase and hugged my brother. I reached over to hug my sister-in-law, Jo and she handed me an envelope.

She said, “I wasn’t sure whether you’d get this in time if I mailed it, so I carried it along so I could give it to you at the end of our trip.”

I glanced at the envelope. It meant so much to me that she had remembered my little boy. I was overcome with emotion and began sobbing aloud.

My three adult children looked uncomfortable to see me crying. I wiped my tears away and they all said, “Sorry, mom. We hope you feel better.”

I couldn’t explain to them what my emotions were. I just had to cry.

After I released it, I felt better.