Heavy Ev-vy

I had been suicidal as long as I can remember... In fact, one of my earliest memories is walking out behind my father's pick-up truck before he backed over me as a toddler.  In that instance, I will NOT claim I was trying to die.  On the contrary, it was my curiosity about how a rear-view mirror worked that put me in that dangerous position...

I do not have memories of the trauma or pain.  No bones were broken, no organs damaged.  It was my parents who were devastated at the prospect of losing their youngest child and only daughter.

.....My parents are wonderful people.  They simply could not recognize anxiety and depression, watching me grow up.  These concepts were beyond the needs they were striving to provide for my brothers and me.

That was why I made up my mind to take a detour from my passions and find a career path that could give me financial security as well as prestige.  Speech pathology broadened my horizons beyond what I had expected.  Studying communication helped me realize how disconnected I really was- from myself as well as others...

Although words are wonderful, I often find myself stifled by their limitations or overwhelmed by accidentally revealing more than I intended... Music has been the perfect blend of raw emotions and ambiguity.  It can be like an impressionist piece of art; alluding to a concept without overexposing its every detail... Allowing leeway for the audience to project their own perspectives freely.

Nevertheless, rediscovering my artistic outlets was not enough in and of itself to cure my suicidal tendencies.  There was a lot I did not understand.  Borderline Personality Disorder means feeling every emotional up and down with greater intensity... and until I understood that most people in the world cannot relate- that their brain chemistry is different, it simply felt like they did not care-

This made me feel sad, angry, isolated.  Death felt like a miraculous escape... To leave the body, the pain, the thoughts... To give up the quest for purpose and satisfaction.

...When I began writing and speaking publicly about my experiences, I was frequently offered advice about- How many people would miss me, how upset everyone would be... This did not deter my suicidal thoughts at all.  Although I would thank them for their kind efforts, I really wanted to explain, "I don't want to care about all that... That's heavy!  I want to escape responsibility for other people's feelings.  If I'm dead, I don't have to worry about ANYTHING anymore!"

Despite my thoughts, I had already survived one attempt at 22 years old... and the humiliation of another failure was more of a deterrent than any other detail.

So I made up my mind to work... Practice mindfulness, yoga, Reiki... Write songs, perform, share the messages that came to me through song.  Each day I lived with the little voice in my head that said death would be easier than all the effort, and each day I told it, "Maybe next week.  This week I'm going to learn this cover... work on this finger picking pattern... finish these new lyrics."

There were brief moments when I could distract myself enough to forget, but around every corner, it was there again, waiting to surprise me.

Then a message finally came that began to change me... One night I dreamed I was on a high floor of a skyscraper with my mother.  We entered an elevator to descend, but as the doors closed behind us, the walls and floor began to melt into the consistency of a fine thin fabric.  I began to imagine plummeting, the swift relief that would come with death.  I felt no fear... But then I realized my mother was reaching out for something to keep her from falling.  She was still clinging to life.  She held onto me.  I held onto the fabric and prayed for the strength to save her.

When I awoke, in tears, for the first time I cared about what my death might mean for those who survived me.  I thought about how devastated my parents would have been if they had lost me as a baby who naively walked in the path of the family vehicle... How no matter how I live this life, they are simply grateful to have had me alive, to see me grow up into a woman.

They never cared whether I went to college, graduate school... It doesn't matter to them whether I get married and have kids to them, so long as I am breathing-

And when I think about being responsible for nothing more than the air that flows in and out of my body... Life begins to feel lighter, brighter... and a little more worth living.

Every Heard = Ev Reheard

Short Bus

Since February I have been having this conversation: This is MY Brave is this wonderful show where individuals talk about their experiences with mental health, attempt to eliminate stigma- a kind of vagina monologues for crazy people.

But I am afraid the founders might not like this description.  Is it disrespectful?  Maybe I am not the candidate they want representing mental illness… Maybe I should just sing the song I wrote while I was depressed and keep my opinions to myself.  Really- that’s why I auditioned: a chance to perform for 400 people.  Let them be the spokeswomen for western psychology.  I don’t really believe in the stuff…

It is difficult for me to keep my opinions to myself; so most days I either try to avoid people or make a game of finding creative ways to sound pleasant.  (It is exhausting, I cannot do it all the time.)

I do not know how to say this nicely.  I feel like I am cheating- Being honored to perform for a large crowd because I am “special” and not because of talent, skill, or any other desirable quality; “special” like the Special Olympics… Like the system was modified for me because I cannot do it the “normal” way. 

Perhaps I could already be performing for larger audiences if I had followed my heart from the start- to be an artist, rather than giving into the busy mind chatter and external influences that led me to study speech therapy for over seven years.  However, “normal” was never in the cards for me.  I accept who I am, and I am glad I studied communication and neuroscience for the incredible insights my education helped me comprehend… and am now able to share:

Speech Therapy & Autism

…As I finished graduate school, only friends with one out of the 35 students with whom I had spent two years of classes, it occurred to me… I had a similar number of remaining friends from high school and college.  It turned out, I had more in common with my autistic clients than other “normal” people. 

I found ways to teach them, “Yes, there are a lot of strange rules, and there seem to be a lot of exceptions when the majority says so.  Let’s just try to learn the formalities and work on being flexible.  I know it doesn’t feel natural, but it works- sort of. (And when it doesn’t, freaking out hardly ever helps.)”

In a nutshell, that was my message.  In reality, it meant hugging children so they could not hurt themselves during a tantrum, bargaining with them to touch and taste new foods over weeks and months, even using the same behavioral psychology methods that are part of animal training; schedules of reinforcement, pairing stimuli… It was work that required consistency among caregivers, and while my communication skills were adequate for the abnormal children, they rarely were for the normal parents.

Feeling impotent, I tried several other settings and variations on speech therapy; hospitals, rehab, nursing homes.  I worked with clients with swallowing, vocal, and cognitive dysfunctions.   I frequently was part of a team that started the heavy conversations about hospice and quality of life… and after a couple years of dying, I began to really re-evaluate how I was living.

While I had accumulated over $70,000 in student loans, I had also never allowed myself to take risks…

                I’ve longed to learn to fly,

                but I’ve been too afraid I’d fall

                -and I’ve feared I might die

                So I haven’t lived at all

It felt like I might end up squandering the remainder of my twenties and a good part of my thirties eliminating my debt…

            Life is a tall drink of water,

and I’ll try to choke it down

I’ve been dying of thirst

-for fear that I may slowly drown

…and for the first time in my life, I chose to be irresponsible.  I chose to be like those autistic kids and ignore what I was supposed to do.   I realized I had been faking it for so long, just trying to keep myself together, but falling apart periodically into long spells of depression.  By then, I had learned so many bad habits and unhealthy coping mechanisms, and I was just beginning to acknowledge that I could make conscious decisions to change my own behavior as well.

Love

It was love that saved me from life alone in my head; hiding, dissociating… Falling for someone I had no Earthly reason to find compatible, someone who just made me feel at home.  He was the catalyst that made the inner me want to live aloud and start the process of turning inside-out.

As we got to know one another, he told me his internal struggles were similar.  I listened to the songs he wrote to cope… and before I could think of trying or learning to play a guitar, songs were spilling out of me as well.

I recall confiding in him that I worried I was having auditory hallucinations initially, afraid to even admit it to anyone else.  He reassured it was a perfectly normal part of the process- so I could start opening up to other musicians...

Although I fought it, everything else began falling away, including HIM.  I found myself drawn into the world of Reiki and yoga and spiritual practices, trying to find reasons and dissipate the pain.  

He was the one that came along and made me care, made me feel like the connection I so badly wanted was possible.  I wanted to learn how to do it right, and if I could not mend the situation with him, learn to move on and find another with whom I felt that connection.

I tried to find a home among the musicians, among the spiritual practitioners.  Even then, surrounded by a new network of friends, I found myself feeling so isolated and suicidal that I checked myself into a hospital.  Thereafter, diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), I began to realize the extent of how different I am from “normal”.  In fact, autism is much more common than BPD!  -and I share with them similar afflictions for inflexible thinking and hypersensitivity- that continue to challenge my friendships and relationships.

However, the difference is that individuals on the autistic spectrum have difficulty empathizing, whereas I tend to be a "psychic sponge" for other people’s emotions… To complicate matters further, I feel the emotions people may chose to avoid acknowledging, as people often feel one thing but say another.  There is nothing necessarily mystical about being a psychic sponge.  People's intentions are evident in their expressions, inflections, and actions; even when their words are contradictory.

In order to evaluate what is actually happening, I developed a nasty habit of testing people’s boundaries.  One good friend affectionately called it “mind-fucking”.  I prefered “figuring out what makes you tick”. 

For instance, some people will do almost anything to avoid saying “no”.  This makes them unreliable sources of information.  Therefore, I used to probe them with questions, offers, and invitations until I could elicit a “no”.  Whether it was for a glass of water they did not drink or a favor that would impose upon them, my subconscious would usually find a way… Or find a person became less available to reach.  In the latter case, I learned to consider this person one less worry in my attempt to control for unreliable variables.

Now I make an effort to utilize NVC (Non-Violent Communication) to keep my language focused on expressing my needs and acknowledging the needs of others... Again, it continues to require effort and practice.

BLogging

I have learned to write these old habits down as I increase my self-awareness, retrain my brain- Because before it barely occurred to me that other people did not think the way I do.  I assumed everyone should analyze every interaction from multiple points of view, choose their words in a calculated manner, and aim for efficiency.  

However, this line of thought only led to accusations of being manipulative, disappointment, feeling misunderstood- and therefore, not cared about.  “Fear of abandonment” is one of the hallmarks of BPD, as are feelings of invalidation.  I felt like I was trying for everyone, and no one was reciprocating for me… 

I cared immensely, wanted appreciation and devotion as deeply as I wanted to give it.  But no one could feel the intensity with which my little amygdala (the primitive "fight or flight" part of the brain) was firing my emotions into every organ and limb of my body. 

As a musician, I began to find it easier to express myself, both in song and on the page.  It is where I began to find friends, like the boy I fell for, using music to express the frustrations that the limitations of words cannot.  Even before my diagnosis, many of them disclosed they were raised by parents suffering from mental illness or suffered themselves.

After my diagnosis, I became paranoid about whispers- So, I used social media to out myself.  If anyone was going to talk about me, I figured it may as well come straight from the source.

It never ceases to amaze me how many individuals, even strangers, are eager to contact me and tell me how brave I am.  They frequently share their own stories with me, adding how they could never do so publicly… and I am left feeling alone still, knowing that these struggles are not uncommon, but finding myself in a minority burdened by the desire to broadcast our experiences.

Social Media Avatar

Non-performers question how someone as outspoken as myself can consider herself an introvert, shy, have stage-fright.  I explain, there were many years when I hid in the privacy of computer role playing games, with hundreds and thousands of other socially awkward nerds.  However, when I started using Facebook to document my experiences, it became a real life role-playing game!  

The quests were images, recordings, connections; and with each new level unlocked, I was able to book more gigs and play for more people... People who told me there was someone special about the timbre of my voice.  People who told me my songs spoke to them.  People who confirmed for me- Music was a purpose that made life worth living.  

I resolved to eliminate my suicidal thoughts and replace them with this mission. And a strange consequence resulted, my avatar became better known than me... 

Ev Reheard became EVERY HEARD.  She is the voice, a woman whose potential always seems to exceed my own.  A woman who hands out business cards constantly and demands a steady stream of new content for her social media pages... maintains an artist collective (throwing free exclusively female networking parties), pursues nonprofit work to encourage music outreach...  A compulsive promoter, writer, and performer...  She dates men I wouldn't, breaks my heart, and leaves me to do all the rehearsing- So I can feel confident playing the guitar while she sings.

For almost thirty years, she resided beneath the surface, bubbling with impulses I worked hard to suppress- an exhausting effort that built up stress in my joints and muscles, gave me headaches, and anxiety attacks.  But the music... The music makes her emerge, exposes and stretches every part of me.  The voice demands to be heard... and from inside, the former me watches and tries to enjoy the ride without getting motion sick, pregnant, or addicted to anything or anyone.

To Be Continued... 

For the Rest of My Life

I recently had a friend and mother ask me what to do for her autistic child… My answer explains why I left giving therapy and hope to find work making music to unite people and communities; Worry less about how to fix your child and more about how you can prepare the world to be a place ready to receive her.

So... While being the documentarian of my unique perspective of being a half-Korean, half-Caucasian woman with BPD may not have been the mantle I would have chosen, it is a responsibility which I accept and will devote my life to capturing.  If it means I can take pride in my insecurities and help others see the strength which can emerge from theirs, I will happily continue... singing, writing, breathing... and being me.

I am thankful to be have been chosen of the many who auditioned- to be granted this opportunity to spread my message, share my story, and continue reminding others- It is okay to live aloud ^^

This is my Brave Dot Org

            May 2013, two years ago as of this week (the week of the show) I checked myself into Friend’s Hospital, a mental institution in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  Although I had been in and out of therapy for few years, I had never been formally diagnosed.  In fact, my therapist had reassured me that I did not have bipolar disorder, as my ex-boyfriend had accused me.   –and she was right.  I don’t have bipolar.

More than a week after checking out of the hospital and being sent to seek Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), I finally let myself Google it.  I usually would have done it immediately.  But I left the hospital feeling broken, like I couldn’t trust myself, like I should leave the work to the professionals.

            When I read the Wikipedia site, I was alarmed to read DBT was designed for Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).  As I searched through literature and cinema, I found horror movies and self-help books for partners of BPD patients- about how to escape, how to leave… I went to my psychiatrist and asked him if this was my diagnosis.  Before answering yes, I fit the criteria; he questioned me about why I was asking, why I needed to know.  I told him, “I’m reading these books about DBT.  I need to know if this is what I’m dealing with!”

            For most of my life, I have suffered from depression, black and white thinking, fear of abandonment, suicidal ideation- I took too many pain killers when I was 22, with the intention to never wake up… and when the pain forced me to go to the emergency room for treatment, I accepted that I could not even die the way I wanted to… Now I’m 32.

            Two years ago, I wrote this song- Not even realizing what I was saying… It was such a familiar sensation.  For 30 years I had survived so many days of not wanting to get out of bed, not wanting to face the world, the human race… HUMAN RACE- other people, the rush between them, all trying to get somewhere… rushing to a finish line where there would be no winner!

            When I wrote this song, it was beginning to occur to me, no matter where I went in this world, even if I just stayed alone in my bed all day… I could never escape myself.

            Two years after my hospitalization, less than a year since I have stopped seeing BPD as a curse that no one can cure… From the days and nights of pain that felt unending- Now I see what a gift my personality disorder has been.  I have more than seven job titles on my business card; speech pathologist, Reiki master, yin yoga instructor, nail technician, life coach, musican, and founder of aMUSEment EVents- a female artist collective that nurtures the creative spark in all women.  I am exactly who I want to be!  Without my “disorder” I would have never dreamed I could do so much…

I changed my vocabulary- I’m not impulsive; I have courage.  I’m not manipulative; I’m charismatic… and I am not suicidal; I am ready to live and honor every day as if it were my last!

Reluctant Celebrity

Who me?  No, I'm nobody.

Well, I'm somebody.  I am Ev Reheard.  Every Heard.

I am a singer/songwriter, artist, accidental comedian... Writer, speech pathologist, Reiki master... Too many titles.  What I really am is LUCKY.

Within four years of stumbling upon an open mic for the first time; I began writing original music, learning to play a guitar, and meeting my role models.

Three years ago, I fell into a hopeless relationship with a collegiate musician.  Combing through his vinyl, I fell in love with the sound and stories of the Tedeschi Trucks Band... Susan Tedeschi's voice, Derek Trucks' guitar, the ensemble's collaboration.  I raveled my life chapters around every lyric and rhythm.  It was my anthem.

Of course, Revelator does not need my praise.  It won a Grammy!  It is an incredible first album of a husband and wife who merged their two bands to form one incomparable music force.

Susan Tedeschi was the only white woman I knew who could sing with so much soul AND shred guitar solos as well as any man.  She quickly became my newest role model.

FAST FORWARD

Two years ago, I checked myself into a hospital to seek treatment for depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation.  Realizing my music and writing were the only things that made life worth living, I began the long process of rearranging my life around this artistic purpose.

It was not an easy decision, and it did not happen all at once.  It is still happening...

Finding little optimistic literature about my diagnosis, I started blogging my experiences, living with borderline personality disorder.  I was comforted and encouraged by social media friends who sent me their stories in confidence.  During a particularly challenging month, between apartments, I even couch surfed through many of their homes.  It was like my own exclusive, door-to-door tour.

I tried to ignore the whispers in my mind, telling me to quit my stable day-job as a speech therapist.  I was unprepared, and I did not have a plan.  But something told me change was coming...

ORGANIZATION

From early on as a musician, I realized the importance of finding female friends.  Ladies were the minority in music circles, and I had a knack for being seduced into dead-end heart breaks and aches.  While they were great fodder for songwriting, they were devastating for my psyche.  It was female friends who kept me from killing myself at the lowest moments, who reminded me they had survived similar and worse experiences.

aMUSEment EVents was born out of this need and became a female artist collective.  I threw networking parties exclusively for ladies; where we could cook, eat, drink, and feel complete freedom to perform and express ourselves... Every time, a miraculous atmosphere of inspiration enveloped us.  It was a unique and addictive vibe that I was eager to recreate and spread.  As I watched our members move to other parts of the country, I realized our potential to have chapters in other cities.

I wanted to share that sense of community and nurturing with EVERYONE- especially my less privileged neighbors who I met giving speech therapy in low income parts of Philly.

...By the time my career aspirations began changing, everyone was advising me to form a nonprofit.  I asked around, acquired the paperwork, and thought.  The process itself would cost almost $1000 and take months.

Having already attempted (and failed) to gather the necessary resources and volunteers to coordinate a community wellness day with live music, I understood my goals could not be achieved alone.  I did not need to reinvent the wheel.  I made up my mind to avoid forming a new nonprofit.  Instead I contacted existing organizations and asked them to adopt aMUSEment EVents.

This was fruitless for months... and meanwhile the little whisper in my mind had increased to a volume I could no longer ignore- I quit my job.

I started preparing myself for 2015; Give up drinking, give up meat; start living in alignment with your purpose.

An unlikely source of motivation came from a Facebook friend's post: "If you could write a note to your younger self, what would you say in only two words?"

Thinking back on my education, my relationships, my mental health; I could not wish away any of my growth and discovery.  I found my new mantra:

KEEP GOING

December 3, 2014, I was hosting my open mic at Connie's Ric Rac, enjoying what was going to be one of my last big nights to get drunk (and insuring a massive hang over to haunt me for all of 2015), when a stranger walked in with a saxophone case.

In my drunken delirium, it was a cinematic moment.  I was on stage, pushing the crowd to cheer on a random jam band that had suddenly caught the muse.  That was when I saw him wander in, "You!"  I pointed, "Is that a sax on your back?"

"Me?"  He looked around.

"Yeah, you... Get it out and get on stage!" I grinned.  Horns were always a crowd pleaser and exactly what this jam band needed.

He quickly obliged, like a pro... Because, little did I know, he was a professional.  He was Kebbi Williams.

"I'm playing at the Keswick with... " he shrugged, "You probably never heard of us."

"Probably not.  I never know the names people drop."

"Tedeschi Trucks Band-"

I touched his arm, as my jaw lay dropped in shock, unable to speak for a moment... "That is my favorite band."

"Oh yeah?  You should come to the show."

"Ha,"  I thought of my piling bills, my lack of employment, "I can't afford tickets.  I would absolutely love to-- I adore Susan Tedeschi, but-"

Kebbi grinned, "This is happening."


CONNECTIONS

Within twelve hours, I was shaking hands with Susan Tedeschi, meeting all of the wonderful players in the band... For three glorious nights, I watched them rehearse and play at the Keswick Theater; living my fantasy, dreaming awake.

Between sound checks and shows, Kebbi wanted to see more of what Philadelphia had to offer.  He enjoyed fresh foods at Reading Terminal Market, Di Bruno Bros, and a real Philly cheese steak at Pat's.  But more than tourist attractions, he wanted to find diversity and music.  We went to a community center, a dance class; Kebbi sat in on a drum circle and played sax at Chris's Jazz Cafe and Time.

I could not believe my good fortune!  Not only was he in my favorite band; another coincidence: Kebbi had a nonprofit!  He started Music in the Park ATL (MITP) five years ago to create the same receptive atmosphere I had found through aMUSEment EVents.

With his connections, he is able to book world renowned artists.  Once a year, he and his team organize a day festival where Atlanta students are given the opportunity to play alongside professionals, as the neighborhood joins in to enjoy the creative celebration.  With the help of fundraising, Kebbi keeps the festivities FREE for everyone to attend.  Last year (2014), there were over 16,000 people!  This year MITP continues a partnership with Atlanta Streets Alive to also include a drumline competition, dance instruction, and a parade.

We discussed our visions and realized they were aligned.  We saw music bringing people together, engaging them as a community-- How we could use performances as opportunities to encourage healthy and mindful choices...

During his time home from tour, he visits schools and works to insure the performing arts are being included in education.  He is the living example of how far music can take kids- Around the world and back!

I explained how music was a source of healing to me; How it had helped me through my arduous mental health journey.  Playing him songs that were the product of coping through music, I explained my passion to make an impact on communities-- to help people communicate on larger scale!

This is how aMUSEment EVents partnered with Music in the Park.

Soon I was working remotely with the MITP team in Atlanta.  It was thrilling to be welcomed into a crew of capable organizers!  -I found the "wheel" already invented, functioning with 501(3)(c) status, just as I had hoped!  I jumped in, feet first, ready to contribute!

It is Atlanta for now, but there are plans... BIG PLANS.  Like aMUSEment EVents, MITP can not be confined to any one location.  The need is everywhere!  The performing arts are a valuable form of expression for people of all ages, cultures, and socio-economic statuses!  ...After the 5th annual, Music in the Park festival, April 19th; That is when the real work will begin!  Grant writing, formalizing a business plan, organizing more educational assemblies and creating jobs for artists!

GRATITUDE

While I thank the psychiatric and psychological professionals for saving me from death, I owe my life to creativity!  Less than a year ago, I was still listening to the Tedeschi Trucks Band on vinyl; now they are making one of our most important fundraisers possible!

For our most important fundraiser, supporters and patrons are offered the chance to win 2 free tickets to the Tedeschi Trucks Band 2015 concert of their choice with backstage passes and a $1000 VISA travel voucher!

Raffle tickets can be purchased on their website:
http://www.tedeschitrucksband.com/news/support-music-in-the-park

$10/ticket or $100/11 tickets

The winner will be chosen at our April 19th event. However attendance is NOT required. ANYONE,  ANYWHERE can win!

All proceeds benefit Music in the Park ATL and enable us to continue our endeavors to enrich communities with music, dance, and cultural diversity.  We will broaden the educational and expressive horizons of children and adults alike with every resource we receive!


Kebbi may be a member of the Tedeschi Trucks Band, but he is also one of the most humble people I have ever met.

"I'm not famous.  Derek and Susan are famous," he tells me.  "Music in the Park isn't about me.  It's about the kids, about music.  It doesn't need me.  It's bigger than that!"

Nevertheless, the reluctant celebrity is a Grammy winner now.  He wants to use this title for Music in the Park's virtuous mission, without "tooting his own horn".  So, I will toot for him!

Music in the Park is about good people doing a good thing for as many people who will participate as possible.  Not long ago, I barely found a reason to live... and now I am thriving with purpose for this more than worthy cause.  If you feel passionately about keeping the performing arts alive and available to everyone, this is your opportunity to help!   Thank you ^^

Lather Hair Studios 2015 Locks of Love Benefit Post-Event Re-Cap

We had an incredible day at Lather Hair Studios (http://www.latherhairstudio.com/)!  We had 8 ponytail donors, including one regular Lather client who was unaware of the donation drive until she showed up and decided to cut the extra length in order to participate.

Our first donor was singer/songwriter and vocal instructor, Sara B Simpson .  Sara has been giving since she was 16, and in that time has donated 6 times!  Besides being a repeat giver, she also has such full hair that her donations are usually two or three ponytails rather than one.  Sara proudly calls herself a "hair-farmer".  

Next, our friend Damian Driscoll saw our ad on Facebook and traveled all the way from Hatboro to say goodbye to the ponytail he had been growing for 3 years!  He explained he has been looking for work, and he hopes that the new do will help him make the right impression at future interviews.  After chopping his pure white ponytail, Lather stylist, Dierdra Davis shaved his head free of charge to help him look professional.  We were thrilled to have a man accept the Locks of Love challenge!

Monica Lynne Chase of the Bosom Band gave up her full mane of wild colors to stylist, Abbey Dernoga.  Monica explained that she has not made a big cut since she started her fight with cancer...

Quote:

"In 2008 I was diagnosed with Melanoma. I started chemo-therapy in 2009 and had my first tumor removed. I had to then have 4 more tumors removed and my lymph nodes taken from my breasts and armpits. I started with Dacarbazine which was given as an injection in a vein over a 20-minute period every 2 weeks for 6 months. Then I continued systemic therapy and had to change my diet and swithed to taking pill form: Temozolomide and Minocycline, which is a tetracycline antibiotic that fights bacteria in the body. I lost my hair in clumps and the top portion thinned out....so I got an under cut shave and cut similar to the one yesterday. I stayed on Minocycline for 3 years and went from Dr. appointments every 2 weeks to once a month and now I'm on systemic skin and tissue checks every 4 months, (my son Richard and I have the same appointment every 4 months, he is drug free) I am still taking Minocycline and have to take up to 100 mg of Acidophilus a day for my GI track (it was pretty much destroyed by the chemo. Also my hair grows in different colors and textures in clumps where the hair fell out or thinned out. *as my stylist saw yesterday* (red, blonde, black, brown, curly, wavy, and straight) fun stuff!"

Abbey gave her the chic look Monica had hoped for, shaving the bottom half of her head and giving her lots of asymmetrical layers on top to hang over the left side of her face. From the left she looks glamour, from the right punk rock; just as she wanted.

As for me, I got to spend time with owner, Dena Miranda and photographer, Lisa Schaffer (who volunteered her services for the day). They helped me mentally prepare for my first off-the-shoulder cut EVER. I wrote about why I never cut my hair in my blog: http://echovictory.blogspot.com/2015/01/so-long-hair.html -The cliff notes are- My mother started her childhood in a Buddhist temple with a shaved head. I grew up VERY feeling attached to my long hair! Surrounded by friends, I said farewell to my old strands, making way for new growth.

Alanna Blitz showed up for a regularly scheduled appointment to see the pile of ponytails and asked to participate! Alanna remarked that her husband of only two years would be surprised when she went home to Collingswood, NJ, but she was happy to keep him guessing now that they are no longer newly weds.

Another late comer, Courtney, daughter of Kirstin Brug gave her hair to Locks of Love! Kirstin is yet another singer-songwriter, as well as a female Philadelphia business owner (www.karmadiva.com eco-friendly cleaning services). Thank you for bringing your daughter in for a trim!

We also had guests Christina Henck of Henck Design (http://www.henckdesign.com/) who is Lather's interior designer and Shahid Rana, Executive Director of the Fairmont CDC (http://fairmountcdc.org/).

We look forward to seeing what community improvements will result from this new collaboration between the Fairmount CDC and Lather Hair Studio!

Special thanks go out to our photographer extraordinaire, Lisa Schaffer 

https://www.facebook.com/LisaSchafferPhotography
http://www.skylerbug.com/

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Training my brain to read music in color...

Training my brain to read music in color...  

Learning where the notes are, ear training with sight~

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Particile Movement in Sound & Simple Harmonic Motion

If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?  Before one can answer this question, one must define what sound is.  Contrary to the egocentric human inclination, sound does not exist because we have ears to hear it (although it helps).  Rather, sound results from its origin; vibrations.  The following will outline certain acoustic terminology and attempt to explain the process through which ears recognize sound.

Sound vibrations can originate from an infinite number of sources; the striking of a tuning fork, the slamming of a door, the blowing of air into a saxophone, the pushing of air through the vocal tract to produce speech, and yes, a tree falling in the woods.  These sounds belong in several different categories; pure tones, complex periodic signals, and complex aperiodic signals.  Each is defined by the pattern of its vibrations (or lack there of).  The simplest, a pure tone is distinct because it has only one frequency.  This means its vibration occurs in a pattern, or cycle, that repeats itself exactly the same number of times each second.  How many times this cycle repeats per second is called frequency.  It is referred to in units named Hertz (Hz).

For instance, a cycle begins with the striking fork which initiates the inward displacement of the tines.  They move in as far as they can, then elasticity restores them to their original point of rest.  However, inertia, the tendency of an object in motion to stay in motion, forces the tines to continue moving, past the resting point, outward.  The cycle ends when elasticity again returns the tines to the resting point.  Of course, inertia again forces the tines to continue moving; inward, outward, and the pattern continues throughout the duration of the pure tone.  The repetition of oscillations is called Simple Harmonic Motion (SHM).

This is often depicted in the form of a wave drawn over a bisecting horizontal line.  If the previous example were thus illustrated, the wave would begin at a point on the horizontal line, a resting point.  The curve would then arch up to its peak, signifying the place of maximum inward displacement of the tines.  Just as elasticity returned the tines to their resting point, the line would likewise curve back down to the horizontal line.  From this resting point, the line would arch down to another peak, marking the place of maximum outward displacement, then again curve back up to the horizontal line.  This is the representation of a complete cycle.

Similarly, the Swing Analogy is often referred to in order to represent the SHM of a pure tone.  Again, the swing begins at its resting point.  Once a swing is set in motion by an external force, it moves from resting to its back-most point, through its resting point, to its front-most point, and finally returns to its resting point.  This pattern repeats itself at the same rate over and over again.  The resting point is where the swing would reach maximum velocity (speed).  The back-most and front-most points are where velocity briefly drops to zero as the swing changes direction, but they are also where the swing reaches maximum acceleration (increase in speed).

Of course none of these things happen in a vacuum.  In the real world there is friction, and moving objects do no remain in motion indefinitely.  Gradually, the back-most and front-most points of the swing become closer and closer together, as do the tines of the tuning fork until the motion ceases altogether.  The frequency, nevertheless, stays the same throughout the duration of the tone.

These descriptions give some idea of how the sound vibration is produced by an object and how the sound can be graphically drawn.  However, we have not addressed the fact that even though sound does not have any weight or mass, it displaces the surrounding particles of whatever medium in which it is being transmitted.  Although we are most familiar with sound travelling through air; anyone who has gone swimming knows it travels through water, and anyone with noisy neighbors knows, that among other things, it travels through wood and plaster as well.

Air is a particularly elastic medium through which sound travels.  When a tuning fork creates vibrations, the air particles around it are also moved.  There are special names for the back and forth motion; compression and rarefaction.  All of the air particles do not move uniformly.  Instead they are more like aisles of baseball fans doing "the wave" in a stadium.  The first aisle stands and as it begins to sit down, the second aisle begins to stand.  The following aisles follow the pattern.  The process is set so that each successive aisle is slightly off in its motion from its neighbors.  Also, like the baseball fans, who never really leave the seats, the air particles are close together and others, where they are far apart but do not cross paths.  This form of motion produced is called longitudinal waves.  This propagation is what creates the vibratory patterns that our ears receive as sound.

It is a very technical process that creates sound, and pure tones are only a fraction of what we hear.  This lengthy explanation only gets one from the striking of a tuning fork to the ear drum.  The process with which reaches our brains and is perceived as sound is whole other complex system!

From Queens College Undergraduate studies... I got an A.

Losing Eden

My parents named me Evie after the gospel singer Evie Tornquist.  Like my namesake, my name is pronounced Ev-vy, like “heavy” without the “h”.  However, throughout my childhood, I constantly had to correct everyone calling me Eve-y.

Again and again, immediately after introducing myself, I would have the same conversation; “Like Eve?  Is it short for Evelyn?”

“No, my parents named me Evie, but you can call me Ev.”  A pet name I preferred, from my brothers, growing up.

Still, people persisted upon calling me whatever they wanted, “Eve, Eve-y, Evelyn, Everly.”  It made no difference to them how nicely I asked.

I began to hate the name “Evie”… and Eve, with her notorious reputation preceding her.

So as an adult, I made an important decision; I was finished with the never-ending name game.  I would become Ev and forget the explanation.  

Miraculously, Eve began to leave me alone.

Who wanted to be Eve?  The naïve lady who let a snake talk her into losing Eden over an apple?

Eve, meaning “life” meant “mother” to me… and while I waited and gave my heart away to more than one man who stated the intention of marrying and making a family with me, I always found myself chasing this dream… To be another person’s other half.

For most of my life, I have pondered the creation story, re-imagining it from many angles with many different potential males playing the role of Adam.  However, it was not until I was dating a man really named Adam that I found the gumption to put the complete story down on paper…

During our courtship, Adam was elated by how compatible we seemed to be.  “Wow, Ev.  Are you ever going to stop loving me this way?  Touching me this way?  Speaking openly with me this way?”

I would smile, “No, this is who I am, Adam.  Most guys have seen it as a problem actually.”

“Why?  You’re great!”  He assured me with a sincere smile.  “I love you being you!  I just want you to keep being you and keep growing!”

“That’s all I’ve wanted to hear a man say,” I swooned.  “This is me… I only ask that you stay open with me.”

We confided in one another that, despite our own unorthodox views on spirituality, our Christian parents were praying for us both to find life partners.  Suddenly, we were questioning whether our parents had manifested our relationship.

…For nearly two weeks everything seemed to fall into place.  We liked all the same things.  He called and sent messages every day.  He wanted to see me almost every other day… Although I initially warned him that I had many loose ends left to tie up, I found myself overwhelmed by the fairy tale.  One night I could not contain it.  Much to my chagrin, it was over the phone that I heard myself impetuously crying to him, “You have me.  You caught me.  I’m ready to cut the ties from before and start something real with you… now.”

He told me everything was fine, but his messages became fewer… It took him five days to call me again… While I waited patiently, I finally found the words to tell the story of Adam and Eve... Not the way it is written in the Bible.

(Artwork courtesy of Amy Bird)

God created the Heavens and the Earth... Animals and man.

God started with one man, Adam- to be one with everything else.  God told him to name the animals and enjoy paradise.

After a few days, God- who was accustomed to living alone in eternity -realized Adam's questions were infinite.  Why did some animals have super powers; birds had flight, fish could breathe under water.  Adam rambled that he understood their gifts gave them purpose... But what were Adam's gifts?  What was his purpose?

"Asking questions," God thought to himself.

However, realizing that Adam lacked the capacity for understanding the wisdom that comes with omniscience, God took pity on him.  As Adam lay asleep one beautiful morning, God took from him a rib and from it, fashioned him a female counterpart, Eve.

In their initial forms, neither Adam nor Eve had sexual definition.  There was no need.  They were one with everything and did not see themselves as separate from one another... or from the animals or trees or bodies of water...  They simply understood they were made to give each other companionship.

Adam was elated and thanked God for giving him a mate who entertained his curiosities.  God could once again find comfort in his solace.  He told the pair, "Adam, Eve... Paradise is yours.  Eat from any tree in the garden... Except this one.  The Tree of Knowledge is forbidden."

Adam and Eve stared at one another.  It was Eve who spoke up first, "Please, God.  Tell us, what does forbidden mean?"

God sighed, "It means if you eat from it, you must leave paradise forever."

This was the first time that Adam or Eve had ever heard there was anywhere else to go.

Adam spoke up this time, "God, what is forever?"

"I am forever," answered God.  "These bodies I have given you to live in for now are not.  They are like the flowers and the trees.  They will wither and fade and go back to the Earth from which they came."

Adam and Eve looked at one another again in confusion.

"Just don't eat from the Tree of Knowledge," God sighed.  "One rule.  It's simple.  Just don't eat from it..."

Adam and Eve nodded their heads, as they always did, even when they did not understand what he was saying.

..................Adam and Eve had lived in the garden for quite a while without ever having noticed the Tree of Knowledge before... But now that there was a mystery, they were intrigued.

As all theologians know, it was a serpent who bent Eve's ear; "It's a test."

"What's a test?"  Eve asked.

"God wants you to eat an apple from the Tree of Knowledge.  He just said not to so you would notice it."

"Why would he tell us not to, if he wants us to eat from it?"  Eve pondered aloud. "Why didn't he just tell us to eat from it instead?"

"Why does God do anything?"  answered the serpent.  "You know him and his mysterious ways."

"He does say many things we don't understand," Eve agreed, thinking of forever.

"You didn't even know about the Tree before he mentioned it.  Why did he bother saying anything?  Why would he bother creating a tree with inedible fruit?"

Eve found this logic difficult to argue with... and besides, having only ever known paradise and how wonderful it was, Eve was curious to know what lay beyond.  She wanted to understand forbidden and forever.

The next moment she was plucking a ripe apple from a branch of Knowledge and sinking her teeth into it.

Until this moment, everything in paradise had tasted the same; good.  Until this moment she did not acknowledge her ego or see her body as an aging piece of flesh.  Eve recoiled and heaved but bits of the fruit fell down her throat.  She felt humiliation and fear and mortality.  She fell to her knees...

The serpent dodged the venom as Eve attempted to spew it out.  "That good, eh?"

"You damn thing!"  Eve swatted the serpent away.  "What have I done?"

Burying the evidence of her transgression, Eve ran to find Adam.  How to tell him...

In the stream she found him, bent over, petting the fish as they swam by.  She saw him as naked for the first time; different from herself, separate from herself.

"Eve!"  He smiled upon seeing her.  "Look at what I can do!"

He plunged his hands into the water and attempted to pick up a fish unsuccessfully.  "Oops!"  He laughed, trying again and again unsuccessfully.  "Well, I can.  I did before."

Eve felt an unfamiliar flush of embarrassment for Adam's behavior.  "I am going to lie down."

"I'll come with you!"  Adam followed her to the meadow where they had often enjoyed long naps together, entwined in each others’ limbs.  All the while, Eve feeling the same uncertain discomfort about every detail that differentiated him from her; his gait, the hair on his body... And as she felt his skin touch hers, she became acutely aware that she was no longer one with everything.  Her contact against his body felt like a boundary keeping her out.  She suddenly knew words she had never known before; fear, worry, lonely.

"Stupid," she uttered in her sleep.

"Eve,"  Adam roused her, "What is stupid?"

"You are," she responded.

"I am?"  He smiled.

Eve shrugged him away, "It is not a good thing."

"Oh,"  Adam remained puzzled and went on with his day. He wanted to understand, but he had no knowledge of "not good".

For days Eve avoided him.  Watching him from afar, she wondered how she had ever taken pleasure in his company.  When they slept, she ached with loneliness.  She tried touching Adam in new ways.  Being one with everything still, Adam enjoyed it all. Although Eve tried to find pleasure in his presence again, she found only pain... Worse, he could not understand when she tried to explain what pain was.

Remembering what God had said, Eve was confused about why he had not visited them to punish her.  She began to think the serpent was right.  Maybe God did want me to eat from the Tree of Knowledge.  Maybe he wanted this to happen... How cruel God is to have created such a tree!

That was when she made up her mind to tell Adam the truth.  She took him for a long walk, trying to explain one last time... ending their journey under the Tree of Knowledge.

"Hello forbidden Tree of Knowledge!"  Adam threw his arms around the tree, embracing it.

"Adam," she took an apple from a branch and knelt on the ground, "I have to tell you a secret."

"Yes, Eve?"  Adam knelt with her.  "What's a secret?"

"A secret is something you don't know.  I have been trying to tell you many secrets, but you do not understand," she sighed.  "And I know the reason..."  She extended her hand, offering him the apple.

"Eve, this is the forbidden fruit," Adam smiled naively and reminded her, "God said that means, don't eat it."

"Yes, Adam.   I know..."  Eve felt tears pour from her eyes for the first time.

Adam embraced her, "Oh, Eve.  What's happening?  Where does this water come from?  What does it mean?"

As she ached so deeply to be one with him again, Eve pressed the apple against his chest.  "It means I'm sad.  It means I miss being one with you... Something changed... I ate from the Tree of Knowledge."

The words struck Adam harder than anything he had ever felt.  Although he did not know what Eve felt, he still recalled the time before God had made Eve to be his companion.  He remembered how fascinating she was and how grateful he felt to God for creating her.  "Oh, Eve..." 

"Adam, it's awful," she cried.  "My mind is constantly burdened.  My heart is always heavy."

He held her tight and touched her head, wishing he could relieve her of the tree's knowledge.  He suddenly realized why she was saying so many words he did not know.  Touching her stomach, he longed to reach into her and remove the apple.  There was nothing he could do.  "Let's go talk to God," Adam implored her.

"No!  He made this tree!  It's his fault!  Adam, he said I would have to leave paradise!"

Wiping her tears away from her face, Adam smiled, "Where would you go, without me?"  ...and without hesitation, Adam took the apple from her hand and ate.

Instantly, the brilliant colors of paradise turned to dull hues.  His being became isolated, and for the first time he became aware of his ego.  "What did you do?"

When Eve heard anger in his voice, she knew it was done... could never be undone.  "I'm sorry."

By the time God returned to visit, he found them bickering in the bushes, trying to cover their naked bodies with leaves.

"Adam, Eve; you ate from the Tree of Knowledge," God stated.

"She did it first," Adam pointed.  "Why did you give me such a stupid woman?"

God smiled, "So she would love you."

What had been done could not be undone.  God took pity on the pair and gave them sexual definition.  With the knowledge they now had, they would never been one with everything again; but at least for moments, they could share the sensation of being one with each other.

As punishment for being the initial transgressor, God gave Eve the burden of bearing children.  Acknowledging Adam's love and devotion to Eve had led him to repeat her mistake, God gave him strength with a naiveté to put himself between Eve and the dangers of the world outside paradise.  He did not tell the couple of these gifts but explained, "This world you live in has a balance, both good and bad.  I gathered all of the pain and displeasure and put it in one place, the Tree of Knowledge.  I thought if you could avoid this one tree, I could save you from knowing... I didn't want you to stumble upon it accidentally," God sighed, "But I created you to be a curious creatures, and now can see your free-will will cause you as much pain as it does pleasure... Better to let you learn on your own."

"Are you leaving us?"  Eve asked fearfully, clutching to Adam.

"I am always with you," responded God.  "Even when you think you are alone, I am listening.  Speak to me, and I will whisper back in the silence.  This is what you will call prayer."

"Prayer," Adam and Eve repeated.

"Pray alone.  Pray together.  I will hear you," God touched Eve's womb and Adam's arms before dissolving into his heavenly realm.

The couple wandered in the wilderness, seeking the sense of home they had once known in paradise.  Initially, they did not understand the gifts God had given them before departing their dimension.  They quarreled like children and argued over which paths to follow.  At times they chose different directions and went their separate ways... But inevitably, as God had made them for one another, their paths again converged.

It was during one of these separations that Eve found herself alone in a dark scary place, with a lion prowling.  Just as the cat pounced to make a meal of her, Adam happened to come along and intervened.  He extended his arms up into the air to appear larger and spoke with a firm loud voice, "Go away!  This is my woman!"

Putting Eve behind him, he began to slowly step back away from the beast, "Don't run.  Just keep going.  I'll keep you safe," he promised.

When they found a safe place to rest, Eve was overflowing with gratitude and trying everything she could to bridge the separation between them.

Exhausted from gathering all his courage against the lion, Adam forgot the petty squabbles that had led them in different directions.  All he could think of was how determined he had felt to stay with her when he ate the forbidden fruit.

In this moment of complete agreement and desire to be one again, the couple stumbled upon the act of making love... For this moment, they felt the familiar rush of pure goodness bonding them together.

...Soon Eve would become a mother and Adam a father.  Soon they forgot about paradise and made their home in each other's hearts.  The knowledge they could not return remained a burden, but the love they found in their family lifted the weight.

As they aged, they would speak to their children and grandchildren, occasionally telling stories about paradise; about oneness and never needing to make love because they lived in it always.  But there were no words to explain to the children born outside paradise... Although they sought it, they could not fathom perfection.  Only Adam and Eve could remember a time when God would come speak to them and answer their prayers in person...

---

…Perhaps I imagined Adam would immediately respond.  He would see how fragile and flawed I am and he is.  I was not divinely made from his rib; I am human, the product of my parents. 

He did finally call me after he read it.  However, it was not the same as before.  His vocabulary had changed.  He did not “love” me anymore; he “cared about” me.  I told myself to be patient, give him time to process…

But as days turned into weeks, I worried less about what might have been.  Instead I told myself, Must not have been.  My loose ends began tying themselves up, and when I came face to face with the lion- my lion… I did not cower or run away.  In this other man’s arms I found my answer; I am not Eve.  I am Evie, and Evie runs to the lion.

Despite repeatedly telling everyone I was not Eve, somehow, I forgot.  I had been trying to embody her essence, even pursuing her Adam.  With my lion, I remembered I was never only half of another person; I was whole as myself.  I did not worry about how we fit together or if it would last forever.  I simply appreciated the moments we shared were delicious, delightful, and at times delirious.  We made memories that will never lose their value, regardless of whether our paths remain entwined or separate... I stopped thinking of life as a quest to fulfill a man’s needs and began addressing mine.

I gave up the fairy tale, and my life has been happily-ever-after since.