Dolphin Love

Had the most amazing opportunity while in Costa Rica, thanks to my good friend, Cameron Powers who made a connection happen, to play drums for dolphins! WOW.. so fun, so sweet and so beautiful to feel their hearts connecting to us. Thanks to Marta & Craig for making it possible for us to experience such joy and bliss on the sweet Pacific seas.

As a young girl growing up in Florida, I have had many dolphin experiences. My dad and I were always in the boat and there were always dolphins close by it seemed, a few times they even came down into the canal in our back yard which was super cool. I have memories of their love filling my heart that go back to those days, and the heart space they inspire has never changed or diminished. Last year I got to see them near Kauai and the Big Island, this year Costa Rica. It's fun to know they love to groove too!

Enjoy the video and pass it on!

Costa Rica Update

Such sweet times here in the warmth of the tropics. It's been an amazing time to dream the dream, live the dream and work with sweat dripping down my body constantly.

Costa Rica feels funny too, like a place that has pants it hasn't really been able to totally squeeze into!

Music is the place my heart always thinks it needs more of, even here with all the amazing sounds of nature and the wild things, my heart is craving the sweet soft places, the lover in the Muse! I've had a few good doses, luckily enough to keep me soft and yummy but always wanting more it seems of those really precious sacred moments in the Muse.

Forest Dance was here, old friends from many years past in the fire tribe community. Twas a treat indeed to hold space and play all night beneath a big phat tropical moon with monkeys howling and funky Whattar players busting early morning grooves by the fire that was a bit too large for the size of the circle! The beautiful Ceiba tree hovering ominously over our heads was a blessing to behold and the biggest relief on the land was the swimming hole just on top of Nauyaca Falls (the picture is Nauyaca).

I've been here, in Costa Rica, Dominical, for 6 weeks working with a very dear friend of mine on creating a Community Retreat project in Uvita, CR just outside Dominical. It's been an amazing time of writing the dream into being and feeling this super surreal knowingness that I am living in the dream I've been carrying for so many years. I feel so grateful for the opportunity to get to collaborate with a friend on something that we both have been dreaming for years! It's tremendously exciting, and I feel like kissing the ground almost every minute... wow..

The synchronicities have been wild and whacky of course too! Lots of re-connecting with old friends from all over my life, Florida, North Carolina, Fire Tribe all over this country and others have been showing up left and right. It seems there is some merging here of all the differeng amazing pieces of my life! That's telling me something, as a big part of my dream/vision has been that all my favorite people from my whole life would come to be together in one magical, natural place like heaven!

The book, "Muse Power: How community Music Heals us from the Symptoms of Modern Culture" is in it's final final stages, no really, I mean it! I'm having Sirian Philips redo the cover and once that's done, it's off to print, so it will be available from my website as well as Amazon.com and other sources before spring I think!

Always good for me to leave the country and reflect on how amazing a place we live in in the US. Even with it's crap and it's problems which are many.. we are so blessed to have the reality we do.. bless the mess and let's dance the dream alive every day!

PREFACE to Cheri's Book by Cameron Powers

Cheri Shanti’s musical path and mine have followed some very similar
trajectories. I was very honored when she requested that I write this
preface. My evolution as community musician has culminated in
the creation of a non-profit organization called Musical Missions
of Peace which raises funds to carry community music-making into
international arenas. My non-profit organization has recently helped
fund an American woman to travel through Iran, sowing the seeds of
connection and friendship by joining in village festivals across the
Persian countryside.

Musical Missions of Peace also currently supports music lessons for
Iraqi refugee children which in Syria and in Jordan. These schools
provide employment for displaced professional Iraqi musicians and
help ensure that the valuable content of ancient Iraqi musical tradition
is not lost during these times of upheaval.
My community music engagements have ranged from Native
American festivals in Peru and Mexico, to Greece and finally, during
recent years, to Egypt, Syria, Iraq, Jordan, Palestine and Lebanon.
My years of study of the ancient micro-tonal music scales and the
music of the Arab world have enabled me to feel a sense of belonging
in many far-flung community settings in the Middle East. Ah, if only
the politicians could experience some of these same things!
Early in life I spent years in counter-cultural communes across the
Western states in the USA and I led many live music events when it
was time to celebrate.

I have had the great pleasure to join with Cheri in some of her Colorado-
based community “Muse” and “Fire Ceremony” celebrations and have
been delighted to feel the powerful energy and clarity of vision which
she brings to each occasion.

Baghdad, Iraq: Unified by a favorite old Iraqi song we stand and
move our bodies together while the high-rise buildings burn and
the invading army tanks drive by. Musical reality is more cohesive
than military reality. This is what I have discovered. When will the
soldiers lay down their guns and pick up the flutes and the lutes and
the tambourines? The ancient wisdom tells us that this option does
exist! It works for us here on the streets of Baghdad: we are American citizens singing with Iraqis here in the ancient Iraqi capitol even as we
all mourn the destruction.

In this book, Cheri reveals her experiences drumming with women
in India and we discover that there are indeed other tools for cross-
cultural commuication which, unfortunately, are generally omitted
from US foreign policy around the globe. Connecting through the
universal language of music offers us familiar and respectful ways to
bridge worlds.

Sina, Peru: Tucked into a village in a valley high on the slopes of the
Andes above the Amazon jungle the Inca-speaking families are into
the third night of the celebration. Clapping their hands for rhythm in
their dance they sing of the loneliness of the vast mountain landscapes.
They sing of the pain of lost loves and of the hopes for new romance.
Eusevio Qispi has planted the cornerstone for his new house! Tears
come as he sings in anticipation of the arrival of his new bride! No one
mentions the one awkward detail: he has yet to succeed with romance
and the bride is entirely imaginary. But never mind! Four days and
nights of singing and clapping the village rhythms will surely help to
conjure her up!

Cheri’s elucidations of the roles music plays in tribal societies around
the world make it clear that brides can indeed miraculously appear
when the right music is played long and sincerely enough!

West Bank of the Nile, Egypt: The piercing wails of three ancient oboes
ride atop the skilled drum-strokes on the skin of the big bass drum.
Dressed in their white robes the village men whirl at opposite ends of
their ceremonial dancing sticks. The flavor of a martial art stylizes the
dance. There are no gaps in the music between midnight and dawn.
Once again all turmoils and struggles have been laid to rest for an
entire night. From time to time a woman dances solo in the center of
the courtyard beneath the appreciative gaze of the assembled men. All
is just as it should be. The atmosphere is absolutely Egyptian! Eight
thousand years of ancestral rhythmic tradition manifests once again
and carries our energy up into the sky!

In this book we discover that Cheri has been laying the same foundations
for rhythmic tradition right here in the USA! Her work offers a place
for us here in the US to find this kind of experience, a place to lay down the struggles and turmoils of the world and be together, in spite
of our differences, and celebrate life in community.

Naxos, Greece: Tonight the island drummers and musicians have
congregated in a small town near the northernmost Mediterranean
beach. While the lines of dancers revolve under the moon a wave of
energy carries the energy to new highs: the rhythm has suddenly shifted
from seven-beat phrases to eight-beat phrases! Without a single break
the band plays until past dawn. Dancing all night is something taken
for granted as a natural human right!

Cheri’s clear statements about the strangeness of some of the still
existing rules about MUSIC “disturbing the peace” here in our
homeland can help us bring about changes in values. There are few
cultures in the world where music making on a community level are
so restricted, repressed and devalued as it is in the US. The freedom
to gather and play music, anytime, anywhere is not something we are
familiar with in the US.

Sinaloa, Mexico: It’s now four o’clock in the morning in a small
mountain town. A group of fifteen guitar players serenade the
crowd from the front porches of randomly chosen homes along the
neighborhood streets. The highly amplified dance band in the central
plaza has finished for the night. Now there is acoustic space for random
improvisation! This village has truly come alive!
Here, as in most of the indigenously intact cultures in the more
tropical parts of the world, the music is “by, for and of” all the age
groups in the community: the children, the teenagers, the adults and
the grandparents.

In this book you will find beautiful descriptions
which hint at the beauty of this reality, although, as one of her quoted
contributors mentions, you really had to be there!

Deep in the Grand Canyon: The rhythm fever is upon us! Anything
will do: we extract whatever pots and pans and jars and cans we can
find from the cooking gear on our tethered rafts. Spoons make great
drum sticks! Which parts of our primal identities will emerge during
the next few hours of frenzied playing? High moonlit rocky crags stand
sentinel for the duration of the night. Musical moments are punctuated
with the sights and sounds of ecstatic human bodies diving into the
fast-moving river waters of the Colorado. Everyone swims back more. The next day there is a special satisfaction in the air.

In her chapter on the glamorization of popular music, Cheri gives
our young folks some encouragement for personal participation in
the communal creation of rhythm and music even as we observe the
trends toward electronica.

Amman, Jordan: Thirty Iraqi refugees gather in a friend’s apartment.
Dinner is shared but then the drums and instruments come out of their
cases. As the rhythms bubble out of their fingers onto their drums,
the refugees burning questions around basic survival gradually recede
from the forefront of consiousness. Someone has begun to sing. An
ancient stringed instrument, the Arabic lute, is in the hands of a skilled
player. Drums begin the accompaniment. A violin appears. Five hours
later the dancing and singing are still in full swing. Spoken words and
conversation will have to wait for another time. Now we are in a space
made sacred by the rhythms of the ancient muses of the Mesopotamian
Tigris and Euphrates river people!

What are the glues and fabrics of cultural identity which can hold
people together even in extreme times of disruption and catastrophe?
Cheri examines the trends in music teaching in American schools and
makes some clear-cut suggestions.

Boulder, Colorado: Seventy-five dancers reach the stage of screaming
and singing out their ecstasy. Four percussionists are here in the
ballroom well into the second hour of rhythmic ebb and flow. The
sound is live and no amplification is needed. The drummers and the
dancers adjust the tempo and no electronic tracks are included. A
wave of refreshment rolls through our consciousness as we celebrate
our freedom from the usual electronica. Cheri Shanti is one of the
drummers.

What do all these scenes have in common? Music is flowing. Love is
flowing. Bonding is happening. No one is divided. No one is separate
or left out! No one has reason for plotting or trickery. We are all
one. Even aging bodies feel pain-free and young again! The elixir of
communal music is being served by these drummers and musicians
who have evolved to become the local shamans and priestesses. The
ancestors are having their say and harmony has been achieved. What
a magnificent model for the rest of life!

Yes We Can... Barrak Obama New President

Tears of joy on the faces of so many people last night with the sweeping victory of Barrak Obama! I shared the tears of joy and hope watching the new first family on stage, and my heart was so touched to see skin of all colors embracing in front of the world. Seeing the call to union and peace prevailing over the color of the skin or differing backgrounds.. my heart filled with hope and even more, with faith.

We now have a leader who has some connection with the people, who can inspire the masses to action and who represents something so much greater than just the presidency. We now have a voice, and an ear in a place of power.

So now when I wonder, Can we really shift the tides and start moving towards something greater than greed and rape and pillage consciousness.. my heart says..

Yes we can...

Can we now begin to act with personal responsibility and accountability on an individual and global level..

Yes we can...

Can we offer opportunity to all..

Yes we can..

I know he may not be as wonderful as he seems (or maybe, just maybe he really is), and I'm sure he will make mistakes and have many challenges.. but in my heart of hearts, he represents something noble. He inspired the people to act, to vote, to stand up, and be counted, and he has activated this country like no other president before.. I have faith in him, and I even like the guy to be honest... and his wife.

I give thanks for the new beginning and that maybe we will be able to finally pass on a better world to our children than the one we have now because we finally chose to get up, stand up, be counted, and try something new and different..

Yes we can build a better world... and it starts with YOU and ME...

Barrak said it well, the victory is OURS as much or more than his... we made a ripple in the pond...

Keep it going.

When will we care?

Today I went into Book Ends Café and was sharing with the young barista about the broadcast I had just heard from Democracy Now on the raids and the infringements of our rights happening around the Republican National Convention in St. Louis. His response was, “I just don’t care.” While I understand the apathy and how it happens, I am still somewhat shocked at the complete unwillingness for so many of us, myself included too often, to really stand up, get vocal, organize and fight for our rights.

Will we care when we have curfews and police on our streets brutalizing innocent people just because they feel like it and they can? That’s happening now, today, do we care yet? Would we care if it was us or someone we know personally who’s house was ransacked, camera cards erased, video camera’s taken, houses broken down and put under arrest for doing nothing but exercising our rights, according to our constitution? That too happened today, do we care yet? How close to home does it need to be?

Will we care when yet another war monger president is in office, inciting more hatred, death, revenge and mass destruction in the name of the “Proud and the free,” creating more enemies in the world for our children to have to try to make peace with? Would we get active if we had to consider, as people in other countries have had to do, putting a machine gun in the arms of our 5 year old sons, brothers, cousins, to protect our families and homes? Would that make us care?

Will we care when some of these angry people finally get thru and land on our soil and start to wreak the havoc here that our country, in the name of freedom, has there? Will we care then? Will we care when it is us who are seeing our friends, cafes and streetcorners blown up by car bombs?

When will we really care? Everyone’s so busy, few people have the energy to care. Like this young man, it was a bother for him to stay informed and he got to upset and felt like there’s no way to make it shift perhaps… I know I’ve felt that a lot.

Listening today to what is going on at the Convention, the degree of the fear mentality, the control, the police state-ness of the whole thing triggered some place deep inside of me. I felt it in a way I haven’t in some years, and the graveness of this election, and the coming months is weighing heavy on my heart, even though I live in the Boulder Bubble, and everyone’s happy and excited for Obama. Even though I know all things work in the way they are meant to, and all the spiritual hoo haa that I know to be truth, even still, the gravity of our current political reality is beyond my comprehension for sure. I have felt it for many years growing to this place, and in my own way of keeping my own sanity, I have stayed quietly reflecting, praying, and trying to counter the “powers that be” by not subscribing to the fear, the dogma or even the media’s attempts at brainwashing and manipulation. I see much possibility and not all of it is as pleasant as I’d prefer. I feel edges of civil unrest, and would not put it past the current regime to fuel that fire to distract us more, as they are doing now with the raids, and the arrests of conscious media and activists folks such as those working with Democracy Now and Food not Bombs.

My call to action is to visualize the world as we want it, but beyond that to ACT and to support those who are out there on the “front lines” of this heated political time in whatever ways we can: $, letters, food, support, prayers. I was an activist when I was in college, and I had to stop because my fire gets a little too hot, and I knew I’d end up in jail or getting shot. It takes a lot of courage, a lot of guts to get out there and really do the work that our true freedom fighters are doing there to tell us the truth and report what’s going on. I just want to honor those people, and say “THANK YOU.” You are doing what many of us are too afraid, too consumed, too apathetic or too “busy” (ha ha) to do, and I am so proud of you when I hear you on the radio, see you in the streets, stepping up for us. You are the soldiers of the people, fighting peacefully, and I pray the power of the almighty, call it whatever you like, is with you to keep you strong.

Music: By George Moore

Found this in a paper in Lyons, CO the other day.

So beautiful, wanted to share it.

"Music"

The first music was accident
perhaps, the clanging of a stone
against the solid resonance of tree,
the slipping of rocks down a stream
in high season, some impossible
whining of the limbs pushed
up against their leaning neighbors.
The ear picked it up almost
coincidentally, at first, a song,
something the brain said but
did not say. The pattern was born
out of a longing no one had known,
and appearance in the wind,
At the back of the mind.
This was the moment of music
but more, the moment of human
anticipation,of humanity,
springing to life within the animal skin.
There was something more
waiting in the wings
the rush of the senses in synchronicity.
The words would follow but not
for ages, at first it was only noise
made to sync like a river, water
sounding it's own depths, moving
stones down it's long corridor,
cave echoes, the shouts of wordless
desires from god-high cliffs
But the words did not matter
when the body performed it's rite
swaying day out of night, grieving
voicelessly for the disappearances
But the music did not leave the trees,
nor the stream, it simply inhabited
the living and the dead,
those who would come back again
as if they were the very singing,
and the cave dwellers who knew
the earth was their mouth
and that they were the voice
of it's deepest shadows.

From Crestone with Love

Windy Day
Blows me open
Blows thru me like the mystery

I am raw
Unbridled
Unhinged
Unkempt
Free like the wind

Oya: My beloved sister of eternity
Pulsing around this globe of grace

Infinite kiss of the Divine
Blessing me
Eternally

This magical place
Stillness reigns supreme
It is tangible here
The peace
The depths of stillness
Even as the wind rages wild dust tornados

Stillness Lives here

This is it's home
I am blessed once again to dance with her here.

From Musical Missions

Riding back South across the border into Jordan we arrive in Amman. Our
driver jokes every time we pass a picture of the blue-eyed Jordanian
King Abdulla that he must be the "King of Denmark." In reality, the
king's mother is American.
To the north in Syria we had been surrounded by pictures of the
Ophthalmologist from London who is now President of Syria, Bashar Assad. As I
said, people in these parts of the world know better than to associate
people with the governments which rule them.

Walking down the early afternoon street in Amman on our way to a coffee
shop we look up to the sky as the incredible roar of US fighter jets
buzz the city on their way to Iraq, enforcing the rules of the American
empire.

How many empires have preceded? egyptians, hittites, israelites,
assyrians, babylonians, persians, macedonians, romans, byzantines, sassanids,
umayads, abbasids, seljuk turks, crusaders, saladin, mongols, ottoman
turks, etc... to name a few...

Check out the History of Empires in Middle East in 90 Seconds
http://www.mapsofwar.com/ind/imperial-history.html

Notice the Age of Nations and Borders which began under European
Colonialism. This animated history of Empires in the Middle East in 90
Seconds is well done but it is actually an extreme simplification of a much
more complex history. Each "empire" left a legacy of scattered villages
wherein the population preserved certain languages and ways of living.

Although taxes were demanded afresh by each new empire and a certain
amount of violence erupted as new conquerors confronted old rulers, it
wasn't until the age of "Nation States and Borders" appeared in the 20th
century that large numbers of people were suddenly trapped, frozen in
place, behind artificial borders created by foreign mapmakers in ways
that separated brother from brother and tribal member from tribal member.


Referring to the nomadic nature of local populations, a member of the
Saud family, reportedly in tears, told the Europeans in Paris in 1925
that the seeds for hundreds of years of conflict would be sown if borders
were drawn in the Middle East. The European powers went ahead and drew
the borders anyway.
Are we witnessing the consequences of this border-drawing map-making
frenzy?

More soon about our current work back here in Jordan.

Please encourage your friends who may be interested to add their email
addresses to our list at:
http://www.musicalmissions.com/cgi-bin/dada/mail.cgi
Or have them just send us an email requesting to be added to the list!

Thanks and More Soon, Cameron
Please reply to this email if you are so inclined. We love to hear from
you!

To support or read more about our 501c3 non-profit organization:
www.musicalmissionsofpeace.org

Cameron and Kristina:
www.musicalmissions.com

Musical Missions Post: From Jordan with Love

Cameron Writes:
We spent last night surrounded by 30 Iraqi refugees singing the "old
music" for us: this gathering had been organized to honor our return.
Our host works diligently with his violin to magnetize us all into the
unified field of the music. Tonight is not a night for discussion.
Underlying all the singing voices are the instruments: two ouds, two
drums, a violin and a nay (flute) and as the night grew later more people
were drawn to dance.
Two of the women present are accomplished singers and their leads are
given appreciative space. One of these women is also a fine
percussionist.
After midnight the most revered Iraqi maqam singer began to weave the
poetic lines of his "mawals," or arrhythmic incantations, which truly
give voice to the old spiritual wisdoms of Iraq.
"Sama'i!" "Listen carefully!" is repeated to encourage absolute focus
on the poetry and the musical scales.

As I look at the faces around me, all men and women who are now exiled
from their homeland, I can see the different mixes of hardships and
suffering. And I see the childlike joy with which the music emerges from
their souls.

We have begun dialogue with the owner of a music shop regarding our
Musical Mission of Peace designed to offer support to Iraqi refugees here
in Jordan by financially encouraging their children's musical
education.

We will soon make a loop through Syria where an even larger number of
Iraqi refugees are currently in residence. It is said that at least two
million Iraqis have fled to Jordan and Syria to escape the disorder and
violence in their homeland. But neither Jordan nor Syria has the
infrastructure to offer employment to so many. That is why we are here. We
will do what we can, in our own musical way, to provide a pipeline of
financial support from sympathetic Americans.


Kristina Writes:
May 9, 08 Day one
As I walked down the street today in Amman, Jordan, tears came to
my eyes. I felt like I had come home. This feels like home to me not
because the sights are familiar or particularly beautiful. The
buildings are mostly grey concrete colors. The streets are dirty. Many people
smoke and I dislike the smell of tobacco inside the shops. It's just
that there is something else in the air that feels more powerful than the
smoke.
So how do I explain to you what it is?
Maybe security is a part of it. If I should fall down everyone
around me would come to my rescue. If I should get lost someone would
personally guide me back to my hotel. No one is trying to steal my purse.
Every shopkeeper and almost every other person I meet on the street is
saying a sincere "Welcome" or "Hi."
Maybe it is that there is less fear. I have very little fear
here. My heart is so open, because every other heart it meets is so open to
me.
I guess another word might be "relief." I don't have to be an
island. Women in the lobby of the hotel, whom I have never met before,
motion for me to sit down next to them. I am welcomed. I don't have to be
alone. Relief to know you're surrounded by loving beings.
Isn't that what home is?

I've heard that there is no word in Arabic for "alone", the closest
word means "lonely".
I wonder why I, an American, need "retreat time" or "personal
space" or "time to collect my thoughts" or "time to regroup" or just time
to shut out the world and rest? For an Arab, time alone is just
"lonely." Do we Americans tend to stress each other out? Why do we need a
break from each other? Here they just like to sit close to each other and
feel the connection. The air is filled with the currents of acceptance,
less judgment, more connection. Like Fayez the hotel owner here says,
"Arabs are your friend immediately." You don't have to "earn their
trust." It's just so much easier this way.

www.musicalmissionsofpeace.org
www.musicalmissions.com

From a Musician: On Bars & Music

This is a commentary from Neville Harson in response to some feedback I was requesting for a subject in my book: Neville is a wonderful musician living in Boulder. Here's his input:


"I had a strong (positive!) reaction to one of the questions you sent. Here are my thoughts:

Your question was: "Do you feel there is a need for alternatives to bars/nightclubs for community music participation? Why specifically? For example: what don’t you like about bars, what doesn’t it provide, etc…"

You even said it last night: it's an honor for musicians to play to an audience who actually listens!

Rhetorical question: How did we as a society get to the place where that is the exception rather than the rule?

It is indicative of the general lack of listening skills in our culture, not only with the arts, but with conversation etc. It's rare for many people to find a friend who really listens.

Bars are not for listening. You don't go to a bar to hear a band. You go to see friends, consume intoxicants, and SEE a band. Not that there's anything inherently wrong with that. But most musicians don't want to be seen. They want to be
heard. And it's hard to compete with conversational noise in a bar (not to mention all the other noises).

Another factor: alcohol is the wrong drug for listening. Alcohol and cocaine are "talking drugs."

But why do we need the drugs anyway?

My ideal place to play: a Listening Room, which would be billed as such. No alcohol served. Maybe tea, but out in the lobby. I like the idea of beanbag chairs,or pillows and mattresses, to encourage inactivity on the part of the audience (unless it's music for dancing). Everyone's on this journey together. No one admitted after the performance has started (though maybe between songs would be okay, like at the
symphony). Two 30-45 minute sets with a break in the middle for socializing, etc. (Like Gypsy Nation, socializing should be discouraged during the music).

Let the audience know how long you'll be playing for when they come in, so they can plan accordingly.

In order for live music to evolve, the audience has to change. And in order for the audience to change, the context and rules (written and unwritten) of the
space has to change..