What you get by
achieving your goals is not as important
as what you become by achieving your goals.
as what you become by achieving your goals.
Henry David Thoreau
I remember so clearly the first
time I came to campus. It wasn’t the typical “Avenue Experience,” because it
wasn’t the Avenue that captured my heart.
It was sitting in the President’s Room in Rooney Library that I had the moment. The fixed point in time where a
future Woodsie decides that nowhere else could ever be good enough: the SMWC
Madrigals came in and sang. They looked sharp. They sang in Norwegian. They radiated
energy. They sounded so, so good. I leaned over to my boyfriend and said “I’m coming here, and
I’m getting in that group.”
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| Photo Credit: Beth Allard |
That was my first brush with the musical soul of the Woods.
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| The SMWC Choirs at Lincoln Center in 2014 |
Over the next four years, I would find myself immersed in an experience that is difficult to describe in words. My first semester, I delved into Jazz Band, having never played jazz piano (or in an instrumental ensemble) ever before. Second semester, my dream came true and I was accepted into Madrigals. That happened to be the semester that Madrigals would prepare and perform a piece commissioned just for us- the beautiful and haunting La Providence by Sydney Guillaume. I had never sung in French before and was the youngest member in the ensemble. Amidst all of these “firsts,” I found encouragement and a challenge to grow at every turn. I remember flopping down in my bed after practices, dizzy with stretched endurance and thrill. Every moment in Chorale, Madrigals, and Jazz band (which collectively took up four nights a week) showed me something about myself I did not know: I really, really loved being in ensembles.
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| SMWC Undergraduate Music Therapy Students 2012 |
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| Photo Credit: Beth Allard |
Music therapy grows the connection of musical being to musical being. It allows me to reach out to one of the most sacred and unique facets of another person, while also letting myself be touched as well.
It is that unspeakable musical connection that I see woven
through all of the practicum experiences I have had the past four years. I have felt it when I’m holding the hand of an elderly woman with dementia, when I’m
cheering on the successes of a client playing an instrument without any help,
when a child lights up at the sound of their favorite song, when a young man in
a hospital says it is the first time he’s felt at peace. I walk away from those
sessions with this feeling that I
cannot put into words. I was in a moment, with another human being, and we
strangers allowed ourselves to take risks, express emotions, and share our most
sacred musical selves with each other. Yes, I am studying to become a
therapist. The nature of therapy means that I am providing help to someone;
yet, I feel there is not enough talk in the therapy world about what the client
gives back to the therapist. I have never believed that it is a hierarchy, but
rather a connection. I may be bringing the clinical knowledge, the musical
skills, hours of research and preparation, and the oh-so-intriguing bag of
instruments, but sometimes, the client is bringing so much more. They are
bringing themselves, and allowing me to be with them. We each, whether client or therapist, take
risks to be in the therapeutic moment together. I don’t know how many times I have stood
outside the door to a session, scared to death that I’m not prepared for what is waiting inside, or that I will make a mistake, or that I will look foolish.
Never have I walked out of a session with those fears validated. It is always
at my most afraid do I find myself the most supported and connected in a
session.
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| Photo Credit: Beth Allard |
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| Photo Credit: Beth Alalrd |
.... And grow I did, in some very
unexpected, much needed ways! The
development of my musical self has had a lasting impact on the growth that was
happening in the rest of my life. It was as though, all at once, I became aware of
myself: my gawky, nerdy, introverted self. Guess what? I liked who I found in
there, shoved away under all of the stuff
I thought I should be. I found connections between all of my eclectic
passions and whims- the girl who is knee deep in library books about liberal
arts education is the same girl in the practice room, or out in the woods.
Writing, singing, playing, walking – they all stemmed from the same place. I
started out by simply taking a walk outside every day. As I walked, I found
myself taking to time notice the beautiful creation around me on this campus. I
photographed, and I did a lot of praying. I grew closer to God out there
underneath the pine trees, on the quiet roads alone at night or in the early
morning. I realized how much time I spent looking down at the phone in my hand,
or so caught up in my own little melodramas and stress. That awakening – caused
by the simple act of walking and recording what I saw- had a lasting change on
many aspects of my life. I wrote more. I read more. I asked more questions. I
spent more time talking to professors and less time on Facebook. I started 'barefooting'. I took a horseback riding lesson. I improvised more. I talked
less. I spent more time outside this semester than the previous seven combined.
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| Photo Credit: Beth Allard |
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| SMWC MT 30th Anniversary Reception 2014 |
This leads me back to choosing music therapy as a major. I came to the Woods, and chose
music therapy because I wanted to learn a trade, and get a good education. What
happened in my four years here was that, and so much more. I spent four years under the supportive, caring
guidance of my music faculty. They have seen it all- the little victories, the
tears, the excitement, the struggles. I was challenged in and out of the
classroom to discover myself. Through every course, every practicum, every
choir rehearsal, every theory homework all-nighter, every new piece of
repertoire, every scale, every recital, and every club meeting I was nurtured
and grown. The hand of Providence led me to SMWC, to music therapy, because
this is where I was meant to be. This is what I was meant to do.
After all – there is no such beauty as where you belong.
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| Beth Allard |
