The Tiniest Baby

The staff in the NICU was crowded around his bed. As I sang for another baby, whose doctor suggested I play for him as a preparation for the surgery he was facing later that morning, I was aware of the action around the baby in the corner, who was born weighing 650 grams. 

He wasn't just tiny, he was so different. Born so small, and so early, he seemed to be made of a different substance than other humans, almost looking like wax. I felt awe and fear as I approached him. The responsiblity to provide sonic care to such a small, fragile creature was daunting. I played the gentlest song I could find within me, gently plucking at the strings of my ukulele, and singing softly. 

All I had was a healing intention, and the inner song of my soul to invite him to inhabit his body, grow, be present in our world, and to live. We ususally think  of awe as a response to something huge, larger than life, bigger than us. In this case, awe was inspired by the very smallness of this creature, his unformed features, and the lifeforce holding him to his body, to his life.

The awe changed my song, but I needn't have feared. Within minutes of starting to play, his doctor looked at the monitor and exclaimed, "Wonderful! You've raised his oxygen levels!"

Prayers for this little life to take hold.

My Song for a Druze Cancer Patient

I had to guess at the faces behind their masks. It was my first day officially flying solo as a medical musician and chaplain in the Oncology ward in Ziv Hospital in Tzfat, Israel. They were a Druze couple who seemed about my age, and they were so open. I sang to her without words, gently singing sounds and playing a few chords on the guitar. I let my voice guide me, and watched her relax into the massage chair as I sang. Her husband had tears in his eyes as I finished the first song. "So many messed up things happen in this country, but the work you are doing is amazing" he said. He began opening up to me about their culture and beliefs, and spoke about their spiritual philosophy: they believe in reincarnation, which gives them a consciousness of life beyond the current bodily form. They also believe that everything is from God, even illness, death, and every other "test". This is their way of facing suffering and loss. Accept that it Divine Providence, and surrender your will and your existence to God's will. I asked if there is a phrase that expresses this belief, and they told me, "Raida U'Taslim": Accept and Surrender. I used these words to make her a new song. I based my new melody on the chords to "Wayak", a song by Farid, one of the most beloved composers to the Druze, in order to make the song sound familiar and comforting to them. I watched her melt into the chair as she relaxed. By speaking to them about their experiences and lives, and understanding what gives them faith, I found a song that unlocks the key to the Druze heart of faith. I tried it later that morning on another Druze lady, who was obviously suffering, her head misshapen, and eye socket distended, due to some kind of tumor. She also relaxed with my song, melting into her chair, and even smiling. Caring about this couple, their lives, was the beginning of our connection. Knowing what music they loved, and taking words of faith from our conversation, took our musical and spiritual connection to another level.