As I Drove up to Inverness on
"You're in our hearts as we travel near it. Safe journey. Now your work is done." That has been very helpful for some people.
works: Claudia, I know you're a long time Threshold Choir member and I wonder if you'd like to share any special moments when you've been at bedside.
Claudia Goldberg: Well, you've actually touched on two of my very favorites. The time when arrived and the woman had died and we didn't know what to do. There was this magical unfolding of "Oh, let's be there" while this amazing event was going on, the washing of the body. It was new for us. We didn't know what to expect. And it was amazingly gratifying for us all. We didn't know this woman. But we were connected as women doing this ancient task.
There was a time I was called at the last minute and asked if I could go to a choir member's home because her father was dying. I said, sure. I had my book and I drove over there. Her siblings were there. It was kind of tense. There was not a lot of comfort feeling in the room at all. So I just came in and sat for a bit. And after a while I started singing one of the songs. I sang a few songs and could feel an ease coming over the people in the room. One of the sisters said, "You know mom has that hymnal." So they got out the hymnal and they started singing from that. What was so special is that I felt I'd been this bridge to the ease of what was happening. And the room just continued to lighten.
They sang from the hymnal. They started remembering old songs. One of the gals got her guitar. By the time I left, the siblings were talking with each other. It was really amazing, the difference from when I first walked into that room full of tension, nobody knowing what to do, to this real ease of knowing that this was the end and yet being able to rejoice in his life and the songs they had all participated in. It was beautiful.
KM: And we have the added joy of finding that singing together at bedside is one of the sweetest aspects of our relationship together. Our voices kind of intertwine in a way that feels really good and sounds better than any of us separately.
works: That's lovely. I wonder if there's anything you'd like to add.
KM: There's something that goes back to when we were talking before you turned on the tape recorder, I'd like to catch your quote about breaking even with the magazine you're doing.
works: Right. I was saying making money was never the idea. But I was hoping to arrive at a break even with income and expenses.
KM: Yes. Balance. One of the aspects of this work, which I find so challenging and delightful when it works, is walking the line of balance between having confidence in our voices and the humility of offering the voice as a gift, between silence and song, between life and death, between a group experience and a singular individual experience. There are just so many lines of balance. It's there between quiet containment and excited pushing. I feel it in my leadership. I feel it in the growth of this organization. That question is just completely active all of the time. Where is the flow? Where is balance of all these apparent opposites? Everywhere in this work I look for this dynamic of balance.
Here's a personal story of Kate's taken from www.thresholdchoir.org:
I want to tell you the story of singing as Laurel's family said goodbye to their Grandmother Kay. Kelsey, Khalila and I sang "We walk not into the night, we walk but toward the stars" as the simple coffin that the family had decorated was placed at the entrance to the crematorium. The family joined us right away, a great group of strong singers. They held each other and sang as the box went into the flames. Then, outside, we sang "If not love, what are we here for?" Then we sang "It hurts to know we're losing you, don't want to make you stay, so we will hold you while you fly away." Right above us a beautiful red-tailed hawk appeared, hovering, motionless except for the very tips of her wings which held her in place.?For about a minute, we sang as we watched her float above us, everyone calling out to the spirit of their mother/grandmother/friend. Then the bird tucked her wings and steeply dove out of sight. One of the little children called "Grandma, come back." She instantly reappeared and hovered again, this time for longer, maybe four minutes while everyone marvelled, clapped, and sang.
works: Claudia, I know you're a long time Threshold Choir member and I wonder if you'd like to share any special moments when you've been at bedside.
Claudia Goldberg: Well, you've actually touched on two of my very favorites. The time when arrived and the woman had died and we didn't know what to do. There was this magical unfolding of "Oh, let's be there" while this amazing event was going on, the washing of the body. It was new for us. We didn't know what to expect. And it was amazingly gratifying for us all. We didn't know this woman. But we were connected as women doing this ancient task.
There was a time I was called at the last minute and asked if I could go to a choir member's home because her father was dying. I said, sure. I had my book and I drove over there. Her siblings were there. It was kind of tense. There was not a lot of comfort feeling in the room at all. So I just came in and sat for a bit. And after a while I started singing one of the songs. I sang a few songs and could feel an ease coming over the people in the room. One of the sisters said, "You know mom has that hymnal." So they got out the hymnal and they started singing from that. What was so special is that I felt I'd been this bridge to the ease of what was happening. And the room just continued to lighten.
They sang from the hymnal. They started remembering old songs. One of the gals got her guitar. By the time I left, the siblings were talking with each other. It was really amazing, the difference from when I first walked into that room full of tension, nobody knowing what to do, to this real ease of knowing that this was the end and yet being able to rejoice in his life and the songs they had all participated in. It was beautiful.
KM: And we have the added joy of finding that singing together at bedside is one of the sweetest aspects of our relationship together. Our voices kind of intertwine in a way that feels really good and sounds better than any of us separately.
works: That's lovely. I wonder if there's anything you'd like to add.
KM: There's something that goes back to when we were talking before you turned on the tape recorder, I'd like to catch your quote about breaking even with the magazine you're doing.
works: Right. I was saying making money was never the idea. But I was hoping to arrive at a break even with income and expenses.
KM: Yes. Balance. One of the aspects of this work, which I find so challenging and delightful when it works, is walking the line of balance between having confidence in our voices and the humility of offering the voice as a gift, between silence and song, between life and death, between a group experience and a singular individual experience. There are just so many lines of balance. It's there between quiet containment and excited pushing. I feel it in my leadership. I feel it in the growth of this organization. That question is just completely active all of the time. Where is the flow? Where is balance of all these apparent opposites? Everywhere in this work I look for this dynamic of balance.
Here's a personal story of Kate's taken from www.thresholdchoir.org:
I want to tell you the story of singing as Laurel's family said goodbye to their Grandmother Kay. Kelsey, Khalila and I sang "We walk not into the night, we walk but toward the stars" as the simple coffin that the family had decorated was placed at the entrance to the crematorium. The family joined us right away, a great group of strong singers. They held each other and sang as the box went into the flames. Then, outside, we sang "If not love, what are we here for?" Then we sang "It hurts to know we're losing you, don't want to make you stay, so we will hold you while you fly away." Right above us a beautiful red-tailed hawk appeared, hovering, motionless except for the very tips of her wings which held her in place.?For about a minute, we sang as we watched her float above us, everyone calling out to the spirit of their mother/grandmother/friend. Then the bird tucked her wings and steeply dove out of sight. One of the little children called "Grandma, come back." She instantly reappeared and hovered again, this time for longer, maybe four minutes while everyone marvelled, clapped, and sang.
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Thank you Kate for your beautiful bedside ministry in song. Thank you Richard for bringing Kate to our awareness.
What stays with me are the moving stories of connection, bridge building, comfort and letting go.
The hawk story touched my heart deeply. Hawks often show up when I'm struggling. Just two days ago one flew above me at our small local park as if to remind me he's still here watching over me & lending perspective.
Thank you again.