Excerpts

Denise (from Chapter 3: The Art and Science)
Denise was a 25-year-old woman in a coma from attempting suicide with an overdose of anti-depressant drugs. As I set up my harp, Denise's nurse moved beside her and tried to get her to wake up. Denise's lack of response was typical of her two-week hospital stay. I began playing and the tension began slightly melting out of the room. After 15 minutes of playing, Denise lifted her head off the pillow and turned it toward the music. Further, the nurse commented that her vital signs had improved: her heart rate decreased from 78 to 69. Denise's mother said, "This is the only positive sign we have seen since she was admitted to the hospital."

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Melissa (from Chapter 5: Music and Emotions)
Melissa was 28 years old. She had brain cancer and the cancer had spread so much, the doctors could no longer operate. As I walked onto the surgical intensive care unit, her dad informed me the medical staff were going to withdraw her from the ventilator later that afternoon. I set up my instrument and began playing softly. Something beautiful was happening in the room. There was an incredible feeling of love -- love coming from every person, spreading into every part of the room. Instinctively, those present knew to support and care and attend to each other and to Melissa at this most painful, yet beautiful, time.

About 15 minutes later, Melissa's husband came into the love-filled room. He was visibly touched by the beautiful feeling. He buried his face in Melissa's pillow and almost crawled into bed with her as he, too, said good-bye. Through my own tears, I continued to play. Melissa looked relaxed, calm, peaceful, content. She was filled with love and radiated "all is well with me." Everything (medicine, prayers, speaking, and touching) that could be done had been done. Music was the final gift, perhaps touching her where nothing else could and giving her family comfort seeing her in such peace and love during her last minutes. The music softened the environment and helped create a sacred space where love, in its most beautiful earthly form, was present.

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Gladys (from Chapter 6: Spirituality)
Gladys had made a miraculous recovery and had progressed enough to be transferred from intensive care to a rehabilitation hospital. As I set up my harp, Gladys said, "I don't deserve this, but nevertheless, I am going to thoroughly enjoy it!" I encouraged her to relax and just go into the music and allow it to take her wherever she needed to go.

As soon as I started playing, Gladys laid down and shut her eyes. A gentle smile formed on her lips as she carefully removed her oxygen line. In her own way, she was making a statement: "I do not want to be encumbered while I have this experience." A few minutes later, she lifted her hands and they began gently swaying in the air to the beat of the music. And the longer I played, the bigger her hand movements became, until her arms and hands were making huge, sweeping motions. It was as if her whole body was dancing through her arms and hands. The circle of connection was between the rhythm of the music and the beautiful movement of her arms and hands flowing through the air. I sensed she was on a different plane, taking a spiritual journey.

As the time neared to end this session, I slowed and quieted the music, leaving long moments of silence between songs. Gladys's movements became smaller until they diminished; she lay very still. Eventually, the room was perfectly silent. After a long pause, she said softly, "I just saw God. And I saw angels."

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Sarah (from Chapter 7: Death and Dying)
Sarah was dying of breast cancer. Two friends, a hospice nurse, and a cat joined Sarah for her farewell concert. Sarah was alert yet relaxed while I played.

Sometimes the harp accesses people's deep, deep emotions, as it would in this situation. Sarah's two friends, who were emotionally close to Sarah, took this opportunity to tell her what she had meant to them. One of her friends said, "You have been such a fighter and you came so close to winning your battle, but it wasn't meant to be. Now, I am struggling with the finality. I will miss you so much my dear, dear friend." She enveloped Sarah in a hug and both were heaving with sobs. The music was taking them to their deepest wound of grief and sorrow; it was a time for one final connection.

About 30 minutes later, as if to say "we have had enough heaviness," the other friend started reminiscing about some of her lighter, fun-filled times with Sarah. All of the sudden, they realized they had just gone from the depths of their sorrow to laughing hysterically. They giggled like young school girls and laughed until they were in tears again! Finally, she said, "Sarah, you obviously have brought so much joy and laughter, too. You have touched many people, including me. I will miss you forever, but I know you will guide me with your spirit; I will listen for you. Thank you for your wonderful gift of friendship. I love you."

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