Friday, 16 April 2010

The Sun Song

For a year now, I've been wanting to share a very special song with the world. It is a song I learned on my Shamanism month at Esalen in February last year, and it's called The Sun Song.


The Sun Song is one of a few songs we shamans learned, but of all of them, it's the one that's stayed with me and that I love the most, although I can actually recall any of the other songs we learned in a split second. These include the Thunderbeings song (which is entirely unrelated to the Thunderbirds), I Have Spirits, and I Circle Around, the last two of which we sang on a daily basis when we gathered in the evenings for our journeys into the upper and lower worlds (if this makes absolutely no sense to you, don't worry!)

Songs - and in particular singing - hold potent meaning for me. I remember being a tiny tot and loving to sing, especially at playgroup where we sang "See the sleeping bunnies". I loved this song so much in fact that over twenty years later, a friend of mine told me that her little girl sings it at nursery, and I almost had a fit as I realised that this was the exact same song that I used to sing!


When I was ten years old, I played the Angel Gabriel in our school nativity, and I sang a solo. My dad couldn't come to the concert that evening; he came the next evening, when my friend Sophie was singing the solo and I was simply singing along during the chorus. I remember feeling very upset about it and interpreting it to mean that somehow, I wasn't worth loving, and that there was something wrong with me.


Six months later, for our school leavers' concert, before my classmates and I left the comfort of Brandlehow Primary and went off to our respective secondary schools, I was offered a solo as Nancy from Oliver, but my classmates complained that I'd already had a solo that year, as Gabriel at Christmas time. It was another moment of shame for me connected with singing, and the fledgling belief that I am wrong to sing out loud began to cement in my heart.


After that, singing became a lot more awkward for me, and I lost confidence in my voice. During the first term at "big" school, I auditioned for a part in "My Fair Lady", and I got through to the second auditions! When I was asked to come and sing however, I made up an excuse about needing to go home and babysit, and despite my teacher Ms Bell practically begging me to stay and just do the audition quickly, I gave in to my fear and ran away.

In my final year of secondary school, I was in a play and had a duet song. No prizes for guessing that I talked my way - tantrumed my way in actual fact - out of singing.


And then, last year, a good ten years after these episodes, I found myself in California, singing on a daily basis and struggling at times to accept myself, and yet somehow, miraculously, really enjoying letting my soul just... well... sing. We drummed and sang and moved and rattled, and as the days and weeks sped past, our group became more and more trusting and more and more open, and the barriers came down, and I sang my heart out.


We learned the Sun Song on a beautiful California morning at ten o'clock, and stood together, faces upturned to the ball of fire gently warming our cheeks and kissing our eyelids, and we sang. I've sung this song many times since then, in many places - all over America; at the edge of the River Thames in London; here in the woods in Sussex. It's a song that I was intending to share with hundreds of people last year at the Burning Man festival in the US, but because I followed my intuition, I didn't go, and I am so grateful for that decision.


Many times over the last year, I've wanted to share this song, and at times I have even gotten over my self-consciousness and have sung it to a person or people. I've sung it to Nige, who regularly invites me to sing it with him in the woods at sunset. I've sung it to the young adults I worked with who have Aspergers Syndrome. And I've held back too; just last weekend, I wanted to share it with a beautiful group of women at a dance workshop, and fear won.


So, here it is. It's raw. It's not perfect. I don't take singing lessons. But it's from my heart and that makes it beautiful, however technically imperfect it might be. My intention for this is that it may bless your days and be something that you can carry in your heart, sing at your leisure and share with your loved ones.

Namaste x x x


Morning sun, morning sun,
Come my way, come my way (x4)

Come my way, come my way, 
Take my pain, take my pain (x4)

Take my pain, take my pain,
Down below, down below (x4)

Down below, down below,
Cool water, down below (x4)

And at the end, a heartfelt, "Thank you sun!"


2 comments:

Holly Renee said...

I absolutely love your blog!!! These memories are so interesting to read through. I also love the comment you left on my blog. You inspire me.
Peace, Holly Renee

Elan said...

Thats amazing. Our therapist was basically told she was told she shouldn't sing by her parents. And now sings a the top of her longs, and its beautiful and cathartic.

Thank you for your comment! It is so, so true that they want these things for themselves. My brother said to me, "I feel like you look at me like I don't get it" I think he feels that way about himself and is terrified of it. I told him, I don't think anyone gets it.

I mentioned the concept of the 'identified patient' which is a new thing I have learned. Basically (if you haven't heard of it) its the idea that dysfunctional families like to have someone who is 'sick' to focus their energy on, so as to ignore what is really going on with the family. And, if they identified patient begins to get better, the family actually wants them to stay sick (or find a new patient) because otherwise there's no coverup.

And thank you for sharing your story! Its incredibly powerful, and I feel for you. I remember reading the book 'One Again.' Its about forgiveness (in the Course sense of the word). I read it when I was really low, so I can't say if its truly inspiring, but I do remember thinking it was amazing that she has turned to love after everything she has been through.

Thanks Again

Namaste,
Elan