Awash in new experiences, sorting out familiar and novel.
Resonating with others - clinicians, educators, researchers, and new friends.
I understand the music and the music therapy moments -play me more of these.
Feeling alone in a room of full of strangers, I search for the familiar faces.
Contemplating my presentation - will it be okay to just be me?
I can't believe I am here!
How will I articulate how this has changed me?
Perhaps a poem.
This was my first world congress for music therapy and only my second time traveling abroad. I anticipated the event with many emotions. Excited about seeing new people and hearing new perspectives, proud of myself for making necessary sacrifices to make the trip, and rather overwhelmed with possibilities. At least this is what I remember now about how I felt before the trip. After a few days in Hawaii, I arrived in Brisbane early in order to recover from the jet lag and to explore the city. But, as time for the congress approached, I felt more and more unsettled. I was experiencing a shift from anticipating the wonderment to wandering thoughts that lead to anxiety and trepidation.
Once I picked up my conference satchel and found the program guide, I experienced a sense of relief. Structure - I felt contained. Here was a lovely list of sessions and speakers complete with an index and abstracts. In fact, the sessions felt very familiar - I had downloaded the program guide from the web before I left home and had marked interesting sessions during the flight. I embraced the sensation of familiarity and preparedness. I felt assured that I had bravely plotted my course and could successfully navigate this newness. I realized in hindsight that my in-flight review of the program was an attempt to control my experiences - a way to manage what would undoubtedly be new territory. In my life, I have rarely anticipated that I will enjoy unfamiliar things that happen in my life, but after reflection acknowledge that these moments of un-preparedness and unfamiliarity have served as catalysts for growth. This experience was no exception.
I brought my husband to the opening session. I had warned him that music therapists can be an unusual lot - sometimes we sing, dance, and improvise during the opening session. At least, we have been known to do such things at opening sessions in conferences in the United States. With the exception of the singing in rounds, the session was decidedly "normal" and typical. Don't get the wrong impression of my impression! It was a great kick-off - lovely music performed on the viola, didgeridoo, and voice, and the warmest of welcomes from a range of Aussie dignitaries. I was a bit bewildered that I was a bit disappointed in familiarity, very out of character for me. However, chair Susan Coull gave us permission, a challenge really, to go to sessions that seemed the least familiar to us - find speakers from other countries, approaches outside of our clinical work, and topics that were unknown to us. This resonated with me. How did she know that I had already picked out sessions in my comfort zone? I am proud to say I accepted her challenge, discarded my pre-marked sessions, and took a fresh look at the program. I am so grateful that I did.
I found myself easily distracted during sessions, chasing many thoughts around in my head and occasionally checking in with the speakers. I enjoyed the unfamiliar accents and the semantic choices of the speakers. I marveled at speakers who could discuss clinical work and research in non-native languages - very brave indeed. I found music therapists who conceptualized clinical practice and research as a single fluid process. I was thrilled to see the commitment to research and evidence based practice alive in the world community of music therapy. This invigorated me. I was ever mindful of the differences in presentation style in comparison to conferences I have attended. But, what always got me out of my head in the moment were clips from music therapy sessions - video or audio. Three of these remain salient in my recollection - the session clips were in Spanish, Danish, and Japanese. Presenters did acknowledge and gently apologized that the clips featured sessions conducted in their native languages and had not been translated into English. They did not need to be - I understood. The beautiful way music therapy draws people together transcended language.
The last statement I penned caused me pause. My thoughts drift to lectures I have given to university students on whether or not music is a universal language. I laugh to myself at how naïve my position has been as I delivered these lectures and how I know this was a teachable moment for me. Here are some of my thoughts of past assumptions and knowledge filtered through my new experience. My statement was that music therapy transcended language. The space created by therapist and client(s) musicking together, the work accomplished together, and the relationship established during music therapy were communicated to me without requiring subsequent verbal description. The process communicated to me in a medium that I recognized. Perhaps music therapy is its own culture its own language. I know I will continue to think about this experience.
We also had breaks -morning and afternoon tea and lunch. I looked around for familiar faces to chat, people I see at conferences. Most of my 'gang' was not there - I felt quite lonely. I also felt lucky when I realized that I have so many music therapy colleagues/friends that I see regularly at conferences. These reflections make me more aware of how important conferences are to our profession - music therapy is a human service profession and we need each other. I got a coffee and a pastry and sat down by myself, content to "people watch" and reflect. This never lasted long - on nearly every occasion, a lovely Australian music therapist would introduce him/herself and converse with me. What a truly engaging group of people the Australians are! Thank you for becoming familiar faces.
I became more anxious about my presentation as the congress progressed, and I am not typically anxious about presentations. Mostly, I wished that I had some music examples to share since they had been so inspirational from others' presentations. I was quite aware of my contrasting style of presenting. I talk fast, am typically quite animated, never use a script, and tend to be become tangential. I was prepared to stay within my allotted time, and I eventually decided to 'just do it my way' and see what would happen. I would have been happy to receive positive feedback from just one person; so, I was overjoyed when approached by a small crowd who felt connected to my topic. I now realize that I the delegates who attended my session were probably taking in all that was different about me just as I had been doing of others. If I had conformed to what I believed to be a norm, they would have missed out on experiencing someone new.
As I tried to quantify my experiences for my husband, I tried to recall how many different countries the presenters I heard represented. I stopped counting at 10 - no need to keep counting. It was unreal to recognize that in four short days I had experienced music therapists from around the world who shared their work and their music! I grew up in a small town in Tennessee, USA. The majority of my family, extended relatives included, have never been more than 100 miles from where they were born. Outside of my father and one cousin who both served in the military, I am the only person who has traveled abroad. I took a moment to celebrate how unique this experience was and how I am now different. I also celebrate that I had the opportunity to influence others, share my work, and be the object of observation.
Summarizing this wonderful experience was difficult, and this brief essay is ill equipped to truly convey what the congress continues to mean to me. But, I will list two lasting impressions among many. One, I have learned the significance of being a good host thanks to the Australians music therapists I encountered. And two, I see the enormous value in videotaping or recording sessions and incorporating them into presentations, after all, seeing (hearing) was believing. Perhaps I in order to clearly communicate my experience at congress I should have videotaped myself and everything around me!
Whenever an exuberant storyteller finishes a tale only to find under-whelmed listeners, the phrase "Guess you had to be there" is inevitably uttered. Perhaps storytellers realize that the sights and sounds that could communicate her wonderment are missing, and that mere words will never convey the essence of the experience. If you were at congress, I want to thank you because you changed me. Hopefully, my reflection will resonate with you and you can take a moment to remember upon your experience. If you were not there, I say to you not "guess you had to be there" but "I wish you were."
About Jennifer D. Jones
Biography
MM, MT-BC, Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL, USA.
Reflection on My Experiences at World Congress
The Familiar
Awash in new experiences, sorting out familiar and novel.
Resonating with others - clinicians, educators, researchers, and new friends.
I understand the music and the music therapy moments -play me more of these.
Feeling alone in a room of full of strangers, I search for the familiar faces.
Contemplating my presentation - will it be okay to just be me?
I can't believe I am here!
How will I articulate how this has changed me?
Perhaps a poem.
This was my first world congress for music therapy and only my second time traveling abroad. I anticipated the event with many emotions. Excited about seeing new people and hearing new perspectives, proud of myself for making necessary sacrifices to make the trip, and rather overwhelmed with possibilities. At least this is what I remember now about how I felt before the trip. After a few days in Hawaii, I arrived in Brisbane early in order to recover from the jet lag and to explore the city. But, as time for the congress approached, I felt more and more unsettled. I was experiencing a shift from anticipating the wonderment to wandering thoughts that lead to anxiety and trepidation.
Once I picked up my conference satchel and found the program guide, I experienced a sense of relief. Structure - I felt contained. Here was a lovely list of sessions and speakers complete with an index and abstracts. In fact, the sessions felt very familiar - I had downloaded the program guide from the web before I left home and had marked interesting sessions during the flight. I embraced the sensation of familiarity and preparedness. I felt assured that I had bravely plotted my course and could successfully navigate this newness. I realized in hindsight that my in-flight review of the program was an attempt to control my experiences - a way to manage what would undoubtedly be new territory. In my life, I have rarely anticipated that I will enjoy unfamiliar things that happen in my life, but after reflection acknowledge that these moments of un-preparedness and unfamiliarity have served as catalysts for growth. This experience was no exception.
I brought my husband to the opening session. I had warned him that music therapists can be an unusual lot - sometimes we sing, dance, and improvise during the opening session. At least, we have been known to do such things at opening sessions in conferences in the United States. With the exception of the singing in rounds, the session was decidedly "normal" and typical. Don't get the wrong impression of my impression! It was a great kick-off - lovely music performed on the viola, didgeridoo, and voice, and the warmest of welcomes from a range of Aussie dignitaries. I was a bit bewildered that I was a bit disappointed in familiarity, very out of character for me. However, chair Susan Coull gave us permission, a challenge really, to go to sessions that seemed the least familiar to us - find speakers from other countries, approaches outside of our clinical work, and topics that were unknown to us. This resonated with me. How did she know that I had already picked out sessions in my comfort zone? I am proud to say I accepted her challenge, discarded my pre-marked sessions, and took a fresh look at the program. I am so grateful that I did.
I found myself easily distracted during sessions, chasing many thoughts around in my head and occasionally checking in with the speakers. I enjoyed the unfamiliar accents and the semantic choices of the speakers. I marveled at speakers who could discuss clinical work and research in non-native languages - very brave indeed. I found music therapists who conceptualized clinical practice and research as a single fluid process. I was thrilled to see the commitment to research and evidence based practice alive in the world community of music therapy. This invigorated me. I was ever mindful of the differences in presentation style in comparison to conferences I have attended. But, what always got me out of my head in the moment were clips from music therapy sessions - video or audio. Three of these remain salient in my recollection - the session clips were in Spanish, Danish, and Japanese. Presenters did acknowledge and gently apologized that the clips featured sessions conducted in their native languages and had not been translated into English. They did not need to be - I understood. The beautiful way music therapy draws people together transcended language.
The last statement I penned caused me pause. My thoughts drift to lectures I have given to university students on whether or not music is a universal language. I laugh to myself at how naïve my position has been as I delivered these lectures and how I know this was a teachable moment for me. Here are some of my thoughts of past assumptions and knowledge filtered through my new experience. My statement was that music therapy transcended language. The space created by therapist and client(s) musicking together, the work accomplished together, and the relationship established during music therapy were communicated to me without requiring subsequent verbal description. The process communicated to me in a medium that I recognized. Perhaps music therapy is its own culture its own language. I know I will continue to think about this experience.
We also had breaks -morning and afternoon tea and lunch. I looked around for familiar faces to chat, people I see at conferences. Most of my 'gang' was not there - I felt quite lonely. I also felt lucky when I realized that I have so many music therapy colleagues/friends that I see regularly at conferences. These reflections make me more aware of how important conferences are to our profession - music therapy is a human service profession and we need each other. I got a coffee and a pastry and sat down by myself, content to "people watch" and reflect. This never lasted long - on nearly every occasion, a lovely Australian music therapist would introduce him/herself and converse with me. What a truly engaging group of people the Australians are! Thank you for becoming familiar faces.
I became more anxious about my presentation as the congress progressed, and I am not typically anxious about presentations. Mostly, I wished that I had some music examples to share since they had been so inspirational from others' presentations. I was quite aware of my contrasting style of presenting. I talk fast, am typically quite animated, never use a script, and tend to be become tangential. I was prepared to stay within my allotted time, and I eventually decided to 'just do it my way' and see what would happen. I would have been happy to receive positive feedback from just one person; so, I was overjoyed when approached by a small crowd who felt connected to my topic. I now realize that I the delegates who attended my session were probably taking in all that was different about me just as I had been doing of others. If I had conformed to what I believed to be a norm, they would have missed out on experiencing someone new.
As I tried to quantify my experiences for my husband, I tried to recall how many different countries the presenters I heard represented. I stopped counting at 10 - no need to keep counting. It was unreal to recognize that in four short days I had experienced music therapists from around the world who shared their work and their music! I grew up in a small town in Tennessee, USA. The majority of my family, extended relatives included, have never been more than 100 miles from where they were born. Outside of my father and one cousin who both served in the military, I am the only person who has traveled abroad. I took a moment to celebrate how unique this experience was and how I am now different. I also celebrate that I had the opportunity to influence others, share my work, and be the object of observation.
Summarizing this wonderful experience was difficult, and this brief essay is ill equipped to truly convey what the congress continues to mean to me. But, I will list two lasting impressions among many. One, I have learned the significance of being a good host thanks to the Australians music therapists I encountered. And two, I see the enormous value in videotaping or recording sessions and incorporating them into presentations, after all, seeing (hearing) was believing. Perhaps I in order to clearly communicate my experience at congress I should have videotaped myself and everything around me!
Whenever an exuberant storyteller finishes a tale only to find under-whelmed listeners, the phrase "Guess you had to be there" is inevitably uttered. Perhaps storytellers realize that the sights and sounds that could communicate her wonderment are missing, and that mere words will never convey the essence of the experience. If you were at congress, I want to thank you because you changed me. Hopefully, my reflection will resonate with you and you can take a moment to remember upon your experience. If you were not there, I say to you not "guess you had to be there" but "I wish you were."