Voices ResourcesA website for the worldwide community around the journal Voices: A World Forum for Music Therapy

It is difficult for me to imagine an environment as nurturing and supportive as the gathering of music therapists in Brisbane last month. The World Congress provided an opportunity to listen, talk, sing, play, eat and drink with colleagues both from my home and from the global music therapy community. The quality of presentations was high, as was the level of collegiality. There was music everywhere and frequent opportunities to share in it as an active participant. The food was plentiful and an atmosphere of openness pervaded the environment. I was proud of all these things as a representative of the host culture.

Indeed, there was something very special about this experience to me as an Australian. It is a cultural phenomenon, perhaps unique to Australians that we tend to perceive ourselves as somehow lesser than others. I was nervous that the event would not be successful, and after such a long build-up, that idea was unbearable. In Australia, we sometimes assume that the work we do is less original, more mundane - somehow less than it should be. I have heard speakers at various professional symposiums in Australia discuss this tendency and encourage us to have faith in ourselves. But it is hard to believe. The 'tall-poppy syndrome' may be part of this explanation. This is a self-deprecating attitude held by many Australians (and New Zealanders apparently) who feel that it is inappropriate to stand out, particularly to accomplish above your peers. The most appropriate stance is to be humble in any success you may achieve and not to take yourself too seriously. I believe the Scandinavians have a similar phenomenon, called Janteloven. Sometimes this makes it difficult to be proud of your own achievements for fear of appearing arrogant. But during my time at congress I did feel very proud of what was achieved. First, because people had ventured from many parts of the globe to visit our country. Second, because it was worth it. I thought it was a wonderful event and I am sincerely grateful to the Congress organising committee for the years of preparation that went into this event.

In speaking with colleagues since the Congress, there have been many recurring themes that contributed to the high level of satisfaction experienced by many. The interactive nature of the workshops was popular. The presence of music, both from Indigenous, popular and alternative genres has also been commented on frequently. The clarity of presentations and the variety of cultures from which people spoke about their work provided a fascinating context for thinking of clinical work . For myself however, it was the familiarity that made the event so powerful. I felt very comfortable with the clinical work that was described in the papers I attended. These were mostly papers that described work in fields that I have practised in, and the methods, goals and outcomes described by people from around the globe resonated with me. The material felt authentic to my experience of music therapy and honed my understanding of practice. The opportunity to be surrounded by my peers also felt comfortable. It was like wearing my favourite pair of old shoes to a formal function. I was grounded in the people that know me best. It felt very special to me that people who had heard me describe my work as a newly graduated music therapist ten years ago were back in the audience to hear what I was rambling on about now. People whose opinions I value were constantly available and it was a treasured opportunity to spend time with friends whose opinions and responses I am interested in.

It was exciting to then add international friends and colleagues into this comfortable experience. I was able to seek out new and stimulating perspectives from a secure platform. There seemed to be numerous opportunities to dialogue with experts from around the globe, who suddenly felt like old friends. There were chances to progress developing relationships and to begin some new ones. There were beers to be shared and stories to be told, both professional and personal. I felt accepted as a music therapist, a woman and a new mother, as I was welcomed into yet another community within the mix - that of parenthood. Some colleagues had families staying with them in their hotels, waiting for an opportunity to go and explore this sunburnt country. Others had photos of their loved ones and stories to tell. I wondered, where else does my whole self have the opportunity to be like this?

However these feelings of comfort and familiarity also created a challenge for me. As I heard the same stories being told about the work that we do, it made me want more. I wanted to share my confidence about the specific benefits of music therapy and draw together this practice wisdom into a cohesive body of theory. The most effective definition I have heard of theory is "a set of ideas explaining something" (p. 42, Rhedding-Jones) and this perfectly encapsulates my personal craving. This desire comes from many sources other than the Congress. In reading music therapy texts of late, I have become increasingly hungry for something that draws together the individual chapters that make up the text and for the editors to pose a theory. In many ways I recognise that this as being in stark contrast with the qualitative principles that I have worshipped for the past decade. What has happened to my desire for the individual voice, the thick description, and the valuing of multiple perspectives? In many ways, I continue to value these qualities and cannot envisage forsaking them. But I also want to appreciate them in another way, through the recognition of commonality and the willingness to state what is the same. My understanding of post modernism is that it rejects the creation of these universal stories or 'Metanarratives' as French Philosopher, Lyotard, calls them. Instead it emphasises the importance of context and of local knowledge. However I also understand that post modernity is accepting and that it accepts the creation of knowledge as long as it is able to be overturned once it has been shown to be incorrect, only to be replaced by the more 'updated' version. This very simple interpretation seems to suggest that I can hold on to my qualitative stance and also a commitment to the development of theories of music therapy practice, so long as it is humble and willing to be dismissed.

The constant craving of my students for answers and solutions also influences me. As a new academic, I have learned that my desire to view each new clinical situation as unique poses challenges for those who are new to the field. I think it is my own feeling of comfort and familiarity that provides me with the confidence to believe that I can create a new solution for each new client, knowing that music provides pathways towards growth in a myriad of forms. I was forced to remember what it feels like to lack confidence as I began my journey into parenthood and I ran to my books to find out what to do. The books that told me to trust my instincts assumed that I had instincts - and indeed that had been my assumption before I began. But at the very beginning, I wanted answers, and the books that provided them were saviours to me. As I grew in my confidence, I looked at my books less often and I listened to the qualities of my little boy's crying. I grew in my ability to understand and interpret those sounds, and to have faith that I could give him what he needed to grow and survive. But in the beginning I wanted solutions and I needed these concrete answers to be cradled in a theory that I resonated with. This seems to be what my students also desire, and for a while, I had forgotten about that very beginning stage where I felt incompetent.

So how did a journey that began in the warm and nurturing experience of the World Congress end up in reflections on my own incompetence? Perhaps it is my desire to share these feelings with my students. Perhaps it is because the foundation feels secure enough to shake a little.. There have been many assessment tools posed in music therapy. There have been many methods detailed. There have some theories. Yet I sometimes think that we remain in a constant state of re-creation, of not wanting to replicate what has been done before. I have always understood this as part of our nature as musicians, who are creative and capable of constantly generating new ideas. I appreciate this capacity but I am also amazed by the way that we are all doing the same things, across the world, from training courses that emphasise a variety of frameworks. Exactly the same things. It felt wonderful.

How to cite this page

McFerran, Katrina (2005). A Story of 549 Music Therapists ... And a Question About Where We Are All Going.. Voices Resources. Retrieved January 15, 2015, from http://testvoices.uib.no/community/?q=fortnightly-columns/2005-story-549-music-therapists-and-question-about-where-we-are-all-going