I am passionate about the fact that music can create mutually empowering conditions within which people have the opportunity to flourish. If there is no decent foundation for engaging in music together, then everything begins to get unbalanced. The situation in Australia is far from equitable, with a significant discrepancy between the possibilities for music that are available to those in publicly funded and user-pays schools. It sucks. So I wrote a little piece about it.
http://theconversation.com/class-matters-when-it-comes-to-music-education-22956
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Return to feminism
As the amount of time grows from the end of my marriage, I
am more clearly able to see some of the deeply rooted beliefs that had taken
hold during those 17 years of relationship.
One of them was turning my back on feminism, which I can see now was
actually a break, rather than a conclusion.
I have spent some time in the past few days reflecting on my
relationship with feminism and being pleasantly surprised by how important it
has been to me, not least because my mother was a feminist of the 60s and 70s.
During my years living in a residential college at the
University of Melbourne, I became the representative of the colleges on the
Universities Feminist Committee. To this
day I am not sure how that happened, and I remember feeling utterly
under-qualified for the position but determined to learn as much as I could.
This experience of being thrust into positions that seem far beyond my
abilities has been a recurring pattern in my life, but with the Feminist
Committee, as with many other situations, I seemed to find my way and
ultimately began to identify as a feminist.
This sometimes involved battling with the assumptions of the other women
on the committee who felt that all women living in residential colleges were
unduly privileged and therefore uninformed and un-critical. I felt this was unjust and oppressive and
told them so, and some of the members began to treat me with a little more
respect. Of course, there was some truth
in their accusations, but I was right to suggest that women excluding other
women from potential growth opportunities was a small-minded response.
During that time I purchased all the contemporary
pop-feminist literature that was available, including Susan Faludi’s ‘Backlash: The undeclared war against women’,
and Naomi Wolf’s ‘The Beauty Myth’
and ‘Fire with Fire’, as well as the
less politically correct ‘Get your tongue
out of my mouth, I’m kissing you goodbye’ and an older text by Colette
Dowling ‘The Cinderella Complex’. I also stole some books from my mother’s
collection: ‘The Hite Report’ and ‘The Women’s Room’. My social work lecturer encouraged us to read
Foucault’s ‘The History of Sexuality’
and I remember Virginia Wolf’s ‘Orlando’
coming out as a movie during this time.
All in all, it was a reasonable beginning and I was well supported by my
‘privileged’ friendship networks to challenge assumptions and make loud
speeches at dinner parties, even if I only had a few pieces to string together.
Over the next two decades I began to question feminism however,
and I can see now that this was caused by the incongruence between the ideals
of the discourse and the realities of my life.
I clearly remember thinking ‘What’s the point of all this feminist
reading, it’s just making me terribly unhappy.
I can’t live up to these standards’.
After years of quiet raging, I turned my back on critical beliefs and
turned towards more positive readings. I
reignited my passion for Humanism and it’s emphasis on unconditional positive
regard – the opposite of holding critical perspectives. I imbibed every positive psychology text that
supported my individual choosing of happiness, and I focused on flourishing and
creativity. And I reignited my faith,
moving through Buddhism to Integral Spirituality. These were not wasted decades. I learned a great deal from these scholars
and I am particularly grateful to have developed a capacity to take
responsibility for my own part in any challenging situation, rather than simply
blaming others.
In the year before my marriage ended however, I discovered a
new discourse. My studies of Ken
Wilber’s integral thinking led me to two women (one American, one Australian)
who had developed an on-going conversation called Feminine Power – Claire Zammit and Katherine Woodward Thomas. This on-line group provided me with the
impetus to value the contribution that women are here to make in the
world. The focus on mutually empowering
relationships and choosing a calling that is bigger than individual happiness literally
changed my world. Learning to value
myself again allowed me to make the important decisions that I had been trying
to run away from.
It still took some time to come back to critical feminism
however. I recall participating in a
Feminist Music Therapy symposium in Argentina in 2008 where I declared that
there was no more need for feminism and that our mother’s had achieved all they
could through this discourse (ahhh, it is a humiliating memory, I must
admit). But lately I have found myself
tentatively poking around the edges of feminism again. I have bought more books, read more articles,
and allowed myself to be truly appalled by the statistics about the treatment
of women in the world – supported by viewing many TED talks that provide
important information about the issues facing many women in countries around
the globe. In my own privileged world at
the University I have participated in women’s leadership forums where the facts
are also oppressive and where male domination is still the status quo. And finally I have found my way back to
feminist theory. The opportunity to work with Sue Hadley as a Co-Editor of Voices: A
world forum for music therapy (along with Brynjulf Stige), has been
particularly inspiring. And so have many
women colleagues in my field and beyond – particularly the anti-oppressive work
being advocated by Sue Baines, and Randi Rolvsjord’s ‘Resource Oriented Music
Therapy’.
I am making a re-commitment to feminism in this summer-time
blog. I aspire to problematize my
research findings, and to shine light on the assumptions that underpin the
oppressions that impinge on people’s full participation. I recognize that my circle of influence is
limited, but I aim to contribute what I can and to support others to do what
they can. I take up Craig Hamilton’s
challenge (from the Integral Enlightenment group) – if not you, then who?
Monday, August 26, 2013
Mutually empowering conditions - is that what music therapists offer?
I was lucky enough to be invited to present a keynote paper
at the European Music Therapy Congress in Oslo this year. It was a huge honour and I took the
opportunity to think very carefully about what I have learned about music
therapy as a result of the various research projects I have read and conducted,
as well as my experiences in working as a music therapist, and the theoretical
frameworks that have influenced the ways I understand these things. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to condense
my thinking into a one-hour presentation, but luckily, a few hours on the
slopes of the beautiful Mt Hutt in the South Island of New Zealand helped me to
align with my intentions and a structure emerged that allowed my story to
unfold in a short time.
The key message I tried to impart was that music therapists
create ‘mutually empowering conditions’ when they engage participants from a
person-centered (Rogerian Humanistic) orientation. More than building positive relationships
with people, music therapists have the possibility to impact the environment
around players by changing the ways that they are seen and understood in that
context. Whereas traditional music
therapy practice emphasized the ‘sacred space’ around the therapeutic encounter
and sought private and confidential experiences (in line with psychodynamic
thinking), contemporary practice actively seeks engagement with the people and
systems that surround individuals. This
might begin with private ‘musicking’ experiences, but can often grow beyond the
walls of the therapy room for broader impact, as community music therapy
theorists such as Brynjulf Stige, Gary Ansdell and Mercedes Pavlicevic have
advocated.
The idea of mutuality has also become increasingly important
to me under the influence of Randi Rolvsjord’s writings about resource oriented
music therapy as well as the learnings from the Common Factors meta-analyses in
psychotherapy (particularly Scott Miller who presented a fascinating workshop
in Melbourne some years ago). I think
Randi has been able to name a particular quality that I always admire when I
read about the work of therapists who move me – Irvin Yalom for example, or
Andy Malekoff, or Reed Larson. It goes
further than having unconditional positive regard for the people we work with
and allows space for the contribution that we make as therapists. I think that
therapy is a mutual process that requires everyone to engage and commit, or it
just doesn’t help that much. For me,
it’s the opposite of the teachings from Neurologic Music Therapy school, where
the emphasis is on what the music therapist does to help, rather than the
people themselves being the ones who work hard to achieve that change. That said, I do think the notion of
‘empowering conditions’ can still encompass NMT, just not so much emphasis on
the mutual.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about what empowerment is, and
have come to a personal conclusion that being empowered means making good
choices. We often talk about offering
opportunities for choice and control in music therapy, and I think that what we
are referring to here is a part of creating mutually empowering
conditions. One of the stimulating PhD
scholars in our group, Lucy Bolger, has been stretching herself to try and work
out what we mean when we invoke a concept like empowerment. As a result, her descriptions of
collaborative processes truly capture the ways that music therapists who listen
carefully to what players want can create conditions that people choose to ‘buy
in’ to and therefore make an active contribution towards their own positive
growth. An important part of this is not
taking all the responsibility for making things ‘sound’ or look good and
successful. A wonderful woman called
Paula D’Arcy also captures this in a lecture with Richard Rohr that speaks to
empowerment – she describes how we cannot and should not ‘save’ people, but
should instead have faith that our destinies are mutually dependent and that
opportunities to realize what we all need will arise. To take that spiritual learning into a
therapeutic context means that we cannot and should not ‘help’ people, but
rather we should create conditions that encourage people to reach towards what
they need. This is similar to the
ecologically informed definition of resilience that Michael Ungar and Bruce Perry
offer, where it is partially the individual’s willingness to take steps towards
coping, but also the availability of a context that supports those steps and
provides something to step towards.
Anyway, the keynote went for an hour, and obviously there is
decades of thinking behind it, but I did want to share some of the ideas with
you all. What do you think? Mutually empowering conditions. It’s an interesting idea, right?
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thinking about servant leadership
As a young professional, I was always slightly annoyed by
the fact that a person’s age was closely related to the agreed perception about
their capacity to lead. It seemed to me
that merely getting old opened the door to opportunities to be heard. As a young woman who was constantly filled
with new ideas and creative projects, I was frustrated by being constantly
contained and restrained. It is a marker
of my youth that I was always racing to get through it, so I could reach the
point where I was able to enact my ideas.
You could infer that I was lacking a little in the ‘presence’ department
with this focus on future rather than in the moment. Yes indeed.
But here I am. I
turned 41 this week and I have fulfilled the assumptions of the hierarchy about
the need for a link between age and leadership.
I seem to have run into it, just by being around long enough and being
willing. As a result, the questions that have been distracting me since I
turned 40 have been to do with leadership.
I have been studying the idea in different ways – participating in a
Women in Leadership forum with colleagues from across the university, reading
endless books, analyzing examples of leadership offered by friends and world
leaders. And of course, I have been
talking about it incessantly with colleagues, students, family and friends. I
notice that I have also been speaking to this topic in my previous blogs where
I have discussed power and love, the power inherent in the use of the word ‘client’,
and not least, changing the world.
What surprises me most about the experience of combining ageing
and leadership is the lack of desire I have for it. Even as I was questioning the validity of the
relationship between age and power, I knew that I didn’t aspire to have power
over others. I wanted to be in
relationship with power so that my ideas would have the possibility of being
explored. I wanted to be able to go to
leadership and suggest things and have them heard, if not always accepted. Over time, I came to identify as being a 2IC
(second in charge), initially in small projects, and later in bigger systems.
Although my journey seems like a natural progression in
retrospect, when leadership was finally thrust upon me from outside it took all
my strength not to run away. This was as
true in my experience of parenting (which I see as a form of leadership) as it was
professionally. Despite my belief that I
have an important contribution to make, I have had to come to terms with taking
responsibility alongside that. I had to
stop speeding in my car when there was a baby in the backseat, and I have had
to become more carefully attuned to the system that I work in and alert to the
need to stand in my power for the benefit of others, even more so than for
representing my own ideas. I had no idea
it would be like this when I was observing the phenomenon from my youthful
perspective.
In all of my grappling to come to terms with this, the
concept of servant leadership has had the greatest appeal for me. This notion has been introduced in the
contemporary literature by Robert Greenleaf, and I remember how my whole body
resonated with it as I read about it in Joseph Jaworski’s writings, not least
because he describes coming from a place of youthful self-absorption and then
recognizing how important it was to fulfill on his commitment to others. And then this morning I finished reading Paul
Johnson’s book, “Jesus: A biography from a believer”.
The form of leadership that Jesus embodied was truly the
most inspirational, and even if you don’t choose to believe in any greater
field of life than your own self, as Paul Johnson says, there is no doubt that
as an individual his life was striking.
Jesus anticipated many of the issues that we continue to struggle with
today and offered a way of being that was true leadership. He never abused his power. He always listened. He took time out to be
alone and be nourished by his connection with a greater force. He always recognized the importance of the
‘little people’ of his time even though the social conditions gave absolutely
no power to them – women would be drowned in the river if they tried to leave
their husbands, but their husbands could divorce them if the dinner was
over-cooked! He advocated for mercy and
grace, rather than judgment. He enjoyed the company of others and recognized that
all great things come to us through our relationships. The list goes on, but what is striking is
that the way of being that Jesus embodied would still be considered as great
leadership to this day, and we still need it – though the historical descriptions
in the text did remind me that we have come a long way.
It was truly inspiring to read a historical account of the
life of a leader and to be reminded of how important it is to aspire to be as good as we can
be. As Greenleaf says, “the
servant-leader shares power, puts the needs of others first and helps people
develop and perform as highly as possible.” (https://www.greenleaf.org/what-is-servant-leadership/).
I’ve seen many of you enact this kind of behavior and been the grateful
recipient of it on many occasions. Whatever
our motivations, and no matter what direction we turn as we endeavor to live
this way (management, parenting, musicking …), the concept of leading through
living our life as best we can has enormous appeal to me. I still have plenty of work to do in making
it so, of course. But I feel happy to be
one who is striving, falling over, getting back up, and striving again. And there is enormous joy to be gained in studying
those who have been truly magnificent.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Can I change the world? No, but we can do it together!
I had to change the name of my Blogspot. Although I am passionate about my career as a music therapist, I am also passionate about my kids, my friends, and the world at large. It was too hard to separate them out. So now I am just meandering about anything, including music therapy.
As the title suggests, I want to contribute to change happening in our world, and soon. And I finally worked out how to do it. It's about having little conversations, insightful dialogues that get underneath assumptions about 'that's just the way things are' and start asking about how 'we want things to be'.
I was inspired to do this when challenged by the question - if not you, who? If I don't do something, then who is going to? Gina? Bob? Catrin? Hussain? Giulia? Amira? Ngon? Well yes, maybe they will. But not by themselves. We all have to do it. If not you, then who? Who is going to make the changes that you know need to happen? It's very dis-empowered to assume there is nothing you can do.
There has never been a time like this before. The world grows more amazing every day in nearly every way. And yet we seem to think that we should maintain the same old attitudes towards things??? That doesn't make sense does it? Don't we need to evolve our attitudes to keep up with teh changes, or better still, drive them.
I think we can do little things to start. So I was talking with my son today about using 'and' instead of 'but'. We had been to the water park all day and it was great. Naturally we began to compare it to other water parks we've been too, most notably, the one in Bali 6 months ago which was more than great. It was AMAZING!
To begin, my sweet son was trying not to be critical of the little Victorian version, so he said it was just as good. I challenged him to be more discriminating about it, since he is a highly intelligent young man and of course he knows that 17 wild rides (in Bali) is a lot more than 2 (ok, there was also some good mini-golf, archery, a little go-karting track - I mean, it really was pretty good). So he tried again "The Victorian water park is really quite good, but, the one in Bali was heaps better.' I congratulated him, and my daughter joined in as we enthusiastically recounted our favourite rides and moments from the day.
Then I took it one step further. "You know Liam, why don't we try saying this one was good AND the one in Bali was even better." Bless him. He took me seriously and considered it. "But Mum, it just doesn't sound right if you say it that way." I agreed with him about the sound of it and went on to explain how we need to give up 'either/or' dichotomies of dualistic thinking (inspired by Fr. Richard Rohr) and that sometimes we need to change the way we use language because words create reality and can reinforce dogmas we don't agree with (inspired by Philosophy in general, I suppose particularly Habermas or Freire, as beautifully explained by Daphne Rickson). Actually, I kept it simpler than that, he's only 8 after all, and the two of them have been known to start laughing at me if I get too full of big words. But you get the point. It is possible to perceive many different ways of seeing things and valuing things, and using language that reflects only two possibilities 'either / or', 'right / wrong' suggests otherwise. So we can change our language to reflect our beliefs better.
So, I didn't really win them over to my argument this afternoon, but it's more about what I do than what I say anyway. I'm trying to live it. I'm trying to change the world. I'm trying to create a culture that reflects my dreams about a world that is run through mutually empowered and collaborative relationships so that we all have enough love, food, hygiene, education. You probably agree right? Well if you're not going to help me co-create this world, then who? Will you? Please? Let's take little steps together to begin.
As the title suggests, I want to contribute to change happening in our world, and soon. And I finally worked out how to do it. It's about having little conversations, insightful dialogues that get underneath assumptions about 'that's just the way things are' and start asking about how 'we want things to be'.
I was inspired to do this when challenged by the question - if not you, who? If I don't do something, then who is going to? Gina? Bob? Catrin? Hussain? Giulia? Amira? Ngon? Well yes, maybe they will. But not by themselves. We all have to do it. If not you, then who? Who is going to make the changes that you know need to happen? It's very dis-empowered to assume there is nothing you can do.
There has never been a time like this before. The world grows more amazing every day in nearly every way. And yet we seem to think that we should maintain the same old attitudes towards things??? That doesn't make sense does it? Don't we need to evolve our attitudes to keep up with teh changes, or better still, drive them.
I think we can do little things to start. So I was talking with my son today about using 'and' instead of 'but'. We had been to the water park all day and it was great. Naturally we began to compare it to other water parks we've been too, most notably, the one in Bali 6 months ago which was more than great. It was AMAZING!
To begin, my sweet son was trying not to be critical of the little Victorian version, so he said it was just as good. I challenged him to be more discriminating about it, since he is a highly intelligent young man and of course he knows that 17 wild rides (in Bali) is a lot more than 2 (ok, there was also some good mini-golf, archery, a little go-karting track - I mean, it really was pretty good). So he tried again "The Victorian water park is really quite good, but, the one in Bali was heaps better.' I congratulated him, and my daughter joined in as we enthusiastically recounted our favourite rides and moments from the day.
Then I took it one step further. "You know Liam, why don't we try saying this one was good AND the one in Bali was even better." Bless him. He took me seriously and considered it. "But Mum, it just doesn't sound right if you say it that way." I agreed with him about the sound of it and went on to explain how we need to give up 'either/or' dichotomies of dualistic thinking (inspired by Fr. Richard Rohr) and that sometimes we need to change the way we use language because words create reality and can reinforce dogmas we don't agree with (inspired by Philosophy in general, I suppose particularly Habermas or Freire, as beautifully explained by Daphne Rickson). Actually, I kept it simpler than that, he's only 8 after all, and the two of them have been known to start laughing at me if I get too full of big words. But you get the point. It is possible to perceive many different ways of seeing things and valuing things, and using language that reflects only two possibilities 'either / or', 'right / wrong' suggests otherwise. So we can change our language to reflect our beliefs better.
So, I didn't really win them over to my argument this afternoon, but it's more about what I do than what I say anyway. I'm trying to live it. I'm trying to change the world. I'm trying to create a culture that reflects my dreams about a world that is run through mutually empowered and collaborative relationships so that we all have enough love, food, hygiene, education. You probably agree right? Well if you're not going to help me co-create this world, then who? Will you? Please? Let's take little steps together to begin.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Are you my 'client'?
I have been
challenged recently to think more deeply about my rejection of the word
'client'. I’ve been trying not to use the word for a number of years, and
frankly, it’s been a hard habit to break.
But I had made a very conscious decision in opposition to what I
perceived as the institutionalised power imbalance invoked when the ‘client’
was framed as a recipient of my expert treatment. The use of the
word 'institutionalised' refers to the unconscious use of the word; the fact it
was just accepted that people who participate in music therapy in all places
and various ways should simply be considered to be one amalgamated whole,
rather than the unique, context bound beings that they are. 'Power
imbalance' referred to my belief that music therapy, as I practice it, is more
of collaborative act than one directed by my superior understanding of a
vulnerable person's needs. I use 'recipient' as suggestive of passivity on the
part of the people who participate in music therapy, in contrast to the
well-documented need for active commitment as fundamental to the success of
therapy. 'Expert treatment' refers to the assumed use of a treatment model,
which in my opinion is a very specific model involving formal stages of referral,
assessment, goal setting, implementation of the planned activity, followed by
evaluation of efficacy.
So, I had
my issues with the relevance of the word client to the way I practice music
therapy and perhaps even the way music therapy is practiced in many contexts
informed by contemporary social policy.
Client is a
convenient word however, and it is pragmatic to argue that replacing one word
with what would potentially be four - person / people participating in music
therapy - is both inefficient and confusing. However, I do recall the movement
in the 1990s from language where people were described as 'autistic child' to
'child with autism', and at the time the change felt problematic for the same
reason. The importance of putting the
person before the diagnosis seemed to make it worthwhile however, and it no
longer feels cumbersome at all.
A problem
with removing all connotations of power imbalance in music therapy was
suggested by a colleague of mine, Jason Kenner, who pointed out that avoiding
the reality that we have power in the relationship with our client is
irresponsible. We are responsible for the music therapy context and committed
to striving for therapeutic outcomes in relationship with our clients. He
suggests that by removing the recognition of this power, we may actually be
disempowering ourselves and inadvertently relieving ourselves of responsibility
within the therapeutic process. He feels that acknowledging our power helps us
to be more responsible to the people we work with.
My own
position is to emphasise mutual empowerment.
Perhaps my practice of music therapy is less effective than others, but
my experience is that I am not able to take responsibility for the therapeutic
outcomes; this is something I am enthusiastic about, and energetic towards, but
not responsible for. This is also in
keeping with common factors research into the effectiveness of psychotherapy (Duncan, Miller, & Sparks, 2007).
If people do not wish to sing when I have suggested singing, there is
only so much I can do. If people choose
to play, but not to discuss what they have played, I am often unable to
convince them to do so. Their agency is
a critical dimension of the therapeutic encounter, combined with my capacity to
create the conditions wherein the desire to participate can happen.
Randi
Rolvsjord (2010) elaborates her position on the
concept of empowerment in the context of adult mental health, and I have a
well-thumbed copy of her contribution to the topic and have commented on it
previously (McFerran & Campbell, in-press). It has always confused me that she
also likes to use the word client. I
have no doubt that she has been reflexive in considering this language, which
reminds me about how important it is to consider the ways that words are used
in different contexts. Another heavily
reflexive Norwegian, Brynjulf Stige (2002), points to Wittgenstein’s ideas to
explain this contextualized use of language as it has come to be understood in the
past century. Perhaps words do not
provide a direct mirror of reality, but rather point to meanings that are
co-created in a given social context. Therefore it is easy to see that my use
of the word client may be different to Randi and Jason’s use of it.
Another
colleague, Grace Thompson, has been instrumental in influencing my own thinking
on this topic, informed by her work in the Early Childhood Intervention sector
where partnership with families has become the dominant model. The
sector has worked hard to illuminate implicit or explicit assumptions about the
helper’s knowledge and resources being ‘superior’ to the local knowledge held
by families (Davis, Day, & Bidmead, 2002, p. 47) and ultimately to provide alternative
models to the expert helper. The
importance of collaborative relationships has been emphasized, and the use of
language that suggests anything other than mutually empowering relationships
has been considered detrimental to the success of the collaboration.
This is obviously
not a topic that is restricted to the music therapy profession. A quick Google search reveals discussion on
this topic from a range of fields and Jason Kenner discovered an article in
psychiatry where ‘patient’ is reported to be the preferred language according
to a sample of users/consumers/patients/clients in the UK (Simmons, Hawley, Gale, & Sivakumaran, 2010).
My own
conclusion is that the word client is convenient, simple and universally used
within music therapy. I continue to
struggle with its relevance to my own work and cannot help but associate it
with a classic treatment model that I no longer find useful. However, I acknowledge that it may be the
most appropriate term in some contexts.
In private practice, I can see that the word ‘client’ might be the most
appropriate word, especially if the individual is paying for therapy. In hospitals it makes sense that patient
would be the preferred term, and I see no reason why a music therapist would
introduce the use of the term client in contrast to that. In education it is helpful to use the word
student. In work with young people in
the community or in mental health care, another colleague, Cherry Hense, confirms
that ‘young person’ is the preferred language in her institution. I can see now see that it is just as
inappropriate to reject the word ‘client’ as it is to accept it without
conscious reflection. My own issues with
the word are local and grounded in my experiences of how that language is used
and obviously this is not the same as other people’s experiences. But I would argue that it requires due
consideration and should not be a term that is used without critical
reflection. I guess I still don’t like
it.
First Published on www.voices.no
McFerran, Katrina (20012). Who is my "Client" . Voices: A World Forum for Music Therapy. Retrieved September 03, 2012, from http://www.voices.no/?q=fortnightly-columns/2012-who-my-client
McFerran, Katrina (20012). Who is my "Client" . Voices: A World Forum for Music Therapy. Retrieved September 03, 2012, from http://www.voices.no/?q=fortnightly-columns/2012-who-my-client
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Reconsidering Resilience
I went to a seminar on Resilience yesterday, presented by a famous child psychiatrist called Bruce Perry. Although I wasn't wildly impressed by the way that he used basic research to support loosely related theoretical propositions, he alerted me to a constructionist discourse on resilience that I thought made a lot of sense. Ok, that's the end of the ranting in big words. The idea he presented was beautiful in its simplicity and I want to share about it.
He dared to suggest that perhaps resilience is not a personal trait. There has been a huge interest in studying 'resilient' people and trying to work out why they cope better with trauma than other people, and this research has all been based on the assumption that it is a personal capacity. This has been a vexed stream of investigation, mostly because when they looked closely, resilience seemed like something that couldn't be learned. Research seemed to suggest that some people are just born resilient and others aren't. Martin Seligman went so far as to suggest that we all have a set-point for happiness. Some people are genetically predisposed to be happy, and others, well, a bit gloomy. Not much you can do about it. Interesting theory I guess, but not very helpful.
But Michael Ungar has proposed a novel way of explaining resilience that resonates with my experiences as a human being and a music therapist. He says that resilience is displayed when people negotiate the processing of an adverse experience by navigating towards available resources. So firstly, resilience isn't a personality trait, it's an action. Second, that action doesn't happen once, it's a process that is ongoing for as long as the challenging experience is being dealt with. And the third point is what Bruce Perry stated so emphatically; that the quality of the social networks is therefore what confers resilience (the Europeans would probably use the word 'affords' rather than confers, but it was nice to hear a more familiar word:). Because if you are dealing with a challenging situation and trying to 'navigate towards helpful resources' and there is none around, then you will just sail around in circles, usually within yourself. Or if it looks like there are people that can help, but they seem to fade away like a mirage when you try to access them, you're just left sitting there, out at sea. But if you have something bad happen and the people around you get up underneath you to help you cope, then you're going to be more resilient. Doesn't that make sweet sense?
And what I loved even more was the way it supports our new MusicMatters in Schools program. Along with my co-directors Kate Teggelove and Lucy Bolger, I've been experimenting with a new way of contributing as a music therapist in schools. It is about fostering musical cultures in schools that promote wellbeing and connectedness; flourishing musical cultures where students make music often and teachers use music in classrooms and differences are transcended while diverse groups jam, sing and dance together in all kinds of ways. We have been focused on partnerships with schools and collaborations with students, rather than providing expert services. And it was all in the name of supporting young people before they needed more clinical care. We were fostering resilience, and now, I can better understand why that seemed the right way to do it. Because making music with others strengthens your social networks and it improves the quality of your connections with peers and teachers, and THAT makes navigating to helpful resources much easier. How about that. Thank you Michale Ungar.
He dared to suggest that perhaps resilience is not a personal trait. There has been a huge interest in studying 'resilient' people and trying to work out why they cope better with trauma than other people, and this research has all been based on the assumption that it is a personal capacity. This has been a vexed stream of investigation, mostly because when they looked closely, resilience seemed like something that couldn't be learned. Research seemed to suggest that some people are just born resilient and others aren't. Martin Seligman went so far as to suggest that we all have a set-point for happiness. Some people are genetically predisposed to be happy, and others, well, a bit gloomy. Not much you can do about it. Interesting theory I guess, but not very helpful.
But Michael Ungar has proposed a novel way of explaining resilience that resonates with my experiences as a human being and a music therapist. He says that resilience is displayed when people negotiate the processing of an adverse experience by navigating towards available resources. So firstly, resilience isn't a personality trait, it's an action. Second, that action doesn't happen once, it's a process that is ongoing for as long as the challenging experience is being dealt with. And the third point is what Bruce Perry stated so emphatically; that the quality of the social networks is therefore what confers resilience (the Europeans would probably use the word 'affords' rather than confers, but it was nice to hear a more familiar word:). Because if you are dealing with a challenging situation and trying to 'navigate towards helpful resources' and there is none around, then you will just sail around in circles, usually within yourself. Or if it looks like there are people that can help, but they seem to fade away like a mirage when you try to access them, you're just left sitting there, out at sea. But if you have something bad happen and the people around you get up underneath you to help you cope, then you're going to be more resilient. Doesn't that make sweet sense?
And what I loved even more was the way it supports our new MusicMatters in Schools program. Along with my co-directors Kate Teggelove and Lucy Bolger, I've been experimenting with a new way of contributing as a music therapist in schools. It is about fostering musical cultures in schools that promote wellbeing and connectedness; flourishing musical cultures where students make music often and teachers use music in classrooms and differences are transcended while diverse groups jam, sing and dance together in all kinds of ways. We have been focused on partnerships with schools and collaborations with students, rather than providing expert services. And it was all in the name of supporting young people before they needed more clinical care. We were fostering resilience, and now, I can better understand why that seemed the right way to do it. Because making music with others strengthens your social networks and it improves the quality of your connections with peers and teachers, and THAT makes navigating to helpful resources much easier. How about that. Thank you Michale Ungar.
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