Heart Songs, Notes
Note #1 - First Love Note 6-22-03
Note #2 - The Pigions Are Back 8-22-03
Note #3 -
Note #4 -
Heart Songs, Note #1 - 6-22-03
This is Marianna Hartsong
writing. I’ve been feeling for some time that I
“ought” to be writing some kind of e-newsletter
– that is thinking that it would be a “good
idea”. Can you hear how flat that comes across, how
little life energy and creative juice comes from
“ought”, and even thought of a “good
Well about two weeks ago now, I very
unexpectedly lost my German Shepherd, Dharma. He was my
favorite animal, the one I was most deeply heart connected
to. His dying cracked my heart open not only to feeling my
loss of him, but to a life-time of grieving. This grieving,
for the first time, seemed to connect all the dots from my
father’s assassination when I was five, through a plethora of
childhood hurts, and failed love relationships, to the
present. I suddenly was gifted with the sense that perhaps I
didn’t need to do this thing called
“grief” anymore. For those of you who
know me, that is indeed a novel concept.
Seemingly simultaneous to that realization, I picked up the violin,
and, for the first time in my life, began to be able to play music by
ear. For days I could not not play. I’d
roll out of bed in the morning playing, and playing would be the last
thing I’d do before I tucked myself in at night.
The music was attuning me. The more I played by ear, the
easier I found it to submerge myself into the beingness of the
music. I found myself immersed in the sounds I was creating
and hearing. My right brain and my heart were no longer
distracted by the well worn pathway my left-brain has traced for years
from black dots on a page to my fingers. This freed the
music, playing/being music, to take on a whole new dimension in my
heart. For those of you who do not play the violin or viola,
the shoulder support sits right on top of the thymus gland in the
middle of the chest, vibrating the energy heart, as one
plays. Great medicine!
At the same time, all of a sudden, all sorts of other dots, other
repressed creative dots, began to connect and interconnect as
well. Without even trying I had enough material not for one
newsletter, but for months of newsletters.
This inspiration needed form.
I knew that any news letter from me would never be
“weekly”, “bi-weekly”, or
“monthly”, etc. My internal clock
responds well to ‘random’,
‘variable’, ‘brand new this
moment’: random time intervals (does Time really
exist anyways?!), variable length, content, profundity, etc.
Part of this randomness comes from giving myself permission to share
what’s in my heart when my heart is full and alive and ready
to share – and no longer choosing to put myself on hold for
some “Special Occasion” to show up.
Constancy will be provided by the quality of heart expressed.
I needed a title for these sharings that would speak to this quality of
heart. This morning I awoke with the title: Heart
Songs. By early afternoon, it was Heart Songs, Note # 1, 2,
3, etc. (I find myself delighting in the punnery involved).
So welcome to the Heart Songs Notes. I
am off and rolling with this new adventure and I am glad to include you
and have you to include. If you wish to continue to receive
the Heart Songs Notes, you need do nothing. If you would
rather not receive them, please email me at email@example.com and in
the subject and in the bulk of the email simply ask me to remove your
name from the Hearts Songs Notes email list.
In closing, I will include what I had
thought was going to be the first sharing: a rather neat web
page for your R&R and enjoyment that came to me recently
through James Twyman. It’s free to join and gentle,
nourishing fun. Go to:
Oh, and one last fun thing to do as you
drive to work or the grocery store or wherever. Sure beats
the traffic blues. It’s this simple. In
your heart – even out loud so your ears can hear it
– say something beautiful to each person who passes you in
the other direction, like: “Happy
Birthday”, or “Safe journeys” or
“I wish you a beautiful day”, etc. Allow
your unconscious to provide you with some blessing or good thought for
each person you pass. Then, Notice how you feel when you
The first time I did this was some many years ago on Christmas Day when
I was all alone and my family was scattered to the four corners of the
planet each celebrating with their families. I simply said
“Merry Christmas” to everyone I passed.
By the time I got to where I was going, I had dropped my loneliness and
was overflowing with the joy of Christmas Love. Have
fun! And, if you wish, let me know what you discover.
Thanks for joining me today.
Feel free to share the Heart Songs Notes with whomever. Tell
them to contact me by email with their email address and place of
residence if they would like to receive them directly.
Bless your heart,
Heart Songs, Note #2, 8-22-03
"The Pigeons are back!"
It’s a monsoon Friday in August. The horizon in front of me
is streaked with the sweeping flow of earthward bound rains. Great
thanks to the water gods. Our land is so parched and thirsty. I am
wheeling my way east on I-40, joyous as I go off to a new-for-me
adventure, fiddle camp. My cell phone rings. I hear the voice on the
other end of the line: "The Pigeons are back!". I can hardly contain my
What ignites your creativity & nourishes your soul?
It is a great blessing to have a passion in life that truly stokes your
inner creative furnace and touches heart and soul. I am blessed to have
several such passions. Music is one that nourishes me and helps me come
home. I rejoice in the music I make with others.
What ignites my creativity and most nourishes my soul are the U4U
Personal Wellness Intensives I hold at Hartsong Haven (or wherever on
the planet you might need one to happen!). Fringe benefit of these
Wellness Retreats: as a heart opens and heals and transforms, up goes
the joy quotient on the planet (see Power vs Force by David Hawkins
— great book!).
71 year old woman who now looks 50!
I have just completed a 2-week Wellness Intensive with a 71 year old
woman who now looks 50! Something truly magical happened as we brought
our time of deep healing and transformation to a conclusion. She gave
me her permission and blessing to share a bit of her story.
We’ll call her "Bummy".
It was through the loving urging and support of a close friend that
Bummy found her way here -— word of mouth is often how folks
find their way to work with me.
When Bummy arrived at Hartsong Haven she as in the process of trying to
extricate herself from the fourth severe depression she had experienced
since her husband had committed suicide 13 years earlier. In her pain,
Bummy had split herself from her Self. She was numb physically and
emotionally. Our work together unveiled the roots of this supposed
"situational depression" [her husband’s suicide], to date
from her earliest infancy. In the incubator she had felt separate and
unsupported, scared, alone, and untouched. At six months she remembers
seeing people stand, helpless, just watching, again not holding her, as
she almost choked to death with asthma.
Despair can eat one alive.
Despair can eat one alive. Despair, coupled with self blame (in which
Bummy was an expert), is an endless black hole. Bummy was at the effect
of a Medusa of memories which she could medicate and subdue for a while
-- but only for a while. Bummy knew she needed something more than meds
to achieve freedom from her depression.
There are many ways to access and come Home to Self. Because of her
inherent numbness, progress was slow at first. At times I found myself
wondering how even a two week intensive, one-on-one, every day, could
make a dent in the pervasiveness of the numbed despair.
Once Life offers us a "wake-up" door, usually the only way out is
through. Bummy courageously walked through. Kind ears, simple
affirmation, embodied body work, began the process of Bummy’s
reopening to Life.
Among many things, we explored ways in which she could re-Source
herself. She told me that the resourcing that brought her the most
satisfaction was giving and receiving love. [Anyone resonate with this
universal human need?!?]
A petted turkey lays more eggs!
Bummy, who had never had pets, either as a child nor as an adult, was
both shocked and delighted to discover that she could meet her need for
nurture and support through sharing love (giving and receiving) with
the animals of Hartsong Haven. She learned a lot about the different
flavors of giving and receiving love from and with my dog, my two cats,
and a new golden colored kitten, Gloria. She was delighted when one day
she overcame her fear and petted my turkey -- did you know that female
turkeys love to be petted, that in their joy, the waddles on their
throat engorge with blood, and that a petted turkey lays many more eggs!
How do you come Home?
What really caught Bummy’s attention, however, were my newly
acquired juvenile homing pigeons. Our work together was centered around
her learning how to come Home reliably to her Self. The pigeons became
a metaphor for her return Home. Towards the end of her stay at Hartsong
Haven, we walked about ten minutes from the house and then released the
pigeons for their very first flight. They were, remarkably, home again
within a matter of minutes.
The next morning in meditation, I "heard" to offer Bummy the option of
releasing the pigeons on Grief Hill. [Yes! There is a hill about five
miles from my house named Grief Hill — in pioneer days the
main wagon route went over this very steep hill and many a wagon train
ran wild down that hill and spilled and thus came to grief.]
Now co-incidentally [is there really anything else in life?], we had
watched the movie version of Richard Bach’s Jonathan
Livingston Seagull the evening before. As you may well remember,
Jonathan’s story is a wonderful parable of how, when one
dares to follow the truth in one’s heart, great physical,
emotional and spiritual freedom ensues. In the movie, they depicted
Jonathan’s "enlightenment" by picturing him in a new body
(the first Jonathan of the movie was a herring gull, the second a pure
white gull). This detail is important to the magic of our Grief Hill
pigeon release story.
Asking and Listening to her Body
When I mentioned the Grief Hill pigeon option to Bummy at breakfast, I
could feel her immediate excitement. We were now at the first pause of
our morning’s work together. Bummy was by now very competent
and confident in Asking and Listening to her Body (not her head!) to
get direction for her next choice of the day. She laid out for herself
five possibilities, plus, of course, "other" -- gotto give Spirit a
place to put in her two bits. Well, for the first time since I taught
her this approach she got "other". So, back to the drawing board. She
creates another equally attractive five possibilities -- plus other.
Well this time it came through bright and clear: Now was the
time to take the pigeons to Grief Hill for their ritual release.
"This is the spot"
The pigeons were amazing that morning. They practically jumped into my
hands (rather than making me chase after them as before). Somehow they
must have known that they were part of the healing team and about to
have the adventure of their life. We drove the five miles to Grief Hill
with the caged birds and started walking. Shortly Bummy announced (as
per her body knowing): "This is the spot".
We each feel a thrill as the older (five month old) and more cautious
bird, takes the lead and steps out onto the desert floor. Then,
simultaneously, they take flight. First they circle around us, then
they go up and up and up and west and west until they are only tiny
dots of light silhouetted against the Mingus mountains in the
background. As they fly in formation back over our heads again, I
shout: "Look how our Jonathans are celebrating!". "How high and happy
they are!", Bummy adds. They then disappear into the eastern sky. We
feel good and are back at the house before noon.
Well, no birds that night —- nor the next morning.
Independently, we each have a good feeling about what is happening.
When no pigeons had returned by late that afternoon, I notice that I
still have that "good, easy" feeling in my heart and gut. AND, I also
notice that my mind is beginning to nag: I am feeling some
"responsibility" to have the "Coming-Home-from-Grief-Experience" be a
"win" for this client who had arrived two weeks earlier in such
despair. What to do?
Prayer no sooner thought than answered
While giving her the final integrative body-work session of our two
weeks together, I find myself pleading with Spirit for support: "Oh
Great Mystery. I need HELP. Please, oh please, guide my pigeons home".
Hardly is the prayer formulated in my mind, than I see a fluttering on
the front lawn. I blink my eyes: there indeed are two pigeons. But they
are Not the same color as the ones we released a day and a half
earlier. I feel this rush of confusion and excitement, as I remember
that in the video the way they depicted Jonathan’s leap in
consciousness was to film him in his new all-white seagull body. Is
this a mirage? Are my birds back in new bodies? I get the feeling that
this is indeed confirmation that the work Bummy and I have been doing
together has been truly transformational. I invite Bummy from her prone
position on the table to come and take a look. As soon as she has seen
them (are the birds watching?), they fly up into the black walnut tree
out front and disappear from site.
An instant in time: I have never before or since seen pigeons like
those on my property. We complete our work together feeling very
blessed and somehow connected with a Knowing far bigger than ourselves.
I feel so good. There are no guarantees in life.
Our original pigeons did not come home that night either. Yet, neither
of us had any sense of concern. We are each filled with a deep
pervasive peacefulness. Our auras have somehow expanded and seem to be
connected with All There Is. Bummy states several times: "I feel so
good. There Are no guarantees in life. And, I’m O.K. I Know
how to come Home to Me."
Thank you Bummy for teaching me that the deeper gift of healing might
in fact be in the pigeons not coming home. What do I know. The task was
Spirit-given. I just work here. Bummy got the lesson of Trust from the
inside (inside her), not the outside (viz. pigeons).
The following morning, with still no pigeons home, I take Bummy to the
bus that started her journey back to her home in Canada. She is calm,
present, open, ready. I myself head north and east to my new learning
adventure of playing fiddle. It was on that journey that I got the
phone call that told me that my pigeons had come home on the third day
at noon. Jonathan, too, at the end of the video, is home with his
original flock, teaching them what he knows.
We Are ALL Connected.
This little anecdote of healing and synchronicity, the video story of
Jonathan mirrored by our adventure with homing pigeons, affirmed for me
that I am very much doing what I am meant to be doing, AND, that
indeed, We Are ALL Connected.
What are the passions that stoke the furnace of your heart and
creativity? What helps you to feel really ALIVE and CONNECTED? How do
you Come Home? And my friend, how does Spirit speak to and through you?
Bless your heart, much love, Marianna