It was not long after that (maybe a week later?) that I lingered after-hours at the music studio (where I teach lessons twice a week). A music motif had appeared in my head–with a dramatic descending bassline and punctuating arpeggios in treble–and I proceeded to pick it out on the piano. “What is this song about?” I wondered. It wasn’t wistful. . . It wasn’t a breakup song. . . It definitely wasn’t a traditionally romantic song.
There was anger there. It was the anger of not being seen, of needing to reveal. Needing to reconcile a swirling range of emotions. Needing to be held and accepted in the face of ugliness and chaos.
The words started coming:
“I thought I heard you say you’re sorry.
I thought I heard you say that it wouldn’t happen again.
Maybe you meant to say you’re lonely.
You carry on that way, and hope that I’ll understand.
Well, maybe I understand,
But don’t let it happen again. . .”
The lyrics continued to wind there way out, snake-like and tortured, yet eventually (magically) finding resolution:
“I thought I heard you say you’re sorry.
You never meant to say the words that caused me harm.
Well, maybe I can say I trust you.
So make a space to lay beside me on this ground.
And here we’ll lay until our peace is found.
Here we’ll lay together on the ground.
And we won’t stand until our peace is found.”
And thus was born “Lilith’s Song”. I marveled at how the words and the music had just poured out of me (so unlike my previously labored songwriting efforts, years before). I wondered what the inspiration was. Though I understood this feminine rage, paired with a need to reconcile, it wasn’t my on story or emotions that had driven me. It felt more unicersal, somehow, like a story that wanted to be told.
That night, I got two calls–both from people who were dear to me, who had gotten caught in a bind. My Mom had been allowing a homeless gentleman (and friend of hers) to sleep in her van–and her neighbor had just called the cops. And my close friend Greg had just gotten in an argument with his in-laws. I advised both of them through their sticky situations as best I could. After hanging up the phone (for the 2nd time), it suddenly hit me–I had been feeling their emotions. I had been writing their song. This song was bigger than me.
In the months that followed, I would frequently play “Lilith’s Song” and feel a powerful cathartic cleansing of emotion, leaving me in a profoundly peaceful place (also gently rocking, with a kundalini sway). Several times after playing the song, a channeled writing came through, which I immediately transcribed.
This song was to become one of many channeled, or emotionally cleansing, songs. When my husband asked me to split up with him, merely four months later, music became my healer. More songs poured out of me, teaching me reconciliation and release. I would hear songs in the bookstore, or the drugstore, and know that they had something to teach me. So, I would download them, listen to them, move to them, cry to them, let them work their magic.
I have no doubt about the healing of words. But music goes even deeper. It strikes straight to the core. Thank you, Lilith, for teaching me to bare my heart, and to find peace in the midst of pain. I am grateful.
I thought I heard you say, “I’m a man of integrity,
so listen to me when I say that I would never do you harm.”
But what you meant to say is that you don’t see me.
And what my feelings say is this is the last alarm.
‘Cause I won’t let you do me harm.
Won’t let you hold me hostage in your arms.
I thought I heard you say you love me.
I threw my heart away, and hoped for a good return.
Maybe you meant to say you hate me!
I feel the bitter rays that shoot from your eyes when you speak.
So, maybe, I will not speak.
But I would lay down on this earth,
if you would come down from the sky.
I’ll show you what this heart is worth.
I’ve found the strength where I can cry!
And I have found the hidden place,
the place where all the secrets lie.
It’s right here we must make a space,
Well, did I hear you say, you’re sorry?
You never meant to say the words that caused me harm.
Well, maybe I can say, I trust you.
And here we’ll lay, until our peace is found.
And here we’ll lay, together on the ground.
And we won’t stand, until our peace is found.
We’ve had a few exchanges about how powerfully Lilith is, helping us understand the healing power of dark, intense experiences and emotions. The integration of your intuition, spiritual energy, and musical skill always touches me where I tune into those channels. Lilith is an extraordinary example of the complex synergy of who we are and where we connect to something greater!
;-D