Photo by Portland Threshold Choir member Kri Schlafer; click image to visit their site Last week I had the extraordinary experience of being sung to as I lay nestled in a recliner surrounded closely by eight members of Portland's Threshold Choir.
"What do you need?" they had asked me as I settled into the chair in the center of their circle. I told them I had just completed four ceremonies and a speaking engagement in the last five days and was heading off to the east coast to lead the memorial service for a good college friend.
They knew just the songs - in fact, they asked if they could sing me two. No hesitation on my part - Yes, please!
I shut my eyes and let their voices envelope me. Their gorgeous, strong harmonies sung to me of peace, of knowing at the end of the day that what is done is done, and what is not done is not. I had a strong physical sensation of releasing myself down into a hot epsom salt bath. And of being swaddled, wrapped snuggly in a blanket of tender consolation. I arose replenished. The verb I used as I shared the experience with others was nourished. I felt well fed, well cared for.
I've had the privilege of collaborating with the Threshold Choir on two ceremonies: one, to mark an upcoming birth; one, to honor a life that had just passed. They describe themselves as "women who sing for people crossing life's thresholds: birth, death, sickness, struggle, change, and celebration."
"What do you need?" they had asked me as I settled into the chair in the center of their circle. I told them I had just completed four ceremonies and a speaking engagement in the last five days and was heading off to the east coast to lead the memorial service for a good college friend.
They knew just the songs - in fact, they asked if they could sing me two. No hesitation on my part - Yes, please!
I shut my eyes and let their voices envelope me. Their gorgeous, strong harmonies sung to me of peace, of knowing at the end of the day that what is done is done, and what is not done is not. I had a strong physical sensation of releasing myself down into a hot epsom salt bath. And of being swaddled, wrapped snuggly in a blanket of tender consolation. I arose replenished. The verb I used as I shared the experience with others was nourished. I felt well fed, well cared for.
I've had the privilege of collaborating with the Threshold Choir on two ceremonies: one, to mark an upcoming birth; one, to honor a life that had just passed. They describe themselves as "women who sing for people crossing life's thresholds: birth, death, sickness, struggle, change, and celebration."
We choose songs to respond to the musical tastes, spiritual traditions, and needs of those we serve. Our songs carry messages of love, strength, comfort, healing, peace, and joy.When invited, we sing in groups of two or three in private homes, care facilities, and hospitals in Portland, Oregon. We sing in larger groups at contemplative events. Through voice and song, we offer presence, care, support -- companionship on the path. Our service is our gift; there is no charge. We gratefully welcome donations.
Courtesy of VanEarl Photography and Departing Decisions Guide Invited by Angela Keinholz to participate in Departing Decisions' first annual Party of Thanksgiving, choir members offered to sing to the caregivers and community servants in attendance - not as a performance, but as a presence inviting us to be fully present. As prelude to the simple ceremony of thanksgiving I designed and led for the event, the choir sung us into attention with a gathering song. They led us and held us as a group with several more songs, asking us not to applaud them as entertainers but to join them with our ears, our voices, our open hearts.
After the rest of our candle lighting ceremony in which we gave thanks for the families we serve in dying and death, all who serve these families, and veterans and other first responders (the gathering coincided with Veterans Day), choir members adjourned to a corner of the room where they offered a personal song bath to those who felt called to receive their gift.
"Singing with and for each other in this way — accompanying each other through the passage-places in life with presence and song — is an ancient art, a centuries-old tradition with which we’ve largely lost contact, in our modern Western society," says the Portland Choir's Kri Schlafer. "Through Threshold Choir service, we reconnect ourselves to this deep practice. We take in the presence-connection of it as singers, and offer this nourishment to others."
When I told Kri how I'd been affected, she said, "I love that the word nourish came to you. It comes to me like that, too. Since getting involved in the Threshold Choir, I have experienced how, when we give and receive song in this way, the song is its own food group — its own nutrition stream." Another cause for thanks giving.
After the rest of our candle lighting ceremony in which we gave thanks for the families we serve in dying and death, all who serve these families, and veterans and other first responders (the gathering coincided with Veterans Day), choir members adjourned to a corner of the room where they offered a personal song bath to those who felt called to receive their gift.
"Singing with and for each other in this way — accompanying each other through the passage-places in life with presence and song — is an ancient art, a centuries-old tradition with which we’ve largely lost contact, in our modern Western society," says the Portland Choir's Kri Schlafer. "Through Threshold Choir service, we reconnect ourselves to this deep practice. We take in the presence-connection of it as singers, and offer this nourishment to others."
When I told Kri how I'd been affected, she said, "I love that the word nourish came to you. It comes to me like that, too. Since getting involved in the Threshold Choir, I have experienced how, when we give and receive song in this way, the song is its own food group — its own nutrition stream." Another cause for thanks giving.
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