I have always loved to sing. Some of my earliest memories are of my family singing together in the car and my parents harmonizing over the dishes. At the age of five, my older sister joined the junior choir at the church where our father was the minister. I had a hard time understanding why I couldn’t be there, too. She came home and taught me all the songs.

As my sister learned instruments in school, she brought them home to teach me: flutaphone, recorder, ukulele…I had some piano lessons (which I eventually traded in for painting lessons) and when the girl next door started showing us how to play her guitar, we both received guitars for Christmas. I WAS in the junior choir by that time, and the director found me playing my friend’s guitar during a break, and suggested I bring mine. That’s how I got started. I loved it: it was easier than piano, portable and it provided great background for my singing.

The Church gave me my beginning in music, and has played a role at many times: church choirs, learning the history of music by singing it – richness of various periods and composers. At the same time, growing up as a minister’s daughter there was a quest for something else.

I started flute in grade 6 when St FX University in Antigonish NS started a school band program. At 13, after moving to Sydney, in Cape Breton, I was able to continue with the flute but had only one year of singing in grade 10, a big disappointment; however, during that year I found a book of madrigals in a cupboard. As the singing program died, I lost my innocence, and stole a copy of the book. I knew about piano and flute lessons, but had no idea one could study voice the same way.

At 25, I set out travelling around Europe by myself, visiting friends in Paris and family in Holland and Denmark; and discovering sculpture and stone, architecture, and tastes and smells. It was wonderful!  I felt restless while travelling through the North, until, coming down along the Romantic Road in Germany, I reached Lindau, a town south of the Bodensee, or Lake Constance, where southwestern Germany and Switzerland meet. There I felt like I was home. That was my first concrete experience of knowing another lifetime.  That night, in Schaffhausen, Switzerland, sleeping on the floor beside a baby grand piano in a friend’s home, my life changed. I discovered lieder, the classical art songs of Schubert along with some Brecht and several other composers. Included in the stash on the piano was a song for peace I later learned was sung by the people in the Swiss Resistance. I had studied German for 4 years, and was able to grasp the lyrics, and in my heart somehow knew the song. I made copies of a few songs, and continued on my way. I knew by the end of the trip, I wanted or needed to study music, and voice and sculpture, which was also new to me.

Returning to Montreal, where I was living at the time, I entered a BFA program at Concordia. While waiting to begin, I heard an arrangement of the English folk song “Barbara Allen” working its way through my mind, beckoning me to write it down. I really knew I was ready, and the composer/arranger was born. In my third year, the inner voice came out again, asking how shall I actually earn a living. In 1989, I came to Ottawa for the national conference of the Canadian Association for Music Therapy, and by the time I left, I had had my interview and was on my way to Vancouver to continue my studies.

Music took on a whole new meaning there. When I was young I had found peace at the piano when family discord arose. In the piano studio at Concordia, I discovered how playing could support my breaking through emotional blocks. And my songs emerged that reflected the inner turmoil and joys of the period. In school I found that applying instrumental and vocal improvisation in therapy seemed natural. Working with others to express their inner world though song choices or rhythm instruments grew into my profession.

To sing takes courage. Other instruments take technical ability to make a sound, skills to sound good, but the instrument is what makes the sound, and its maker puts the quality into the instrument. The voice is different. It comes from our body and emotions, and I find the energetic model which comes from the Eastern traditions makes more sense for understanding this. Our quantum physicists have found that our bodies are made up of vibrating energy. These energy particles can be organized by sound. You’ve heard the expression “You are what you eat”. Well, we are what we listen to, too. Which means we are shaped by the sounds and other vibrations around us. In the Hindu tradition we learn about the chakras, or energy centers and aura or energy bodies, which are permeable layers of energy fields of different frequencies, which have a registry, of sorts, for our emotions, thought forms and spiritual beliefs. The child who is raised in violence and arguing, becomes fearful and defensive. There are studies by Dr. Emoto on frozen water which has been treated by emotions – words written on the bottles. The emotions bring about different crystalline snowflake shapes. Hate is angular and harsh. Love is symmetrical and proportional. We are what we listen to or sing.

At times, I have been so caught up in other’s songs that I have strained to hear my own melody, but something has happened and song finds me and pulls me back in. At times, I have forgotten to listen, and the realization has brought me back to its path.   It is part of what I am. And once and a while, I realize I haven’t been taking my voice for enough walks, and it gets’ out of shape. I know how I am by my voice and what I am singing.

What is music?

It is expression, it is a way to voice the inexpressible, at times. Without words melody comes straight from the heart and reaches directly to the soul. I’ve come to realize that words can be limiting: we often struggle to say things which we have not yet consciously explored. But through instruments and the voice we can do it. Words are a prism or filter through which we seek to express. But the voice is owned even by ones without languaging ability. From the baby’s first cry, to our last gurgle our voices are with us.  Using my voice, I have been able to build relationship with a man in his 70s who experienced brain damage at birth, and who, we suspected, had received little attention other than someone feeding him and changing his diaper for most of his life. His voice was loud and pervasive in the hospital where he lived, like a rooster. In his group home, with music therapy, he quieted down and showed preferences for different styles of music, especially the female singing voice. As I sang with him, we developed conversations based on sighs and tones, and on hearing I was leaving, he expressed his sadness. Another person, this one a child, who again had experienced neglect and abuse, found self-confidence and self-esteem through the discovery of his hidden talents, which emerged by playing and singing together. Music comes straight from the Soul and carries all the emotion needing to be expressed and doesn’t need any translation.

When I have doubts or questions, Spirit sometimes responds with a new song, a composition. It happened when I needed a way to address closure with a group of incarcerated teens, and again after a difficult conversation with a minister around theology.  Songs may come in the middle of the night, as in the first case, or after meditation or walking the dog.

Music is comforting and grounding: The autistic child who centers herself through humming; The monk who uses chant to pray and its health-giving benefits.  Music urges community. It brings communication, social interaction and expression; it is shouts of acclamation and joy, love songs and anger, and is shut down by fear and terror. It is a measure of the health of a culture and community. It is meditation. It offers a metaphor for life, and teaches us how to live in harmony.

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• Come Dance With Me
• Hearts are Made for Sweethearts

Where does the Song come from, such beauty in my ear?
I would sing its melody, sing it very clear.
Where does the song go to when it has been sung?
It’s carried home, back to the source of everyone.
Everyone is a singer, every singer has a song.
Singing our true story, other hearts can sing along.
Every voice has its magic When its time has come to sing!
Let us make the rafters ring!

So where does the song come from, the music and the words? And how does it grow into a finished piece of music?

An anthroposophical artist friend, upon hearing I liked to compose said, “Oh, that means you must hear the music of the spheres?” The what, I asked? He ignored my ignorance.

It’s been said that the ideas are out there circulating and if it comes to you, snatch it and make it yours, because if you don’t another will take it up. And once, having let an idea go, I encountered a song written around the same time by someone else that closely caught the essence of what I would have written. Hmm. Is that what is meant by the music of the spheres? Is it something in the collective unconscious?

I decided to ask some old friends for their thoughts:

Bob Schumann said,

“In order to compose, all you need to do is remember a tune that nobody else has thought of.”

Hmm. Dear Luddy van B.:

“Music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life.”

Copland:

“To stop the flow of music would be like the stopping of time itself, incredible and inconceivable.”

My experience is that many of my songs have come out of feelings I have needed to explore, and the songwriting process opens up that opportunity to discover myself through my self-expression. Other songs have come out of meditation or to address the needs of a group I am working with at the time.

Most of my music has been with words, but at times words are limiting. I am not alone with that experience.

Sibelius:

“Music begins where the possibilities of language end.”

Vivaldi:

“There are no words, it’s only music there.”

Liszt:

“Music embodies feeling without forcing it to contend and combine with thought, as it is forced in most arts and especially in the art of words.”

And Mendelssohn:

“Even if, in one or other of them, I had a particular word or words in mind, I would not tell anyone, because the same word means different things to different people. Only the songs say the same thing, arouse the same feeling, in everyone – a feeling that can’t be expressed in words.”

I like to think that we are each a diamond. When we allow the divine light to shine through us, we create our songs. No two diamonds are exactly the same. So, no two people will ever come up with the exact same song. Themes may be universal, but if we come from our own story, the music will be unique and nuanced.

I have a song exploring this diamond concept, written in a mystical moment. Reading it to my writers’ group, only one person “got” it. But when I sang it, they felt it.

I once found myself alone at the piano in the choir room at All Saints Cathedral in Halifax, where I was singing. Lining the walls were portraits of the various music directors of the past and present. I started improvising at the piano, just letting my fingers roam the keys, pouring out my soul. Then I looked at one of the portraits, and my fingers changed their pattern. I turned to the next picture, and again my fingers moved with different harmonies and rhythms. This was cool. In music therapy, we might call it empathic playing. But I’d never had the experience with a portrait, before. Each little improvisation had a unique flavor. Though I didn’t know the musicians’ music or personalities, I was able to get some sense of them through what came through my fingers.

Music, soul and emotion are so connected.

Verdi:

“I adore art… when I am alone with my notes, my heart pounds and the tears stream from my eyes, and my emotion and my joys are too much to bear.”

Ravel:

“Music, I feel, must be emotional first and intellectual second.”

So how to write music. Evidently there is an emotional component that must be there. Then we must act on it.

Bach:

“It’s easy to play any musical instrument: all you have to do is touch the right key at the right time and the instrument will play itself.”

Ha, he was a organist and had someone else working the billows! And he was not a wind player.

Goethe, the philosopher and wordsmith whose ideas and wisdom was shaking Europe in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, and whose poetry inspired many composers, wrote

“Courage is the commitment to begin without any guarantee of success.” “The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never have otherwise occurred…unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.”

Schubert, who was highly inspired by Goethe, and from the age of 17 used his poetry for over 60 songs, wrote,

“No one understands another’s grief, no one understands another’s joy… My music is the product of my talent and my misery. And that which I have written in my greatest distress is what the world seems to like best.” – there he’s saying that each person’s expression of their own inner world and emotional experience is unique and valued. Again he wrote, “My compositions spring from my sorrows. Those that give the world the greatest delight, were born out of my deepest griefs.”

So, never give up on the power of your emotions, and know that the struggle to communicate your inner world is something of value, and the universe will respond.

Schubert also speaks of music’s transformative power.

“When I wished to sing of love, it turned to sorrow. And when I wished to sing of sorrow, it was transformed for me into love.”

Sounds like something of the healing path, of ex-pressing – moving out of the sorrow to allow love to enter.

We can only really compose out of our authenticity, our sense of connectedness at the time we write. Schubert said,

“I never force myself to be devout except when I feel so inspired, and never compose hymns of prayers unless I feel within me real and true devotion.”

That’s it for the Big Wigs… literally.

Phew. By the time Schubert died at 31, he had composed more than 640 songs plus symphonies, operas, chamber works, over 1500 works. At 31, I was just getting started.

I wrote my first song at age 11 or 12, perhaps inspired by a book of Longfellow’s poetry I had found dating from 1895. I loved to read it out loud and let the words whirl around in my mouth. My poetry throughout my teen years was mostly expressions of heartbreak and teen angst.

At university, I was introduced to Goethe’s poem “Heiden Roselein” in my German class. And loved it though I didn’t wake up to the metaphoric meaning of it until my 30s, through someone’s illuminating comments. Also, back in university, my French prof introduced us to the French philosophical poets – Baudelaire and Rambeau – deep stuff when you understand the language, but at times unfathomable to one who was wanting to learn how to have a conversation – and I stopped writing my poetry because I was comparing myself to them, and it was so totally out of my league.

Then a few years later, I went to my first folk festival, and heard songs of a North Dakota man, Chuck Suky, who sang of going home to the farm for haying time, and country dances, and I realized I can write like that. And that’s when my songs started coming forward. What did the Big Wigs say? It starts with connecting with your own story, and then pressing a few notes on the piano. Or as writers say, moving your pen on the page….or choosing a color of crayon. Just do something then the universe will kick in and support your action.

So, at times words come to me, and at other times, looking through other peoples’ poetry I may find a verse that resonates with me; that speaks to some part of my life experience.

Mory Ghomshei and I met about 24 years ago at the Vancouver Unitarian church between Oak and Cambie, some of you know it. There was a congregational meeting after a service, and with our tea cups in hand we went in to see what was going on. There was some issue within the congregation and they were going around giving people a chance to speak to it. After a little while, I turned to him and whispered, “they’re forgetting about the soul of the Church.” He said, “Yes, they are.” And we left and started planning a service to nurture the group soul, a service that would draw on the gift of Sufi storytelling that was part of his heritage and my acting, music, and presentation skills.

Mory Ghomshei is a Sufi wisdom holder and teacher from Iran. His father was a highly esteemed poet and scholar, and his siblings continue the teaching in Iran and Europe. He has been focusing his teaching in the west over many years, mostly, but not exclusively, within the Iranian community. At the time, he was teaching a group of English speakers working with an epic poem by Attar, called the Conference of the Birds. He invited me to join the group, and we discovered a meeting of minds and the spirit. He rewrote part of the story of the Conference of the Birds for us to use in the service. A few years later, he put that story together with some others to produce a little book, called Paradise Never Lost. One of these stories, called “Passion,” has several poems and he invited me to try my hand at setting music to his poems for the event of his book launching. And so I did. Two songs, “Light Has a Shadow” and “The Food of Lovers” were performed at the launching, by me with my guitar. I proceeded to arrange them for voice with cello and violin, and clarinet and French horn, for other events. I love the story. There is magic in it. And the story and songs, served to inspire me and helped me to find hope in one of the darkest times of my life. Around the time of the launching, I had also started working on two other poems, and have long wanted to complete them, and one day maybe to do a whole musical story telling show with this. The opportunity to lead this service, focusing on creativity, prompted me to take up the other two poems and get to work, and here we are.

To write music for these poems, meant re-reading the story, falling in love with it again, and re-connecting with the characters, finding sympathy and empathy for each, which could help me to be their voice – like an actor playing all the parts. Each poem has a purpose, something to express on behalf of the character who is saying it, whether the Prince, the Princess or the narrator in the case of the other two songs. Each poem was read out loud many times, so I could get the flow and rhythm of the words, listen for pieces of melody, and feel how to shape the structure of the song. In both cases, I felt something more was needed in terms of poetry, and I am grateful that Mory was open to working with me on it, and accepting some suggestions. Goethe, apparently, did not like people messing with his poems, not even repeating a line. But then he was an accomplished poet writing in his native language with a firm grasp of rhyme and metre. English was Mory’s third language and poetry was not his profession. And these days free verse is common, and it is not so easy to compose to. I was a fledgling composer, and he was a fledgling poet in English.

Once the melodies for the songs were composed, and chords chosen with my guitar, I started listening to the songs in my head, imagining how the clarinet and piano might be used. Schubert had such a way with his piano accompaniments. Where other composers wrote the piano part to be a harmonic accompaniment to the melody, he wrote his to be an equal partner in telling the story within the poem, like a tonal illustration. For example, “Ich hort ein Bachlein rauschen, voll aus dem Felsen Quell.” The singer is walking by a stream and asking, “Is this my path?” Here the piano plays quickly flowing notes that imitate a river or stream.

In the case of my songs, I had a sense of Joe’s abilities on the piano, and my time and piano limitations, and decided that at this time the piano would be safe in his capable hands, as the harmonic holder, giving some texture and rhythm, and trusting his ability to come up with his part guided by my chords, suggestions and the other parts.

I gave the clarinet has a couple of roles. It offers a melody for the introductions, and counter melodies to contrast and complement the singing voice, and fill in spaces when the voice is not singing. Sometimes, though, I want it to support the vocal part, and then it plays a close harmony or in unison with the voice. The next piece, “Come Dance with Me,” is a song the Princess sings to the Prince in the garden before she tells him her story. Here at times the clarinet has the Prince’s voice. You will hear the singer and clarinet alternating – as if one calls out and the other hears and sings back from a distance, until they come together in harmony. Listen for the relationship in the two voices.

There is so much more I could say, but the time has come to wind down. Before I close with another quote, if you remember the music used in the prelude, Vivaldi’s “Spring” from the Four Seasons, he has the violins making the sounds of bird calls. Did anyone hear that? Often in music, images are expressed through the voicings of instruments. The music in the postlude, is Copland’s “Hoe Down” from his Rodeo Suite. As you listen to it, what images come to your mind? What might he have been thinking of as he wrote the music? What feelings come up in you? Does it remind you of anything?

Now to close:…. a quote by contemporary film maker, poet, writer Suzy Kassem:

“We are all beautiful instruments of God. He created many notes in music so that we would not be stuck playing the same song. Be music always. Keep changing the keys, tones, pitch, and volume of each of the songs you create along your journey and play on. Nobody will ever reach ultimate perfection in this lifetime, but trying to achieve it is a full-time job. Start now and don’t stop. Make your book of life a musical. Never abandon obligations, but have fun leaving behind a colorful legacy. Never allow anybody to be the composer of your own destiny. Take control of your life, and never allow limitations implanted by society, tell you how your music is supposed to sound — or how your book is supposed to be written.”

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Everyone responds to loss in a different way. When my father died in another province, after the funeral and all was done, I found myself at home in my still-new community, wanting to be around family (everyone else has a spouse), and needing support but not knowing where to turn. In a sense, I took it in stride. I have moved many times, within a town or city, within a region and between provinces. I am an old hat at managing loneliness and loss, right?

Wrong. This was a big one. And it built on other grief after a divorce and losing contact with step-children and their extended family, with whom I had shared five years. I still had not worked though that one. I withdrew and became depressed.

After another move, not so far away, I set out to find a therapist. I knew I needed to talk. Sessions with her helped me with some of it, but time came for me to move on. I found a systems oriented therapy group. Hearing other people’s stories helped me to open up and understand my life and self through a different lens.

Then my mother died. Another whopper. My older sister, who has lived in her community for quite a while, decided through Mom’s dying process and death that she wanted to reach out to the community and bring them in. Mom at times had felt isolated, especially in her last years and consented. She was open to growth and healing, but didn’t want people coming in the room. As my sisters and I sang to her, my older sister kept contact on Facebook asking for suggestions of songs. There were some wonderful surprises. Someone suggested “Embraceable You.” I don’t think I had ever heard that song in reference to my mother’s life. As I sang it, she, non-verbal by this time, turned her head to me and smiled broadly. It brought her such joy. I decided I was going to change my own way of caring for myself in my grief. First I invited in my Facebook community and there were more song suggestions. Once home, my choir’s next concert happened to include several songs where grief was an underlying theme. Boy, did I cry during the first rehearsal. It felt really good. I then sought out a grief support group.

Even just a few  gatherings helped me. Knowing it was okay to speak about how I felt with others who understood and were sharing their own grief was so helpful. Every family is different and sometimes grief can be mixed in with other emotions and rather complex. I also went to an art therapy workshop around grieving. Working with images opened doors to other feelings, including hopes I had for my next gathering with my siblings.

In my music therapy practice, I have many clients who are in care facilities, some of whom rarely see their families. Many of them feel lonely and depressed. I use songs and improvised melodies to help support their emotional expression, as some of them no longer have use of many words. I also encourage them to share their feelings through playing simple instruments like the drum or xylophone. It can make such a difference for them.

At times when families are around, and at end of life, I am able to support the family through playing music that is important to them: maybe it has been part of their life together, or carries a message one would like to share with another. These are really special moments, and it is a real honor to be able to be there.

At the time of my mother’s death, I was working with one very special lady with dementia whose husband had died fairly recently. Family were concerned about her anxiety and her not understanding that he had died. Her room was full of mementos of their life together, including his art work. I shared a little about my mother’s passing. It helped her to be able to open to his death and her experience of feeling his presence in spirit. She relaxed. While I have been told by staff sometimes that residents do not want to talk about death, sometimes the residents are needing someone who is open to talking about it in order to express their feelings and come to terms with their loss.

My friend is reaching out to her community to help her through. That is what communities are for, after all.

Photo of Pamela with her dying mother by Béatrice Schuler.

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How we feel and how comfortable we are in our skin is reflected in both our singing and speaking voice. Have you noticed how you can tell if someone is stressed or joyful as soon as you hear their voice over the phone or in person? The same is so for music.

Listen to a song: how was the composer feeling when they wrote the music? Were they working through the loss of a lover or at ease with their life? How do you feel when you listen to the music? Where in your body do you feel it? Is there a tensing up or a relaxing and letting go that happens when you listen? What does it make you want to do: dance, cry, sing or storm? Try listening to a piece of instrumental classical music. Without words, the colors of the instruments’ voices and textures of rhythms help to convey emotions.

Several relationships are happening. The first is an internal one within the composer as s/he takes an experience of life and creates music out of it. Next is between the composer and the performance artist. The performer chooses the song because they can relate to the story and feelings in some way. As the listener, we are in relationship with both the composer and the performer, though generally we do not distinguish between the two.

What is in a song? What kind of story are the words telling you? Listening to the music, we hear the beat. Is it fast or slow? Does it relax or invigorate you? We hear a melody. Is it in a major (happy) or minor (sad) key? Some people refer to major keys as sending our attention or energy outward, and minor keys as bringing us inward, as if to ponder something. Then we have harmony. What kinds of chords are used: are they simple and clear or more complex as used in jazz and some twentieth century classical? Are the sounds generally congenial and harmonious or are they clashy or chaotic? How do you feel when you hear them?

I worked with a child whose life had been engulfed with chaos and tension. In exploring an autoharp, he discovered the difference between the musical chaos of the open strings and the consonance or harmony that happened when the strings were used to make a chord. His joy in discovering he could use the instrument to have a pleasing conversation with me as I sang was wonderful. I sensed that in his lifetime moments like that had been extremely rare. This experience was a turning point in his relationships with himself and the world.

Music therapy is about helping people to find their inner harmony through creating or listening to music and the therapeutic relationship. Music offers wonderful opportunities to explore emotions and life experiences, whether centered on discussions of song lyrics, giving musical voice to a feeling through percussion instruments, the physical sensations in the body as sound supports the releasing of blocks, or the simple joy of singing and playing together.

Originally published on Pamela’s Music Therapy website, DeepSoulSinging.com, September 14, 2013.

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What is the value of music? Music has many benefits; for example: helping us to reduce stress, to think more creatively, to help our minds to develop and grow with intelligence in a balanced way. Cognitive studies have demonstrated that in the process of playing music our whole brain is stimulated. Music also, even without words, can help us to express what is in our hearts and souls.

I had an experience many years ago of singing a folksong, “The Streets of London” for a group from Senegal when I was a participant in Canada World Youth. After finishing the song, the Senegalese leader pulled me aside. He spoke in French which I was struggling to understand. He led me into a neighbouring room and asked me to sing the song two more times for him. This man knew not the meaning of the words, but the music had touched his heart and brought him to tears!

Music has the capacity to reach us in our depths. It gives us the opportunity to express from the centre of our being. As a music therapist I invite people to lay aside words, the language of our egos, and then to find emotional expression in tones, gestures and simple instruments. In my experience I have witnessed highly articulate people, as well as those with various physical, developmental and cognitive abilities, to find such complete deep expression using the simplest of musical gestures. The music and the sounds can release tension blocked up inside, which if unexpressed, can actually become locked into our body’s memory as ‘dis-ease’. Effecting releases takes no musical skill, it just takes a willingness to explore and give voice to our inner being.

So come, explore, learn, benefit on April 4 and April 20th.

Originally published in Tone Magazine, April 2013.

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How has this happened and can we rectify this? It is said that waves of sound, like light, continue on forever, reflecting, refracting and bouncing around. With satellite technology and resulting cell phones etc, are we polluting our atmosphere and waters with more than we can handle?

I find I can feel the radiation off of cordless and cell phones and within a minute or so on a cell phone feel my jaw heating up where I have a metal crown. From what I have read, the energy coming from a cell phone is the same kind as from a microwave oven, so that by holding a phone close to your body – head – you are microwaving your brain. That makes sense from my experience of phones. They are convenient. No question about it. But if I cannot tolerate more than a minute, what is happening to those who are using their cell phones, pagers, etc daily.

There is well documented research that touts the dangers of cell phones, but the industry and consumers, naturally, want to believe it is safe. Many have invested heavily in telecommunications. We would all like it to be safe. But is it really? Allowing ourselves to ask such questions is a beginning. Change is tough. Finding we have invested billions of dollars into technology that is harmful to us is hard to take. Following this article is an excellent one with some information to start a conversation about this and suggests ways of protecting yourself and your children.

Over the course of history, we have made many choices that have hurt both us as a species and as a planet. In our urge to bring healing and correction to the karma from those decisions, we have to take a hard look at effects and abandon our egos a bit. The research suggests connections of cell phones with brain and ear tumors, nerve disorders, some cases of Alzheimer’s, autism, ADHD, and many other conditions. It also suggests that the use of certain antioxidants can help prevent damage.

I suggest that we need to look beyond simply taking our personal antioxidants (though please do that, too), and think of the fish, whales and other inhabitants of our home planet. We are here together and they are at our mercy. Karmic release helps us be able to change, but we must make the choice and start asking questions….and let go of our fear of being wrong, and of having made mistakes, so we can move toward health consciousness and true prosperity.

Reference:
http://www.lef.org/magazine/mag2007/aug2007_report_cellphone_radiation_01.htm

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