I inadvertently created a musical travel journal

2020 was a year that ignited a lot of people's yearning for travel. We've talked about our wanderlust in the blog a lot, like how we had a big road trip planned that year, that would take us from Yellowstone down to New Mexico and maybe further. Behind the doors of our home that we had already outgrown, we wallowed in our disappointment of our canceled road trip, which gave us a big wakeup call that, maybe our wanderlust wouldn't actually be satisfied with just a vacation. We needed a total change of scenery. We talked about our next steps, which went from "buy land," to "live in a trailer while we build a home," to "heck, might as well just live in a trailer." We've also been fairly forthright about our financial situation at that time. Truth is, keeping that house would have put a lot of pressure and constraints on us. We could have made it work, but all the circumstances told us it was time to let go.

We had had our financial ups and downs over the years, but when COVID hit, my businesses took a big hit. Businesses. Plural. In addition to my budding therapeutic music business, I also had a successful side hustle boarding dogs when their families traveled. I'd spend my time at home caring for the pups, and then I'd go off to local healthcare and wellness facilities, offering harp music to patients, for seniors in nursing homes, and in yoga classes.

Then everything stopped during the pandemic. I wasn't allowed in healthcare facilities. Yoga classes could only be held virtually. Everyone canceled their travels, and therefore no longer needed boarding for their dogs. I did what many other musicians did: Turned to the internet. I offered some virtual therapeutic music for events and bereavement workshops (which were very needed), but I also took it upon myself to finally combine my backgrounds in music and mental health to try and provide some stress relief and emotional healing for the community. One of the projects I launched was called Harpscapes. I'd film scenes in nature and then create a musical improvisation to accompany the visuals. Each video was five minutes long and was meant to offer a boost to wellbeing, whether in the form of uplift, catharsis, stress release, relaxation, or sleep. I thought this would be a project just for the pandemic, until things went back to "normal," but soon I was making plans to never return to those healthcare facilities and to no longer take in those dogs I loved so much. I realized that these little videos had value beyond the peak of the pandemic, and I also knew that traveling could grant more variety in the videos, showcasing beautiful places throughout the country.

RV life means we spend a lot of time driving, sometimes towing on travel days but also just exploring in our truck. We have our choices of soundtracks. On long interstate stretches on travel days, we opt for podcasts. When we're more familiar with an area and don't need directions, we sometimes put on a vibrant Spotify playlist. But lots of times we do need directions, or we just want to chat with each other on the road. These are the times that call for music that won't be too distracting. In the therapeutic music world, we call it passive listening.

I'd put on my Harpscapes playlist and let the sounds fade into the background. Then on occasion, I'd catch a note or two and say to Anthony, "Oh, this is the Harpscape from _______!" Then we'd reminisce about our travels to that area. I'd usually put the playlist on shuffle, but when there was no cell service, I'd need to use a downloaded version that forced me to play each track in order. Suddenly, I was following the route our RV took in 2022, from Massachusetts down through Phili and DC, to the Carolinas, then to Florida and back up to Georgia and the Smokies. I was brought back to the top of Eagle Point at Dale Hollow Lake in Kentucky. I was watching the fireflies in a field outside of Shenandoah. These musical improvisations have a lot of benefits, but I hadn't realized the benefit for me: I had created a musical travel journal.

Something that I teach my therapeutic music students is how to open up to the environment and play music that will match the energy and gently guide it to a state of healing, calm, or comfort. We do this when we play for patients; we meet them in their current state and then let the music guide them to a point of rest, pain relief, spiritual connection, or whatever else they need. Nature became my muse, and I always want to capture the scene with music that fits energetically. I ask myself, if this nature scene was converted into harp music, what would it sound like? Sometimes I film a lake where, besides a few ripples in the water, everything is still. Other times I film waves crashing ashore. Sometimes tree branches are dancing in the wind. Sometimes animals are bustling about. Each moment in nature is unique and calls for an equally unique musical track. The scenes are also transient; you can go back to the exact same spot several times and it will always be a little different. This is why I improvise the music. I want to reflect that fleeting moment in time.

What this has created is a collection of travel memories, but instead of typing them out like I do on this blog, I'm playing them string by string. It never dawned on me that I'd then be able to listen to these recordings back whenever I want to revisit a place that I connected with in my travels.

Walking my favorite nature trail at Koreshan State Park in Estero, FL, where I was not expecting the gorgeous bamboo stocks that made their own music and inspired my accompaniment using harp and tongue drum.

Deep in the woods of the Chattahoochee Forest in Georgia, where we sat by the creek and stayed oh-so-silent so I could capture the sound of the water. We felt like we were the only two people in the entire forest.

In Asheville, NC, not caring one iota that the rain was pouring down hard because we were just so happy to have such a beautiful pond view right behind our campsite.

Sitting on the banks of the Little Pigeon River in the Great Smokies and realizing the beauty that lies in simplicity: Just a simple path and a flowing river in one of the greatest landscapes in the country.

Finally hiking to the top of my favorite mountain in New Hampshire and being overwhelmed by the presence of this peak. I knew I needed to make the music extra special and give it a presence all on its own. This is the first piece where I used an effects pedal to add an ethereal reverberance to the harp.

Then, setting out for season 2 of our travels, and making our way down to Myrtle Beach, where I filmed the sunset one evening and the sunrise the very next morning - two sister scenes, both similar in so many ways, yet unique in their presentation and essence.

The unmoving saguaro and all of its spiritual symbolism, showcasing its strength among all that moves and sways around it, portrayed by a solid melody surrounded by moving, twinkling harp effects.

Sunrise at Lake Mead, a Harpscape that brings back conflicting memories. Anthony and I were up to our elbows in repairs and I hit a mental low point. I was up early because I was having trouble sleeping, but amidst all of the difficulties, I saw the literal light shining to let me know it was a new day.

Speaking of not sleeping, the early dawn after my frigid night in my new tent, but not even caring about my lack of sleep because I was in the most surreal and sublime place of my entire life. I sat watching the mist float over Lake Alva as the dawn chorus of birds echoed through the forest. I hear this Harpscape and all the feelings come rushing back. I don't think I've ever felt so deeply peaceful, and what a privilege to be able to hold onto that peace in musical form.

The indigenous beauty on the top of Black Elk Peak, overlooking the Cathedral Spires in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Knowing I couldn't create music without paying respects to the Lakota tribe, and so, adding in a reverberant blow of the Native American flute, almost as though the Native ancestors were standing at the summit, beckoning to the earth below.

The fleeting aqua hue of Haiyaha Lake in Rocky Mountain National Forest, accompanied by music that tells the story of the rockfall particles that are suspended in the lake, creating this vibrant color.

And finally, a stop in Pennsylvania before completing our trip back east. Fall was transitioning into winter as we got misty rain just before the first snowfall.

Our travels have brought us so much closer to nature. I recall the famous phrase, "The Earth has its music for those who will listen." To be able to travel and open our minds, eyes, and ears up to all this world offers us, is a deeper venture than I ever thought we'd experience. And to be able to accompany nature with music of my own has been a poignant reminder that life has its ups and downs, its trials and tribulations, but there is always healing that can come from the darkness. I created Harpscapes out of a desperate need to use my music for something helpful during a challenging time, and I've received more than I could have ever anticipated: An avenue to bring people joy and calm through music and nature, a platform to share the importance of self-care, an outlet for my creative spirit, and, to my pleasant surprise, a collection of memories wrapped up as little 5-minute gifts, that when opened, I can return to all those places that made me feel all the emotions that arise from within a life of travel.