Many world traditions have attempted to describe this mindset.  Some musicians refer to such a state as being in the groove, athletes as in the zone, creative writers (as well as meditation practitioners) as being in the gap. In holistic arts, we call this state of mind mushin, Japanese, meaning empty mind—or being in the flow.  Mushin as I have discussed in previous posts is operating when your mind’s attention moves from one activity to another, without the interference of thought.  Your mind flows like a stream of hyper-alert water, filling every space in your environment.  Mushin—flow—is a coveted state of mind all holistic artists strive to reach.

Music is capable of uplifting people mentally and biologically helping them to arouse awareness. 

And this all begins before birth.  “There are whole studies; there are actual recordings to what the baby actually hears in utero,” says St. John.  She refers to Sheila Woodward, whose work it was to make recordings of just what babies can hear within the womb—actual sounds.  As an aside, Woodward’s findings may, in part, explain why infants are more tuned to their mother’s voice (than say dad’s) upon birth. 

In fact, St. John, explains, “If you were to play consistently, a piece of music before you gave birth and then you play the same music within a month after birth, the baby will recognize it.”

She then introduces another piece to the puzzle: motherese—a term referring to the way that mothers speak to their children before and after birth.   Gently mimicking the voice of a new mother, St. John provides an example, “How’s my little baby today?” a child’s mother (or father) might say in a sing-song tone—very lyrically. You wouldn’t as an adult say to an infant,” she continues, “Okay, how’s the day going?” Of course having two young children, I recognized the tonal quality immediately.  We all just naturally have that lyrical quality about our voice, especially when speaking to infants.  Additionally motherese sounds about the same no matter what language you speak.  What a wonderful living metaphor.  What a way to enter this world.  What a deep, deep connection with which to experience (and remember) comfort and safety—and love.

So children sing before they talk.  And when you watch them when they are lying on their back, darting out their arms and legs and wiggling their body, to the tune of motherese, they are indeed dancing before they walk.  As a footnote here, my wife and I share many fond memories of our first daughter jiving in utero when we took our family (in progress) to a Carol King concert in Saratoga and of our second daughter dancing away while still in the womb to anything from Vivaldi to the first chimes of George Harrison’s guitar in Here Comes the Sun.  And by that time, all three of us (mom, sister and I) were all fluent in motherese and speaking to her all the while as she prepared for entry into this world.

St. John refers to Colwyn Trevarthen’s, research using mirrors.  Trevarthen is a professor of child psychology and psychobiology at the University of Edinburgh, who has taught infant development since 1971.  “So you have a mirror where you can see the baby’s face,” explains St. John, “and then the mother’s or father’s face and you can see both baby and parent at once.  He’s done a lot with this [Trevarthen]. He maintains that babies actually conduct and the conducting patterns are within regulated metrics, you know regulated meters—four beat patterns.  He calls this intrinsic musicality.”

As many parents, I have had first-hand experience with some of these concepts.  I share a story of when my daughter as an infant (within the six month mark) began listening to the microwave bleeping.  Amused she started sounding the bleeps along with it, making an interesting duet, I humorously thought. Then later on, hours later, I could hear her lying in her crib alone, imitating the bleeps, sound, tempo, number of beeps and all—apparently for her own pleasure and entertainment. Within this same age range, she advanced these early sound patterns by listening to the dog bark and then teaching herself to imitate these patterns as well—again for her own amusement.

I come from a very musical family.  I have played violin and other strings for nearly forty years and have always thought this may have had something to do with both of my daughters’ proficiency in music at early ages. 

St. John asks if my personal music played a role in the births of my children, “Was all that happening while she was in utero?”

Interestingly, my wife, Elaine, and I used music to enhance her pregnancies—both homemade music and, as I mentioned earlier, live and recorded music as well.  In fact, there is a fine spiritual tradition suggesting that when a couple is attempting to “get pregnant” that if the mother sings a song (calling to the child) the unborn child (spirit) will hear the melody and come to its mother-to-be.  Elaine and I tapped into this very old tradition with the births of both our children. 

For me, this tradition explores the adage “who made you?” and makes the child an active participant in his or her own life—destiny. 

Elaine and I liked that notion then and all of us (including now our children) like it even more today.  As parents, we thank our children often for coming to us.  So I enthusiastically answer to Dr. St. John, “Yes, yes,” I say. “Music played a big part of our children’s births.”

Music is a cognitive organizer.

Early in our interview, St. John noted that she has seen some progress in using music training with autistic students.  One child in particular who had enrolled in one of St. John’s music classes and who was in other situations virtually not verbal, was able to in time make contributions language-wise (as well as focus) in music classes.

The social piece of involvement is significant for St. John.  “Just even watching them [students with impaired attention] come to the point where they participate, focus participate was an achievement,” she said.  She remembers a particular child with Asperger’s syndrome who began to show some significant improvement.  And although there were other pieces to the puzzle of his improvement for sure, she admits, “Music played a role.”  One of the things she [Dr. St. John] focused on in this child’s activities was the social element. “Music,” she insists “is such a social art which goes back into the community and forms bonds of friendship.”  This little guy got to the point, says St. John, to be able to say when the environment got noisy, “Guys that’s really kind of loud for me, could you be quiet a little bit.”

St. John explains that part of this kind of success is fostered by the sense of community. The child with Asperger’s was very comfortable to be able to ask if his classmates could turn it down a little bit.  And the rest of the children could reciprocate.  St. John emphasizes in her own approach to teaching the development of sensitivity to sharing space with self and other.  And according to St. John, children within a comfortable setting, a community, can see a difference.

For St. John, flow involves a child’s experiences.