I was introduced to the music of Gaelic lands around 1997-98. Surprisingly this was not as a direct result of the currently thriving River Dance franchise, nor of my even earlier interest in Paganism despite the fact that there is often a heavy dose of swooning and fawning over anything even vaguely Celtic within those circles. My introduction was fairly simple and straightforward: I was at a listening station at my area Borders store which featured several CDs from various genres. My mom picked out Women of the World: Celtic II from the menu, listened for a few moments, handed me the over-sized earphones, and said "I think you will like this." She was right.
I listened to that CD, spinning and skipping in my walkman (this was the pre-iPod era after all), all the time: on my bus ride to and from school, on my walks in the forest, while doing homework, etc. My collection of Celtic music grew, although through trial-and-error I had to learn that some music labeled "Celtic" really has nothing to do with the traditional music and instrumentation of that culture — in many cases it is just a catchy by-word for anything that sounds vaguely mystical and/or dreamy. I established a small collection of penny whistles over the years, but it had not seriously occurred to me to try to learn to play some of the same music which had captured my interest, and the harp did not become part of the equation for about another decade.
Fast forward to 2007. Through some internet avenue or another, I was introduced to the music of Joanna Newsom. Her peculiar vocal stylings on The Milk-Eyed Mender and Ys tend to be an acquired taste, but the most intriguing aspect of her music for me was the fact that she was a singer-songwriter who accompanied herself, not on the standard guitar or piano or even mandolin, but on the harp. For a reason that is not entirely clear to me even now (I'm sure my failed attempt to take up the acoustic guitar had something to do with it though), that idea planted a seed within me which slowly began to unfurl.
The harp seemed a very direct and intuitive instrument to a music theory-challenged and primarily visual person such as myself: there is no intermediary between the musician and the strings, no bow or hammer, and the notes are not scattered across a neck. The strings are even color-coded! Although Ms. Newsom plays the stately sort of harp one sees in classical orchestras, I could not see myself connecting with such a large, ornate instrument. I did not know anything about pedals versus levers or string tension at that point, but I decided that I wanted to learn the Celtic harp based upon the size and aesthetic of the instrument as I understood it at the time. Of course, even just the name "Celtic", and later "folk", was a touchstone for choosing this type of harp on a subconscious level. However, I understood "Celtic" to refer to the type of instrument (in much the same way as the French horn is the name of a specific kind of horn) and did not necessarily anticipate playing Celtic music upon it.
In March 2007 I wrote to a local teacher I found via a web search who specialized in Celtic harp and set up my first lesson. It was such a delight to actually find someone local. I remember being surprised at seeing the 34 and 36-stringed floor harps serenely regarding each other on my first visit to her home since I was under the false impression that a Celtic harp meant a lap harp! That first meeting we discussed my interest in the harp and my musical background (I studied violin for a few years in elementary school and I improvise on Native American Style flute). The next few weeks she taught me about navigating the harp strings, hand position, etc. and we got started learning tunes fairly quickly. She teaches in the manner traditional to Celtic harpers which is aurally, and I found that I really responded well to that teaching method.
For almost 2 years I had classes weekly, then things in my life started to fall apart and I had to stop taking lessons. I had planned to continue learning on my own, but with my atrophied sight-reading skills and the continuing deterioration of my personal state, my plan never really got off the ground. Due to space restrictions, my poor Ravenna ended up being boxed in by various things in a spare room and I could not even reach her without considerable effort. Out of sight, out of mind. Many months passed and I nearly forgot I even had a harp. The songs I once knew left my fingers, and the harp was just another guilty pang on my list of personal failures.
One day I chanced upon information about harp therapy certification in a pamphlet from my local community college. The descriptions were intriguing, and it struck me as especially wonderful do be able to do something both creative and heartfelt. I found myself wishing I had kept up with my harp studies since at that time, I could not play ten songs as required for application to the program. I wasn't in the financial situation to be able to take the courses, but I filed the notion in the back of mind for later consideration. More months passed.
Then the dreams started. I began to dream about harps and see my own hands plucking the strings. Emotions of regret, longing, and wistfulness seemed to well both within me and the harp itself. In one dream, the harp was strung with fine saw blades like those used in a jeweler's saw. I bled as I played but it didn't dismay me; it seemed appropriate. After a few of these dreams, I finally got the message, freed my harp from of its fortress of stuff, and moved it to a newly-renovated room in the basement. I had found some sheet music of one of my favorite songs and decided to try re-learning it. I tuned my Ravenna and compared the sheet music with my faded memories. I stumbled, but I remembered. The experience was so cathartic that I found myself weeping.
I started taking lessons again. It had been about 2 years since my last class, and we started with the song which I was learning after my long latency (it's The Skye Boat Song/Over the Sea to Skye in case you were wondering). I have been able to relearn all the songs I had lost and then some. While there is a certain amount of comfort in returning to something that once felt long-lost to me, the situation is very different this time around. There is a new value and an earnestness in this enterprise which I lacked before, and I do not think I could have obtained without first having it all fall away. I've decided that I want to pursue becoming a Harp Therapist, and am actively working towards that goal.
To bring things full circle, I'm currently learning a song which I first heard on that CD I purchased almost 15 years ago: "The Rights of Man." The version I'm used to is a heavily stylized fiddle interpretation with lots of improvisation thrown in for good measure by Eileen Ivers, but to pick up the threads from the core of a well-loved song is no small thing. This also happens to be the first piece I've learned which involves a lever flip, so it has significance for me in that way too: it represents a threshold of skill.
*"The tension needs to be lighter than most harps. Tight-tensioned strings produce a tone too bright for the comfort of many patients, especially when played at the bedside. Patients on morphine drips are especially sensitive to the bright sounds of a harp with tight tension."
- Christina Tourin Cradle of Sound: Harp Therapy Manual