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Filming and Editing by Christopher Cuthrell

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Transcript:

You know, people have asked me, you know, “You are a musician, you're a songwriter, and you make your life in sound and you attend a silent Quaker meeting. What's with that?” You know, and I have to say that some of my best language has emerged out of the silence and the listening part of that. You know, I think in the kinds of spiritual communities I grew up, you know, we do a lot of talking at whatever is sacred. You know, we praise we ask we...you know, there's a lot of talking at whatever is sacred in the world. And I really appreciated when I discovered a silent Quaker meeting that all I need to do is listen. In fact, something lovely happens when...I when I quiet myself and I quiet my heart and I actually listen to what is coming up from the spirit, from the depths. You know? From the community. From something, if not greater, at least wider and larger than myself.

My name is Carey Newcomer. She and her. And I grew up in northern Indiana, close to Chicago. And then, now I live in Bloomington, Indiana. I didn't grow up Quaker. But I went to several colleges. I was on the how many colleges can you go to and lose credits transferring program. But one of the colleges I went to was Goshen College, which is a small Mennonite college in northern Indiana. Everyone who graduates from that little college needs to do at least a semester or six months of service.

So while I was there teaching school in this little town in Costa Rica, one of the other students told me about a Quaker community up in the mountains in the northern part of the country called Monteverde.There were four of us and in that little town, and so we decided to take a holiday when we had a long weekend and we went up to Monteverde. We took the train as far as it would go, and then we took a bus as far as it would go, and then we started walking into a rain forest. This was before it became an eco-tourism kind of destination, it was mostly just these Quakers living up in the mountains and one morning we went to Sunday meeting. And so my first Quaker meeting was in the middle of a rain forest. And the silence was so lovely. I felt like home. This feels like home, something that my heart had been longing for and hadn't encountered yet.

Interesting things happen in the Quaker meeting. You know, sometimes They're just quiet and somebody's stomach rumbles, and then there's popcorn meetings when there's a lot of people who speak out of the silence. But sometimes it's just being with one another in community as we listen to something deeper. It's been transformative in my work as an artist. There's something that happens in the creative process that is mysterious. You know, that I'm writing a song and I know that I'm writing the song and that it's coming from me -- but often it feels like there's more than me. Some people will call it the zone or, you know, being somehow really engaged in a way that's on a deep level. And you know, that's a wonderful thing. You know, I don't know if there's anything better than being in the artistic zone. But it is mysterious, it's personal, and it's also a practice.

You know, like I think for songwriting, it's asked certain things from me. You know, it's asking me to pay attention -- that you can't write a song if you weren't there. You know, if you're writing a poem, if you're writing a piece, if you're just a writer, you know, it takes a practice of paying attention. Mary Oliver said “It's our first and most important work to pay attention”. And, you know, in that process of paying attention, going deeper into the moment and into the now and into the experiences that you have every day -- you need to be here.

In terms of encountering a work of art, you know, we know when someone is being really true and authentic. When someone puts their finger on the open palm of something true, it shakes the world just a little bit. And why would I want to write any other way? Why would I want to be any other way? I've always written songs because I had a question. And that good questions can be asked more than once. You know, what do I love beyond words and measure? What do I hope for the world? When I pull back all the distractions in my life, what do I find at the very center? When I go regularly to the well -- to a deep and spiritual, sometimes mystical well -- what can I take from there that will help ground me in my daily life?...

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The views expressed in this video are of the speakers and do not necessarily reflect the views of Friends Journal or its collaborators.

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