“But I’m not musical.” “I’m tone deaf.” “My choir teacher told me to just mouth the words.” I hear versions of these comments all the time when I’m teaching MUSIC CARE TRAINING. They’re usually said with a laugh, but underneath them is a real hesitation: If I’m not musical, can I really use music in care? My answer is a passionate, resounding YES. In fact, this is one of the messages I care most about people taking away from our training. Music care is not reserved for musicians. It is not about having a beautiful voice, reading music or knowing how to play an instrument. One of the distinctions we make in our training is that music care is about presence, not just performance , and that changes the conversation. Music care begins when we stop asking, “Am I musical enough?” and start asking, “How can music help me connect with this person right now?” You may already be using music Think about the role music already plays in your own life. Maybe it is part of your drive to work, your workout, your morning routine or the way you unwind at the end of the day. A song can shift your mood, bring back a memory or instantly connect you to a person or place. We already understand, often without even thinking about it, that music can change how a moment feels. The same is true in care. A PSW might hum a familiar song while helping someone get dressed. Recreation staff might choose music from a resident’s younger years instead of reaching for a generic playlist. From my own classroom days, I remember singing songs with students on the bus to a field trip. Somehow the time passed more quickly, and before long we were all connected through music and contagious laughter. None of these decisions require musical talent or years of private lessons. They require knowing the person, paying attention to what is happening and being willing to respond. That is music care too: being present enough to notice where music might help. Start with the person, not the playlist Music is personal. What comforts one person may irritate another, and a song that brings back a wonderful memory for one person may mean something very different to someone else. Before you worry about finding the “right” music, start with the person. Ask simple questions: What did you listen to when you were younger? Who was your favourite singer? Is there a song that always makes you smile? Then watch what happens. Does the person sing along, tap a foot, smile or seem calmer? Do they turn away or ask you to stop? Those responses tell us something. Music care is about learning what matters to someone and noticing how they respond. Over the years, I have learned that when I really listen and pay attention, I become a much more responsive educator and caregiver. That kind of presence has become an important part of my own practice. Start small  I’m not asking you to suddenly become the person leading the sing-along! Let’s take this in small steps. Start with one person and one moment. A familiar song might help someone ease into the morning, or you might simply join in when someone begins singing a line from an old favourite. While reading Mel Robbins’ The Let Them Theory, I was reminded of another one of her ideas, the 5 Second Rule: 5-4-3-2-1, and move. Sometimes that is exactly what we need when our inner voice says, I can’t sing. I’ll feel silly. I’m not musical. Hum the song. Ask the question. Put on the music. Join in. If it does not work, change the song or try something different. Music care is not about getting it right every time. It is about being willing to try and staying present to the person in front of you. Give yourself permission to try Maybe the real barrier was never whether you were musical enough. Maybe it was simply believing that music belonged to someone else. But music already lives in everyday moments, in relationships, in laughter, in memories and in care. You do not have to wait until you feel more confident or know more about music before you use it. Start with what you already know about the person in front of you and be willing to try. The next musical moment may be as simple as humming a familiar tune, pressing play or joining someone in a song. Sometimes those small moments are where connection begins, and where true meaning lives

It isn’t uncommon for a music therapist to receive animated feedback from strangers about the job. I’ve been embraced, patted on the shoulder, affectionately named “The Music Lady”, and waved at by nature of the job title. It is my experience that folks generally feel affectionate towards music, and therefore by proxy, me. However, it is seldom that someone asks to hear more than the 10-second version of what a music therapist does. These interactions over time have led me to better understand how the general population perceives music therapy or even the inclusion of music into healthcare spaces. In general, folks tend to be optimistic, nostalgic, and supportive of the art and science of it all. At the same time, my experience has shown that there are fairy-tale ideas about music therapy that can be adjacent to these supportive sentiments. Many patients, families and colleagues are filled with visions from movies, the news or their imagination to understand how music interacts with health. One such myth is that music is always good and helpful, it will offer a tonic unlike any other that is exempt from unanticipated side effects or negative consequences. While I understand that it can be difficult to describe, this notion about music is simply untrue. It is high time that we honour the power of music enough to consider how that power presents risk for adverse consequences. These potential unintended consequences can fall under five categories, which I have adapted from Murakami’s work (2021 ): Risks about the present situation (i.e. context and best fit right now) Risks about the person’s relationship to this music (i.e. preference, memories) Risks about this person’s capacity for this music stimulus (i.e. sound science with level of functioning) Risks about the application of music by the Music Carer (i.e. Music Care competence) Risks about the person and the Music Carer (i.e. quality of relationship, trust) To decrease the likelihood of these, Music Carers must be vigilant, observing the relationships of each of these five areas regularly. One way to do this, is by adopting three practices when using a Music Care approach.

There are conferences that inform, inspire, and educate, and then there are conferences that change how we imagine what care can feel like. The Music Care Conference: The Power of a Song in Dementia Care, held at Metalworks Institute in Mississauga, was one of those rare experiences. Positioned as a national gathering that brings together people engaged in music in care across clinical, community, and educational settings, the purpose of the day became clear right from the beginning. This was not a passive event; it was an active space for co-creation and genuine connection. From the moment participants arrived, the atmosphere felt more like the start of something being built together. One of the most profound moments came during a workshop led by Bev Foster, where attendees from diverse backgrounds were to record a song together. There was no expectation of musical training or polished performance. The invitation was simply to contribute a voice and be part of the process. The piece we created was titled ‘Without a Song,’ written by Canadian singer songwriter Murray McLauchlan, and in that moment it became a shared expression of care and connection. What began as a room full of strangers gradually shifted into a connected musical space. People leaned in, listened closely, and began to sing together with growing confidence. It felt less like watching music happen and more like becoming part of something shared. In that moment, the workshop no longer felt like a breakout session. It became a living example of care expressed through music. This experience carried particular meaning in the context of dementia care. When language shifts or memory becomes harder to access, music offers a different pathway to connection, one grounded in presence. Creating music together invites participation rather than observation and can restore a sense of agency for people whose autonomy is often limited by care environments. It also strengthens relationships between caregivers and the people they support. Music does not sit on the edges of care as an added activity. It can function as care itself. The conference also highlighted that the role of music in dementia care is part of a broader shift in how the sector is evolving. With growing momentum around Bill 121, the Improving Dementia Care in Ontario Act, and increased attention from the Ministry of Long-Term Care, music is beginning to be recognized as a meaningful part of care. This commitment was reflected in a heartfelt address from Minister of Long-Term Care, Natalia Kusendova-Bashta, whose remarks affirmed the importance of dignity and compassion in dementia support. At one point she held her son at the podium and led the room in a playful rendition of ‘Baby Shark’, a moment that demonstrated how music creates connection across generations and circumstances. Policy can outline goals, but experiences like this help us imagine what care feels like when creativity and connection guide the approach. Throughout the day, research and lived practice came together through presentations from experts such as Dr. Lee Bartel, Dr. Alison Sekuler and Taylor Kurta, and through examples from organizations already integrating music-based programs in long-term care and community settings. Although the collaborative songwriting session stood out, it was one part of a day filled with meaningful experiences. The Raising Voices Dementia Choir demonstrated how music can help people living with dementia stay connected to their identity and to the people who support them. Later, the closing performance by Jill Barber brought a different dimension to the day, weaving artistry, memory, and personal storytelling into a musical experience that resonated deeply with the audience. The day also highlighted new models of community engagement such as the ‘Memories to Music’ songwriting project between the Alzheimer Society of Peel and students from Mentor College. Led by music teacher Ian Hoare and music therapist Ruth Watkiss, this initiative brings young people and persons living with dementia together to create original music, demonstrating how intergenerational collaboration can strengthen understanding and relationships across care settings. As I left the conference, I kept returning to the responsibility that comes with making music together in a care context. The song we created did not end when the session wrapped up; it became a reminder of what can happen when care is grounded in creativity and shared voice. If a group of people with no prior relationship can come together and create a shared musical experience in such a short time, then there is potential to bring this same approach into long-term care homes, community programs, hospitals, and family caregiving settings. These environments are already spaces of deep commitment and compassion, and with the right intention and support, music can help deepen relationships and strengthen the culture of care. The power of music in care is not found in adding it as a program feature; it comes from recognizing it as a way of relating to people with dignity and presence. When music becomes a shared experience, people living with dementia are included and understood rather than defined by their diagnosis. This work continues through collaborations with partners such as Acclaim Health, the Alzheimer Society of Peel, ArtsCare Mississauga, and Metalworks Institute, who help create environments where music supports meaningful connection. The music eventually came to an end, yet the song stayed with me as more than a moment from the day. It became a reminder of what can happen when care is grounded in creativity and shared voice. I left the conference with a clearer sense of how music can shape the way we support one another in real and meaningful ways. As we look ahead to the next Music Care Conference in Halifax in 2026, we carry this momentum forward, knowing that none of it happens ‘without a song’ to bring us together.

Well hello again, friends. Buoyed up by hope that my words offered here a few weeks ago have had you considering your own unique moments of being touched by music as care, I will sharpen our shared lens and share another vignette of personal experience. I have been making music in church spaces since I was very young…it is a give and take that has woven into my life rhythms as a constant beat for almost fifty years. The gratitude piece that flows through this element of musical practice is that my family of faith granted me a formative foundation from which to understand music as a spiritual gift of care. So, to recently have a woman with whom I worship Sunday after Sunday express with eloquence what it means to her to receive my playing and singing, it moved me deeply and felt worth sharing here. She is a spiritual care practitioner and a visual artist. She sees and experiences the most profound of feelings on the daily. Bonding over coffee and platz , she graced me with a beautiful expression of how my approach to singing on that given Sunday was of such sensitivity that it actually made her feel heard in the listening. I have been thinking a great deal about the reflexivity of that naming by this generous human. She sensed that she had a voice, that I was honouring her listening presence, amidst the vocal expression of the song I was sharing. Let’s consider this for just a moment…the invitation into relationship that is formed through timbre and lyrical shaping. We were each caring for each other in that experience. The next morning, I participated in a virtual workshop hosted by the “Singing Side by Side” network in the UK, an interdisciplinary team of researchers with expertise in music therapy, health psychology, choir leadership and community engagement. The focus was about the musical skills that add wellbeing elements to song. And so again, the gateway to true connection in the dialogue seemed to be about the learning that comes through listening. So let’s listen, yes? Be it to your mother’s song, to your dear friend’s story, or to a graceful bird like the one soaring above me just now. Let’s commit to caring in our listening.

Music has become for me a bit of a window into my own soul. My playlist for on the way to work enables me to be more grounded in my own beliefs and purpose as I enter into the busyness of my day to day work. Throughout the day snippets of songs come back to me and help me to refocus and also realign with my own values as I work. Sitting at the piano and playing around with melodies and lyrics opens up space in my head and my heart. Creating simple songs allows me to explore my beliefs and emotions and look deeper into my soul, finding places of peace and clarity that spill over into my interactions with family, friends, co-workers and students. Music helps me to slow down, to reflect, and to better understand myself in relation to God and the world around me. In my role as a student support teacher in an elementary school, I often use music with both adults and children. Working in a school is fast-paced with many decisions made on the fly. Teachers experience high levels of decision and compassion fatigue. They care deeply for their students and work hard to meet a wide variety of needs within their classrooms and the schools. One way I have used music is to give space and invitation for staff members to gather together and listen to music as a way to reset, reconnect and regulate during the course of a week. Listening to music has helped people to take time to process their emotions and reconnect with their purpose, giving new strength and courage to continue their important work. Working with students, I use music primarily as we look at social and emotional learning. For example, we have used an original song to help teach students internalize a process of conflict resolution that we are using to help student grow in their independent conflict management skills. Using music to help students regulate their emotions when they are upset has great benefits. This can take a number of different formats. A drumming conversation, ie. back and forth sharing of rhythms, has helped some students who are struggling to talk about what is frustrating them. The process of drumming and focusing on the rhythmic conversation frees their thinking and grows their trust enough that they are able to communicate about their big emotions. Listening to calming music can help when a student is feeling overwhelmed by their emotions. And writing songs about loss and struggle has helped some students cope with difficult situations in their lives. In my life and practice music helps build connection, community and trust allowing for deeper, more meaningful relationships that help to support students and staff learn and grow together in school.