Music is everywhere. It plays in the background of waiting rooms, fills quiet spaces, and is often added to care environments with good intentions. But music care is not just about playing music. The difference is intention. In music care, intention means using music with a clear purpose. It is not just about what is playing, but why it is being used, when it is introduced, and how it supports the moment. It is the difference between turning on any playlist and choosing the right piece of music for what is happening right now. This shift may seem small, but it changes how music functions in care. When music is used intentionally, it moves from background to something that actively supports the care process. A familiar song used at the same time each day can help signal routine. A slower tempo can support calm during moments of agitation. An upbeat rhythm can encourage movement and participation. In each case, the music is doing something. It is not just filling space. It is supporting care. At its core, intentional music care can be understood in three connected ways: Use: How music is used in the moment Design: How music is structured and selected to support care Performance: How music is expressed and adapted to suit different settings and care scenarios 

As I begin my role with MUSIC CARE by Room 217 , I am also beginning my own learning journey in music care. My background is in healthcare education and program development, with previous roles at Carpenter Hospice and the Princess Margaret Cancer Centre. In those settings, I had the opportunity to see music therapists at work and witness the impact that music can have in care environments. This week I began MUSIC CARE TRAINING Level 1 , the first level of standardized training offered through MUSIC CARE by Room 217. Even in the first part of the training, several ideas have already shifted how I think about music in care environments. One insight that stood out immediately came from the first session led by Dr. SarahRose Black , a music therapist, psychotherapist, and educator. She noted that music care is not limited to a specific professional role. A nurse manager who advocates for music care within their organization is also practicing music care. Creating the conditions where music can be used thoughtfully in care environments is itself a form of care practice. The same can be true for roles that people might not immediately associate with care practice. A receptionist who intentionally chooses calming music in a waiting area, or who notices how sound affects the mood of a space, can also influence the care environment in meaningful ways. In this sense, music care becomes less about a specific job title and more about an approach to how we shape the spaces where care happens. Another concept introduced in the training comes from music scholar Christopher Small , who described music not simply as a thing we listen to but as something we do. Small used the term “musicking” to describe the many ways people engage with music. This includes singing, listening, sharing songs, or creating musical moments together. In care settings, musicking can support connection, expression, and well-being. What struck me most, was a discussion about the soundscape of care environments. In many healthcare and long-term care settings, residents and patients have limited control over the sounds around them. Hallways can be busy. Alarms sound frequently. Televisions are often left on. Conversations carry across shared spaces. People naturally entrain to the rhythms and energy of their surroundings. Entrainment simply means that our bodies and emotions tend to sync with the patterns around us. When the environment is hectic or noisy, people may begin to feel unsettled or stressed. Dr. Black shared an example of an organization that, after completing the MUSIC CARE CERTIFY program, implemented an environmental sound policy to help regulate what influences the soundscape of their care environment. As she noted, “music can be a positive form of entrainment.” By intentionally shaping the sound environment, including the thoughtful use of music, care spaces can begin to shift from chaotic to supportive. In this context, music is not simply entertainment. It becomes part of how care environments are designed to support well-being. Music care is less about adding something new and more about bringing intention to something deeply human. It asks us to pay attention to our relationship with music and how it shapes the spaces where care happens.

As a psychologist and a researcher, I spend my days exploring the incredible benefits arts engagement can bring to the health and well-being of individuals across the lifespan. A particular focus of my work is on music, be it group singing in choirs, intergenerational music therapy that connects young children from the community with residents of long-term care homes, virtual opportunities for families to sing together from a distance, or high-quality concerts provided by professional musicians. Given my background, you’re probably wondering how I ended up leading a holiday sing-along with Toronto Mayor Olivia Chow in November… My current role is the perfect match for my longstanding interest in the arts. My love of music began at an early age. As I was the only niece living close by, I was my aunt’s regular “plus 1” for all sorts of musical performances coming through Montreal’s Place des Arts and Bell Centre. Growing up singing in choirs at church and in high school led to performances with the Hart House Singers when I moved to Toronto for graduate school. Over the last few years, my singing has been more commonly directed to an audience of two small children (and a cat), and I’ve harnessed my love of group singing into my research: I am currently involved with the SingWell project, an initiative out of Toronto Metropolitan University that examines physiological and quality of life benefits of group singing for a variety of populations, including individuals living with hearing loss, Parkinson’s disease, and dementia.  So imagine my surprise and delight when I recently had a powerful reminder of the personal joy of group singing. One chilly day in November, I had the opportunity to walk in my local Santa Claus parade with the Mayor of Toronto. As we neared the end of the parade route, there was a bend in the road where our group decided to set up and play some holiday tunes. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the sound system was out of order, and Mayor Chow turned to the group and asked “who likes to sing”? I sprang to respond, flung up my hand, and was immediately brought to the front of our crowd and found myself- unexpectedly and delightedly- leading an extremely enthusiastic and joyful choir on a street corner just blocks from my home! We sang for about 15 minutes, cycling through a repertoire of tried and true holiday favourites, sometimes stumbling over the words, sometimes getting an assist from people passing by! Folks who were completing their own parade journey, joined in, sang along, shouted encouragement, smiled and waving as they passed. While singing, my inner scientist couldn't help but wonder- were my cortisol levels decreasing? Maybe my oxytocin, the human bonding hormone, was shooting through the roof! This unique opportunity was the perfect representation of so much of the work I have been doing for many years. Seeing so many faces breaking into smile (and so many people breaking into song!) was a keen reminder of the power of music to connect us, and emphasized the important work that the room 217 team does every single day.

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.

We know that as we age, our memory is one of the first things to shift. For someone living with dementia, this can be especially profound, short-term memory is often the first to fade, while the past can sometimes linger in unexpected and beautiful ways. I saw this firsthand with two women I loved deeply: my grandma, Hilda, who lived with vascular dementia, and my mother-in-law, Elma, who lived with Alzheimer’s disease. In both of their journeys, one thing consistently bridged the growing gap between their world and ours: music. Music wasn’t just background noise. It became the heartbeat of our visits. It was the thing that reached beyond confusion, beyond silence, and connected us to each other and to lifetimes of memories. Dr. Oliver Sacks, the renowned neurologist, said that music is the most powerful care modality for people living with dementia because it can find the preserved self. This couldn’t be more true. Music has a unique ability to nourish neural pathways and access multiple parts of the brain. This is one reason why music is powerful in dementia care, because music may not be completely lost. If one pathway is blocked, another might still be open. Every visit with Hilda and Elma had its soundtrack. We played the songs they loved, the ones that carried meaning from their lives. Those familiar melodies weren’t just entertainment, they were a bridge. A bridge to stories, to laughter, to their preserved selves. One of the most moving examples of music’s power comes from a widely shared video of Gladys Wilson and Dr. Naomi Feil , filmed by Memory Bridge. Gladys, who lives in a nursing home, did not know Naomi before their encounter. Yet through music, a remarkable connection unfolds. As Naomi sings an old spiritual song, something changes in Gladys. First, her hand starts tapping to the rhythm. Then comes an intentional gesture, she reaches for Naomi. Her eyes open. She begins to hum, then to sing, then to speak. This isn’t just a musical interaction; it’s a moment of awakening. The connection is both intrapersonal (Gladys reconnecting with herself) and interpersonal (a bond forming between her and Naomi). Through gentle touch, eye contact, and allowing the moment to unfold slowly, trust blooms. And, perhaps most powerfully, Gladys’ sense of rhythm becomes the guide. Naomi follows her lead. The songs chosen are the ones that matter to Gladys. In just five minutes, music brings Gladys back to herself. It doesn’t erase her dementia, but it reminds her, and those around her, of who she is. Music has this extraordinary way of helping us trace our personal narratives. For those living with dementia, these narratives can become hard to access through words alone. But a familiar melody can open doors that seemed locked. These musical moments aren’t just about singing songs, they are about connection. They are about love, identity, and belonging. With Hilda and Elma, these moments gave us something precious: a way to meet them where they were, not where memory used to be. Music may not cure dementia, but it can bring light into its shadows. It can awaken parts of a person that illness cannot fully erase. If you’re caring for someone living with dementia, consider exploring their musical past. Play their favorite songs. Sing together. Let the rhythm guide the moment. Because in those musical moments, something sacred happens: We don’t just remember the music, the music remembers us.