Meaning Making
In the reflection about my heritage I realized that discovering Dutch folk music from my region was not the answer to my master's research. But finding the folk music from my origin country helped me to feel more secure in my own base as a human and musician. While experiencing this, I came to the realization that my search was never just about the traditional folklore quest, to know and mastering this music. Deep down, I have always been seeking a profound sense of belonging.
I think that this sense of belonging could be one of the elements in traditional music that attracts me towards it. It seems that the music and the culture of a strong preserved tradition have kept a quality of community which makes people feel they belong somewhere and/or are part of something. I will go deeper into this later. Reflecting on the communal aspect of traditional music, I realized how isolated my approach to music had been. The music scene, as I knew it, seemed to revolve around individual pursuits and personal needs. In this perspective, no one truly wins. We remain disconnected, each chasing our own dreams. However, I now believe there is a way to include everyone, aiming to foster a sense of connection at all levels. Through performances, we can create experiences where music unites us, making us feel one with life. This connection can inspire us to choose actions that bring joy, growth, love, trust, true expression, freedom, and peace. Although many things in life hinder such true connection, I am now certain that raising awareness about the importance of community, belonging, and meaning in life can help us overcome these obstacles and move towards a life enriched with joy, growth, love, trust, true expression, freedom, and peace.
Solving the meaning crisis
With the insights gained from two contemporary philosophers, my understanding of the importance of growing consciousness and the power of community in our current society has deepened significantly. Their lectures have reinforced my belief that the search for meaning and belonging is not just a personal quest, but a universal one. Our entire society is engaged in this search, each individual navigating it in their own way, whether constructively or destructively. The reality is that our current system is leading us further away from deeper meaning in life, and consequently, from ourselves. This has profound implications for our health and well-being on Earth. However, by becoming aware of this meaning crisis, we can learn to prevent fear, stress, and destructiveness from dominating our lives. Instead, we can cultivate consciousness and seek a path imbued with greater meaning.
While exploring Norwegian and Dutch folk music and recognizing my need for belonging, I discovered the work of philosopher and cognitive scientist John Vervaeke. He delves into the significance of meaning in life and its importance. On YouTube, he released a series of videos titled “Awakening from the Meaning Crisis.” In this lecture series, he guides us through the ideas of Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Kant, The Buddha, consciousness, flow state, religion, relevance realization, and many other fascinating topics that enhance our awareness of what it means to be human in our time on Earth. As someone deeply interested in existential questions, John Vervaeke's discussions have helped me better understand my own inquiries by addressing these profound subjects.
In a video lecture I watched called ‘Solving the Meaning Crisis,’ he discusses the meaning crisis we face in our world: “The meaning of life is not reducible to morality; you can’t find meaning in life simply by following a well-organized moral code. Additionally, the meaning of life is not reducible to subjective well-being. Subjective well-being is the state of 'I am happy with my life.' Our culture often confuses this with wealth.”
The art of being human
The confusion between well-being and wealth in our society was clarified for me by the Dutch philosopher and writer Jaap Voigt. Over the past few years, I have been following his work on living and working in harmony with the cycles of nature, Taoism, and the art of being human. I eagerly and joyfully listened to his podcast, De Kunst van het Mens zijn (The Art of Being Human). The podcast has phenomenally addressed my search for meaning. In it, he provides insights to help us overcome the confusion mentioned above and offers tools and knowledge to guide us towards a more meaningful life.
In the first episode, he explains a natural sequence in life that consists of three parts: expansion, going inward, and silence. He explains that our society has been in a state of great expansion over the last couple of decades. The rhythm is disturbed; there is no longer a natural sequence of going inward and finding silence before expanding again. This makes our society extremely restless and focused solely on the external value of things, which will eventually lead to burnout.
Further on in the podcast, Voigt introduces the symbol of the cross and explains it as follows: the horizontal line represents "having," which encompasses the identity we form through our friends, family, work, house, possessions, ambitions, and goals. This line matters because, in this earthly life, it is important to take care of ourselves, to have a house, food, and a circle of friends with whom we can share our time on earth in a beautiful way. However, too much focus on "wanting to have" on this line leaves us empty, overworked, and stressed, creating suffering instead of fulfilment with meaning if we live solely for acknowledgment in our identity or personality.
When we start to acknowledge this state of suffering, Jaap Voigt points us toward the vertical line, which can be seen as the line of meaning: having a higher purpose, wholeness, and unity. When we feel we are suffering in life, we start to search for meaning. Ultimately, we want to meet in the middle of these two lines in our life. If we start suffering due to unconsciously chasing "having" on the horizontal line, we might begin looking for meaning by connecting to the vertical line. We often start connecting with wisdom philosophies, religion, and spirituality. These wisdom traditions share commonalities; they all have a philosophy about ‘The Way,’ which can be seen as a guide to reach unity and wholeness again.
This requires us to detach from certain topics and material matters that we think we need, that we believe give our lives meaning. We must give up what keeps us running in a wheel with no fulfilling destination, what does not bring us rest and peace. This can be extremely difficult because we have been conditioned to believe we need these things. "Having" feels like it makes us feel safe, but paradoxically, the opposite happens because it keeps us in the tension of wanting to control life, which is ultimately impossible. Life is a mystery, and we never know what will happen, but we desperately want to know, grasp, and control it.
Connecting to the vertical line means creating an understanding that we don't know everything in life. It humbles us. Going on a path to find unity in the self and in life, instead of separation from life, creates an understanding of the need to surrender to life, to its ways that we don't know, to its circumstances that we sometimes do not expect or want. We start to realize that we have entered duality by seeing ourselves apart from life, each other, and all that is living on this earth and universe. Being in this dual state can feel highly challenging when becoming aware of it. To gain this awareness, we must have experienced what it feels like to be "back" in unity, where all is one, and we yearn to return to that state. Or the awareness comes because we are suffering so badly and start to feel that it can no longer be like this; there must be another way.
Once we accept the state we are in and start walking the path toward creating meaning in our lives, we will never be the same person again. Acknowledging the suffering and doing something about it often involves facing things that have blocked us from living our full potential, such as trauma and suppressed emotions. We need to let go of the person we once were, shedding the identity we created through our habits and convictions, in order to move forward and live a healthier, more fulfilled life.
Finding light through darkness
Returning to John Vervaeke's idea that the meaning of life is not reducible to subjective well-being, which he defines as the state of "I am happy with my life"—a state our culture often confuses with wealth—I would like to share my personal thoughts on this. While being happy is certainly a state of being that we aspire to feel and live through, happiness is not a given. As Alan Watts once said, "Change is another word for life." To be alive means to move through different phases, emotional states, and challenges. How we navigate these periods is more meaningful for our growth than merely seeking and chasing happiness.
If we can embrace what is challenging, we become significantly strengthened in our character. We learn how to flow, how to surrender, and how to trust in our lives. This creates vitality and strength, offering a more realistic view of life and fostering a healthier relationship with ourselves by adopting this perspective.
Community
We will also start to become aware that we need each other and that navigating life together, without judging each other from a place of fear and survival, is the ultimate way to live. Being in community, reaching out, and being there for one another is essential. In community, we truly heal and become whole through the acknowledgment of our emotions by others, who you could say are reflections of ourselves, we share similar struggles. We all face the same kinds of challenges in this realm of life. It is healthy when we are within a group of people that acknowledges that. It would be even more impactful if our entire society embraced these values.
Being a musician
Taking in all these perspectives has led me to deeply question my current activity as a musician. This introspection began from a place of suffering in my life. I was unhappy and couldn't feel the life force that I knew should naturally be present within me. I realized that I had been chasing things in life from a horizontal perspective—seeking acknowledgment, love, and belonging due to low self-esteem and a fearful outlook on life. Living without trust and surrender kept me trapped in destructive habits and patterns. This fear prevented me from setting boundaries or daring to live up to my full potential, afraid of not being good enough or being judged for shining.
Now, I understand that living up to my full potential is the only way forward, as it allows others to do the same. I also had to acknowledge that doing everything alone did not contribute to meaning in my life; it made me more insecure. The music scene felt like a competition rather than a space for celebrating togetherness, which fosters connection and creates meaning. By relying solely on my own understanding, I fell into an ego mindset that sought safety and importance, wanting to be right. However, I now believe that this mindset keeps me in a personal prison, leading to self-judgment and judgment of others, which does not contribute to life. It leaves me insecure.
The wounded healer
The wounded healer is an archetype created by psychologist Carl Jung. The idea is based upon the Greek mythological creature Chiron. Chiron is a centaur; half men, half horse, as well he is immortal, because he was begotten by a godhead. He was taught the knowledge of herbs and became a skilled healer. One day, however, Chiron was accidentally wounded by a poisoned arrow. But despite being skilled in healing the wounds of others, he was unable to heal his own wound, which became unbearably painful. But being the immortal son godhead, neither was he able to die.
Chiron turns in particular to the healing arts as a means of healing himself, and not only himself but others too. He illuminated the path for others, giving to others what he himself most needed. Instead of allowing his wound to fester, he transformed it into a source of motivation and inspiration, leading to profound insights and accomplishments. This instilled in him a sense of purpose and duty, enriching his life in ways that other centaurs could scarcely imagine.
Chiron embodies our eternal wounds that may never fully heal, yet he also represents the profound potential within us to heal others. His story teaches us that our greatest capacity to heal often arises from our own deepest pain.
This archetypal example resonates deeply with me and the purpose I am drawn to as a musician. I aspire to use my voice, essence, and music to offer others what I also need: healing. I wish to heal through my voice. By illuminating my own wounds, bearing them, and pursuing healing, I can create music that serves as a beacon of hope and recovery for others. Through music, I aim to give sound to pain and to the transformative journey of healing.
How it has changed my music
In reflecting on my contributions, I've dedicated some words to how this process has transformed and enriched my music creation. Writing lyrics, in particular, has shifted towards conveying a healing message. Inspired by religious texts, spiritual writers, and Eastern philosophy, I now aim to infuse my lyrics with a sense of healing.
The most significant growth I've experienced as a musician has been in my stage presence. By confronting the fears I've unconsciously carried for many years, I had felt disconnected from myself, perceiving two distinct personas: Sanne "the singer" and Sanne "the person." This separation led to destructive behaviours as I struggled to maintain a balanced life.
Now, I've learned to detach from solely identifying with the singer part of me. I embrace my entire being, with all my feelings and emotions, accepting that this is who I am at this moment. Integrating the purpose of singing as a prayer, making music to heal, and recognizing the humility required to be a performer has deepened my presence on stage. I understand that what I create is not solely mine but a co-creation with something far greater.