Beyond Perfection: How Music in Ceremony Acts as Both Catalyst and Mirror
Music has an undeniable power to evoke emotions, transport us to other worlds, and connect us with aspects of ourselves that we might not even be aware of. In the context of psychedelic ceremonies, however, music takes on an even more profound role. As a musician serving in these spaces, I’ve witnessed how sound and song can become catalysts, provoking deep reactions in those who listen. From joy and bliss to anger and sorrow, music allows participants to access emotions that need expression, whether they’re comfortable or not.
In the process, I’ve learned that as a ceremonial musician, it’s crucial to let go of personal attachment to how people react to the music. Sometimes, music can trigger surprising and even challenging responses, and those reactions are often less about the musician or the song itself, and more about what each person needs to experience. Learning to embrace this detachment has been an ongoing journey for me, one that has transformed not only how I share music but also how I engage with others in my daily life.
Today, I want to share my process of growing into this role – learning how to hold space, embrace non-attachment, and navigate the vulnerability of sharing music in such a powerful context. This journey has taught me as much about my own inner world as it has about supporting others.
Music as a Mirror and Catalyst in Ceremony
In ceremony, music holds up a mirror, reflecting the listener's inner world. The experience of hearing music while in a vulnerable, altered state can bring up emotions that are otherwise hidden. It’s not uncommon for people to feel strongly compelled to express whatever is arising within them when they’re in the ceremonial space. I’ve seen this unfold in various ways: sometimes it’s joy and gratitude, while other times, the reactions are intense and raw.
For instance, there have been moments when I’ve played my crystal singing bowls and observed participants becoming visibly uncomfortable. Some leave the room, and others experience strong physical reactions like nausea or anger. The vibrations and frequencies that resonate through these bowls can feel jarring, as they open emotional doors. The same note or frequency that relaxes one person may deeply unsettle another. For those experiencing internal resistance, the sound can feel unbearable, triggering them to leave the space.
But as I see it, this is precisely what music in ceremony is meant to do. Music doesn’t always bring ease and comfort, often, it helps participants confront emotions they’ve been avoiding. The person who feels anger at the way I sing may need that anger to surface and move through it. The person who bursts into tears at a particular note might be accessing sorrow or grief that they’ve been holding inside. The music is functional either way, doing exactly what it’s meant to do by catalyzing these emotions and allowing participants to process them.
As musicians in ceremonial settings, letting go of control and trusting the energy of the moment is crucial. For a deeper dive into embracing non-attachment in music, explore more in my article on letting the universe be the captain inmedicine music.
THE ALCHEMY OF MUSIC
The person who feels anger at the way I sing may need that anger to surface and move through it.
Non-Attachment: Embracing Reactions Without Taking Them Personally
This perspective has helped me adopt a mindset of non-attachment when it comes to others’ reactions to my music. Whether someone celebrates joyfully or walks out, it’s not about me – it’s about what the music is bringing up for them. By releasing the need for validation or approval, I’ve learned to see music as a tool that helps others explore their own inner landscapes. This non-attachment has become essential for my role as a ceremonial musician.
Viewing music this way has freed me from the urge to “please” everyone, which would not only be unrealistic but would also diminish the purpose of the music itself. Music in ceremony is not about creating universally pleasing sounds, it’s about supporting participants in moving through what is true for them. By focusing less on how others receive my music and more on how it serves the ceremonial space, I’ve been able to trust that the music will always do its work, even if I never know the exact impact it’s having.
A Story of Feedback: Learning Not to Take Reactions Personally
Feedback can be one of the trickiest aspects of being a musician in ceremonial settings. When we share something as personal as music, especially in vulnerable spaces, it’s natural to feel exposed. The feedback we receive can feel intensely personal, even if it’s meant constructively.
Once, after a ceremony, a participant approached me and commented, “Your singing today really felt like it was missing its usual fire.” Normally, I might have taken that as a blow. On that particular day, I was indeed feeling tired, having been in a three-day ceremony supporting participants emotionally while also playing music. My energy was depleted, and I didn’t have the full fire I often bring to my music. (Holding space as a ceremonial musician requires inner resilience and self-care to maintain authenticity. For more on why it’s essential to recharge, read my article on the importance of self-care for musicians.)
Instead of letting that comment trigger insecurity or a need to justify my state, I accepted it as her observation and chose to let it go. I could acknowledge that I was drained, knowing I’d given everything I had, even if it wasn’t my highest energy. This allowed me to hold space for myself with self-compassion, honoring the energy I’d given without feeling I needed to apologize.
This experience reminded me that people’s feedback often reflects their own perspectives or needs. Sometimes, feedback isn’t even about our music but about the listener’s expectations or desires. Practicing non-attachment allows us to receive feedback as reflections rather than judgments, helping us stay grounded in our own experience.
THE ALCHEMY OF MUSIC
It is not just the listeners who experience catharsis through music in ceremony – musicians are transformed as well.
Integrating "Messy Music" as a Catalyst and Projection Canvas
The same principle applies when it comes to playing “imperfectly” or “messily.” In the beginning, I worried that my music was too raw to truly serve the ceremonial space. I would feel extremely nervous, afraid of making mistakes – whether it was missing chord changes, forgetting lyrics, or singing with inconsistent dynamics. Managing it all was overwhelming: playing an instrument, singing in another language, watching the room to see how the music was landing, and communicating with other musicians to stay in sync. Inevitably, I messed up. A lot.
After delivering a messy song, I’d worry that my mistakes might have disrupted someone’s process. I’d wonder if people were judging me, thinking, “Why is she even allowed to play here?” or comparing me to more experienced musicians. That worry lingered until one day, as a participant, I found myself listening to another beginner musician play. My inner critic lit up as I noticed every “flaw”: the rhythm wasn’t steady, the dynamics were flat, and there was no progression in the song. I realized in that moment that what I was hearing was a mirror for all the judgments I harbored toward my own music.
As I watched this beginner musician play, I saw my inner critic, my “nasty voice,” in full force. But then I realized that this musician’s so-called “imperfections” were actually helping me confront my own harsh judgments. They were revealing the self-criticisms I needed to address within myself. Suddenly, the music felt perfectly in harmony with my process, and I felt a wave of gratitude for this “messiness” that had become a perfect catalyst for my own growth.
In this way, music serves not only as a catalyst but also as a projection canvas, reflecting our inner dialogues, insecurities, and judgments. It is not just the listeners who experience catharsis through music in ceremony – musicians are transformed as well.
Being comfortable with “messy music” is an important part of the journey, especially when our taste exceeds our current skill level. I explore more on navigating this phase in my article on bridging the gap between taste and skill.
THE ALCHEMY OF MUSIC
This is the alchemy of music: allowing it to be a mirror, a catalyst, and a teacher.
Why Non-Attachment is Crucial for Musicians in Ceremony
As musicians, our work is deeply personal. We pour our hearts into creating music, sharing parts of ourselves that feel vulnerable and raw. This openness can make feedback and reactions feel personal, but viewing music as a catalyst rather than a performance can help us cultivate a healthy detachment. By recognizing that music helps others confront what’s within them, we can let go of needing their reactions to align with our expectations.
This mindset not only makes us better musicians in ceremonial spaces but also strengthens our resilience in daily life. Over time, I’ve found that practicing this detachment in ceremony has positively impacted how I handle feedback and challenges outside of music. I feel more confident, less swayed by others’ opinions, and more rooted in my own worth, regardless of how my music is received.
Embracing non-attachment as a ceremonial musician has become a powerful practice of self-compassion and inner strength: I trust that my music will serve its purpose, whether it brings peace, anger, joy, or sadness. In this way, music acts as a catalyst not only for participants but for me as well, continually teaching me about vulnerability, growth, and the alchemy that happens when we release control and allow ourselves to be vessels for something greater.
The Alchemy of Music: Transformation Through Non-Attachment
In the end, music in ceremony is not about perfection or performance – it’s about creating a space where people can feel deeply and authentically. Whether participants feel anger, peace, sadness, or joy, the music has done its work by helping them access what they need in that moment. And as a musician, embracing this non-attachment has transformed how I relate to my art, making it a tool for both my growth and the growth of those who listen.
This is the alchemy of music: allowing it to be a mirror, a catalyst, and a teacher. By embracing non-attachment and focusing on the intention behind the music, we can connect more deeply to the heart of why we create – to serve, to heal, and to transform.
This article was inspired by Jen Butler’s powerful insights on non-attachment and creativity, particularly her article “Catalytic Words: How I Learned to Let Go of Outcomes” on Elephant Journal. Jen’s work delves into the transformative practice of releasing control over how our creations are received. Her approach has deeply influenced my own perspective on sharing music in ceremonial settings. You can explore more of her writings and teachings on her website at jenbutlersays.com.