Sorrow, Comfort, & Joy 
    Healing Powers in World Music - page 5

Expression of Joy

It would follow, then that the movement up a fifth would be involved in the arousal of joy, or hasa, or ecstasy, since "[ascending fifths] represent an ‘active principle’: they all express sunshine, strength and joy" (Danielou, pg. 45). Not only is the interval of a fifth associated with joy, but also the gamaka that is a staccato running-up of five notes in a scale: "When the notes follow one another in this order [five notes ascending] this is called ‘Laughing’ (Ullasita) (Sangita-ratnakara, 2, 3, 94.)" (Danielou, pg. 83). 

But where is the research to support the physiological effects of the fourth for "peace" and the fifth for "joy?" I could not find very much – voice science seems more concerned with the expression of sadness than of contentment and joy. Perhaps the West is not comfortable with the idea of ecstatic states. Our society is more likely to lock up an ecstatic man or at least call him crazy. But more and more we hear reports on news programs about the benefits of laughter. After all, the saying, "laughter is the best medicine," though overused and under-understood, might be a remnant of a wiser age when medicine was not limited to prescription drugs. 

So what does laughter do physiologically? "The research hypothesis is that laughter stimulates the brain to produce hormones called catecholamines. These hormones may in turn trigger the release of endorphins, natural opiates that can reduce pain or discomfort from arthritis or allergies and from certain headaches and backaches... According to Freud, laughter occurs when aggressive and angry energy is freed from repression" (Halpern, pp. 160-161). Although I don’t agree with much of what Freud had to say, this somehow rings true, considering that anger and sadness are related in that their expression shares the same frequency contour, and that there is a physically felt relief from both sadness and anger when expressed. A story that exemplifies this progression from anger to laughter is told by anthropologist, Marina Roseman, whose work brought her to the Temiar region of the Malaysian rainforest: 

Stored anger, like illness, heats and compacts the heart. A heart narrowed by anger can be "opened" or "cleared" through invective or harangue. During the divorce of a recently married young couple, the female relatives of the groom were angry that the bride had run away and rejected their male kin. On the ground in the moonlight, outside the house where male representatives of bride, and groom were negotiating a divorce, the female relatives of the groom launched into stylized invective, graphically describing with exaggeration the body parts of the bride, who huddled in a darkened building several houses away. The intonation pattern of this stylized invective resembles that of the harangue: a suspended monotone leading into a plaintive downward curve. These intonation patterns are called jenhook, a term also used to describe a song or phrase characterized by a recitation tone evolving into a downward curve. Through this stylized invective, the groom’s female kin "expanded" and "cleared" their hot, compacted, angry hearts until finally they were seized with laughter at the absurdity and ingenuity of their exaggerate descriptions. Yet, while the groom’s kin are cooled and cleared, the head soul of the bride is endangered... by bearing the brunt of this angry invective and verbal assault (Roseman, pp. 32, 34).

Notice that the intonation pattern of the invective, or harangue, is described as a suspended monotone leading into a downward curve. This is also the same general pattern found in lament and in the expression of sorrow. But although their expression of emotion was healing to those on the expressing end of the invective, the effect on those who were on the listening end was the opposite. I am sure that if I were the bride in this story, I would see absolutely no humor in the taunts and ridicule, and would find no relief until I was able to express my own anger and sorrow, find comfort in the relief of the pain, and then perhaps to reach that state of ecstasy where I could laugh with joy. 

Sufi philosopher Al-Ghazali wrote, "The purpose of music, considered in relation to God, is to arouse longing for Him and passionate love toward Him and to produce states in which He reveals Himself" (Halpern, pp. 175-176). These states are called "ecstasy" by the Sufis. Whether it is called "closer to God," or "happiness," or "ecstasy" – it seems that this state would be preferred by most people over the states of anxiety, anger, grief, and a host of others that plague our modern society.

But do Westerners ever fully experience ecstasy? In many cultures, ecstasy is the key to magical feats and miraculous metaphysical occurrences: 

In India a feast is celebrated every year where the people commemorate the great heroes of the past and mourn over their life’s tragedy; and certain instruments are played, certain drums... And there are some who on hearing those drums instantly fall into ecstasy; because the sound of the drum goes directly into their whole system, bringing it to a certain pitch where they feel ecstasy. And when they are in ecstasy they can jump into the fire and come out without being burned; they can cut themselves with a sword and they are instantly healed... 

They need not be very educated to go into that trance, nor very evolved; sometimes they are very ordinary people; but the sound can have such effect upon them that they are moved to a higher ecstasy (Inayat Khan, pg. 262).

Another story that moves from sorrow, into comfort, and then into joy involves a student and Rabbi who are fasting and studying the Kabbalah together. The student, who has fasted too long wakes up in the middle of the night and calls out to the Rabbi – (omitted are the Rabbi’s responses such as "Then what?" and "That’s it!"): 

Just now, I have been upon the highest summit... There was a melody, and it has been singing in me... I was anxious at any cost to learn that melody. Unable, however to succeed, I was greatly grieved and began to weep. Everything in me was weeping, all my members were weeping before the Creator of the Universe. I recited the prayers and formulas you taught me; strange to say, not with my lips, but deep down in my heart. And suddenly I was dazzled by a great light. I closed my eyes, yet I could not shut out the light around me, a powerful dazzling light... And in the midst of the strange light I felt so strong, so lighthearted. It seemed to me as if I had no weight, as if my body had lost its heaviness and that I could fly... And then I felt so merry, so happy and lively. My face remained motionless, my lips never stirred, and yet I laughed. I laughed so joyously, so heartily, so frankly and happily (Peretz).

This story assures me that there is indeed something universal about the progression of sorrow, to comfort, to joy. 

Danielou, who writes about Indian music, also makes reference to the use of music for ecstasy and healing. In an earlier quote, the idea was presented that reducing the number of notes in a scale for a particularly sad raga would leave only the notes that support the predominant expression. "When sounds are used for creating ecstasy or for the treatment of mental or physical disease, the number of notes may be further reduced to a few sounds constantly heard, so as to create an overwhelming impression pulling in one direction only" (Danielou, pg. 43). The belief in India is that particular notes have the kind of power that can cause a physiological shift such that one can reach ecstasy, and even be healed. Next Page

© Copyright 1997 Verlene Schermer
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