[Photo: Sufi house Petaluma, CA, residents, Francine in center, late 1970’s]

In 1975 or 76 I visited my close friend Lani and her husband at their lovely large old house in the country in Mendocino County. Lani had always been interested in mysticism and esoteric studies, and had been initiated into western Sufism, a mystical aspect of Islam, and given the name Farida, which means The Unique (and she was and is). The teachers and teachings she studied were mostly centered in the San Francisco Bay Area at that time (far south of Mendocino). Their outward public attraction was the Dances of Universal Peace, which drew on traditions of all the major world religions, Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, Zoroastrianism, Hinduism, Native American and more.

So I went up to visit after my first husband and I split up, to get some relaxation and friendship. I took a psychedelic while I was there, and grabbed my hiking stick and walked up the hill a ways into the woods. I sat there and meditated, and decided to do some chanting I’d learned in yoga or meditation groups, just a simple Om, which means peace. As I held the note, I noticed overtones, which was a happy surprise. I held the note as long as I could and learned that if I changed the shape of my lips or tongue, I could change the notes of the overtones while the main note I was singing stayed the same. Beautiful and fascinating. I was holding the note repeatedly as long as I could, started feeling lightheaded, and thought maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I went back down the hill and told Farida what I’d been doing and said, “I was afraid I might break a blood vessel in my brain or something holding the note so long, and thought maybe I should get some instruction in this type of thing rather than doing it on my own. Do you know anyone who knows about this stuff?”

She laughed and said she didn’t think I’d break a blood vessel but oh, yes, she did know people. Then she put on a record (vinyl 33 1/3) of the Sufi Choir for me to enjoy. It was so enchanting that I cried, especially during the song with these lyrics:

“It’s comin’ ba-ack to me… like having eyes to see… when the sun comes over.

Like a bird flying out of the nest, like the sun… rising in the west.

It’s comin’ ba-ack to me…”

And it goes on like that, about remembering what it’s like to be aware of one’s spirit, to feel freedom, joy, and peace in one’s heart. A remarkable melody. And the fellow who sang the lead solo had a tenor voice to die for; his name was Phil “Vasheest” Davenport.

I told Farida, “I want to sing with this guy.” She chuckled again and said I might be able to, but the Sufi Choir was a particular group, not something public and open that just anyone could join, and she didn’t know if they were even still performing.

I went to a few of these Sufi dance meetings in Sonoma County and was interested but it felt like just an enjoyable way to do some meditation and sing and dance. The dances were like folk dances with beautiful joyful songs, taught by a lot of young-to-middle-aged teachers who also taught meditation, chanting and eastern mystical practices such as deep breathing. People who were or had been hippies were particularly drawn to all this. People like me, at the time. Dancing was difficult for me, especially when they did things like the grapevine step, but I did the best I could.

I took guitar lessons for about a year and a half while I lived in Santa Rosa and attended college. I was finally learning to play some bar chords on my little Martin with the clear sound, although they remained a bit difficult for me. My old friend who’d found the guitar for me had been working in an instrument repair shop and lowered the action so that it was easier for me to play, making a big difference. My teacher thought one of my songs, one of those I had played for the last assembly at Sonoma State, was professional quality, but I never submitted it to Linda Ronstadt or Bonnie Raitt as I had thought I might. He taught me to play songs that would be meaningful to me, a couple of Stevie Wonder songs like, “I believe when I fall in love, this time it will be forever.” That was time well spent.

In 1976 I was in my late twenties, in my next-to-last and fourth year of college. I was feeling depressed about not being in a relationship anymore, going to the local college bar my husband and I had frequented, when he worked nearby, more than I should have (although I never drank more than one or two drinks of an evening), meeting fellows there (bad choice), going out to hear music one or two nights a week or going to parties, taking guitar lessons, working 20 to 40 hours a week and taking a full unit load of business courses toward my BA. To say I was stressed is an understatement.

I lamented to Farida about this and she gave me a meditation to do and suggested I go with her and another friend in June to the annual Sufi camp in Mendocino, which I did. The first week was a meditation camp led by the leader of the Sufi Order (of the west; there are many worldwide other than this orientation which was designed for westerners), who had come from New York; a man whose father had been a prominent East Indian Sufi teacher and singer and whose mother had been British. So, he had his feet in two cultures. I was inspired by his lofty meditation teachings and took initiation with him as my spiritual teacher. This was going to present a bit of a problem since he didn’t live here, and he suggested that I study under another teacher who lived in Marin County, who was also at the camp.

The second week was taught by those dancing western Sufis from the San Francisco area, and guess what? Vasheest of the choir record was there leading singing. I felt like I’d found my tribe. The songs and dancing felt like they touched my soul, and I had the sense that music might be my true spiritual path; that music might be a way to experience God. I had an interview with the California teacher who’d been recommended, and he gave me a spiritual name and some chanting practices to do. Upon trying them out I found those overtones were there again. I told him at one point that there was a flute in my chants, which made him smile with either amusement or pleasure.

From then on, I was on the 101 freeway from Santa Rosa to Marin County or San Francisco on a regular basis, going to classes two or three times a week.

When I got more deeply connected and active with the Sufis I decided to move into a big house they were buying in Petaluma in 1978, and had to give up the guitar lessons because I got a full-time job with a CPA firm, plus started doing bookkeeping for the Sufi non-profit, and living in a communal household was time consuming. We had spiritual classes six days or nights a week if one cared to attend, including Sufi dancing, universal worship of major religions, and more specific classes for people who were initiates as well. At one point I taught an introductory class for people who were interested, directly from a manual, and sometimes there was a grand total of two interested people in the class besides myself.

And then… what felt like a miracle happened. The Sufi Choir had not been singing for a few years, and the director, Allaudin (Bill) Mathieu, decided to hold tryouts for a new choir of twelve singers, at the Sufi house where I was living. I nervously prepared a song to sing, unaccompanied, since I didn’t feel my guitar chops were of high enough quality and I could only pick out melodies on the piano for purposes of learning a song or writing it out on staff paper.

I think I may have sung “Love Letters (Straight from Your Heart),” recorded by Ketty Lester, in addition to scales he played.

After my audition, Allaudin said to me, “I think you have a deep well of music inside you. And if you do this, you will have to work very hard. I’m the same, it doesn’t all come easily to me. [This was truly kind; I later learned he was playing piano and composing for Duke Ellington when he was a teenager.] But if you want to do it and work hard, I’d love to have you join us as an alto.”

I was delighted. And that’s when the work began.

Next: The rigor of being a musician