Go Out and Live: A Bedside Reminder About Presence and Gratitude 

I had a milestone birthday this last week, and it gave me reason to pause in a way birthdays usually do not. Not because of the number itself, I have never given that much thought, but because it pushed me to look backward, look forward, and land right back in the present.

That present moment reminded me of something that happened a few years ago. I was providing music in a hallway on an oncology floor when an oncologist I knew walked by, said hello, and asked how I was doing. I told him I was grateful I was not the one in the bed, that after my shift I got to walk out and keep living my day. He looked at me and said, "Amen brother, go out and live!"

When I am at the bedside, I provide live guitar music with that same reminder in mind: these moments, difficult or ordinary, do not happen to us, they happen for us. It is easy to forget that in the middle of a hard day, and it is just as easy to forget it in the middle of an ordinary one.

Go out and live! I carry that phrase into every room I walk into, and into every day since.

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music / 🎸 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com / 💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819 / 🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing / 📘 www.facebook.com/AcousticHealing / #arts4mc

Find It, Dig It Out, Give It to the World 

Henry Winkler once told a ten-year-old boy struggling with dyslexia: "Your job is to find your gift, dig it out, and give it to the world."

I think about that a lot as a guitarist.

A guitar has a voice — six strings, a resonant chamber, a particular way of sitting in a room and either filling it or holding it gently. It's not so different from a siren clearing a road, or a lighthouse doing its quiet work while ships find their way home by it. A single voice, doing exactly what it was built to do.

Lately I've felt a pull to reconnect with people — old friends, people I've lost touch with over the years. A phone call. A voice on the other end saying hello. It changes the shape of a day, more than most people realize.

That's the same instinct behind every recording session for Acoustic Healing. A guitar's voice, offered to someone in a hospital bed who needs one steady thing to hold onto.

What's your gift? Have you found it yet?

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🎸 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing
📘 www.facebook.com/AcousticHealing
#arts4mc

What Are You Carrying Into the Room? On Compassion Fatigue, Presence, and the Healing Environment 


 


A photo came across my feed recently. A sign, posted at the entrance to a patient care area at Indiana University Health:

"Please take responsibility for the energy you bring into this space."

I read it and sat with it for a while.

For those of us in the healing arts, something like this lands differently. It was written for everyone who walks through that door, visitors and staff alike. But I found myself reading it as something directed at me personally.

What am I carrying into the room?

Not just physically. Emotionally. The conversation I had an hour ago. The patient I could not stop thinking about after the last shift. The weight of a system that asks for presence when presence is the thing that gets used up first.

Compassion fatigue is one of the most honest and underacknowledged realities in healthcare. It is not burnout exactly, though they often travel together. It is the slow erosion of the capacity to feel alongside another person. And for those of us whose purpose is to bring something healing into a room, that erosion is not a small thing.

The sign does not ask its staff to pretend the weight does not exist. It asks them to pause. To breathe. To arrive with intention.

Acoustic Healing's professionally recorded healing music is, in part, an answer to exactly this. Not for the practitioner standing at the door, but for the room itself. The music does not need anyone to be at their best in order to do its work. It is already there. Creating a space that holds the patient, and holds the person caring for them.

The environment can do some of the heavy lifting. That is the whole idea.

What are you carrying today? And what would it feel like to walk into a room that already felt a little different before you opened the door? 💜

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🎸 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing
#arts4mc

If Not Now, When? On Calling, the Beehive, and the Work in Front of You 

 

There is a phrase I learned a long time ago, passed down by someone with wisdom:

Cut the wood. Carry the water.

It means: do the thing in front of you. Not the thing ten steps ahead. Not the finished version. The next thing.

I think of the bee building a hive. No single bee sees the whole structure. No single bee is responsible for the hive. Each one simply does its part. Adds its cell. Trusts the process. And slowly, over time, something extraordinary emerges that no individual effort could have created alone.

That is where Acoustic Healing is. Recording sessions complete. Post-production underway. The hive is being built, cell by cell. I do not need to see the finished structure to know that something is taking shape.

I feel called to do this. And I have come to a clear understanding of what that calling means: if I do not show up for it, someone else will. Not as competition. As confirmation. The work is needed. The only question is who steps forward.

For those of us in the healing arts, that question carries weight. We did not choose this path because it was easy. We chose it because, at some point, we could not choose otherwise.

If you are a practitioner asking yourself whether the thing you feel drawn to is worth doing, let me offer you this: What would you do for free? Who do you most want to serve? Who gets to be touched and reached by what you are building?

The answer to those questions is your hive.

Start the next cell.

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🎸 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing

The Teacher Arrives: On Purpose, Community, and the Pencil in Your Hand 

There is an old saying: When the student is ready, the teacher arrives.

I have experienced this more than once. At moments when I was not looking, not prepared, and certainly not expecting it. And each time, something shifted.

As I move through this journey with Acoustic Healing, I have met a remarkable number of people moving in the same direction. Musicians. Clinical professionals who turned toward the creative arts. Healers of every kind. None of them chose this path because it was easy. They chose it because they felt called.

Mother Teresa described it this way: "I am a little pencil in the hand of God, writing a love letter to the world."

I held a Spanish guitar in my hands for the first time at twelve years old. And only now am I beginning to understand what the pencil was for.

There is a phrase that shapes this kind of work: chop wood, carry water. Do the thing directly in front of you. Trust the path. Do not look for the horizon when there is work to be done right here.

That is where Acoustic Healing is right now. Recording sessions complete. Post-production underway. The work is in the wood and the water. And somewhere ahead is the space where all of it comes together for the patients who need it most, through their own bedside television system. Professionally recorded healing music, delivered into rooms that need something real.

If you are a fellow practitioner on a similar path, I want you to know: you are not alone. This community is real. The work is real. And the teacher keeps arriving, right on time.

Are you ready?

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🎸 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing

The Language of the Soul 

There is a question every healing music practitioner eventually faces: where do you even begin?

Not the beginning of a session. The beginning of the thing you feel called to build.

I have been sitting with that question since long before Acoustic Healing had a name. I had a sense of something. A direction. But no map. No clear first step. Just the quiet pull of intuition saying: this matters. Move toward it.

So I did.

What followed was a breadcrumb trail. One decision at a time. One conversation. One connection. One session in the studio. In late June, I sat down with the team for a post-production meeting that confirmed what I already suspected: something real is being built here. Song by song, decision by decision, it is taking shape.

Trevor Noah once said, just because the big is happening does not mean that the small stops.

The big is the world, and everything it brings with it. The news. The noise. The uncertainty. I made a deliberate choice to step back from all of that while I am in the middle of building this. Not because it does not matter. But because I know what I can actually change. What I can contribute. What I can offer.

The small is the work. The next session. The next decision. The next breadcrumb.

Music has always spoken a language that needs no translation. It moves through the body before the mind has time to process it. It finds people where they are. It does not ask anything of them. That is what drew me to this work. That is what keeps me in it.

If you are a healing music practitioner reading this, and you have an idea that has been sitting quietly in you: say it out loud. You do not need the whole path. You only need the next breadcrumb.

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🌐 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing

What the Sequoia Taught Me 

There is a question every healing music practitioner eventually asks: why did I start?

For me, the answer lives in both directions, backward and forward at once.

I picked up a guitar when I was young because it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I could not have told you then what it would become. I only knew it felt right.

Years later, when I began bringing my guitar to hospital patients as a Certified Therapeutic Musician, I watched what music could do in a clinical space. I watched patients soften. I watched the room change. I began to understand that the instrument I had carried most of my life was not just a personal passion. It was a tool for something much larger.

Then came the fires.

I do not say that lightly. There were losses in my life, significant ones, that arrived the way a wildfire arrives: without warning, consuming everything in their path, leaving ash where there had once been forest.

But the giant sequoia has something to teach us here.

Its cones can remain sealed for up to twenty years, held by nature itself, waiting for the right conditions. When a fire sweeps through, the intense heat rising from the flames dries those cones from the outside in, and they open. The seeds fall. Not in spite of the fire. Because of it.

That is how Acoustic Healing began.

Not as a plan, but as a seed released at exactly the right moment, into exactly the right soil.

If you are a healing music practitioner reading this: your path did not begin at your first certification. It began long before. And every fire you have walked through has been part of making you ready.

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🌐 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing

Looking Up 

Looking up.

That is what this photograph reminded me to do.

Standing in a bamboo forest in Hawaii, surrounded by stalks that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the sky, I stopped. Really stopped. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking about the next task, the next recording, the next step in the project. I was simply present.

As healing music practitioners, we spend a great deal of energy thinking about the well-being of others. It is in our nature. It is why we chose this path. But the road to showing up fully for our patients runs directly through our own wellbeing.

I returned from Hawaii feeling recharged and grateful — and with a clearer sense of how to move forward with Acoustic Healing. This week, post-production conversations begin with the studio. The work continues, slow and steady.

But I will never forget that sometimes the most important thing we can do is stop, look up, and breathe.

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music
🌐 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com
💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819
🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing

What It Felt Like to Be on the Other Side of the Microphone 

 

 

I have spent nearly a decade walking into hospital rooms with a guitar.  I know what it feels like to provide music to someone at their most vulnerable.  I know the silence before the first note.  I know the moment when a patient's breathing changes, when their shoulders drop, when the room shifts.

 

I have been in front of a microphone twice before.  But this time was different.  Those previous times, I was contributing to someone else's vision.  This time, the microphone was pointed at me as the creator — this was my music, my project, my responsibility to bring something worthy into that room.  That weight is something I had not fully anticipated.

 

On May 31st, I found out.

 

The founding recording sessions for Acoustic Healing are now complete.  Two sessions at New Dawn Studios in Monterey.  Four musicians.  All certified therapeutic musicians.  All bringing something from the bedside into the studio that no amount of technical skill alone could have put there.

 

Mary Superak arrived on May 17th with more than half a dozen North American Flutes — each one carrying its own distinct voice.  From her very first note, I had chills.  What she brought into that room was ethereal.  Spiritual.  As beautiful as the call of an owl in the dark of the night.  I felt it deep in my core from first note to last.

 

When Julia Bartles Emahiser set her Cello in place, it had a regal presence before she played a single note.  When she drew the bow across the strings, I got choked up.  I stayed that way, off and on, through her entire session.  She filled the room with love — and then added silence to let it sink in.  It was more beautiful than I had imagined.

 

May 31st was different.  Vivian Sarubbi's touch on the harp brought a warmth that drew me in immediately — love expressed through every note, every intentional phrase.  And the session had its challenges.  Planes.  A harp that slipped out of tune at exactly the wrong moment.  A tuner that went uncooperative.  We paused.  We waited.  And then she played again.

 

When my turn came in the afternoon, I was not as prepared as I wanted to be.  That is the honest truth.  Building this project has taken more time than I anticipated, and the hours I should have spent in deeper practice went elsewhere.  I was tense stepping into the room.

 

But the crew at New Dawn — Bill, Tricia, and their team — never once made me feel rushed.  Their patience is a gift I will not forget.

 

And somewhere in the middle of it, something loosened.  I stopped thinking about the recording and started playing.  And then a thought came that I had not prepared for: this is actually happening.  Nine years of corridors, of bedsides, of believing this music belonged somewhere beyond the moment it was offered — it was no longer a belief.  It was real.

 

I listened to a sampling before I left.  Vivian's harp.  My guitar.  Rich.  Full.  I could not have asked for more.

 

The editing begins now.  For those of you who know the work, you know this is where the magic of the studio takes over.  It will take the time it needs.  I am content to wait.

 

More to come.

 

David E Villareal, RPh, CCM

Founder, Acoustic Healing

 

🍸 www.acoustichealing.music

🌐 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com

💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819

🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing


 

I Brought My Girls With Me 

 

Last week I attended the Arts Council of Monterey County Grantee Reception.  I was awarded an Established Artist Grant — one of only two at this level given across the entire county.

 

I brought my girls with me.

 

Anne, my wife, has walked beside me through every chapter of this journey.  Not always visibly.  Not always loudly. But always there — understanding when I needed time, supporting when I needed someone to believe in this as much as I did.  She was there.

 

Nicolette was there too.  Becca’s daughter.  My granddaughter.  She stood with us at that reception, and I thought — she is part of this story whether she fully understands it yet or not.  Someday she will.

When they called my name, I felt the full weight of every step it took to get there.  The epiphany.  The years of work.  The musicians.  The studios.  The hospitals still ahead of us.

One hundred percent of this award goes directly toward our founding studio recording sessions — every dollar, straight into the work.  And that work is well underway.

 

There will be much more to share very soon.  Rest well, my friends.  💜

 

David E Villareal, RPh, CCM

🎸 www.acoustichealing.music

🌐 www.thetherapeuticguitarist.com

💼 www.linkedin.com/in/david-villareal-rph-ccm-35963819

🏢 www.linkedin.com/company/acoustic-healing