Julie was born into a family of creative artists. Deeply inspired by her parents’ passion for human rights, peace and justice for all, Julie believed she could save the world through music. Midway into her journey, all she’d loved, all she’d worked for, was ripped away. This is the magnificently woven story of how her muse and her sixth sense saved her soul.
What does it take to live a creative life of conscience? To transition from a loving cocoon out into a harsh world that seeks the rational above fantasy, snubs creativity, and seeks money above all else? Julie was gifted a loving, close-knit artistic family of activists. Her education was supported, and her spirit, nurtured. But Julie’s life path roared into the dark depths, forcing her to strip away all illusions about marriage, success, comfort and security. Only one pawn in a failing planet, determined to make a difference, she fought to keep her muse alive as she rode hurdle after hurdle into a new life.
Wow! What a fascinating story. As suspenseful as any novel.
— Christine Robbins, Corvallis, Oregon
What do the words empathic, visionary, and creative have in common? Author Julie Lyonn Lieberman. The Roaring Brook Fiddler is a unique, compelling, and deeply touching story of the development of a truly creative spirit. For anyone living the creative life, or exploring sensitivities beyond the norm, this book is for you!
— Sean Murphy, Hemingway Award-winning author of One Bird, One Stone and The Time of New Weather
Julie Lieberman is a natural writer. Her book recounts her adventures as a formal classical musician who forged new paths as a pioneering improviser and role model for a new generation to dare to be creative, What she says rings true, speaks from the heart and invites the reader into her world to hear you tell her story.
— David Amram, Composer-conductor-Multi-instrumentalist
Julie Lyonn Lieberman’s book is riveting… an amazing tale. Man oh man can she tell a story and keep the reader’s attention glued to the page! I closed the cover with tears streaming down my face.
— Pamela Spiro Wagner, author of We Mad Climb Shaky Ladders (CavanKerry Press, 2009) and Divided Minds (St. Martin’s Press, 2005)
This is a wonderful, courageous, sad and beautiful book, one that will leave the reader richer. It will be like a silver sword for them—something that makes them feel that if the author could have survived all this and decided to thrive, so can they.
— Anne Weiss, poet and songwriter
As a child, I didn’t understand why I cried tears for loved ones when they couldn’t, how I received information from those around me through a nameless channel of awareness, or why I was happiest when hidden from the outside world. Though my parents were loving, communicative, and supportive, it didn’t take long to realize they wouldn’t understand an aspect of their daughter even I had no words for. I shunned an important part of myself for decades including with people who would have understood or might have provided language for the information I was able to pick up through perceptive abilities that vacillated between slippery, mysterious terrain and moments of extreme, but surprising clarity. But none of this was conscious.
The day I promised my mother I’d finish writing her memoir in 2006, she was lying in a Hospice bed, had said her goodbyes, but was still lingering. I knew why she couldn’t yet pass. She’d worked on her book for six years—from the day my father died until the moment I made a heartfelt promise to finish and publish her work. A look of relief had spread across her face. She started her fast the next morning and, three days later, punched her way out of a used-up body to make her way into the sixth ray. But I had no idea that this promise would lead me to expose my intuitive side, something I’d kept almost entirely secret my entire life for fear of ridicule or expectation.
The energetic umbilical cord between my mother and myself had always been a creative gravy train. She was deeply linked to my muse and nurtured my creative spirit. We became more than mother and daughter. We were friends and creative allies, cheering one another forward through demanding projects, roadblocks, and challenging professional relationships. Yet, I’d never tried to share this important aspect of myself. I’m a published author of a dozen books, twenty-five string orchestra scores, two National Public radio series, and countless seminars for bowed string players. I shouldn’t have been surprised that her parting gift—the pact to finish her book—was to become the deepest creative challenge of my life, and as such, would push my skills and relationship with myself to a new level.
Perhaps I should thank the literary agents I approached for introducing me to the buried half of myself as well. The response was unanimous: “It’s beautifully written, but the author isn’t alive to promote this book, so we can’t possibly consider representing it.”
I proceeded to interweave her writing with my own until, at last, we merged into one voice, one story, and a brand-new book. Fourteen years later, after thousands of drafts and dozens of professional edits, the book has gone to the printer as my memoir … with everything my mother wanted to communicate to her potential readers. Her title, Creative Life Even Under a Cloud, morphed into The Roaring Brook Fiddler: Creative Life on the Wings of an Empath. But with one major difference: “Julie-with-Whiskers.”