'Suspended By No String': Peter Himmelman talks his soul-searching journey

Peter Himmelman is one of those guys you can’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy over. He does so many things well.  

As a songwriter and performer, Himmelman’s been nominated for both a Grammy and an Emmy, and his riveting live performances and albums have been favorably compared to the cream of rock’s singer/songwriter era, from Elvis Costello and Bruce Springsteen to his own father-in-law, Bob Dylan.

As an author, he penned the successful 2016 book Let Me Out, subtitled Unlock Your Creative Mind and Bring Your Ideas To Life, which builds upon the lessons that Himmelman learned as a working musician for four decades, to help readers release their inner creativity. It led to an offshoot that found him teaching creative thinking, leadership skills, and deeper levels of communication to Fortune 500 corporations and leading business schools.

Now, at the age of 64, not only does he have a new album coming out soon, but the Shabbat and mitzvah-observant Himmelman has just released a new book, the quasi-memoir Suspended by No String: A Songwriter’s Reflections on Faith, Aliveness, and Wonder. “Memoir” is too facile a label to place on Himmelman’s soul-searching but accessible prose. Rather, it’s an often moving, soulful collection of spiritual essays rooted in Judaism, autobiographical snapshots from various stages of his life, and poetical reflections.

Prof. Judea Pearl, the father of slain American journalist Daniel Pearl, wrote on the book’s jacket that Suspended by No String “transforms, elevates, and cuts deeply into every mundane bastion of reality.” 

The Magazine caught up with Himmelman for an email interview recently from Seattle, where he and his wife were welcoming a new grandchild to their growing clan.

Does this book represent a lifetime of writing or a concerted two- or three-year effort?

It represents a 10-year jog and a two-year sprint. I’d been working on and off with this book since 2008. It started off as a memoir, and it morphed into a follow-up to my 2016 release, Let Me Out: Unlock Your Creative Mind and Bring Your Ideas to Life.

And from there, it became a sort of how-to book on spirituality. Still not satisfied, I sent one last piece called Suspended by No String – which ultimately became the book’s “title track”  – to a wonderful editor, in the hopes that we might shoehorn it into the iteration of the book I’d been working so hard on. She wrote me back and told me in her firm but gentle way that if I had “more material like this,” I should scrap what I’d written and begin again. 

After that, It felt as if I were writing songs. I wasn’t writing to teach anyone anything. I was writing what I hoped was beautiful and perhaps even important. There was an effortlessness to everything from that point on.

How did you decide on the style of combining the sometimes-autobiographical narrative with the more philosophical interludes?

I guess it’s just the way I think. Like everyone else, there are significant moments that we all go through. I recollected those moments many times throughout the book. And, in other instances, I addressed those same moments, but in an attempt to make sense of them.

How did your skills as a songwriter translate into writing prose? Did you have to unlearn anything?

For the longest time, I hadn’t realized how much writing I’d actually done as a songwriter. I’d never gone to college, I’d never taken a writing class as so many of my peers had. I guess I felt a little intimidated to write in a way that went beyond the clear structures that song craft requires. Like many things we are fearful of, jumping in and simply doing them can be revelatory. For me, it was a process of ‘unlearning’ my self-imposed limitations.

Is this a Jewish book in your eyes or do you think the ideas presented are universal?

For a minute, not more, I thought about including points of view from all faiths. Perhaps interviewing priests and imams to get their take on faith. 

But I’m not embarrassed to say I am interested in Jews, I am a lover of Jews and Jewish tradition, and I feel a deep familial connection with Jews. And so, the book has an unabashed Jewish viewpoint. However, I also believe that very Jewish viewpoint is perfectly universal.

At any rate, I’m not writing as a theologian. I’m writing as a person who has connected with all sorts of people and done all sorts of things, musically and otherwise. Only when I look back over the course my life has taken do I see how Judaism has informed all those experiences – and how those experiences have also informed my Judaism.

Was this the first time you’ve written about your sister’s and father’s deaths in such detail? Was it difficult to relive those painful scenes?

I think about those scenes almost every day. They have become indelibly etched in my memory. It wasn’t difficult. Doing what is absolutely necessary hardly ever is.  

Israel plays a role in the book... and has been part of your life since the first trip you wrote about in 1968. You write about it so matter-of-factly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be there. Do you feel that many American Jews no longer have that affinity in their kishkes?

I’ve found that among my Jewish friends whose mothers lit Shabbat candles – regularly or even occasionally – there seems to be a greater affinity towards Israel and the Jewish people as a whole. My feeling is that to create a true affinity, an unrelenting love, a person, especially a young person, needs to have a visceral, tangible, taste/touch/feel relationship with Judaism. Therein lies the power of the mitzvot. 

You write about your ever-changing relationship with God... Has it had to undergo some more revisions since Oct. 7?

In the stories in the book about my sister who died in a car accident in 2003, I’ve written about tragedy from a personal perspective. Those who have experienced tragedy, and so many in Israel have, know that not only their relationship with God changes, but their relationship to everything changes. Everything is upended, everything that made sense, that made life beautiful and pleasant – all of that goes out the window for a period of time. And for some, for the rest of their lives.

When my sister died, I was angry at God for several years. I mouthed my prayers, but there was bitterness in my mouth. One day, I don’t remember exactly how or when I started to reflect on God’s vulnerability. I thought: Had God, the creator of love, the creator of sorrow, not loved my sister infinitely, not felt an infinite and unimaginable degree of sorrow at the loss?

 We, who have experienced great loss ask: ‘Why?’ But that’s not what we want. We don’t want an answer – as if we could ever appreciate God’s answer. What we want is our love, our faith, and our trust restored. And mostly, to hold our loved ones again. That is what I want.

The story about how you wrote the song ‘Woman with the Strength of 10,000 Men’ is fascinating. I don’t think you wrote about the origins of any other songs, but I’m sure there must be some more. Are you saving that for volume two?

I have written about the origins of other songs. In this book, I chose to include my process of writing this particular song, which is about a woman I encountered who was enduring the excruciating challenge of advanced ALS, and the incredible strength that I saw in this woman, along with the shameful pettiness I found in myself as I struggled with things which were substantially less challenging. 

Another fascinating story was the one about the mandolinist in your band and the subject of objective morality. It kind of sets the cliché of a touring band’s debauchery on its ear. Have you had many of those late-night revelations with fellow musicians on tour?

I’ve never been too interested in small talk, or even talk about guitars and amplifiers!

I’m interested in how people think and how they perceive the world. As for debauchery, I’m pretty sure I’m one of the only rock musicians who’s never even tried coke! Please don’t tell anyone – it’s bad for my rock and roll credibility. 

Those late-night talks – especially among excellent musicians, who are reliably some of the most intelligent people on the planet – are something I’ve always gravitated toward. I’m a lover of questions for which there are no definite answers. 

What do you hope a reader will take away from the book?

I hope readers come away with the sense that time is short, that the love they have to share is needed now more than ever, and that the world, with all its complexity and beauty, is a miracle worth taking notice of at every moment. 

I know you have a new album also coming out soon, with some musicians from way in your past. How did that come about?

Yes. The album is called At the Emergence of Stars. The musicians on this record are not only some of the finest players in the world, but they also happen to be my best friends. For various reasons, we hadn’t recorded together since the release of my album Skin, in 1994.

I thought it would be fun to see where everyone was at after three decades. Let me tell you where they’re at: Each one is at the top of their game. They listen better, they are more sensitive to the needs of each song, and their love for playing together has never been more evident.

Many/most readers will know about your familial connections. Although the book is certainly not a comprehensive autobiography that would necessitate it, what went into your decision to not reference that in the book?

For nearly 40 years of putting out records, people have cajoled me to use my ‘familial’ connections to advance my career. I’ve come to the conclusion that massive fame is more interesting to people than any artistic offering can ever be.

Fame bestows a false sense of immortality. I’ve seen that people want to hover around famous people, not so much because they love them – which indeed they don’t and cannot, since they don’t know anything about them – but rather because, in some strange and primal way, they feel that being proximate to an assumed ‘power of fame’ will bestow upon them an aspect of immortality too. 

No one is actually conscious of this, but it’s there. I’ve seen it too many times. At any rate, I just didn’t see a place for it. 

• SUSPENDED BY NO STRING: A SONGWRITER’S REFLECTIONS ON FAITH, ALIVENESS, AND WONDER
• By Peter Himmelman   
• Regalo Press 
• 256 pages; $16