About Rebecca Sabine

Rebecca Sabine is a composer, recording artist,  mindfulness meditation guide, and violinist with the Las Vegas Philharmonic. She has played professionally for Andrea Bocelli, Lady Gaga, and many other superstars, past and present, including an 8-year residency at Caesar’s Palace with Celine Dion. As a composer and improviser, Rebecca draws inspiration from the imagery and symbolism of nature. In 2020, she received a Ford Musician Impact Fund award through the League of American Orchestras to support the outdoor filming of meditation videos for her Violin Sound Sanctuary ® youtube channel. Often collaborating with her son, composer/producer Aaron Ramsey, they have written and recorded several silent film scores released on DVD by Kino Lorber.  Their Sea of Light  album of meditation music is streaming on Pandora, Spotify, and the Insight Timer meditation app with over 26K listens.   A breast cancer survivor, she makes time to share her gifts of music with cancer support groups.  She is an e-campus student at Oregon State University, College of Liberal Arts.

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 Artist Statement

my music always begins in nature...

Pine Creek Canyon is a comforting place...

The trail begins by descending right away on an incline that leads deep into a wide valley. As if nestling down into Mother Earth, the giant red cliffs surrounding you like welcoming arms.


As I approach the canyon, I take in the sight of those fiery red pinnacles of stone that silhouette against the bright sky. If I did not have the gift of sight, how would I perceive this land, this environment? My ears would tell me. Like a pipe organ towering above an orchestra, the natural sounds of the canyon environment reverberate from the surrounding walls, creating an “organic” chamber of music immersing myself into the tones and timbres of the natural world, I can hear a bird that is far away as if it is sitting on my shoulder. The high whine of insects from afar. The buzzing of a fly darting around me, investigating the appearance of this new being entering the scene. The wind chitters through the winter’s dry leaves not yet fallen.

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It is early spring. I breathe in the fresh air of the canyon and the canyon breathes me. Textures abound. The sun illuminates the spikes of the cacti that I carefully avoid touching as I walk along the trail. The heat of the sun’s rays brings forth perspiration from my body which merges with into the air of the canyon. Perhaps I am giving a small gift of precious moisture to the buds of wildflowers that are about to blossom in the coming weeks. It is good to think that we humans can somehow leave our imprint in a beneficial way.
I find a nice, flat rock and sit down to rest. A tiny lizard has skittered up on the rock. For a brief moment, the lizard peers up at me. Slowly... I reach for my camera to get a picture, all the while attempting to send soothing thought waves to the lizard and hopefully invite this shy creature to stay for a photo.
My request was granted!

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Thinking about the relationship between humans and animals reminds me of a book that I read as a child, Kinship with All Life by J. Allen Boone. “We are members of a vast orchestra, in which each living instrument is essential to the complementary and harmonious playing of the whole world.” (Boone,1954)


Having played for many years as a professional violinist in symphony orchestras, I understand this analogy well. I have experienced the importance of playing a part, however small, that is absolutely essential to the whole. One must remain ever vigilant of the times when we need to blend with the surroundings, but also be cognizant of the times when we should step to the forefront and let our voices be heard.

As I sit upon this rock, so seemingly still, the planet is revolving...a fragile, sapphire ball that we call Earth, hanging in space. The sun begins to touch the tops of the red sandstone cliffs in the west. Although I did not make it all the way to the creek bed this time, it is time to return home. I begin to retrace my steps along the trail as the rocky soil crunches beneath my shoes. An elegant dragonfly loops in graceful flight before me, accompanying me on my way back to the parking lot. Suddenly, a new sound intrudes upon the environment as a tourist helicopter cuts through and whirrs from high above. At a distance, the helicopter and the dragonfly look remarkably similar. I can’t help wishing I could remain in the world of the canyon, imagining what it would be like to sightsee while riding on the back of a dragonfly.

Boone, Allen. Kinship with All Life (Harper and Row, 1954; HarperCollins, 1976, ISBN 0-06-060912-5)

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