Loving your voice is a choice.
Have you ever seen a little kid messing about in the sandbox? Running around a park? Exploring somewhere new? It’s incredible to watch because it’s like everything is one giant experiment…and it’s guided by pure instinct.
These gorgeous tiny people are inquisitive. They’re bold. They’re playful. They’re absorbed by the present moment. They’re fearless.
Until they grow up, that is. Until they become…us.
Your sandbox gets a whole lot bigger as you grow, yet it feels smaller. Because you start to move through the world with fear. Fear of judgement, fear of “getting it wrong”, fear of losing respect, fear of letting the real “you” shine through.
And you forget what it is to feel fearless and free.
So, I want to remind you (through song, of course!)
As you sing, so you live…
When you learn to sing freely and fearlessly, you don’t just use your voice differently, you begin to...
“I don’t want to die with music inside of me.”
I think that’s a feeling we’ve all been able to relate to at some time or other. Sure, you might want to replace the word “songs” with “poems”, “stories”, “words”, or even just “emotions” but the overwhelming feeling is the same — the desire for release, the need to be heard, the urge to connect your environment and your community to your inner world.
For the inimitable Carole Marie Downing, the realization that she had too many songs pent up inside her came as she awoke from anesthesia after hip surgery.
For you, it might have been triggered by your own personal struggles, or from the trauma of watching the events of the last year and a half unfold around you.
Whatever your personal reason, I want you to know that you’ve found the right place — that there is an outlet.
Introducing : Songs of Sustenance.
If you haven’t taken...
It’s bizarre: I’m doing work, important work, work I adore, and it’s all going really well. Like, pinch-my-arm levels of going well. Basically I’m living my dream.
Yet here I am, feeling like a mess, feeling lost, crying great big salty tears.
Maybe you can relate?
Maybe you’re crying your own professional tears? Maybe, on paper, life is absolutely wonderful, you’re exactly where you need to be, you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing, but it still feels overwhelming. Scary. Unknown.
I think feeling like that was common enough pre-pandemic. Now, it’s practically inevitable.
Because the last year has changed us.
We had to cancel plans, certainly. But we might have had to cancel (or at least postpone) hopes and dreams too. We’ve had to make immense cognitive shifts as well as emotional shifts. During a year when social justice and the rights of marginalized people have never been far from our minds, we may have changed how...