November 2010
Thoughts about Voice
Let me wander where ever I
go Ever I go singing, singing, Always singing
Even when I pass by
unnoticed Thoughts of good fortune Enter your mind
Oh my beautiful, soulful
singing Like praying to God Like bringing good fortune
Latvian folksong
Dear
Friends,
About two years ago, I lost my voice. After several
months of not singing out loud, when a song suggested itself to me at a campfire and I tried to give it voice, all
that came out of my mouth through my vocal chords was some strange croaking. I have not been able to sing since
that time.
All throughout my childhood, I sang during many of my
wakeful hours. Singing was a wonderful flow of expressive energy through me. I do not remember time before singing
every evening before bed, standing around the piano with my father playing and singing with us children. I sang at
every opportunity available to me, joined every choir possible. I sang while walking, driving, playing, and being
by myself.
When I left my childhood family home, to find my own
life, I learned to play guitar to accompany my singing and wrote my own songs. When I had babies, I soothed all
their insatiable complaints by singing to them. As they grew, I sang all the popular children's songs with
them.
When they no longer needed my singing, I sang for
myself, learning to play the tunes on keyboard to accompany my voice. That is: until, after my divorce, I moved
into an apartment with paper thin walls and could not sing out loud without disturbing the other
tenants.
At the time I discovered that my voice was gone, there
was so much that was different and unfamiliar in my life, some of it very wonderful, that I simply accepted not
having a voice and did not try to sing.
I wondered about it periodically, mostly understanding
that this was part of the process of the shifting, recreating energies of my life, and I considered the gift of
voicelessness.
I listened more, and more profoundly. I let bird calls,
(crow, raven, loon, owl, chickadee, robin, sparrow, hawk, pigeon, etc) resonate in my brain. What an amazing cure
for bad mood or depression! (What an effective noise screen against city and other human motor generated
noises.)
I listened to Wind, what a vocabulary of sound that
is!
I listened to Water: of the rain and lakes and ocean
waves swelling onto sand and rocks, of ice melting, dripping, streams gurgling.
I listened to Earth, to the snorting of deer and the
“hmumumum” of porcupine as it nosed its way across the lawn in the middle of the night.
I listened to Fire crackling and singing as it released
the energy of the sun from the wood, that had absorbed it for many years, into the warmth and light that flooded
the night for our enjoyment.
And I listened to the profound silence of my own
voicelessness.
Now: the challenge of the possibility of recreating my
voice is just newly arrived for me. So, while it has given me some insights about “losing my voice”, I'm not yet
sure about what it is that came to me out of the Void, what the recombobulation is all about.
It seems to me, that part of my instructions in the
writing course I took contained advice to end chapters on a cliff-hanger. :)
So, there it is: will my voice come back? What is voice
all about? Surely it's not only about making noise :) What is the essence of what I have to say?
Happy contemplations!
Blessings,
Rita.
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