Voice Lessons

...in other words, lessons learned from the voice

Hello friends! I hope the year has started well for you.

Before the very first post of this newsletter was published in early January 2021, the project had been in the works for a few months. During the planning, the Inner Critic (aka ‘Little Reena’) was also at work: “You won’t able to sustain the monthly practice for so long!” “Who would want to read your ramblings?” “You will make a fool of yourself!”

But another tiny, timid voice also whispered, “Go ahead and make a start; you can play it by the ear and change things as you go along.” Ever since, I have been both humbled and honoured when old friends and people I know a little - or not at all - read and comment on my content. I am grateful for and energised by every single one of your comments or likes – thank you! So here I am at the beginning of year 4 with post no 33.  

The last three posts of 2023 reflected my state of mind: the time was ripe for change, but I still dwelled on the past, one way or another. With the change of the year the mood has shifted: this is a time when the seeds planted earlier will sprout. In this post I look at an important pursuit I started last year, but have written about only once in an earlier post: singing.

One year ago this week, I joined a singing class in the hope that freeing up the physical voice might help with the writing. By the spring, singing began to look worth pursuing in itself. I explored the admission requirements of a Classical Singing Workshop which stated that participants should have “a solid foundation in vocal technique and musicianship”. I had neither, but I joined anyway, fully prepared to make a fool of myself (what? again?) It went better than I thought, and by the summer I was ready for deeper exploration.

A casual google search brought up Meta Powell, a voice teacher based a mere 7-minute drive from my house. A coincidence, or the Universe arranging the puzzle pieces in order? We clicked immediately and started working together. After sixteen sessions so far, voice lessons have also turned out to be life lessons.

Meta began from focusing on the breath, observing how well - or not so well - I breathe, and on working to develop optimal breath. In a recent exercise I explored the full capacity of my in-breath and a smooth out-breath. As in meditation practice, the focus on the breath brings about presence in the body.

She also helps me open up space, in more than one meanings of the word. I’ve been singing for decades purely for my own amusement so I’ve established an “opera voice approximation” (guffaw of recognition!), i.e. singing patterns ingrained by repetition, but without the solid technique needed for optimal resonance. Firstly, she encourages me to stand back and observe what I do in singing. Developing self-awareness is the first step towards change, in singing - as in everything else in life. Then she works by dismantling the ‘components’: breathing pattern; opening up space for resonance; resisting the urge to push or ‘drive’ the voice or, on the other extreme, to ‘press down’ on the voice as I go up and down in pitch. She focuses on removing one obstacle at a time (to avoid overwhelm) and works methodically before trying once more to put everything together.

Another insight I’ve gained from our lessons: I am prepared to do a good enough job, but won’t let myself excel. She often asks me, ‘why are you holding back?’ I am sensing an instinctive - or conditioned? - fear of how big my voice is, so I pull back almost unconsciously. She has asked me to meditate and journal on this fear, work that is ongoing.

I also often find that I put up mental blocks in what I’m doing. I tell myself “this is too hard, I can’t do it”; but then, when guided gently by her, I discover that I underestimated the extent of my abilities. Meta suggests that it all hinges upon the energy and confidence that I will do it. In others words, get out of your own way; open up and relax so that everything can flow.

Only two days ago, another important life lesson cropped up; it echoed an intimation I have had previously. “I can see a hesitation in you, and that you are looking at me for approval, and therefore you do not commit fully to what you are doing. Be your own master: apply what you know and go for it on your own energy and resources.” My take from this is: “Take feedback and guidance, but rely mostly on yourself,” in another application of the Stoic dichotomy of control.

At this stage, I am still working on forming an optimal resonant space and on negotiating the fine line between the two extremes of pushing or driving the voice on the one hand and of backing off, leaving the voice listless and unenergetic on the other. I need to strike the golden middle of channeling enough energy and direction to achieve unimpeded flow and, ultimately, effective expression and communication with an audience. Meta’s method embodies this approach: she is supportive and kind, but at the same time has a very clear view of the direction our work should take and the experience and determination to guide me on this path. (And I simply love her singing!)

The voice is the interface of body and soul: it is powered by the same breath from a newborn’s primal cry to the last blessed puff of air that will lift the veil between this world and whatever lies beyond. What I do in the in-between space is my call.

Have you had similar experiences where a seemingly unrelated task has given you insights into life? I’d love to hear your comments, and thank you for reading.

The rest of the strands…

Stoic practice

Every now and then, I open the Meditations at random, and take the extract as an augury. Four years ago this month I received a diagnosis of liver cirrhosis; here’s what cropped up for the occasion.

“It’s my bad luck that this has happened to me.”

No, you should rather say: “It is my good luck that, although this has happened to me, I can bear it without pain, neither crushed by the present, nor fearful of the future.”

Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, 4:49 (tr. Martin Hammond)

So at the end of it all, I hope that than the tiny voice won’t say “woe is me, how hard it all was” but rather, “well done, me!” for living through the difficulties one by one and for coming through in one piece and - possibly - a tiny bit wiser and more compassionate. I have now come to see the life moment of the diagnosis with gratitude.

Have you ever come to consider adversity as a blessing?

Memoir and Life Writing

For some time I have been away from the Memoir and Life Writing group at The London Writers Salon, but the group continues to meet up on the 1st and 3rd Thursday of each month, to get to know each other, talk about our work and share experiences and resources. We will continue to meet in the new year, and we’d love to see more writing friends join us. (I promise to join you, again, friends, from March!)

If you would like join hundreds of other writers writing in community, join the Writers’ Hour; one of the four daily sessions and one Saturday session is bound to fit in with your daily schedule. We can’t wait to welcome you and to write together!

The heart meets the (left) hand in an embrace of imperfection