Sometimes I get choked up singing at church. It’s not the words, and it’s not the music per se.
It’s hearing my own voice.
Hearing my voice as one thread in a rope of sound the people all around me are spinning up to the sky. I have a moment of recognition of how precious and fragile it is to have a voice — an actual, physical voice — and I get a catch in my throat.
I’ve had this feeling outside of church, but it was also in a context of sacred community. When I was taking Polynesian dance at a local halau a dozen or so years ago, we learned a traditional mele (chant) to open our annual ho’ike performance. Our teachers made great effort to honor the traditions of the cultures whose dances we were learning, and our big annual show was much more than a performance — it felt like an offering.
The first time I heard my voice chanting with the other women in my class, I felt the same feeling of awe, humility, and privilege at being able to join my voice with theirs, and I got choked up.
There is something about singing, particularly in community, that touches a nerve. When I get emotional at these times it is usually when I am also at a vulnerable place in my life, and I think that’s no coincidence.
Since mid-December I’ve been immersed in a giant project of helping my dad move from a house in Las Vegas to a senior apartment near where I live in California (which is why you haven’t heard from me since January).
This has involved six trips to Vegas over three months, countless details to coordinate and keep track of, and a lot of physical and emotional energy. Dad is now settled into his new place, but it’s been a lot.
At times I have been so wrung out, so on edge, so depleted (particularly on the days I’ve driven back from Vegas), that all I want to do is fall into bed and not get up until double-digit hours have passed. Yet insomnia has persistently mocked me as I lie awake wired with nervous energy. But there was one saving grace I had at my disposal.
In the Lutheran church I attend, the Lenten season right before Easter means a practice of meeting on Wednesday evenings for a brief sung service called Holden Evening Prayer before we break for potluck. Instead of trying to describe it, I’ll just link you to this video.
Every week that I could make it this year, I made sure to go. I found myself sinking into the familiar songs, bathed in the sounds of others’ voices around me, and I felt relief. I also started thinking about what was happening inside my body while singing as well as outside.
And I remembered an insight from an unusual source.
A few months ago my husband and I watched a very silly Swedish movie called The Year I Started Masturbating. An upper-middle class woman named Hannah is having a life crisis, and in one scene impulsively goes with a guy she meets in an elevator to his singing class, taught by a hippy-dippy older woman who has all the students sitting on pillows in a circle on the floor.
The teacher then singles out Hannah for a demonstration, making her stand up while she puts her hands over Hannah’s sacrum and lower abdomen saying, “Our voice reflects our inner power — its vibrations can heal lots of things, like negative energy and physical problems. The vagus nerve — one of our most important internal organs — is stimulated by singing. Go ahead. Sing a song. Sing from the womb.”
Hannah reluctantly starts, and what could have been a revelatory moment is ruined when the teacher squeezes her abdomen, causing her to make a wheezing sound. Hannah quickly squirms away to bolt out of the class.
I probably would have bolted too after that, but the line about the vagus nerve stuck with me.
You know, I thought, it’s probably true.
It makes sense that singing would vibrate the vagus nerve, which, while not an internal organ, does supply parasympathetic fibers (that deliver “rest and digest” energy) to all the organs from the neck down to the colon, as well as controls the muscles of the larynx1.
Maybe that’s why singing, when you really get going, literally feels so good. It really does touch a nerve. And singing in a group amplifies the effect, making you feel both good and powerful.
This also explains why White colonizer culture often outlawed indigenous and enslaved populations from singing in their native tongues as a way to undercut their cultures and keep them controlled.
When you can’t sing, you don’t have a voice.
It’s too bad there are so few opportunities in American culture to sing communally. Church is one of the few places left, and even there I often notice other congregants not singing, maybe because they feel self-conscious. Or maybe they’ve been shamed for their singing voice. A lot of us have voice trauma from shaming at a very young age. Our voices are so much part of our identity that this shaming hunkers down deep.
Singing is our birthright
But singing is our birthright. Every culture sings, and we should not be made to feel shamed or self-conscious about something so fundamentally human.
Which is where I got the idea to make the Be Your Own Hero Sing-Along Playlist. It’s a collection of nearly an hour of songs I love singing.
There are joyful songs, sad songs, joyful songs about being sad, wistful songs, sorta silly songs, and whatever “A Whiter Shade of Pale” is. I fine-tuned it over the past weeks to make sure every selection was one I loved singing along with (usually while cleaning or driving) and it felt good.
Caveat emptor: this is my personal taste, and thus leans heavy on White ladies and ‘80s music because that’s how I roll.
If I’ve done the settings right, the Be Your Own Hero Sing-along playlist should be open for the next seven days for you, dear readers, to add your own selections. What songs can you just not resist singing along to? Share them over the next week and in the next newsletter I’ll post an update.
You may also get inspired to make your own playlist of sing-along favorites for when you just need to belt one out. Or a maybe a bunch more than just one. Then sing! It’s your birthright. And if singing where someone might hear is too scary, the dashboard makes a great audience.
If you do make your own list, please post a link or just list your faves in the comments.
What I’m reading
Speaking of voice, one of my latest reads is an essay collection with tons of voice of the figurative kind. Holy American Burnout2 is the first book by Sean Enfield, but I hope it’s not the last. He weaves stories of being a first-year teacher in a private, predominantly Muslim middle school in Texas with his own experiences growing up in Texas as a mixed-race student and often the only person of color in his class. But do not expect this to be anything like your typical first-year teacher story.
From trying to explain to his students why the death of Prince is so devastating (“Prince of what?” one asks him), to a “camping” overnight at a nearby urban lake, to trying to tackle Hamlet during the 2016 presidential race — during which his students become increasingly alarmed at Trump’s Muslim ban rhetoric — Enfield as a character always seems one step behind. Yet Enfield the essayist is three steps ahead, pulling threads of cultural critique and wry observations into his lived experience to create a satisfying and unique voice. Pick this one up now — you can thank me later.
So there you have it, my friends. Do you agree that singing is our birthright? Do you sing along with your favorite songs, or enjoy belting out a hymn in church? How does it make you feel? When and where do you feel safe to sing? Have you ever been voice-shamed? I’d love to know your experiences. Reply to this email or leave a comment below. All respectful discussion is welcome.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vagus_nerve
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Louise: I was at Westmont recently for an Encinitas Chamber event and I met your father. He was so proud to say that you were his daughter. We had a nice, but short, chat about life and then he was off. The people there say that he is adjusting well to his new life. I hope that is true for him. And "yes" to singing!A great resource for we humans.
Peace, Pastor Bill
wow Louise this is a wonderful post! I can hear your voice, sing on sister!