My relationship with my voice has long been a troubled one. There have been times when people have complimented me on my voice. There have been other times when I’ve been told that my voice is terrible.
I’ve spent a good amount of time since January, 2015 learning to give voice to my story through Toastmasters.
When I received feedback that my voice tended to be flat, I added vocal variety to my morning routine. I began playing with my voice by reading children’s books. Before long, I switched to reading poetry. I read everything from Shel Silverstein to Robert Frost. And from Mary Oliver to Maya Angelou.
In my practice of reading poetry, not only did I develop greater vocal variety, I also learned to really appreciate poetry.
Now, I love the sound of language.
But there are still moments when I struggle with letting my voice be heard.
That showed up in a couple ways this morning. We recently switched our WiFi connection. When I went to listen to a meditation, I found that it wasn’t connecting. The icon just spun with no audio.
I found I needed to update the password on my phone’s WiFi connection. To do that, I needed to ask my mother-in-law, who lives in a mother-in-law apartment in our house, to let me look at the router. Long story.
To do that, I needed to call her and have her let me into her apartment. I found myself being reluctant to do that. I didn’t want to ask for help, and I didn’t want to impose on her space. Yet, I needed to see the router, so I could get the password.
I took a deep breath and called her. It turned out to not be a big deal. Within a handful of minutes, I had the needed information.
I went back upstairs and joined with my son who was going to meditate with me. I opened up Insight Timer and went to the meditation. I had chosen to play Davin Young’s meditation, Sing With Joy.
He was guiding me not only in the meditation but finding joy in the sound of my voice.
As I hadn’t listened to the meditation before, I didn’t know what to expect. The title gave me pause. How comfortable would this be for me to do with my son? Would I feel foolish?
A few minutes into the meditation, and we are invited to give voice to sound. The background music for the meditation includes chanting.
I take another deep breath and begin to make sound. Not words. Just sound. I go through some vowel sounds: ahs and oohs. Davin invites us to play with the sounds we’re making.
When I began making sound, I noticed that my son, Benjamin, wasn’t making any sound. This was our first meditation we’d done together. Quite a way to break into our practice. Before long, though, we’re both making sounds. Beginning to have fun with the sounds we’re having.
A smile emerges from my lips.
Like discovering the beauty of poetry by reading out loud, my meditation this morning began to open up my appreciation for the sound of my own voice. The resonance. The vibration. The sound.
It was a lovely experience that I suspect will continue to unfold as I let the sound of my voice emerge over time.
At the end of the meditation, Davin closes with this encouragement, “My friend your voice is amazing. If you don’t believe it, trust me. There is nobody in this world whose voice sounds like yours. For that reason alone, you owe it to yourself to let your voice be heard.”
By discovering the richness of my voice, I am stepping into the possibility of making a bigger difference.
What is the relationship you have with your voice?