The History of Sound

I can’t help my lofty titles. They bring me joy. Though this piece is really about the history of my sound—my body as sound--but, as always, it is an exploration to understand the world around. And it’s just like me to study something for two weeks, read forty pages from a book, and then decided I need to write a paper about it. I have my reasons, though—I want to document my learning and growing because this feels like a significant piece of understanding of my own constructed identity as well as others, and it ties so directly into my endless fascination with the body and breath. So there it is.

I read a question in a book recently (Full Voice, by Barbara McAfee), and it asked, “What is your story about your voice?” Sometimes I get sick of journal prompts, I must admit. I live my life in a world of journal prompts, or at least I did more so at one point (okay, I still do). Before I get into telling you my dirty secrets of sound, I want to tell you what is changing in me inside the realm of song and the voice and the history of us as a species.

A few things I’ve learned from my reading and studying with Barbara have really stuck out. One is that we have a vocal range profoundly greater than what is needed for everyday speech. This means that humans have been exploring sound for thousands of years before the development of language. (What exactly were our ancestors doing with all this capability??) Sound, and particularly speech, loosely convey to the listener: age, “gender,” class, race, stature, emotion, health, to some degree, psychology, and perhaps more. I have to admit that after nearly 7 years as a body worker I actually see and understand people significantly more now as I listen to how they speak. I have always considered myself someone who can read people fairly well, but this has taken me an impressive leap. Not only do I understand the physical structures of their bodies better, but I see their psychological and spiritual selves on a whole different plain now. It feels like a superpower that I just awakened to.

When I walk by someone at the park and they say, “hi” in a closed whisper it gives me one indication of who they are and their relationship to the world versus the person who says, “Hi!” with all the exuberance of someone who has never been hurt. You just feel those inflections radically differently. Maybe this is something most of y’all have been aware of but somehow this is new for me. Perhaps because I’m more akin to the former than the latter and the former’s stance (mine) is to not give too much, not open up too much, not take in too much. I’ve spend most of my life just trying to slide through random social interactions with as little disruption to my day as possible.

Something else that is really sinking in about sound is HoW mUcH noise we consume on a daily basis. The world used to be quiet. Gosh, I long for that. I feel assaulted by sound sometimes, even music. I spend a lot of time in silence when I’m alone because I think I just need to let all the vibrations of the world pass through me. Sometimes I’m too full and can’t take on more. Our capacity to comprehend this much sound is overwhelmed, I believe. We are burnt to pieces. Song and gospel used to mean something super duper important because it was preciously rare. We had to memorize what we heard because we would likely only hear it a couple of times in our whole life. Oral traditions have been passed down for 40,000 years in some instances, and people could recite long stories from memory, and those words also meant something to the holy sacred. I don’t feel like a person of excessive words but reading about this kind of ancient universal wisdom made me even more resolved to speak my words with intention. I’m beginning to more painfully notice the moments I utter surly epithets at drivers doing things I can’t possibly understand. I am started to think twice.

But here is the biggest learning of the moment (again from Barbara). The root word for voice, avocation, and vocation is vocare, which means to call, invoke, or name. We invoke our dreams and fears each time we speak internally or externally. This makes getting the to root of your stories ever more practical and necessary. To me, this story unrooting is the crux of healing work and change. Somewhere a story lives inside you that is directing the whole show. It might feel like a footnote buried under a tome of artistic genius, but the fine print changed the lighting schema in act one and then no one thought about its appropriateness ever again.

In any event, I am basking in the profundity of sound. So, to touch base with the aforementioned journal prompt, my voice story is as follows: I don’t deserve attention, so speak small. I am insecure, so mumble. I am awkward, so hide. I can’t sing, so don’t. I am a valley-girl, so ground. I’m afraid of intimacy, so make a joke. I’m not creative, so don’t create things. I don’t know what to say, so go home. I should be humble, so don’t speak to be heard. Only some people can hear me, so they will get praise for my ideas.

I’m sure there’s more.

Getting in touch with the story of my voice felt like stepping into a cavernous temple with every imaginable treasure on earth. Or to be more precise, it feels like finding God. Because it is. I now have such clarity of what blocks me from so many things and I see how the voice can call in the blessings of the universe. Our voice is one of our most profound tools as humans. Our ears are the first sense organ developed in the womb. Even those among us who do not possess the ability to hear sound can feel the texture of the vibrations and be changed by it. This is quite moving, literally. Sound moves us. They say sound created the universe. Sounds leaves a mark on the world around us. Sound speaks the world into existence because through our voice, even the sometimes quiet voice of our heart—which might not speak out loud—shares its secrets with the spirits and petitions for our wildest desires. (In case you were wondering, my wildest desire is only ever to be in touch with God and let that force move through me. I speak that into existence every single day).

On an even more fundamentally physical level, our voice transforms our bodies. One of the more significant relationships of voice and body is how we use our pelvis to generate sound. (Someday I will finally put together my.. long ass zine? short ass book?.. where I share my learnings about the breath. Maybe if you pressure me I will begin to motivate again..call, text, email, send a submission form on my website..I need help gaining traction again). The diaphragm is so popular because its big and cool and doesn’t challenge our social conventions to speak of it. But the second you say pelvis half of the room blushes. Our PLEVIS, or to be more precise, our PELVIC FLOOR is the other half of the diaphragm-breath paradigm. The pelvic floor moves in tandem with the diaphragm. This is so important for speech and singing—we literally speak from our pelvis.. or we do if we haven’t cut ourselves off from it. All this to say that when you sing you are actually strengthening the pelvic floor, thereby reinforcing and strengthening your relationship to earth and self and home.

Journal prompt: What happens when you stop connecting to your home, your taproot to the earth, your sacred space of creativity?

I have no real wrap up here. I have no place I am trying to lead you. I’m just sharing and exploring and letting you know I’m down to sing with you anytime, anywhere. This feels like the beginning of a huge journey and I am excited to document it here. Oh, and in case you didn’t catch on already, I have been literally terrified of my singing voice for eternity. When I was 16, I told myself I would quit smoking and take voice lessons. Two and a half decades later I am finally doing that. Barbara McAfee claims that to change your voice is to change your life; is to unlock parts of yourself; is to find hidden gifts and talents. And you know, I am inclined to believe this already. What magical wisdom have I been keeping inside here? What magical wisdom have you been keeping inside there? What magical wisdom can we create together?