As I mentioned in Friday’s post, I got to hear the UK’s ambassador of singing — Howard Goodall — speak last week. He talked about how the Sing Up program in Britain began.

As part of the preparation to create and implement the Sing Up program, Goodall and his team (why did I want to type “merry band of men?” *smile*) visited many schools throughout the UK. What they found was that in schools where someone passionate about singing worked, singing happened. In the schools, where no such person worked, it didn’t.

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Goodall said, “The key issue of all was that general primary teachers, classroom teachers, felt very uncomfortable about leading singing and mostly did not want to.

The response that came back [when asked about singing] was seen through the prism of an adult’s version of singing, not a child’s version. The adults would say:

“I can’t sing.”
“I don’t sing in tune.”
“I’m embarassed.”
“I’m shy.”
“I don’t want to do this.”

“They were putting their fear, their worry about singing on to the children. Because if you’ve ever met a 6- or 7-year-old child … No 6- or 7-year-old is scared of singing. They all want to sing, it’s completely natural.

[The children's] attitude was that they wanted to sing, but the adults were getting in the way of that.”

So … what happens?

When and how do we learn that it’s not okay to sing anymore?

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Frequently when I talk to people about Songtaneous, they tell me that they can’t (or don’t) sing. (Even some of the professional singers I know shy away from spontaneous singing, i.e. vocal improvisation).

They tell me they feel silly singing or their voice doesn’t “sound right” (whatever “right” is). If we talk a little while longer, they almost always relate a story where someone (a friend, teacher, parent, sibling, spouse, partner) has told them — directly or indirectly — that they don’t sing well. And you can see that this story, though they laugh while telling it, is still painful. That the careless comment (by that friend, choir director, etc.) still stings.

I call this singing trauma.

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Part of the problem is that we confuse singing with performing in our society. (Watch an episode of American Idol and you’ll see what I mean.)

Now, I’m a singer and a performer.

Performers do what they do, in part, for the entertainment of others. They should expect some judging of their performances. (We don’t have to like it, but we should expect it. *smile*). Critiques and feedback are part of my job.

Singers, on the other hand, are people who sing. (As Alice Walker wrote in one of her short stories: the fellow that sings is the singer.)

And just about anybody can do that. (Even people who can’t hear sing.)

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Goodall spoke about how singing is woven throughout everyday life in Africa, reminding me of what both Ysaye Maria Barnwell and Bobby McFerrin had to say about the role of singing in other parts of the world. In Africa, Goodall notes, singing is a part of every activity.

In these communities, singing is pervasive and natural, not traumatic.

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Part of my mission is to end singing trauma.

As far as I’m concerned the pros of singing, so extremely outweigh the cons that everyone should get to share in the goodies.

As Goodall said, the list of benefits from singing is pretty impressive.

Singing:

• aids the memory
• helps the brain grow and helps the rewiring of different parts of the brain
• is good for your health,
• makes you feel good,
• helps you concentrate,
• makes you feel good about yourself and helps self-esteem
• brings communities together [emphasis mine *smile*]
  

Given all the benefits, you’d be crazy not to sing.

Believe me when I tell you (yes, you!) that you have something to contribute with your voice just the way it is.

My friend Sparky wrote this post about visual discomfort a few weeks ago. In it, he talks about how spacing things too tightly in a design makes us uncomfortable.

I suspect I was drawn to the post because of my publishing background. *smile* Besides, I had already been thinking about stuff and space due to my home and garden channel fix over the holidays. (I’m kind of a home and garden channel addict.) Anyhoo, I watched quite a few episodes of Clean House (one of those shows where they go through someone’s house and throw out all their stuff).

That got me thinking about my personal space (i.e. my home) and how comfortable I am in it.

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Some of us are happy to have everything we own fit into a box or two. We feel clearer and ready to take on what’s next when what we own is in order. When there’s space.

(I’d like to pretend I’m one of these people, but …) Some of us tend to fill every available nook and cranny with … er … stuff. For me, I’m always sure there will be use for those things in the future. But that means giving up space which can lead to discomfort. (We won’t go into what’s involved in trying to find a matching container and lid in my kitchen.)

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Then at this past Saturday’s Songtaneous, we talked about how music works. How it’s about creating tension and release, which is what creates the structure.

And guess what is one of the really effective ways of creating structure in music?

That’s right, space. (Sometimes known as silence.)

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Space in improv is just as important as personal or visual space. Improv discomfort comes when we try to cram too many notes or ideas into one moment. In effort to be brilliant, we just clutter up the place.

Often, one of the easiest ways to improve an improv is to add space.

It’s also the hardest thing (for me) to remember to try.

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I had to remember over the past few weeks, that I need space in my schedule, too. Because I do so many different kinds of work (at so many different places! *smile*), I had to learn to put space and time to transition in between jobs.

And, of course, there’s head space. Making time and space to be creative and thoughtful (or tired and cranky. *wink*)

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But, thanks to Sparky and HGTV, I’ve been working on letting stuff out of my life.

After all, if can I let go of these things I sort of want, I can make room for things I really want.

So I guess a big part of nourish is going to be space. Making space in my home, my head and my music for the things I really want.

A few weeks ago in this physiology of performance class I observe, the instructor (whose background is in sports medicine) asked us what we do to gear up for a performance. My friend M and I talked about how this was a little at odds with our experience. Our pre-performance routines are all about gearing down.

Finding ways to be calm and rested so we can be ready to house the energy that happens during performance.

When it comes to preparing for a performance, I realized I do have a routine, I know what works for me. But …

I haven’t quite figured out how to regain my rhythm after big events. Take the the last couple of weeks. I was riding high from the Dakota show and then …

It was over.

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And I felt clumsy and awkward, out of step.

Not quite able to pick up where I’d left off with the other projects and work in my life.

My mom kindly and gently reminded me that I was tired. (Thanks, Mom. *smile*) That this phenomenon happens (to me) after exciting new steps.

It’s the cool-down.
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Cooldown [kool-doun]
n.  A period following strenuous physical activity in which stretching or milder exercise is performed to allow the body gradually to return to normal.

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For me, the cooldown feels stagnant and awkward. Itchy. Restless. After running hard, it takes me a while to get used to walking again. (We’re talking hypothetical running here, but you get my point. *wink*)

My friend Judi says she sees it with her students and their recitals. They work and work to get their voices ready for the big event. But Judi claims that after the big event, it’s just as important to step the voice back down. Don’t just stop practicing 2 – 3 (or  5 – 6) hours a day cold turkey because the recital’s over. The voice doesn’t like it.

Neither do I apparently.
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Cycles and waves (and new steps!) are part of this new life I’m living. Yes, I had cycles at the magazine. Every two months, we put out an issue. But the parts of the process, from start to finish — and AFTER finish — became routine, the basic activities were the same and I found a rhythm.

With my singing life, I haven’t quite found the pocket. I’ve figured out the front end but haven’t quite worked out all the kinks of the cooldown.

Fortunately, I seem to be getting plenty of opportunities to practice. *smile*

What about you? How do you regroup?
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Reminder: Songtaneous is THIS Saturday at 2pm. Visit the Events page for more info.