I started singing in the shower today. That used to be an everyday occurrence, but hasn't happened very often since I lost my first baby to miscarriage. It's a sign to me that joy is finally starting to come back into my life.
It started out with me missing my old music and voice classes at college. For nostalgia's sake, I started to do lip trills, a voice exercise I used to struggle with in early college, mostly to see if I could still do it. I could! From there it went to lip trill arpeggios, all the way down the scale. Then I started singing some of the arias I learned in voice class. Success waned there, as I first forgot words, then whole sections of melodies. No matter! I was on a roll at that point and nothing could stop me. I started making up my own words and even melodies to fill in the pieces, and next thing I knew, I was closing my eyes and losing myself in song.
I have always felt rather embarrassed to sing in what my family and friends call my "opera voice," be it in Campbell's music building or at home in the shower. Often at home, people would knock on the bathroom door and tell me to quiet down. I can't blame them. I can get pretty loud, and while I may think I sound good, I never can tell whether others truly think so. I guess a lot of people have an inferiority complex when it comes to singing, regardless of how much training/talent they have.
But today was different for me. I had no fear of anyone intruding on my shower time, and I let my voice free. As the rich melodies and challenging intervals poured forth from my stomach, lungs, and throat, I stopped concentrating on all those lessons my beloved professors bestowed upon me. Those techniques started coming naturally to me, and I heard what they had been trying to pull out of me for those four years of beautiful hell.
Now, I don't know if I was actually that good or not. I know for a fact my professors would have a had a lot more fine-tuning to do if I had been standing in Scott Concert Hall. But in that moment, I was not in the shower, or even back at college. I was on stage overlooking the opera houses in Vienna, New York, Sydney. Lush upholstery and sparkling chandelier light slowly filled with an adoring and mesmerized crowd. I sang for them.
It wasn't the fame and luxury that thrilled me. I was sharing my music with them. The crowd faded out and I was alone on an empty stage as the song came to a hushed close. I realized the people weren't important to me either. My heart was lost in the music. I reveled in it. The music was mine, and I was music's treasured possession.
When I opened my eyes, reality jolted me. I was genuinely surprised to find the shower curtain mere inches from my nose and the water turning cold enough to make me shiver slightly. As I reached for my towel, I realized I no longer harbored regret in choosing the life path I did over a career in music performance. The lesson my music professors spent years trying to teach me finally sank in. Pursuing music is not about the career, the recognition, in some cases, the money. It is about the music - the freeing, exhilarating, beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-satisfying song.
So thank you, Drs. M---, W---, T---, & Prof. B---. The arias may fade, but the muscles will never go out of practice again. You taught me more than techniques. You taught me attitude. You taught me heart. You taught me MUSIC.
It started out with me missing my old music and voice classes at college. For nostalgia's sake, I started to do lip trills, a voice exercise I used to struggle with in early college, mostly to see if I could still do it. I could! From there it went to lip trill arpeggios, all the way down the scale. Then I started singing some of the arias I learned in voice class. Success waned there, as I first forgot words, then whole sections of melodies. No matter! I was on a roll at that point and nothing could stop me. I started making up my own words and even melodies to fill in the pieces, and next thing I knew, I was closing my eyes and losing myself in song.
I have always felt rather embarrassed to sing in what my family and friends call my "opera voice," be it in Campbell's music building or at home in the shower. Often at home, people would knock on the bathroom door and tell me to quiet down. I can't blame them. I can get pretty loud, and while I may think I sound good, I never can tell whether others truly think so. I guess a lot of people have an inferiority complex when it comes to singing, regardless of how much training/talent they have.
But today was different for me. I had no fear of anyone intruding on my shower time, and I let my voice free. As the rich melodies and challenging intervals poured forth from my stomach, lungs, and throat, I stopped concentrating on all those lessons my beloved professors bestowed upon me. Those techniques started coming naturally to me, and I heard what they had been trying to pull out of me for those four years of beautiful hell.
Now, I don't know if I was actually that good or not. I know for a fact my professors would have a had a lot more fine-tuning to do if I had been standing in Scott Concert Hall. But in that moment, I was not in the shower, or even back at college. I was on stage overlooking the opera houses in Vienna, New York, Sydney. Lush upholstery and sparkling chandelier light slowly filled with an adoring and mesmerized crowd. I sang for them.
It wasn't the fame and luxury that thrilled me. I was sharing my music with them. The crowd faded out and I was alone on an empty stage as the song came to a hushed close. I realized the people weren't important to me either. My heart was lost in the music. I reveled in it. The music was mine, and I was music's treasured possession.
When I opened my eyes, reality jolted me. I was genuinely surprised to find the shower curtain mere inches from my nose and the water turning cold enough to make me shiver slightly. As I reached for my towel, I realized I no longer harbored regret in choosing the life path I did over a career in music performance. The lesson my music professors spent years trying to teach me finally sank in. Pursuing music is not about the career, the recognition, in some cases, the money. It is about the music - the freeing, exhilarating, beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-satisfying song.
So thank you, Drs. M---, W---, T---, & Prof. B---. The arias may fade, but the muscles will never go out of practice again. You taught me more than techniques. You taught me attitude. You taught me heart. You taught me MUSIC.
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