The Power to Sing

There are very few things that come naturally to us – other things we have to learn, be taught and mature into as we grow. Of the precious few things that come naturally to us, singing is probably the earliest realized and, I feel, the most significant.

I’m sure God poured music into man for reasons bigger than a stage and bigger than people’s approval.

I have no first hand memory of my earliest trysts with song. However, as a mother, I happily noted how my little girl tried so hard to hold a tune even before she could pronounce syllables clearly. And if you’ve ever watched a baby attempt this, you would also have noted the sheer joy radiating off their tiny faces, the gay abandon and complete confidence as they slurred and gurgled through the melody – throwing in a few dis-coordinated dance moves as well. Music is in each and everyone of us.

I have been singing for as long as I can remember. And more often than not, my singing has had more to do with the joy it brings me rather than my prowess at it. From my earliest memory, singing has healed me, sustained me and taken the edge off several stressful situations. I remember my mother constantly singing around the house and inspiring me to join in. I remember being completely happy and generally excited. In retrospect, she filled the house with song and protected me from the unreal levels of stress and the terrible difficulties she was coping with at the time. Singing is really joyful. Singing is really contagious. And therefore, the joy it brings is really contagious.

Recently, following what is, by a million miles, the worst experience I have ever faced, a kind and elderly friend of mine gave me a copy of his favourite book and took the trouble to bookmark a particular chapter for me. This chapter talked about the power of singing. He wanted to make sure I didn’t lose my biggest weapon. I am so thankful for his gesture because it made me stop and realize the ripple effect that singing has on a person’s life.

This book referred to singing as a ‘Power’. Furthermore, it talked about ‘signing over your power’. How many of us sign over ‘our’ power to sing to someone else? Most of us unconsciously do this at a very early age when someone carelessly tells us we can’t hold a tune. Or sometimes we sign over our singing power to situations or circumstances.

I have heard friends of mine joke about why they don’t sing – ‘the neighbour’s dog howls when I sing’, ‘the police would arrest me if I sing’, ‘life got the better of me’. But I have also heard these same people unconsciously start to sing under their breath and then quickly fade off the moment they realize that someone maybe listening – they sign over their secret weapon.

To illustrate this I would like to share from my own life.

A few years ago, I was all set to perform at the Hard Rock Cafe along with my band. A couple of days before the show I came down with the flu. I quickly went onto anti-biotics and various other kinds of home remedies to help me recover enough to keep my singing commitment – which I did. However, what I did not anticipate was the behaviour of the infamously ‘professional’ sound guy. This particular person owned a lot of performance equipment and had, thereby, monopolized the sound market in our city. As if this wasn’t enough, he constantly feasted on finding ways to talk down and break the confidence of the artists he worked with.

It is common knowledge that the use of reverb (a shadowy type of sound effect) is key to mixing a good vocal, more so when the said vocalist is ill and needs that little extra lift. This sound guy chose to record my singing ‘dry’ i.e., without reverb. He then proceeded to play it back for me and a lot of other common acquaintances. I had never ever heard myself sound so bad. For some strange reason, despite all my prior singing success, it broke me. I suddenly felt that I wasn’t good enough. I vowed never to sing again and I kept this vow for almost 2 years. Here is the important part, it slowly turned me into an unhappy person. I lost my confidence, I lost my sense of humour, I had zero tolerance for stress, I felt dejected – I had signed over my secret weapon to someone else without even recognizing it.

I don’t exactly recall what prompted me to sing again but what I can vouch for is the complete turn around that occurred when I did. I have never stopped singing since. I am so aware that I sing because singing is good medicine. In my case, this medicine works best when I sing praises to my Creator. I sing to Him and He revives me.

Somewhere during my growing up years, my mother stopped singing. I have often heard her brood over how she used to sing and how she suddenly stopped. After my own experiences, I wonder whether we stop singing because of an unbearable sadness or whether the sadness becomes unbearable because we stop singing.

Singing releases ‘feel good’ hormones called Endorphins which drastically cut down stress levels as a direct result. You can read countless articles online which will scientifically illustrate the numerous benefits of singing – physical, emotional and social. It is important to remind ourselves that we sing for our own benefit. What others think of it is their problem. Yes, there is a difference between just singing and skilled singing. Public singing is a choice but it doesn’t take away from the fact that the freedom to sing breaks down the invisible prison that life is constantly attempting to build around us. Let’s sing in our homes. Let’s sing loudly in the shower. I’m sure that if our shower walls could complain, they would complain more about the scenery rather than the soundtrack.

Sing, sing and sing some more. Let’s ‘own’ our ‘power’.

Sometimes those around us don’t quite understand why we do the things we do. But if these little things, without hurting someone else/ourselves, make us happier people with more fight, we must reserve the right to choose. With this in mind, I will leave you with a small joke.

A young man asked an elderly man, Jim, what retired people do to make their days interesting. Jim responded, “Well, for example, the other day the wife and I went into town and went into a shop. We were only in there for about 5 minutes, when we came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. We went up to him and I said, ‘Come on man, how about giving a senior citizen a break?’. He ignored us and continued writing the ticket. I called him a dummy. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn out tyres. So Mary called him a moron. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket.
This went on for about 20 minutes. The more we abused him, the more tickets he wrote. Just then our bus arrived. We laughed as we watched him sheepishly remove all the tickets as our bus pulled away!”.