Foreword

This book makes a large claim. It declares that the quality and meaning of our lives may be dictated by our relationship with our voice. I always thought the voice was God-given. Some can sing; most cannot. Some people are soft-spoken; others can be heard above the crowd. Some are born to speak; others are born to listen. As I get older, my voice gets quieter and I keep asking others to speak more loudly.

This book also says that to find our voice is not about our willingness or ability to find the right words. It is not about speaking even if not spoken to. It is not about being introverted or extroverted. Those frameworks are just stories. When Barbara writes about finding our voice, she means it in the literal sense: the resonance, texture, and subtlety of the sounds that come out of our mouths.

This means that my willingness to inhabit my voice is a major determinant of a fully lived life. This gives new meaning to the phrase “living out loud.” I thought living out loud meant claiming your freedom, converting fate into destiny, fully occupying the space the world has handed you. I can now see that living out loud has to include finding and shaping the sound of your voice, not just the willingness to be noticed and make a splash.

What would it mean if we believed that the quality of our voice was a key to personal power, presence, and self-discovery? That the sound of our voice is critical to support our intentions, aspirations, and relationships? That leadership and even love may have as much to do with sound as with substance?

This book opens a new door for most of us. Barbara creates an opening for the insight that the quality and consciousness of how we know our voice, play with our voice, respect our voice, and listen to our voice are key to fully inhabiting our bodies and experience. The voice affects our capacity to find meaning, relatedness, and impact.

This idea should not be that surprising. Many spiritual traditions recognize the importance of voice. Every religion has some form of singing, chanting, or humming as part of its ritual. Some traditions take on silence as a spiritual practice. This is another affirmation of the importance of voice. It is so important that it must be avoided to bring the mind and heart to their fullest potential.

This brings us to the question of why we have been so resigned about our voice. We have given some attention to voice in the arena of public speaking. Many programs are available to help us overcome fear and learn to speak with some confidence.

Aside from the moments of public speaking, our resigned relationship to our voice may have something to do with our relationship to singing. Most of us were told early in the game that we couldn’t carry a tune—if not in school, then by family and friends. We have decided to believe this. We might sing “Happy Birthday” or sing when others are singing or when no one is listening, but often we relegate singing to those who have the gift. In this way we have specialized singing and outsourced it to professionals or talented amateurs. We relegate ourselves to the role of listeners.

The effect is we become passive consumers of music, especially in the United States. Go to Europe or Africa and it seems most people will lift their voices with the thinnest of invitations. But in the United States we have lost touch with our own song and have instead plugged into our headphones and stereos to listen to the voices of others.

It is significant that Barbara takes us on in this complex realm of singing. She goes to the heart of the matter where we are anxious and doubtful. She uses this special place that we have ignored to move us into our capacity to live more fully.

The genius of this approach is that it is a visceral, kinesthetic, physical methodology. Barbara demonstrates that if we have the courage to begin with our sounds and singing, more of ourselves will be enlivened. We engage our breath in a new way. Our movement, stance, and posture all can be rediscovered. This approach directly uncovers deeper levels of emotion and self-expression. Confronting our connection to voice and song opens all of these channels. It becomes a means for us to embody fully our presence on the earth.

I must admit some insider information here. Until recently I refused every invitation to sing. I have found my voice in speaking, but singing appeared only in nightmares: the curtain opens and there I am on stage without a clue about the song or how I got into this mess. The nightmare became real a few years ago in Northern Ireland. The Irish were singing solos in the pub when a good friend and lovely woman invited me to come up and sing with her. I, of course, refused, claiming I had a bad knee (a lie), I had a bad cold (a lie), others were more deserving (a lie), the hour was late and I had to get up in the morning and milk the cows (a lie). She gave up and the evening went on.

For months I was bothered by my cowardice. I had wanted to sing like the others, had the perfect invitation, and was among friends. It was late enough in the evening that no one was listening anyway. I had been friends with Barbara for some time, so the next time I saw her I asked her to give me a voice lesson. It was pure pleasure. It took me about two minutes to realize that the issue wasn’t my singing voice at all. What shifted was my story about my singing. I still didn’t sing that well, but I understood how my doubts about my voice and my unwillingness to be more visible in the world were just bad habits.

Happy ending. The following year I was in Northern Ireland again at another after-dinner party. There was singing, and the same friend who asked me the year before invited me again. I stood with her, confessed publicly to my sins of the previous year, and sang with her. It did not sound that good, but something had shifted in me—something much more significant than singing. Thank you, Barbara.

So enjoy this book. Appreciate the wisdom of the writer and the proof of the exercises. If we all decided to find our voice in this way, our lives would be more expressed and our communities would be stronger.

PETER BLOCK