Finding Your Voice

Taking A Permanent Vacation

2012-02-02T07:39:00.000-05:00

There is nothing like a vacation. The to-do lists go away, the nagging "should" voices quiet, and time seems to slow down. Spontaneous walks and naps are welcomed rather than resisted. A latte at a café is a sensory experience to remember, rather than a hurried and even guilty pleasure.

Writing vacations are especially fun for me. Recently, my friend Vivian and I traveled to her house in upstate New York... for five glorious days we lounged on the couch and read, brainstormed about ideas in front of the fire and sipped warm, comforting teas while pecking away at our laptops. When the desire for a break came on, without hesitation we'd drop everything and take a walk in the snow, the fresh air and glorious views refreshing every aspect of ourselves.

Why does a day filled with the same activities seem entirely different when I'm back at home? I feel guilty for reading when I "should" be writing. I berate myself as unfocused when running out for a coffee. When I do allow myself to take a walk, I spend the time wondering how much I have or will accomplish that day.

It's never enough, by the way. What's more, it's always less than what I achieve when I'm on vacation.

What's going on here?

As opposite as our "real" and "holiday" lives may seem, there is really only one thing that differentiates them. It's not location; many "upstaters" flock to the city for a getaway. Nor is it circumstantial; dissatisfied with our "real lives" as we may be, our attitudes and perspectives travel with us and in time reveal themselves, even in the most ideal of locations.

What differentiates the two is perspective.

When we're at home, we're surrounded by a set of expectations -- our own and those of other people -- that we have taken on in the interest of being successful. And we imagine that rigid determination and dogged persistence will somehow create the conditions necessary for this success, productivity and even creativity to unfold.

We think by working harder -- and often, being harder on ourselves -- that somehow more will get done.

What we miss in this view is that the time, energy and attention required to create and maintain such vigilance takes away from the ability to actually accomplish anything. To say nothing of the additional stress that reduces, rather than rejuvenates, the mind's ability to imagine and create.

A vacation, therefore, is far more than an occasional respite from the real world. It is a state of mind that is always available; an invitation to escape self-criticism and expectation and surrender into the present moment. And then this one. And then this one.

Counterintuitive as it might seem, this state is the precise environment that breeds productivity, as well as pleasure, peace and playfulness. If you want all four, whether working or playing, it's time to consider a permanent trip...

Originally published in The Huffington Post

Overcoming Paralysis by Analysis

2011-12-20T16:58:00.002-05:00

For me, the answers to life's big questions start with "why?"

Why does this piece of music move me so? Why do I feel frustration around that area? Why do I resist X or embrace Y?

A number of years back, I applied "why" to my consumption of most media-based information. Finding no satisfying answer, I turned it off.

To this day, save for an occasional 'big check in', I watch very little television, read no magazines and glance at the news headlines only when in line at Starbucks.

Before you shout heresy, try taking yourself out of the media game for a while and see upon your return if you've actually missed anything.

Weeks, months, and- as I've found- even years later, people are by and large still talking about the same things. The names and details may have changed, but in all of it- politics, world events, Hollywood- the themes remain the same.

Why then bother filling up your head, and time, with information that's not really moving forward?

More importantly, unless you're a journalist or paparazzi, it's likely not moving you forward either.

There are a limited number of hours in a day. If you're spending four of them taking in information that's not directly impacting your results, you're wasting your time.

To say nothing of the effects of consumption; stress, overwhelm and a sense of powerlessness are both a reflection and result of the majority of today's content, draining additional productivity.

So why do we do it?

Certainly the cultural idea that we should be paying attention plays a role. But there's something more personal- and personally debilitating- going on.

We've been conditioned to believe that knowledge is the key to progress and success. The more we have of it, the better we are. And this is true.

But knowledge and information are two very different things.

Information is what makes us sound better at dinner parties. Knowledge is information- and inspiration- that is actionable.

For those of us afraid of the latter, information becomes an attractive alternative. We're busy. We're gathering data. We hide behind the excuse of information, claiming that we need more of it to be better equipped to act.

And then, when we're better equipped to act, we need more information to confirm our intentions.

It's a vicious cycle that can only be broken by looking critically at the "why" of your own consumption.

The next time you're browsing the internet- particularly your industry's websites and blogs- ask whether you're doing so to inspire and empower yourself to achieve your goals or to avoid doing what you've said you'd do.

Is it to support you in stepping into your own power, or to resist it?

Is it because you have a real need for the content, or simply because a new message is staring back at you from your inbox?

Acknowledging that we- rather than a lack of information- are generally the largest obstacle to action is the first step in becoming clear on exactly what and how much information we really do need.

Remember: ideas in = ideas out. Unless you're planning to literally become the next so and so, you need to get your own. And that only comes by turning it all off... letting it get good and silent so that you can hear the voice- the knowledge and inspiration- from within.

The Gift of Being Present

2011-11-02T10:11:00.002-04:00

Every once in a while, I feel the need to shake things up. Even the best of routines get stagnant after a time and benefit from a bit of movement.

This has certainly been the case in my working environment. Sometimes writing with a view is inspiring, other times it's a distraction. The same goes for background music, as well as sitting alone at my desk versus around others at my favorite coffee shop.

Having recently spent far too much time gazing out the window in my office, last week I repositioned my desk against the far wall in the hopes of also changing my mental scenery. It worked, with the sole downside being the office phone's inability to reach across the room. While not a deal breaker, it certainly was an inconvenience given its constant usage.

It turned out to be the best thing that could have happened.

In the desk's original place now sits a solitary, comfortable chair. There's no way to access the desktop computer while talking on the phone, no internet to browse. No drafts to mark up, no bills to pay.

Just the phone. And a chair.

What at first appeared as an obstacle to productivity has revealed itself to be a facilitator of true connection. Conversations, both professional and personal, have literally transformed now that each has my full and undivided attention. I've been- for the first time in a long time, it seems- really listening and hearing what others have to say. The intention was always there, yet so were other tasks and distractions.

What's more, I now make my way to the phone- both to make and receive calls- only when I'm ready, willing, and really able to be present. Which means I'm not only hearing those on the other end of the line. I want to hear them.

In a world where more- rather than less- is more, the rearranging of my office has been a humbling and important reminder that sometimes the 'old ways of doing things' are still the best. Indeed, technology can facilitate and increase our ability to connect with one another, but not the nature of how we do so. That's still up to us.

The next time you're on a call, wherever you are, take a moment to stop or put down what you're doing and give your attention wholly to the person on the other end of the line. Rearrange your priorities to really be present with the people in your life, whether in person or on the phone. It- and they- are worth it.

Resistance is Futile

2011-09-15T10:33:00.000-04:00

I was on a walk the other morning, thinking long and hard, again, about a project I'd been putting off. Following a first mile dedicated to denouncing and dismissing it, I moved onto mile two and the many good reasons I had for not working on it any longer. By mile three, I was worked up into a sweat, as well as a lather.

Yet, no amount of denouncing, reasoning or walking got me beyond the heaviness that continued to set in. Try as I might, the more I pushed against the project, the more it stayed with me; its grip, as well as the knot between my shoulder blades, tightening.

Then something happened. Exhausted from it all, I stopped thinking and reasoning and made a choice to just get the project done. And in that moment, the whole world changed. I felt light and energized. My shoulders released.

It's tempting to dismiss the notion that a simple thought can cause such a 180 degree shift ... tempting, and wise. For the emergence of a new thought didn't cause the change; letting go of something did.

That something is called resistance.

It's incredible how such an intangible thing can have so very real an impact. It's not out there in the world, like a boulder blocking our path. It's not an appointment we can't reschedule, or a business trip we have to take.

Yet, we're so used to living inside our own heads that we don't realize that a whole lot of what's going on "up there" isn't real, resistance included.

Out there, the reality is that it usually takes more time and energy to come up with reasons and excuses to not do something than to simply do it. To round out the absurdity, 99.9 percent of the time, the "it" we're so doggedly resisting is something we ourselves have chosen -- directly or indirectly -- to do.

In "The Art of Singing", I talk about the futility and pervasiveness of active resistance. In creative and intellectual endeavors alike, we so often struggle to learn things that wait and want to be taken in effortlessly. The result? Thinking ourselves into ineffective inaction, exhausted by the effort and no more accomplished for it.

Whether active in the world or in our minds, resistance saps more than our energy and ability to be productive in a specific area. Just as resentment for even one person tends to affect your way of being with others, pushing hard against a specific project or idea reduces your ability to be productive, free and creative in other areas of your life.

Right about now, your own resistance may be pulling out its partners in crime: cynicism and reasoning. They -- along with procrastination and quitting -- round out its arsenal, often making it difficult to discern wisdom from naiveté.

Indeed, our minds aren't always our friends in this discernment. If they were, every goal we set would be achieved, every plan fulfilled. Instead, our fears rise up against notions of change, masking themselves as good sense.

The next time resistance rises up, pause to remember when you last encountered this slippery foe. Think about what it benefited, as well as how much it cost you. Nine times out of 10, its pretty promise is nothing more than insecurity in disguise, carrying resignation and frustration as its parting gifts. Thinking ourselves wise, we so often take them, trading our fear of failure for failure itself -- our dreams of productivity and creativity for a lack of both.

If you want stasis, the illusion of stability and the glories of being "in control," turn up the volume on resistance's dirge. If you want freedom, wonder, self-expression and success, turn it off and get to work.

You Are What You Read

2011-07-30T12:43:00.000-04:00

There's been a great deal of focus on the food industry recently. The perils of GMOs, hormones, fast food, antibiotics and apathy are becoming more widely known, thanks to the likes of Michael Pollan, Eric Schlosser, Morgan Spurlock and even Barbara Kingsolver, who've produced movies, books and other compelling materials on the matter.

My partner is passionate about the issue and is gladly in charge of the food in our home. Glad and passionate as he may be, numerous challenges arise when we shop. Trips to even the best of grocery stores bring about dissatisfaction in the number of poor food choices, uncertainty over labeling and a heck of a lot more money for the healthy, natural and humanely-treated and sanely-delivered foods that once were a given.

I'm grateful John is so interested in the quality of what we're consuming -- as grateful as I am to reap the benefits of his care. I'd like to think I return the favor with my attention to a different form of consumption.

I very rarely, if ever, watch television. This is due in part to a greater interest in nature, socializing with friends and family and exploring the city and all it has to offer. It's also due to the fact that what for most people is television time for me is dedicated to reading.

Not only do I love to read, I've long believed that reading is simply "better" than television. There's no marketing coming at you in musical, multi-colored rapid fire, and the content is more thoroughly explored and intelligently presented.

What I've missed in this somewhat arrogant and narrow view is the reality that everything we read and watch -- as well as eat, listen to and experience -- has an impact and leaves an imprint. While certainly the quality of those imprints are important to our bodies, minds and well-being, the mere presence of an imprint of any kind is worth consideration.

This became clear to me a couple of weeks ago. I'd been reading a top-selling book of non-fiction by an award-winning author on a culturally-relevant and personally intriguing topic. The language was smooth and well-crafted, the arguments were well-reasoned and the experience was pleasant and enlightening.

And I woke up every morning during that time having dreamt of the book and its contents.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing, yet it did give me pause to consider what was not being processed, what was not being achieved during my resting hours given the influx of this information.

What is not being healed, relaxed, processed and released, what is not being generated, created and invented due to the pervasive influx of information from all forms of technology, entertainment and information sources?

Reading, like television, provides fuel for our brains. Certainly it is important to be conscious of the quality of what we take in and to cultivate a relationship with our minds -- and our bodies -- that is nourishing and healthy. Yet it is equally important to remember that there is a need for space in the nourishment cycle.

Just as the body can't consume food 24 or even 12 hours a day, we need to pause in order to process what it is we've taken in. What's more, we need to realize the opportunity for nourishment that resides in that pausing. Silence and stillness are their own forms of education and entertainment -- forms that many of us could use a good deal more of.

'The Hot Seat': Lessons from American Idol

2011-06-03T10:56:00.003-04:00

In my career, I've had some truly extraordinary performance experiences. Being on "American Idol" was no exception.

During season six, I was called in to sing backup vocals for Hollywood Week, which, as many of you know, brings the top 30 finalists to Los Angeles for seven days of intense group work and solo performances.

Being there was incredible, in part because of the ability to be in it without being in it; getting to participate in the week and be on stage without the pressure of being a competitor afforded me a priceless view of both the cultural phenomenon that is "American Idol" and the very human experience of being a part of it. Gazing past the hot seat (or hot mic, as it were) into the faces of the judges and those in the audience afforded a perspective I'll never forget.

And it's a great perspective. There is an ease that comes from not being in the spotlight. It's the best of both worlds, in a sense: I'm on stage and doing what I love, but without the pressure that comes from being wholly responsible for the performance's success.

Yet something's missing from that view, as comfortable as it is.

I'm not talking about the fear, sweaty palms and raw nerves, though certainly they're a part of it. I'm talking about the opportunity to be truly alive.

Being alive was the last thing on my mind when I first started my lead role with Cirque du Soleil back in 2008. What I do remember was the fear of not being good enough, the overwhelming feeling of being in front of that many people and the pressure of carrying a show that so many had worked so hard to produce -- that so many people had paid good money to see.

Fortunately, once I had a few performances under my belt, I was able to enjoy the experience and the real opportunity it is to step up in that way. I was able to appreciate the awesomeness of being in that role, and the grace of carrying such a heavy load -- the real privilege it is to bear the weight of that kind of responsibility, and the joy that comes from doing so.

Let's take a step back and consider what it is that we love about "American Idol," "The Voice" and shows like them. Certainly a love of singing, music and performance has something to do with it. But I would venture that the obsession revolves more around our fascination with those who have the bravery to get up, bare their souls and give their all for a chance at their version of glory.

It's the story of the hero, repackaged, put to music and broadcast on television. And I believe it is our desire to be near and empathize with these heroes -- both as people and as an ideal -- that draws us week after week, show after show.

In my mind, this is the real opportunity of "American Idol." The show, and those like them, while certainly entertaining, are not mere entertainment. They're calls to action that sing to each and every one of us: bring everything you've got to the table -- then risk it all.

You don't need to be on television or even on stage to embrace this opportunity. Whoever you are and whatever you do, life hands each of us a moment-by-moment choice: put yourself in the proverbial hot seat for what you care about and believe in, or don't. In our work and our relationships, in every conversation, the choice is up to us: to merely live, or to be truly alive.

I see my clients -- whether they're backup singers, Broadway stars, or business professionals -- weigh these options in equal measure. It's a painful debate, until the clarity dawns that only by being willing to risk it all does having "everything to gain" become possible.

I'll never forget being behind Christina Aguilera on the Grammys when she emerged through the stage, smoke all around her, to sing James Brown's "It's a Man's World." That took courage, personally, vocally and musically. While singing with her was certainly a great experience, the real magic for me was watching her embrace life -- and really live -- on that stage.

The same is true of those young men and women whom I had the honor of singing with on "American Idol" back in season six. Standing in the wings with them as they waited for their turn, I certainly empathized with their nerves and fears. But as our eyes met just before they walked onto the stage, what overwhelmed me was being in the presence of human beings that were choosing to really show up for and be alive in their own lives.

Mary Oliver said it so beautifully: "When you hear, a mile away and still out of sight, the churn of the water as it begins to swirl and roil, fretting around the sharp rocks -- then row, row for your life toward it."

This is your life, your one life. I wish you the opportunity -- the true grace -- to take and rock whatever stage you choose to play on. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Originally published in The Huffington Post

Making a Difference

2011-04-06T19:52:00.005-04:00

What does it mean to make a difference?

In the creative realm, it has a great deal to do with generation. Artists embark on private and often isolated journeys to and through their creative processes. Once complete, the work then speaks for itself, taking on a life of its own as it makes its way into the world and the hearts of those in it.

For some however, generation is only the beginning of the artistic endeavor. For them, the creation and release of their work is merely a step in a process that continues through the extension and sharing of themselves as well.

My background is as a professional singer, which has afforded me the privilege of participating both musically and personally in many extraordinary moments. Yet some of the most powerful experiences of my career and life have been off stage- in coaching young artists, volunteering my time, spending time with my readers and listeners, and mentoring.

Something truly magical happens when you allow yourself to embrace this expanded notion of creativity. Not only do you get to know the incredible men, women, and children in your various communities, you realize what a profound impact they can have- if you let them- on your creative inspiration and expression.

For me, this has included learning from and being mentored by people around the world who have beautifully and brilliantly blended the lines of creativity, community, and contribution. These experiences have been so powerful and important in my life that I've started a column on Examiner.com to feature them. It will be my privilege to share their journeys with you in the coming months, and hope that they make as large of an impact on your personal, professional and creative endeavors as they have on mine.

My first piece is on Karen Salmansohn. Get ready, and enjoy the ride!

If you'd like to be notified when I post new Psychology Today articles and Examiner.com features, Follow me on Twitter!

Photo courtesy of Stephen T. Jones

Leap Before You Look

2011-03-10T08:20:00.008-05:00

Often in my writing, I've mentioned the view from my office window here in Manhattan. For me, there are few things as inspiring as gazing at the river while writing or witnessing someone process a breakthrough with the wind dancing in the leaves and branches of the trees just outside...

So it was with a bit of sadness late last month that I prepared to move to a new location. Sadness and truth be told, trepidation, in spite of having found a space that sings to my heart as much if not more than where I've been.

On the last day before the move, I sat and gazed out at the view I had come to love one last time. Then I saw him... the reddest of cardinals perched in my favorite tree. In five years of looking, I had never seen its equal, in color or presence. We watched each other for a long time, him seeming to study me as much as I him...

and then he leapt, hurtling at top speed toward the ground before catching the wind and ascending to the skies...

I remained for a long while after, appreciating the metaphor as well as the gift of nature that brought it to me. I traveled back through my life to the many opportunities that have knocked bravely at my door. Often I answered. Often I didn't.

There is something in the nature of change that tugs at the heartstrings and pulls at our fears, even when it is planned and for the best. Yet it is those that embrace and even celebrate change... those that leap... that attain that which they desire. The rest stand only to marvel at the view that others provide, or through their own lens of longing at their circumstances unaltered.

Sitting here today in my wonderful new office, gazing at a different face of the same river's beauty, I’m reminded of that cardinal, and the message of his lesson and namesake. We are here only for a moment; the seasons continue to turn whether we leap or whether we languish. The choice is ours.

Photo © Asbed Iskedjian

Being Lucky

2011-02-05T12:35:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, my fiancé and I went to see Sarah McLachlan at the Beacon Theater here in New York. The concert was inspiring on so many levels. She'd brought along two brilliant young singers whom she graciously featured throughout the evening. During breaks, they each talked about the humanitarian work they were doing and contributing to around the world. They laughed, they danced, they shared the spotlight, and created some of the most glorious and haunting harmonies I've ever heard.

Toward the end of the show, Sarah said- with a humility that brought a roaring hush to the crowd- "I love my job, I love my life". And I sat there, with an inspired mind, a peaceful heart, and the man I love next to me, thinking that I am so very lucky to be able to say the same thing.

That's not to say that the path from there to here's always been easy. Naming and claiming the things we want- in work, in love, and in life- take great effort of both heart and action. And the road can be long, especially if you're aiming high. The best views, after all, are generally at the end of a hard climb with not a lot of room at the top.

We all know that the best odds of arriving at our destinations, if we want to do so in one piece, come from learning how to enjoy and honor the journey. Sitting there at the concert, it was obvious that Sarah's joy, generosity, commitment, and talent were not only the fruits of her labor, but the labor itself.

We are all so lucky. We have not only the freedom to choose the paths we'll take, but the attitudes we'll carry with us along the way. This realization makes a gift of each moment, freeing up the energy, passion, and creativity to move forward with lightness and fun up the precious hill called life.

Happy climbing, my friends!

A Wild and Precious Life

2011-01-01T00:01:00.001-05:00

"What will you do with your one wild and precious life?" - Mary Oliver

I had a dream last week... I was dancing alone in the night. Extending my hand into the darkness, a tiny light suddenly appeared at my fingertips. Tiny as it was, it illuminated many things both real and imagined. My slippered foot extended toward it, sending my whole body arching into the light which then became a part of me. Thus filled, I turned and reached out once more, touching into existence a new light I again stepped into.

I don't often remember my dreams, but this one lingered beyond my waking moments and into the days to come.

"What will you do with your one wild and precious life?"

Mary Oliver poses a great question, and a timely one. Here we are at the turn of another year... a time dedicated to introspection that for many of us is philosophical and existential in nature. Why are we here? What does it all mean? What are we to make of our time upon- in the words of Maya Angelou- "this miniscule and kithless globe"?

I too dwell on these ideas, though my focus of late has been elsewhere. For regardless of what we think, how we feel and what we make it all mean, our lives are the result not of our thoughts, but of the actions we take.

That's not to say that there is no merit to consideration. As Socrates famously noted, an unexamined life is not worth living. But to examine a life, we must first create a life. Otherwise we are left considering a performance scripted by others both known and unknown to us, where we are often unwilling and unwitting players.

It is our opportunity, it is our gift, to create lives of our own design. Certainly we begin by imagining our goals, dreams, and desires. But then we must take action, stepping boldly and bravely into their light, lest they remain in the darkness of what could have been.

Wishing you all a wild and precious adventure for 2011 and beyond!

Kripalu

2010-12-16T07:48:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I'll be heading to Kripalu to give my final workshop of the year. I've facilitated a number of performance and self-expression classes this fall, each an incredible opportunity that leaves me looking forward to the next and wondering, 'do I really get paid for this?'

Certainly I love what I do. But the marveling at compensation comes less from the joy of sharing my work and more from the amount I'm receiving by doing so. In the returned reflection of new friends, I'm provided with a perspective I simply can't get from my private clients and regular workshops: objectivity.

The desire for this reflection tends to be neglected in the creative realm. So often we writers, musicians and artists dwell in the sanctuary of our own minds, carving and crafting in solitude what's true to us, without a thought to how that truth will register 'out there'.

This lack of perspective is helpful and even crucial at times. Only when we detach from the voices of popular opinion and wisdom can we listen for and hear the emergence of something new. And for some, the birthing and acknowledgement of this personal truth is the destination of art.

I enjoy this process of generation as much as the next person. But my deeper passion lies in touching others with ideas that make their lives better. Which requires that I spend as much time developing the ability to share my ideas as I do creating them.

This ability to connect is an art all its own. Indeed, if we want to make a difference to others, it requires more than saying out loud what we have been discovering. It's ensuring that what we say is being heard, and being heard in a way that is ideal for the listener. It's so easy to do the opposite; to focus on both what we want to say and how we want to say it. Yet with this aim, we are guaranteed only to persuade ourselves.

These men and women from all over the world, with different experiences, backgrounds and points of view, give me a great gift: a look into the ability of my work to work... for them. In our time together, they provide me with the opportunity to see- literally- the difference between what is fascinating to me and fascinating to others. What translates and what doesn't. What they need to hear over what I want to say.

So thank you, participants and readers alike, for all of your feedback this fall and over the years. Your openness, participation and sharing not only inspire me, but continue to help shape what for me is a true labor of love.

Here's to celebrating a wonderful year past, and a glorious new one to come!

The Five Gifts

2010-11-30T15:56:00.002-05:00

I've just returned from a long holiday weekend in Southern California with my family. As always, the (too little) time was filled with great conversation, reflection, and (too much) wonderful food.

I rose on my final morning and let the dog out, gazing up at the lingering stars and moon. The sun had yet to rise, and the unique smell of the morning desert filled my nostrils.

Around the table and turkey, we often give thanks for the larger blessings that have graced our lives. Loved ones, health, wisdom and wealth. But that morning, I became keenly aware of another gift for which I'm deeply and equally grateful: the gift of my senses.

As Maddie and I made our way toward the ocean, we were awash in a sensory sea of pleasure. The wind against our faces, the tall grasses swaying in the salt-scented breeze, the dancing of the birds and the sounds of their morning song, the smell of eucalyptus and sage, the awesome and ever changing color show as the sun began to once again reclaim her spot in the sky...

At the end of a trail overlooking the water, I let Maddie off leash to explore the world in her own way. Some things even her powerful nose couldn't seem to fully take in, and so she'd flounce onto her back, rolling and thrashing about in apparent ecstasy in mounds of dirt and beds of flowers.

Perhaps not quite as flail-ready as she, I still let my sensory wonder lead the way to delight. I gently squeezed lavender stems in the palms of my hand, inhaling their scent until my lungs and heart felt as if they could burst. I caressed flowers and trees, opening my eyes to the miracle and beauty of each blossom and leaf while listening carefully for the wind playing between them. I chewed on wild mint and rosemary, letting the flavors burst in my mouth and envelop my taste buds.

I willed my mind to rest upon and drink in the spectacle of it all...

On that precious morning, I was reminded not only of the tremendous blessing that is life, but the blessings of our senses and responses to them that allow us to be truly alive. May we all remain open to these gifts... to the awareness of a world that waits to rush in when we’re willing to be blissfully overwhelmed by the beauty that is, in every moment, all around us.

Louder Than Words

2010-11-02T09:22:00.001-04:00

I've recently been working with a young singer from Japan whose gumption and determination have taught me a thing or two about the words... after reading The Art of Singing, she booked a flight, a hotel and- sight unseen- 5 weeks of vocal lessons.

While I hope that I've been able to offer her the wisdom and insights for which she traveled so far, I'm certain the scales are balanced in terms of learning, if not tipped in my favor. It isn't for the amount or intensity of our work. It isn't that she has a particularly unusual voice, difficult issues or bad habits.

It's that she doesn't speak a word of English.

I've said a lot in my writing about the power of silence and the importance of non-verbal communication. And I stand by their merits; a vacation from language provides for an awareness that speaks volumes about who we are and how we engage with the world and those around us.

But what about when that vacation is permanent?

Confidence about a journey into the silent unknown disappears when words never have nor will be an option. Yet in this void, I gained some of the most profound wisdom of my career. With everything but words, Hikari and I delved into what I'd largely and often unknowingly relied on language to reach. Not only did issues of technique, diction and performance expression open up and unravel in that space. Passion, emotions and dreams laid themselves bare for exploration as well.

Most profound was just how silent we became. The expressions and gestures that enabled us to 'speak' in our first weeks transitioned into physical quiet as well. By the end, we were simply looking at each other... being with each other. An idea dancing across my mind showed up an instant later in her song. I felt her questions and answered them in a voice neither of us actually heard.

That 'voice' is one we all share. When words go away, along with the ideas they speak to... about differences of nationality, language, gender and tradition... we are left touching the pulse of what makes us the same. We are left staring at a human being from across the world... and finding ourselves in her eyes...

Thank you, Hikari, for that true vision of myself, as well as for such profound insights into the real nature of communication and connection. I'm honored to have shared so powerfully together on your most exquisite life journey.

Right Place, Right Time

2010-10-20T17:31:00.003-04:00

"I had a conversation with an old man on a bus today that just might have changed my life. I started by talking about how we just missed the bus and ended up talking about life, what is worth living about life, children, hobbies, and marriage. Amazing, absolutely amazing. I cried on the bus. Sometimes I wonder about things like that... it seems like I was meant to meet this man today. Thank God for these encounters that seem like fate. And thanks to the 70 something year old man who helped me put life into perspective and realize what is really important."

I smile each time I revisit my friend's words and think of the changes this experience brought to his heart and life...

It's amazing how mere instants can become complete game changers, shifting us from a broken path to a better one. Would that we could all be so lucky to find ourselves 'there' in our moments of need...

Thankfully, 'there' is all around us. We are always in just the right place, and at just the right time. Because wherever we are, wisdom is waiting to rush into open ears, hearts and minds.

My friend was indeed lucky that day. He was lucky to be asking the important questions of life and more, ready and willing to hear what it had to say through the voice of a 70 something year old man.

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." May we all be students walking through the world... and willing to share what we've learned when others are ready to go 'there'.

What I've Learned Pt. 2

2010-09-29T20:21:00.003-04:00

"I have long considered the creative impulse to be a visit– a thing of grace, not commanded or owned so much as awaited, prepared for. A thing, also, of mystery" -Lorenna McKennitt

As my writing sabbatical winds to a close, I find myself reflecting once again on what it's provided in the way of learning. Time is an amazing concept, as is space; one month at home can come and go with seemingly little import. A month away, however, provides a treasure trove of insights. Not necessarily for what does or doesn't happen, but for the attention upon and increased receptiveness to the newness of surroundings and ourselves in them.

I'm particularly intrigued by what I've learned in this state of awareness about expectations. We all know of their power as well as their perils. For better or worse, eyes set on a prize often find it… a dream come true when it's what we really want, a nightmare when our unclear or unaware vision has set ill sights.

Yet even with the most incredible of goals, fixation can cause as much blindness as it can clarity. So focused, we often miss the different- and better- views and paths that a more objective and open mind might have seen, and taken…

I came to California with the fixed notion of doing nothing other than work on my second book. It was to be a glorious time dedicated exclusively to planning the structure and writing. No distractions, simply formulating ideas in my mind and placing them in a certain fashion onto the page.

It was a wonderful plan. A wonderful, disastrous plan.

Two weeks in, I found myself surrounded by drafts upon drafts of marked up and discarded tables of contents, pages upon pages of narrative ideas that didn't quite seem to work within their contexts. Story boards and post-it notes covered the walls, attesting to the productivity I was determined to achieve.

But not to the spirit and creativity.

I finally threw up my hands, telling the ocean on a walk that perhaps this wasn't such a great idea.

At that moment, the better path laid itself plain before me…

I'd planned a sabbatical based on a practicality that disregarded everything that works so well at home. There, inspiration comes when it comes, reflections in and of moments. Structure has always emerged later- proud and sure- as a gathering up of these ideas. By trying to intellectually pre-plan then command what to say and how to say it, I was preventing the very flow of in-the-moment inspiration necessary for me to create anything of value.

What's more, this inspiration comes largely from my work… my passion which this writing sabbatical necessarily put on hold. By stepping away from my surroundings, I was cutting off the camaraderie and conversations that fuel the very ideas I then long to write about. An incredible view and loving pup- while wonderful- couldn't make up for this important engagement and feedback.

Fortunately, less than optimal experiences can be highly beneficial if we're open to the lessons they're offering. The last three weeks of my time in California have found me honoring the wisdom from that walk along the beach. I threw out the tactical table of contents I'd settled upon and for. I put aside schedules and plans for structure, reopening the space for ideas to come how and when they wanted. I allowed myself to work with clients and on other projects.

It was then that ideas worth writing, and hopefully worth reading, began to emerge.

I'd read all the books and followed all the advice. But nothing worked until I followed my heart.

Establish your expectations. Set your intentions and make your plans. And then let them go. Expectations, like ideas, will fight to be heard and heeded if they're worthy. If not, they were never meant to be…

What I've Learned

2010-09-07T16:54:00.014-04:00

Every day is filled with opportunities to learn, we're just more aware of the lessons when they're presented in a new place or context. That's certainly been the case for me, now approximately two weeks into a writing sabbatical in Southern California. In a house overlooking the sea, I've been waking and working each day, grateful for the faithful pup who is just as eager as I am for a break and a walk when I've hit the temporary bottom of the coffee and inspiration pots.

On those walks, I've been reflecting on my time here, and what this new context has so far revealed…

* The ocean is a wonderful lesson in perspective. We build structures of every kind right up to the very edge of her vast endlessness; we trash her waters and use and abuse her bounty as if it is our right, as if we are her equal… the liquid version of The Giving Tree. But when night falls and all that remains to the naked eye are the even more unfathomable and untouchable stars draping above her unimaginable depths, it becomes very clear how small we are, and what our place in the world really is.

* California and Coffee = Wonderful

* Time is an illusion that you really only become aware of after you've chosen to disregard it. Writing without a clock, save for the sun and the one in my stomach, I'm experiencing the rhythm of life, rather than our invented rhythm of the world. This is certainly true when it comes to sleep. I unplugged the alarm clock on my first day, and am amazed to reflect upon how my initial moments of consciousness have, for as long as I can remember, been devoted to trying to figure out how many hours I slept. With that conversation no longer relevant, or even possible, my waking moments are now filled with stretching toward ideas for how to fulfill rather than fill days, how to create, and what to experience…

* Dogs = Love

* Beyond learning, I'm feeling that balance is key. My mornings are spent writing, my afternoons napping and taking long walks along the beach, and my evenings talking and eating with friends. Each in their own way clears my mind and fills my soul. But it is the companionship, laughter and sharing with friends that's the fresh water for the well from which my morning writing draws.

* Friends = one of the greatest blessings in life

* You don't need a vacation or a sabbatical to have a vacation or a sabbatical. Now somewhat firmly set in a routine, I'm taken by how much of this lusciousness I'm living is about my mindset rather than where I am or what I'm doing. It's becoming clear that you don't need to leave home to find peace in your mind or calm in your heart; the notion and feel of sabbatical is always available. From here on, I'm determined and committed to considering my life a permanent vacation… a vacation from frustration, a sabbatical from over-thinking. A very good plan indeed.

Thanks to you all for your kind thoughts and wishes about my Aunt Nena. She is doing well... fading, but continuing to do so with grace, dignity, and her very much intact wicked sense of humor. She's still drinking coffee, too... the woman can't move, but enjoys about two cups per visit through a sippie straw. What a woman!

Surviving Nena

2010-08-23T14:20:00.001-04:00

I am on a plane, high above tiny trees and houses, sailing through indifferent clouds…

I was meant to be on this same plane to California a week from now for a sabbatical to write my second book. Until yesterday evening, when I learned that my Aunt Nena was starting to fade.

Oh, Nena… there are none and too many words to describe her. When I lived in Los Angeles, we'd have our weekly lunches, smacking our lips and humming at the delicious food we never thought twice about treating ourselves to, talking for hours over ungodly amounts of coffee until waiters inevitably would ask us to close our tabs for the ends of their shifts. My travels and eventual move to New York turned weeks into months, still we never missed a beat, cherishing and sharing adventures through phone calls, post cards, and letters until we'd meet again.

And now… if only to sit by her side and stroke her hair…

They say that the hearing is the last thing that goes, and so I'll sing to her all of the hymns that years ago she insisted I sing at her funeral. How I dreaded that type of talk, though she'd roll her eyes and laugh at my discomfort: "Why would anyone fear death who has really lived life?"

And live life, she did. I will learn the lessons her death will bring as those from her life and our conversations still ring in my ears:

life is short
risk everything
waste nothing, particularly moments
honor your word; it's all you have
be humble and brave
cherish family
create community
never stop learning
honor age but remember its illusions
create rather than react to life
have no regrets
Forgive, and Love.

Were I to show her this list, she'd certainly roll her eyes, coffee cup shaking gently in her hand that betrayed a steadiness of mind and wit that never flinched. She might have said, "Jeeeenny (emphasis and long pause for dramatic, comedic effect), why reflect on the obvious? There's no need to talk about things that are better done than said!"

Oh, how she'd suffer my ignorance! With an unconditional but firm and almost impatient love that seemed to say "get ON with it!" she taught me perspective. Dwelling on the past and fearing the future were never judged as wrong, but simply revealed themselves to be ridiculous in the returned gaze of a woman whose life was so well lived that anything less than my moment to moment best seemed like an insult.

I'm smiling now as I consider how ironic, how beautiful, that self-expression is the subject of my second book, given that I am on my way to celebrate the woman whose love, life, and wisdom helped me to become the woman I am today. The constant voice in my head that helped me find my own…

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
There is a field. I'll meet you there" -Rumi

I love you, Nena. And no matter what, I'll see you soon...

The Law of Life

2010-08-12T09:47:00.001-04:00

There's a time in virtually everyone's life when legal advice becomes necessary. And virtually every time, the experience is less than pleasant. Thus, the plethora of lawyer jokes going around.

Before you pull up your best gem, let's take a moment to consider why these encounters are less than ideal.

In the music business, lawyers generally have the distinction of being ruiners of relationships, trashers of trust and quelchers of the creative process. Organic musical bonds and incredible professional relationships all but vanish when the big, bad lawyers step in and screw it all up. What choice do the innocent and good hearted have but to stop thinking as a team and start looking out for number one?

If you're not already laughing, or blushing, allow me to explain.

Just as your best friend can't talk you into or out of a decision that's certain, neither can a lawyer sway your opinion on issues you hold dear. If your band is committed to creative and economic equality, even the greediest lawyer in the world won't be able to shake your agreement. He might try, but he won’t succeed. Similarly, if your record label insists that they want to give you a fair deal but that the legal team won't allow it, look beyond the excuse into the eyes of the person who hired them.

Contracts aren't the reflection of the vision and desires of those who draw them up, but of those who sign them. And that reflection is crystal clear. All the emotional and economic stinginess we've been hiding behind our best foot forward becomes plain as day in the writing of a contract that- like dressing room mirrors- hides nothing.

It is these hidden aspects of ourselves, not the lawyers, that make legal negotiations so ugly. Seemingly great relationships are merely enduring a test of integrity- often the first one- that reveals whether the house we're building together rests on a solid foundation or one of sand.

If your foundational principles involve transparency and everyone getting a fair deal, legal negotiations will be a breeze. If not, the source of stagnation is only a glance in the mirror away.

Happy Birthday, Mom and Dad!

2010-07-29T09:13:00.086-04:00

As another birth year comes to a close and a new one stands poised to begin, I find myself pondering our cultural ideas about birthdays, and the very nature of age...

If you'd asked me at 16 how I thought I would look, feel, think, and dream in my thirties, I doubt I would have said, "precisely the way I do now!" And yet, in the first moments of 36, I seem to myself exactly as I always have... as mentally and physically inspired, excited, and energetic about and in life as I was in my teens.

I'm not an anomaly. Many people I know and care about remark how 'odd' it is that they feel the same as they did when they were children... that they don't feel like they're getting older...

Maybe what's 'odd' is the meaning we assign to age and the way we imagine the experience of aging...

What would we do and who would we be if we allowed ourselves for a moment to consider 36 as 16... to pretend that 21 was in fact 60? Wonder, wild adventure, and unbridled passion aren't meant to be the exclusive playgrounds of the young. The creation of meaningful and moving poetry, music, and art isn't reserved for only the seasoned and experienced. I marvel at the profound maturity and vast knowing of many of my young clients; I am in awe of my father's dancing and theater-going three nights a week and my mother who- a month after retirement- enrolled with giddy enthusiasm in University courses on everything from Archeology to Occidental History to Eastern Mysticism. How much I learn from them all!

How are we limiting the possibilities of ourselves and others by the notions of age to which we individually and collectively cling? How many 8 year olds think they're too young for their ideas to matter? How many 80 year olds think that they're too old?

I'm also impressed by what a birthday is truly celebrating. When I consider my parents back in 1974 at 9:13 in the morning after a 17 hour labor (my first, official act of stubbornness...) I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the idea that this day is not about me...

So on my parent's special day, I wish you all the opportunity- whatever your age- to explore the endless and timeless possibilities of mind, courage, body, and heart that are available to you beyond what you've heretofore thought of as 'normal'. And to give thanks, in word or spirit, to those who brought you into this world... to those who made it possible for you to now be in the midst of this incredible gift and ride called life.

Performance = Anxiety

2010-07-09T13:22:00.004-04:00

Performance anxiety is an elephant-in-the-room sized issue for anyone who spends time on any kind of a stage. Its management is the subject of a thousand books, workshops, and programs that teach how to deal with and mitigate its effects… how to ride its wave rather than have it come crashing down upon you.

Yet only a fundamental shift in how performance anxiety is perceived will allow you to overcome and indeed, transcend it. This shift begins by considering how the majority of us view stage fright: as a barrier between a performer and an audience.

That performance anxiety is a barrier is not news to most of you. But what may come as a surprise is that its status as such only exists when another much larger barrier is already in place: the perception of the performance as a performance, rather than as a communion, a conversation, and a connection.

To illustrate what to some may seem like a foreign concept, consider the excitement you feel at a wedding, watching a concert, or during the birth of a child. Most of us don't call this sensation anxiety, in spite of the fact that the same physiological reactions are being triggered. Why? Because in these instances, we're participating and sharing in the moment with those around us. We are not focused on ourselves. We are in tune with the group.

In our culture's current understanding of performance, however, the opposite is true. As we make our way to the stage, the wall of separation rises, and the opportunity for communion and connection instantly transforms into a profound sense of self-absorbed isolation. Standing opposite and apart, the fear in our belly rises as we wonder about and focus on one thing: "will they like me?"

To break away from this conditioned response and indeed, overcome the dual barriers that are performance and anxiety, we must move closer to those we've walked away from. Who are the people sitting there before you, not only collectively, but individually? What do they want and need? What are they looking for in their lives? Imagine that they have come to your home to share a meal, discuss their concerns, their ideas, and their dreams. How would you reach out them? How would you help?

Those who come to experience your sharing on stage are no different. While they are there to listen to you, they are in fact asking to be heard. They are waiting to be touched, to feel inspired. They are longing to experience something in your voice and expression that will open them up further to themselves.

You might be the one on stage, but it's not about you. When you begin to get this- that a 'performance' is actually an invitation to and participation with another rather than an offering of the self, the grip of anxiety begins to unravel and fade. Why? Because when you're listening deeply to another in this way- both on and off of the stage- it is almost impossible to be concerned with how you sound.

'Performers' imagine there to be a great divide between their best and worst shows, and thus, fearfully obsess about the technicalities that communicators know are largely irrelevant in the minds of those listening for something vastly more valuable.

If you want anxiety, stick to performing. If you want to move others and be moved by them, start listening.

Who Are You?

2010-06-17T09:40:00.002-04:00

"I am what they are not" - Esther David

"I am what I am" - Ani Di Franco

Most of the artists I work with beam when they talk about their creative journeys. To hear them describe their experiences singing, dancing, and acting feels like witnessing Christmas morning or a surprise birthday party. The wonder in their eyes is both captivating and intoxicating.

The journey isn't all performing, of course. In addition to the magic of their artistry, there is the need to stay at the top of their creative learning curves as well as position themselves in their respective marketplaces. Even those that have achieved enormous success must continue carving out their niche, lest they become irrelevant and obsolete.

Unfortunately, there is something that happens to so many creative people when they are asked to address these aspects of their art. The passion and talent that come through on every channel all but dissipate when they consider where and how they 'fit' into their fields. The proud, declarative 'this is me!' all too often shifts into a frustrated and confused 'who am I? who should I be?'

This is a common tendency not only of artists, but of entrepreneurs, company owners, and frankly, anyone not living in virtual isolation. The struggle to swim against the tide to the shore of self-distinction necessarily brings us face to face with those around us from whom we are trying to individuate and stand apart. It is a meeting more often of confrontation than communion.

Yet in focusing on and comparing ourselves with whom and what we are not- rather than on our unique contribution and value- we are splitting our energy and focus; we are dividing, rather than conquering. By nurturing the perception of competition between rather than our personal and proud creative process of, we remain in an endless struggle for position, rather than allow a distinction born of true value to emerge.

This value is meant to fuel not only your creative pursuits, but the business plan that supports it as well. Strive therefore in your positioning- as in your art- to be your most wholly authentic, entirely genuine self. Pour your energy into and prove nothing other than how much meaning, contribution, joy, and learning you can pack into your work and relationships each and every day. When you do, the 'Who I Am' of your voice and passion will resound throughout your entire being and rise like the inevitable Phoenix... a rising and distinction that people will be inspired to see and go to great lengths to share.

There is no better marketing strategy.

The Art of Singing

2010-05-17T09:10:00.005-04:00

Recently, Ghena Meirson, founder of www.privatelessons.com, interviewed me about my book and practice. Hopefully you'll enjoy the conversation as much as I did!

What was the "aha!" moment that encouraged you to write the book? How many aha's did you have while writing it?

The book actually began as a series of emails. I traveled quite a bit when I started my practice, both as a coach and a singer, and would stay in touch with clients electronically while on the road. I noticed after a time that the same questions would come in, and that my answers seemed to be both unexpected and helpful. This- coupled with my growing belief that there had to be a healthier and more integrated way to both train the voice and educate the singer- led me to refashion my ongoing conversations into a manuscript.

There simply isn’t enough time in the day, much less the year, to share all of the ‘aha!’s I had while writing the book. Each page contains the result of so many of these moments; understandings born from revelations as a singer and/or in working with other singers that not only supported, but indeed created in many ways the foundation of my ideas and approach. And it is an evolving one; I believe that there is no certain wisdom any of us can possess… in singing, teaching, or in life. I’m fully aware that in a few years I’ll sit down to work on a second edition armed with completely new and possibly even contradictory experiences and insights.

Perhaps the biggest ‘aha!’ in the book writing process, if you’re up for a story, occurred about seven years before it was finally released in 2009. At that time, I’d just finished writing the manuscript, and went with my family to Italy for the summer… a vacation for them, and an opportunity to do a final edit of the book in style for me. So it was with great horror that not only was my laptop stolen when we first arrived in Rome, but that the files I’d left at home were corrupted. Meaning… that I had to write The Entire Book Over Again…

Having no other choice, I decided to do my best to recapture what I’d spent years meticulously and loving compiling. This proved to be a losing battle… and happily so. So much had happened to me and in my life since completing the first version of the book… as a woman, a singer, a student, and a teacher. My desire to prove myself in all of these areas in my early twenties had shifted into a passion to witness and humbly share, and I believe the current version of the book reflects that shift, and is vastly if not altogether improved for it.

Another revelation came from my decision about the cover art. Writing a book is a very personal process, and as you progress, it becomes more and more challenging to imagine releasing it to your editor, much less to the world. So it was a beautiful lesson for me to follow my instincts when they whispered that I should turn the cover completely and entirely over to my friend Randall Hasson. I literally handed him the manuscript one day, told him I loved and trusted him, and waited with bated breath for the result. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Randy poured himself into the project, and gave me such a gift with his beautiful work of art; I couldn’t have dreamed of anything more special or reflective of what I believe the spirit of the book to be.

All of this came into being for me- the book, the cover, the learning- from a series of grand ‘aha!’ moments in the area of ‘letting go’… of right and wrong, of good and bad, of perfection, of control, of ‘shoulds’ and ‘what if?’s. This release is, I believe, one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. It opens up the possibility of powerfully partnering with others and truly sharing ourselves with the world.

You talk about trusting one's instincts, unlearning bad habits and envisioning before creating. Please elaborate.

Much of our learning today is additive. Meaning, we’re constantly taking in information and trying to reconcile it with what we already know, rather than standing without prejudice or intent in the face of new ideas. Because of this, we continue building up the dam of ‘what we believe to be true’ that blocks, rather than allows, the freshness of wisdom to flow to us, through us, and change us.

In singing, as in other areas of our lives and learning, we need to deconstruct this dam that’s been built for us by society, and by us in our compliance with it, before we can properly survey the landscape and ascertain what structure is truly best. In the realm of singing, this means addressing our culture’s subtle and overt perceptions of singers and singing, as well as our understanding of the nature of our voices- and the bodies in which they’re housed- and what the use of our instruments means to us as people. While these ideas may seem simple, they in fact involve very complex relationships that transcend vocal production, including issues of fear, ego, control, expectation, perfection, personal value and worth.

In my experience, to properly begin the exploration of vocal training, the aforementioned issues must be addressed and resolved. Once they have, instincts and intuition step in... they’ve always been there, but are often hushed by the louder voices that plead for perfection, control, and notoriety. In the stillness, we can listen to ourselves and hear the whisperings of where we as people- and as singers- want to go… not because we should or need to in order to validate some personal or societal expectation, but because we dream and long to go there. When we are solid in this vision, its creation becomes a joy-filled journey.

Discuss learning how to learn, becoming one's own best teacher, and breaking away from negative conditioning.

The third chapter is dedicated to the realm of learning, and in my opinion, is one of the most important parts of the book. After all, the answer to the question of what we learn follows, rather than precedes, how it is that we will learn.

Many of us had less than optimal experiences in school, where the memorization and regurgitation of facts trumped the process of learning and its enjoyment. We may have believed that we were passive and second-class receivers of information rather than co-creators of relationships with curiosity, experience, and eventually, wisdom.

I have found that in all learning, particularly in singing, we must bring to the table a sense of equality and confidence as students if we want to participate optimally. That doesn’t mean that other people don’t hold incredible amounts of wisdom for us to absorb. It simply means that the process of empowered learning is in the context of relationship, with the specific information being the byproduct rather than the goal of the dance. When this respectful balance is achieved, new wisdoms easily and powerfully replace previously held ideas, stereotypes, and illusions- both mental and physical- because we had both a say and a role in creating them.

Your chapter on fear covers a range of issues. Talk about managing fear.

These are such great questions… all with answers that could fill an entire book if addressed comprehensively. Perhaps the best way to briefly summarize my view is that I believe fear to be a positive, rather than a negative force. Our fears are, in my opinion and experience, calls to action that encourage us to move into new areas and experiences.

Unfortunately, many of us hear this call to action as a cry to retreat. We resist fears when they come, dismissing the pull to somewhere new in an effort to remain still, safe, and often, stuck. Our pride and egos compound the issue, frantically insisting that any effort to stretch out of our comfort zones will necessitate risking personal annihilation. And so we remain, longing for a great adventure while floundering in mere survival. We’re alive, but we’re not thriving.

In reality (my reality, anyway...) ‘failure’ is a myth. It’s an illusion. One look at nature will demonstrate this point. There is no wrong or right in the birth to death cycle. There is no judgment upon how a flower or a tree sprouts, blossoms and reaches for the light. Things simply are. It is we human beings that decide to create and impose the illusions of good and bad on what is simply an experience of and participation in the passing of time… an imposition which keeps us from really enjoying and being present in life. Look at young children… do they fear failure? Do they fear rejection? Do they worry about how it will look if they fall when learning to walk? Hardly. It is time we unlearn these illusions and remember the truth.

Interestingly, many singers are drawn to the profession in order to work through and reconcile these issues of fear and failure. Often, they have become convinced- incorrectly- that in an otherwise ‘unsuccessful’ life, their talent is the thing that will make them valid and worthy. Yet when this theory needs to be tested upon the metaphorical and literal stage, the fear that created this bizarre agreement rears its head and insists on neither trying to succeed (for fear or failure) nor giving up and pursuing something else (for pride and fear of ‘looking bad’). It’s a painful dance to both experience and witness. Fortunately, this very struggle, if approached with care, can result in its eventual resolution, and thus, personal and vocal freedom.

Define a healthy voice.

In my opinion, a healthy voice entails three equally important things: a healthy vocal instrument (larynx, vocal folds, strong and connected support mechanism, etc.,), a healthy body (physical health and somatic wellness), and a healthy mind (lack of stress, a sense of humility and confidence, and trust and faith in one’s place in the world). They are wildly and fascinatingly interrelated; without one, there will be a struggle in the long, if not the short term.

Recording sessions have their challenges. How do you achieve a sense of live performance in the studio?

In my opinion- and experience- the biggest piece of ‘technology’ that gets in the way in the studio is the mind. Certainly there are audio variables that in both their newness and foreignness to the natural singing process can cause problems (see below). But generally, it is concerns regarding the experience that singers bring to a recording session that exacerbate, if not cause, a less than optimal performance.

This is largely due to the inherent nature of a recording session. In a way it is a performance, but in another way not, as it will be immediately revisited, checked, tweaked, tuned, overdubbed, and ‘fixed’. It is hard therefore to be in the creative moment- which necessarily involves releasing the moment and performance- when we know that in one minute or less, we’re going to clinically analyze and even alter what we just created.

I therefore suggest to singers that they treat their recording sessions as live performances. I find that it’s best to walk into the booth and sing a song straight through, without thought, without listening back, and without thinking too much about headphone levels and mix and such. Just go for it. Afterwards, you can put your analytical thinking cap and intellectual listening ears back on to critique and, if necessary, correct what you’ve done.

While I’ve learned over the years to embrace and enjoy the process of performing in the studio, certain sessions still present challenges for me. I recently did a gig, for example, where in my headphones I was singing powerfully and perfectly in tune to the track, only to hear after stepping out of the booth that I was a quarter-tone flat throughout the whole line.

It is in this moment that the quality of a session is determined… it is in this moment that a singer has a choice: to get frustrated, embarrassed, angry, and critical of others, or to remain practical and curious about the cause of and solution to the discrepancy. Nine times out of ten, lowering the volume of my voice and/or the overall track in my headphones, or removing one headphone will correct my aural perception and therefore, pitch and performance accuracy. This seems to be true for most of my clients and colleagues as well.

Therefore, remain calm and committed to doing your best rather than to perfection. The former you can control, the latter you cannot. Any attempts at the converse will inevitably weaken your performance, as well as your experience.

You provide an example of how The Washington Post critic dismissed Andrea Bocelli's operatic skills while the audience was enthralled with his passion. What value did the critic bring to his readers?

I think the critic shared quite a bit of value regarding standards in and ideas about classical vocal technique. My issue was not necessarily with the content of his commentary, but rather, the lack of context, which included a moving and powerful presentation that left people in tears and cheering. I felt that this omission did a disservice to an accurate encapsulation of the performance and experience.

My intention in including the review was to provoke a conversation about this very issue… how in our desire to measure ‘quality’ of technique and levels of talent- in all forms of art- we often relegate to the background the effort and passion that leads artists to step onto the stage in the first place. In my mind, this passion is as valid an art form as the ‘technique’ itself. I loved this example because the reviewer’s staunch dislike of Bocelli’s performance was in such sharp contrast to the audience’s reaction. As singers, we are familiar with this conversation… whether it involves a debate of classical versus commercial technique, or training versus inherent ability, there often seems to be very little middle ground. I wanted to open that space up, and encourage us all to spend some time breathing and dancing in much larger ideas of ability and success…

How do you advise your clients to remain centered and unaffected by negative reviews?

I love the Tao Te Ching, and reference it often. It, along with the tenants of Buddhism and other eastern philosophies, discuss the nature of duality, and how a lack of attachment is the first step on the path to peace. I agree with these views, and feel readings in these areas would benefit all artists, and indeed, all people.

One of the most foreign and challenging of these concepts for us Westerners involves releasing attachment to both the negative and the positive. We must not only let go of the bad reviews. We too, while appreciating them, must also let go of the good ones. If we’re attached to either, we’re attached to both. Once we are able to achieve this full release, the process of singing and being in the present moment open up with a thrill that far surpasses any external or internal validation.

It is tempting to dismiss these ideas as spiritual mumbo-jumbo, but before you do, consider those performances and performers that you feel to be top-notch. Those you remember and think of as truly transformational. I’d bet that for most of us, it is those artists that from the moment they step on stage powerfully draw us into their worlds and experiences. We are attracted not to their ‘perfection’ but to their sincerity… to the permission they give us through their own vulnerability to bring forth a similar honesty within ourselves…

Certainly we all need critics, and I suggest that clients welcome reviews and constructive criticism as opportunities to see themselves through new eyes, to stretch, and to grow. But while on stage, let prior, future, and even current opinions fade- including your own. They no longer and do not yet exist. All that is present is the moment. Do your best, open your soul, and share your song.

You were a lead singer in Cirque du Soleil's DELIRIUM, touring in 16 countries. What was it like to perform for over 1 million people?

Mind blowing. Breathtaking. Frustrating. Humbling. Surreal. Awe-inspiring. Spiritual. Like a beginning. Like coming home.

I remember when we walked into the arena in Budapest… the largest we played on tour- something like 20,000 seats- we all stood there for a moment before sound check and just listened to the stillness… the quiet. The space was filled with expectation for what was to come… for what we would deliver to That Many People. I still get goose bumps thinking about it. Thank you for allowing me to re-experience that.

And thanks to you & your readers for sharing this wonderful conversation with me. Always a pleasure.

Capturing The Magic In Your Rough Recordings

2010-05-07T07:50:00.000-04:00

Originally published as a guest blog for Cliff Goldmacher's Music Production Newsletter.

Songwriting, for most of us, is a tremendously intimate experience. The magical inklings of lyrics and melodies spring to life in our minds, getting polished and reworked until they're ready to be shared with the world.

Unfortunately, the delivery is often a painful one. The way we imagine our musical creations rarely seems to translate quite right to our rough recordings. Often something gets lost or altogether altered. This is all the more true when we ask other people- session players and certainly singers- to give voice to our work.

Are these 'mistranslations' inevitable? What is the best way to get our songs out there in the world as we feel them in our hearts and hear them in our heads?

The first part of the answer lies in how you initially express and share your song. This is generally in the form of a rough demo, the recording of which is often a traumatic experience for most non-singing songwriters I know. Desperate to just get it down, they shift out of the inspired mindset in which they created the song and- apologizing all the way- clinically eek out each note and phrase.

While this may seem like the right approach to capturing and conveying accuracy, it's one of the worst things you can do. The lyrics and melody are, after all, only one aspect of the song. And contrary to popular opinion, they're in fact the easiest to teach and learn. The magic, on the other hand- that intangible, inexplicable 'feel'- is not.

As both background and explanation, let's look at how a song is aurally learned. Consciously, the mind- via the prefrontal cortex- attempts to intellectually organize and memorize lyrics, melody, and rhythm. Unconsciously, the mirror neuron system- what allows us to imitate, among other things- processes the subtleties and nuance of the way the singer is breathing and singing. Finally, if the performance is perceived as a moving one, it engages and registers in the basal ganglia and amygdala- the emotion centers of our brain. Put together, the result is technical accuracy, internalized inflection, and emotional conviction.

Unfortunately, if you sing your scratch demo as perfectly as possible, neglecting the passion and emotion, your demo singer will likely miss them too. In spite of what he or she might otherwise choose to do, the mind and muscle memory will inevitably record and reproduce your sterile version of the song.

The good news is that 'demo lock' can be as positive as it can negative. It is therefore your job as the songwriter, no matter how well or badly you think you sing, to do your best to get your and the song's soul core onto your rough recording. Doing so will ensure that the singer's emotional memory is activated to capture and repeat it. The intellect can then be called upon as needed to make any conscious alterations to notes, lyrics, timing, or phrasing.

Consider Johnny Cashs "American IV: The Man Comes Around" or Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now". With the feel in their later years trumping 'correct' and technically enviable singing, the mind and body of the listener can focus on the heart of these songs. Have singers learn "A Case of You' or 'Hurt' from these records as opposed to the originals, and you'll be blown away by the difference in not only their interpretation, but their musical and technical accuracy as well.

It also helps, when possible, to have the scratch vocal performed by someone of the opposite sex of your demo singer, or at least, someone with a very different kind of voice. This will further prevent the conscious mind from trying to technically and tonally 'match' the sound of the singer's voice, shifting the focus to the embodiment of the song's essence and message.

I'd also like to address the structure of the demo session itself. Most of us on both the singer and songwriter sides of the aisle are used to a 2-3 hour, one-shot deal. The song is played, a key is picked, the tune is learned and performed. That's a lot of work- on a lot of levels- for a couple of hours. The pros can definitely do it, but I think there's a way to make the process even more relaxed and effective for everyone involved.

To begin, I recommend that songwriters provide singers with their scratch demos a few days or a week before the session. This gives them a chance to learn the song in their own safe space. Without the pressure to immediately perform, the intellect and body tend to relax, helping to ensure a better initial learning. If you're uncomfortable with such a hands-off approach, a quick phone check-in will ensure that your singer's on the right track.

Another trick I use- albeit perhaps unconventional- is to recommend initially learning in silence. Generally, singers start 'faking through' a song as soon as they hear it. The problem with this approach is that muscle memory is unable to tell the difference between 'learning' and 'singing'. Two or three times of half-singing through a piece, and the voice and body are well on their way to making unsupported associations that are difficult to overcome when it's performance time, even for the pros.

By learning the song through listening however, both the emotional and technical cues can be processed and memorized, ensuring an optimal initial physical engagement. You may have to pay your singers a bit more for this 'advance work', but I assure you that the investment will be well worth it. Not only will you have a more confident and relaxed vocalist in the booth, your session will likely go much faster and more smoothly.

Just as your songs come from the heart, so from there should they be initially expressed, learned, and recorded. Stay connected and committed to your emotional conviction at all times, and the soul of your songs will always come through.

The Resistance

2010-04-19T15:52:00.008-04:00

"Offer up your best defense. But this is the end of the innocence."
- Don Henley

If days are a song, then last week's soundtrack may as well have been entitled "The Resistance."

That's not to say that the struggles weren't beautiful, or romantic. Anyone who's ever seen or danced the Tango knows that the push and pull of yes and no is one of the sexiest and most attractive dances around.

The problem is that off the stage and in life, the glorious angst leads not to applause, but rather, to isolation.

Take, for example, a client who came in aching that yet another man walked out on her. She's tried everything... she wanted it to work so badly, yet she was now alone, heartbroken, and devastated. Again.

Memory is short and shifty in the long game of victimhood, especially when we're unaware of the payoff we're getting from being a martyr.

The reality, however, is that we alone write, produce, and star in the screenplay of our lives, often getting less than we say we want in exchange for The Reward we secretly or overtly prefer, or believe we can't live without. This movie starts with the illusion that we're really putting ourselves out there, and our hearts on the line, when in fact, we're already and always hiding in a solitary prison that we built long ago.

The walls came crumbling down for my client when I asked her to answer one simple question:

"What man that you've ever dated, or wanted to date, have you actually wanted to be in a relationship with?"

After running a few miles of well-rehearsed lines from the script of "it's them, not me", gently and with a touch of humor we looked at Her Reality: the fears of being unworthy of love and abandoned ensure that she either picks people who will leave, or drives those worthy of staying far, far away...

In short, she's been playing a game that no man can win.

While this realization wasn't fun for her to see, it's a true beginning of a new game, a different movie. Her honesty allowed and will continue to allow her to move through fear into humility... the best place to start any and every journey. Especially those that really matter: Learning, Loving, and Living.

Aching Honesty

2010-04-01T07:07:00.004-04:00

A client came in the other day longing to improve her R&B sound. Herself a professional jazz singer, she'd just picked up Mary J Blige's new album and wanted desperately to learn how to create "that aching honesty..."

Isn't it funny how often the answers to our questions lie within the questions themselves?

So many people I work with- singers and non-singers alike- are looking for explanations for how to create more sincere musical and personal statements, unaware that they already possess the answers. My job is simply to help coax out from hiding what they long ago deemed unable or unworthy of properly learning about and achieving their dreams and goals.

The great leaders and artists- those that indeed ache with honesty- do so because they constantly pour out from within what they've culled from the deepest reaches of their interiors. Their gifts are not necessarily those of inherent greatness, but rather, the ability to search for the uniqueness within themselves, and the bravery to proudly express whatever they find.

The true source of my client's longing became clear when we explored what Mary J Blige's voice and image represented to her: "uninhibited, sensual, powerful, emotional voluptuousness, dripping with self-love..."

... none of which she felt about herself.

Together we began the journey of uncovering and releasing the sensuality within her, as well as the buried belief that she has the right to express it. Once we did, what began as a desire to imitate turned into a truly unique and special voice making itself known... quietly at first, then louder, stronger, and more sure...

Watch out, Mary...

The Art of Learning to Sing

2010-03-14T22:36:00.006-04:00

Whether you're a new singer or a seasoned professional, the experience of working with a voice teacher can be truly rewarding. Partnering with someone who challenges your ingrained physical habits and limiting beliefs often results in breakthroughs that can take your voice, performances, and career to new heights.

Unfortunately, there are as many horror stories out there as there are tales of victory. Not only do singers often complain of spending their hard earned money– and time– with little to show for them, countless others leave studios vocally and even emotionally worse off than when they started.

What is going on here?

In my mind, it is a three part problem common to many learning environments. Rooted in disconnects between teacher style and ability and student confidence and learning patterns, the situation is further exacerbated by a lack of a shared vision for what they as a team want to create and how to best go about it.

What's more, the variables are often approached in the wrong order. While it may be tempting to first look for a teacher with the best roster, resume, or 'method', the journey toward optimal vocal learning is ideally begun by looking closely at yourself. I'm not just talking about your performance experience and technical understandings. Vocal training requires you to bare not only your voice, but also your heart and even your soul to another… to become truly vulnerable. This requisite openness often leads to unresolved emotional issues and insecurities– rather than the voice– becoming the focus in sessions, setting the stage for the potential development of co-dependent relationships that can hinder and even impair vocal and personal progress.

Next in importance, and often overlooked, is knowing what it is you hope to achieve. Do you want to heal an existing vocal problem or craft a style for yourself? There is a big difference between preparing for an impending tour and coming out of a vocal hibernation, just as there is between a technician and a stylistic coach. Working through potential songs for your American Idol audition with a classical teacher (or on legit technique with a performance or repertoire coach) is likely not the best idea, unless he or she is incredibly open-minded and unusually versatile. Being certain of what you want and need will therefore make the process of finding the right coach or teacher vastly more straightforward and successful.

Whatever your specific goals, in my opinion, the best teachers in any field are those who view the process of learning as a journey of co-discovery, rather than top-down instruction of an inflexible methodology. Central to the creation of this relationship is abandoning the notion that there is an unbalanced power dynamic between teacher and student. In fact, the opposite is true. When working with a coach or teacher- or for that matter, a doctor or lawyer- you are employing them to help you grow in a certain area of understanding. They are auditioning for you, so to speak; the onus is therefore on them to demonstrate that they're qualified to provide you with the service you're looking for.

Still, many people continue to believe that learning is simply the passive intake of information from someone who knows far more about a topic than we do. Indeed, a coach might know more about technique, but that doesn't mean he or she knows how to communicate that information in a way that's clear to you. Your participation is critical to ensuring that the process of learning– the giving and receiving of information– can be fulfilled. Therefore, look for someone who is eager to understand how you experience your voice and has a desire and ability to tailor and explain the principles of healthy singing in a way that personally resonates. Even the best coaches have their limitations, musical and otherwise, and the truly great ones will tell you what they do and don't know and specialize in, as well as if and when the time has come for you to move on.

With that in mind, don't hesitate to ask your short list of potential teachers whether they offer public workshops or master classes. Seeing them in action will give you a sense of their teaching style, personality, and process, and whether they might be a good fit for you. If this isn't an option, perhaps request a brief video chat prior to setting up an appointment, as well as whether you can email or speak with a few of their students about their experiences and thoughts.

Learning to sing is a journey that begins not with the right teacher or technique, but with you. Knowing who you are and what you want is the first step to unlocking your vocal– and personal– potential. Empowered with an open mind and a clear vision, you'll more easily find and partner with the teachers and coaches that are best able to help you move further along the path toward realizing your goals and dreams.

Cash vs. Caruso

2010-03-04T07:52:00.007-05:00

"Hi Jennifer. Wanted to let you know that I got the Johnny Cash show. I'm looking forward to it. On another note, I've been agonizing over that opera audition. My technique has been all over the place, and I have again gotten extremely confused and obsessed with it. So before I completely lose my mind, I'm going to try to start enjoying singing again. To hell with ‘opera technique’. It's making me crazy. I literally don't know what I'm doing with one song. I keep thinking my classical teacher has some secret from the golden era that's going to make me stand out way beyond everyone else in the world. But when I sing as you teach, I feel much better and way more in control. And it's probably the same thing my classical teacher’s talking about anyway. How many voices can you have?! Sorry about the rambling. This has been extremely frustrating. After forty years of singing, I'm still not ready..."

With my client’s permission, and thanks, I'd also like to share my response:

Let's look at the situation. You've been given a part in a show – for which you'll be paid, and well – playing one of the most famous and beloved singers of all time. The style and technique come naturally and effortlessly to you. You positively love the music. It's a joy to sing. The show will be a great experience. You'll get to travel.

On the other hand, you're agonizing over an audition you have to pay for. The very thought of creating the sounds makes you anxious. You feel disconnected from both your body and the mind that is supposed to know and tell it what to do.

I know this seems like a terrible predicament, and a vocal one at that. But make no mistake. The real issue here is the disparity in attitude you bring to each. Opera isn't giving you problems. Commercial music isn't easy for everyone. Certainly there are distinctions between the two, which we've talked about in the past. But I can assure you that for you, the space between them is filled primarily with fear and insecurity rather than technical issues.

And on the wall of that space is written, to paraphrase your email: someone else has 'the thing' I need to succeed.

If you really wanted to 'stand out', you'd take your role and run. Instead, you take for granted a style of music that comes so easily to you, in which you’ve been and continue to be successful, and ache, obsess, and agonize over another. Why not just apply the same vocal, intellectual, and emotional tools you use in the former to the latter, and see what happens?

Before you protest that you've tried this, and that classical singing is just plain old harder, let me remind you that a) I've witnessed your 'attempts' in our sessions and b) I work every day with equally tortured 'Carusos' longing to sing Mr. Cash's music as gloriously as you do. Reverse the genres, and the emails I receive from them are the same.

As is the belief that binds you all together… that nothing worth having comes easy, or from within yourselves.

The timeless 'secret' you think your teacher has is not some elusive technique. It’s unconditional self-confidence, something that neither she nor anyone else can give to you.

Imagine for a moment that you gave yourself this gift, and that the classical repertoire came to you as effortlessly – and joyfully – as the commercial. Ask yourself, "is there anything about the idea of universal freedom that intimidates me? What would my musical – and personal – life be like without a struggle? What would it feel like to sit still, confident, and fulfilled where I am now, rather than constantly agonizing over what I've yet to achieve, what I've yet to 'get'? What is the reward I'm receiving from the frustration that comes from this impossibly hard work?"

Answer those questions, and you will be ready. For anything.

The Art of Letting Go

2010-02-25T08:05:00.019-05:00

There is indeed an art to letting go. And it is perhaps one of the most important arts one can master.

It's taken me quite a while to learn this truth, much less the art of it. I come from a long line of optimists that insist that success and persistence are synonymous, that positivity and objectivity are friends, and that determination is never blind. That letting go implies giving up, and that the painful harbingers of loss and failure are best responded to with "I can make this work. I can hold on. There's no such thing as a mistake... if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!"

These have been the mantras for so much of my life.

And often these mantras work. But sometimes they don't.

Sometimes, "if you want something - if you love something - you have to let it go..."

This is true in every area of our lives. I've clung as tightly to certain career moves as I have to relationships, even when all signs pointed toward an impending flop. I've resisted sound advice, fearing that I would somehow negate the validity of my original dreams by daring to imagine newer (how dare I say better?) ones. Standing still and proud, I would arch my chin into the very wind that was softly and gently trying to sweep me off to somewhere new...

I've now come to realize that the best of dreamers – the real idealists – have their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. How else can they move in the direction of the wondrous and exciting things they see up there?

Indeed, if a year traveling with a circus taught me anything, it's that you can't grab onto the next trapeze handle if you're still clinging to the one in your hand. You'll just keep swinging in midair until the momentum stops, the crowd leaves, and the show moves on...

So here's to letting go. Here's to having faith that the best of optimism and dreams are realized by embracing the tempering wisdoms of objectivity and necessary change. Here's to the journey. May we all release our fists of familiarity and fear, so that we can leap into a glorious future with bravery, humility, integrity, and grace.

It's Complicated

2010-02-01T15:20:00.003-05:00

I've always enjoyed Nancy Myers' films, particularly the shift of perspective she offers in relationships between men and women. Watching Jack Nicholson embrace vulnerability in Something's Gotta Give or Mel Gibson transform from a sexist, arrogant ass to a respectful – and respected – gentleman in What Women Want is my idea of really good movie watching.

It's Complicated follows a similar script, this time exploring the dynamics of a divorced couple coming back into each others' lives. We've all seen this one before: the hysterical, middle-aged, victim wife; the wealthy, handsome, rational husband, and his young, dumb, sex-kitten mistress. There are only two winners in this game (if that), and the ex-wife certainly isn't one of them.

In Myers' version, however, the tables have been dramatically turned on the old, male-directed standard. It is the dissatisfied, emotional, and erratic ex-husband (Alec Baldwin) chasing the accomplished, confident, happy-to-be-single ex-wife (Meryl Streep), who, incidentally, is also being pursued by the charming Steve Martin. The woman is calling the shots this time, handling every move with grace, dignity, and kindness.

What's more, the 'mistress' role is not inhabited by some silly ditz a la The First Wives Club. Instead, the bright, young, and gorgeous second wife has a child, a terrific career, and a rapier wit. Not only is this combination of assets refreshing (how often are sexy, stunning, young women also brilliant, accomplished, and classy in the media today?); a sigh of glorious relief follows a scene in which the ex-wife, in contemplating her successor, admires rather than criticizes the latter's wisdom and accomplishments, thus shattering the ridiculous and pervasive notion that women are genetically prone to cat-fights whenever two or more are in the same room, or interested in the same man. Hallelujah.

But the best part of all is Myers' subtle directorial choices that bellow with commentary on no less than the very nature of relationships and families. The ex-husband's dissatisfaction in his second marriage stems not from sexual boredom, but rather, from a lack of and desire for a deep, intimate, emotional connection. Myers challenges here not only what turns men (and women) on, but a society that refuses to publically imagine that long-term commitments and families are in fact sexy… increasingly so as time goes by. Indeed, it is still the ex-wife who possesses the emotional, intellectual, and sexual allure, which Baldwin's character relentlessly pursues in spite of a newer, younger, and scantily-clad (as well as brilliant) bride begging for sex.

Sometimes you aren't aware of the landscape before you until something upon it shifts. While I was certainly pleased by these bold new relational choices, I sat in the theater shocked more by the fact that they seemed foreign and even surprising to me. Like all of us fed a constant media diet of culturally accepted values and mores, negative concepts and stereotypes sneaked into my way of seeing and accepting the world, in spite of the fact that I consciously hold very different ideas about it.

Those ideas are as follows: Women are indeed just as powerful, comfortable – and capable of – being independent as men. Men long for intimacy, commitment, and connection as much as women, and are all the more turned on when they find it. People are not meant to be disposable; in relationships of every kind, we are all looking for long-term connections that will, by their enduring nature, bring increasing amounts of meaning and joy to our lives.

Feminist thinkers and psychologists including Jean Baker Miller, Mary Pipher, and Carol Gilligan have been writing about these important issues for years. Thank you, Nancy Myers, for bringing them to the forefront of our awareness on the big screen.

Cynicism

2010-01-24T10:05:00.043-05:00

Yesterday, I quoted this excerpt on Facebook from Conan O'Brien's last show:

"All I ask is one thing, particularly of young people. Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism; for the record it's my least favorite quality. It doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you, amazing things will happen"

I was so moved by his words, and therefore surprised by responses more critical than concessionary. The majority suggested that $40 million in the bank would make anyone positive; that were we too, famous, rich, and successful, we'd shirk all negativity and run off into the 'happiness sunset'.

In my experience, this isn't the case.

Cynicism is a mindset, and – like happiness – is generally not specifically situational. I've worked with many wealthy, famous people riddled with cynicism, as well as poor foster kids in the Bronx that inspire me with their determination to suck the marrow out of life. The perception of opportunity is just that, a perception. The reality of our human condition – wherever we come from – is the result of the choices we make every day, and in every moment.

One friend suggested that choices and optimism weren't going to get her 40 million dollars, a gig playing piano on Broadway, or the ability to fly. I disagree. Let her first put all of her energy into creating a product or idea of terrific value, practicing incessantly, moving to New York, banging on every door along the Great White Way, and taking flying lessons. Then she can say whether or not these things seem impossible.

This may sound like a Pollyanna fantasy to some, but I believe it is cynicism and 'realistic thinking' – rather than reality – that get in the way of our wildest dreams. I have found in my own life that it is my fears and mindset, rather than any 'facts on the ground' that have hindered what I shout to the world to be my goals.

What's more, when we relinquish fear and cynicism (along with its buddy pride), even if we don't attain exactly what we're yearning for, the process itself becomes a dream. The journey is only a hellish letdown when it's a battleground for insecurity and ego, rather than an opportunity to learn, grow, and experience new things.

What does Conan O'Brien have that any of us don't? Not today, but inside... What did he have when he was 5, 10, or 15 that any of us didn't have at the same ages? The universe wasn't determined to give him any success that it isn't still offering to the rest of us. It's up to us to know and fight for what we want... our choice whether we allow life to happen to us, or will it to move through us.

Perspective

2010-01-17T23:40:00.023-05:00

"Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…" -Joni Mitchell

Last fall, as the leaves were at the height of their color glory, I had the life-altering experience of visiting The Dog Chapel in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. It's a truly awe-inspiring place… every inch of every wall covered with pictures, poems, and prayers to dogs from those who called them family. I spent hours wandering from letter to tear-stained letter, my heart aching at the beauty of so much love…

Almost as inspiring as the chapel is the man who built it. After a near-death experience in 1994, Stephen Huneck awoke from a 2-month long coma talking incessantly about a dream he had to create The Dog Chapel. While others laughed, he and his wife Gwen started building what has become the nation's – if not the world's – most sacred monument to man's best friend.

So it was with a heavy heart and much confusion that I read recently about Stephen's passing by his own hand.

How could someone with so much to give believe that he had so little to lose?

Despair is a dangerous devil. It often sneaks in when you least expect it, and like a virus, grows exponentially and frequently undetected. Thriving on loneliness and isolation, it whisks away the perspective of even the most positive and productive, painting the transient and circumstantial in our lives with the opaque perception of failure, misery, and inalterable tragedy.

That day at the chapel, I had the chance to talk with Stephen and Gwen, and was so inspired by their love, their passion, their generosity... their having things so 'figured out'. Was the seed of his choice present then and there? Was there anything that could have been done or said to steer him off of that course?

I don't know, and can't begin to speculate. But I do know that Huneck's passing serves as an important reminder to us all to take care of one another. No matter how things look on the outside, people we both love and don't know are hurting inside. A smile, a hug, a compliment… mere words and actions from us might mean the difference between life and death to someone else.

Let us all walk through the world with a greater sense of care for one another. We are indeed our brothers' keepers.

www.dogmt.com

Carmen & Josephine

2009-12-21T08:14:00.005-05:00

This morning, I came across an article about Carmen Herrera, a 94-year old Cuban woman who– for the first time in her life-long love affair with painting– is being commercially recognized. Married 61 years to her best friend and 'inspiration', she painted every day for six decades simply for the joy of it. Now, her geometric works are selling for $30,000 a piece and being featured in shows at MoMA, the Hirshhorn, and Tate Modern.

I have my own 94-year old Cuban inspiration; my 'Nena' Josephine Jimenez lived a life of similar 'quiet success'... one of the first women to graduate from UCLA, the first Latina principal of a high school in Los Angeles, married as well to her best friend, biggest fan, and soul mate for decades... her story, her life, and she are all tremendous inspirations.

The two embody the most simple and important lessons... that life is a journey with no destination but life itself, to enjoy the ride at every age and stage, and to remember that each moment is as beautiful as the last... if not more so.

That success is in the living, not the recognition.

As Carmen Herrera said in the article, "I paint because I have to do it; it's a compulsion that also gives me pleasure." She is amused by her success, but not rewarded by it. I'm reminded of how Nena would say to me, when I'd long for good reviews, record deals, and recognition, "Jennifer, do you enjoy what you're doing for its own sake? Are you comfortable in your own skin? Do you love your family and do they love you?"

Nena, and it seems Carmen could answer yes to these three questions. How many of us can do the same? So often we run through life, racing for the prize, only to have forgotten what it is we're running and racing for...

We no longer pay much attention to our elders in this country. We should; they have the wisdom of perspective, born only from having watched so much time, and so many philosophies and loved ones pass away.

To all the Carmens and Josephines alive today, here to witness yet another turn of year and decade, we thank, honor, and celebrate you for your wisdom, your inspiration, and your example.

The best to you all for a wonderful holiday, and a 2010 filled with love, peace, and song...

To read the New York Times piece on Ms. Herrera, visit: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/20/arts/design/20herrera.html?pagewanted=1&em

Revelation

2009-12-12T10:11:00.012-05:00

One of my clients had a breakthrough yesterday. With her permission, I'd like to share her story with you.

Katherine doesn't consider herself a singer. She works in finance, but heard about me through a friend and thought doing some singing would help to open her up to deeper creative and personal expression.

As many of you know, I've found over the years that vocal tension– for both the amateur and professional– more often than not comes from or is exacerbated by non-vocal issues; lack of faith in self, unresolved or unaddressed emotional concerns, insecurities, fears of failure and success, and the like.

With this in mind, as she struggled through a song, I asked Katherine to focus not on how she was sounding, but rather, to concentrate on the meaning of the words and music. To feel the voice coming from a deeper place. To stop listening to and trying to manage every note, and instead, focus on the process of the sound being born, formed, resonating in, and leaving her body.

I asked her to sing from her soul.

To which she replied, "I don't know where my soul is..."

We sat there together for a long while in silence, as Katherine consciously confronted an issue she'd been trying so hard to avoid- one I'd so carefully been trying to lead her to. Bringing her back to the song, I shared this with her:

You don't have to know where your soul is to sing. By singing, the journey toward your soul begins. And it's a never-ending journey... a leisurely, sensory walk deeper and deeper into yourself and the world.

But the journey of finding and celebrating your soul can't begin until you relinquish judgment and expectation. The soul and the voice don't care how you sound or look. They don't have an idea of how your heart song 'should' go. There is no music they call 'good' or 'bad', no notes they call 'too high' or 'too low', no feelings or ideas or imaginings they call 'wrong' or 'right'. The soul only asks one thing... the voice only asks one thing...

... to sing.

Katherine sat still, eyes closed, hand on her stomach, tears in her eyes, and– as all of the muscles in her face and body released in childlike surrender– made some of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard.

Life is Precious

2009-11-23T08:14:00.013-05:00

"Everything is a gift of the universe" - Precious

"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way" - Viktor Frankl

A client emailed the other day asking if I'd write a piece for Thanksgiving, to which I replied that anything I'd imagine to say would likely be either redundant or cliché. The lessons of the season are all around us... lessons of which we are all well aware.

As I returned home from the theater last night, however, it occurred to me that while not an original thought, I might shine a light on a shared wisdom we too often forget...

...and that is how blessed we all are. Not sometimes, not occasionally. But all the time. Even in our darkest, most terrible moments.

As many of you know, the movie Precious is an agonizing tale of a young woman's journey through a hell that most of us cannot even begin to imagine. While a work of fiction, the story is an all-too-real life reflection of what goes on behind so many closed doors.

Still, it was a sense of awe rather than despair that stayed with me during and after the film. Here was a young woman determined to push forward, finding and holding to a sense of hope in spite of a complete lack of it in the lives, hearts and minds of so many around her.

There is similar inspiration in Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning", the true story of a man who found a way, against all odds, to hold fast to a sense of purpose in the worst of human trials. That meaning- hope and faith in the world and his place in it- allowed him to stay both alive and optimistic while so many perished around him in the concentration camps (including his wife and children).

While these stories are certainly inspiring, more important is the reminder of perspective. How quickly our mountains of pain become molehills when we are faced with true human suffering...

And yet, even in suffering- indeed, in every moment- we have a choice. At every turn, we can throw open the gates of our hearts, or lock them tight and throw away the key. Daily, it is up to us and us alone whether to look up and shout with all our might “YES!”, or to bow our backs and heads in a silent scream of 'no'...

For the chance to walk into another holiday season celebrating and embracing all that is and will come, saying yes to and learning from it all, I am truly grateful.

Slow Down

2009-11-16T07:53:00.023-05:00

I'm very lucky. Out of my coaching studio window there is a sweeping view of the Hudson River and Riverside Park. I don't take it for granted, and often find myself gazing out at the changing sky and shifting waters during the course of a day. The impact on my clients' spirits and performance is marked as well; I and whoever has the 5, 6, 7 or 8pm slot- depending on the season- often pause to watch the sunset, grateful for and rejuvenated by the seconds of stillness and beauty.

I don't catch the sunrise as often as the set, but this morning, I was up and here as the day started to break. I rushed about, putting on a pot of coffee, turning off all the lights, and setting up my front-row, windowsill seat to catch the show, desperate not to miss a single moment.

And then time stopped.

Unlike so much in our modern lives, the sunrise- and indeed all of nature- is a molasses-slow show whose every moment is filled with more sensory information and nuance than what most of us consciously pay attention to in an entire day. The rapid-fire rate of television, internet, and radio programming are both cause and reflection of the manufactured pace of today's world, in which our mind and body clocks have been reset to permanent 'fast-forward'. Expecting and processing everything faster, faster, faster- and multi-tasking all the while- we feel more productive. We're living more, doing more, becoming more in the 'newer, faster, better' model. Chant with him now, the grand poo-bah of the speed-madness parade himself, Kanye West: "Work it harder! Make it better! Do it faster! Makes us stronger!"

But faster, faster, faster doesn't make us better or stronger. It makes us stressed out and stretched thin, less effective and disconnected.

I was rushing to catch the sunrise, racing about to 'get there in time', anxiously trying to get into the best possible position to see all that I could... only to be reminded that my gerbil-on-a-wheel act needed to stop before the show- and life- could really start.

An hour later, I was still there in the window, mind, body, and spirit mesmerized by the soaring birds, their changing tune, the shifting colors and dancing clouds. Focusing on nature, I was transported back to the rhythm of the earth... the natural and intended rhythm of life.

When the show was over, at that turtle-slow pace I started my morning, and have accomplished more already- creatively, peacefully, and powerfully- than I would normally in an entire day.

When was the last time your mind stilled, and you focused on one thing? Try it, and you'll be introduced to one of modern life's greatest ironies: doing so will make you more productive and efficient. What a novel idea... by quieting the mind, removing distractions, and releasing resistance, the entire world- and every possibility in it- becomes 'immediately' accessible.

Slow down, people. Slow down.

Lessons from a Marathon

2009-11-01T14:02:00.021-05:00

I set out this morning for my daily walk in Riverside Park. As often is the case, I ended up meandering off my intended path, happily adrift in my thoughts.

Fortunately, you're never really lost in New York... all roads lead to somewhere interesting, and you generally return home better for the unexpected places you've been. The same is certainly true of life.

After picking up a bagel (I often get hungry during my wanderings), I strolled over to Central Park, where I found myself in the midst of the NYC marathon. I arrived just in time to watch the leaders in the wheelchair/handcycle division cross the finish line. To see men and women who've lost their legs or the ability to use them completing a 26-mile race is something I'll never forget. Neither will I forget the beauty on the faces and in the voices of those lining the course... people cheering on complete strangers as if they were family.

After a time, I started walking uptown through the park, pondering what I'd just experienced. The runners were coming soon, and I was eager to find a good spot to watch Paula Radcliffe pass by.

The sound of whistles and yells brought me back into the moment, and I glanced up to see, off in the distance, two racing cyclists coming down the street. As I was trying to figure out what they were doing on the course, my heart leapt in recognition as my mind put together the pieces in instant slow-motion:

...the cyclists were slightly ahead of and on either side of a handcyclist... the handcyclist was wearing sunglasses... the cyclists had whistles in their mouths... at each bend in the road, one would blast out a signal...

The man competing in the race, who had no legs, was also blind.

Just when I thought the day couldn't be any more inspiring, I was given one of the most powerful gifts I've ever received. Here was a man, who looked to be in his late 40s, without legs, without sight, racing in the one of the greatest, most challenging marathons in the world.

At that moment, I made three vows to myself: to never take a single moment for granted, to never forget how blessed I am, and to never complain about anything... ever, ever again.

I did see Paula Radcliffe run by, as well as the man and woman who ended up taking first place in the marathon. It was indeed a sight to behold. But for me, there was no competition... the real winner had already crossed the finish line.

The Reverent Vessel

2009-10-23T14:47:00.007-04:00

I've recently been speaking to a man in England with a very interesting problem. Or better, a very common problem, caused by a very precious dynamic.

Many people I work with are wrestling with fears of rejection, failure, and success. These fears manifest in the body and voice, causing issues that on the surface seem entirely physical in nature.

This man in England, however is another matter. His fears are the same... of rejection, of failure, of success... but not for himself. Instead, he's worried that he is simply not good enough to express the gratitude he feels within his heart for life. He feels unworthy... not of the world or the audience, but rather, unworthy of music.

Oftentimes, I've found that reverent and searching souls are plagued by a pervasive sense of not being good enough. Never feeling adequately wise or worthy to teach, they often remain in the role of perpetual student, seeker and learner. In ways, they feel worthy enough to take, but not to give... a rather curious irony...

The reality though is that this man- and we all- are good enough to both give and receive. Not because of what we've done, or dream to do, but because we are, because we exist. And therefore- no better, no worse than anyone else- we have as much right to sing as we do to listen; to humbly give thanks, express our awe, and celebrate where we are and what we are experiencing in this moment with our breath and being.

Ambition, as you might imagine, is another issue for this man. He becomes very uncomfortable when people compliment him, not because he feels inadequate in his performance, but because he doesn't like the attention.

My advice was to him as is it to you... accept compliments like a wind that blows by you, touching your face for only an instant. They're not meant for you, anyhow. Your gift isn't the gift of the sound of your voice or your performance of the song that carried it, but rather, the place to which your voice has taken them, within themselves.

You are a vessel through which life touches the lives of others. Hold that idea for a moment... is there any more reverent- or worthy- purpose?

Chatting about Criticism

2009-09-24T19:22:00.011-04:00

... excerpt from a recent email interaction with a friend and fellow voice coach…

JD: So tell me this then…do you think that there is ever a place for criticism? I really am curious to hear your take on it… the way I see it, the validity of praise is given profundity by one’s willingness to offer criticism… of course, I do have to be careful not to let myself criticize actions or objects in a way that my students or friends transfer it personally… but how do they know that I'm sincere in my compliments unless they know that there is a standard or measure?

jh: Do people have to know they're being criticized for it to be criticism?

JD: Ahhh… you're criticizing my statement, but you don't want me to know it! Clever! But seriously…

jh: Of course there is a place for criticism... I just wouldn't call it that. Criticism implies that where you are at this moment isn't enough, or good enough. I prefer the idea of refocusing, observing, and encouraging growth. Every place you are and have been deserves it's moment of appreciation and celebration before moving to where you want to go next. If you don't fully honor that space, positively seeing its- and your- strengths and weaknesses, you won't walk in confidence & assuredness to the next level.

To your point about a standard or measure… I don't think you need to criticize in order for people to know that your compliments are sincere. Do you need to tell your children that they’re wrong in order for them to believe you when you say they're right? Honesty trumps criticism. I believe sincerity conveys universally without the need for the expression or even recognition of duality. Does there have to be evil for there to be good? Do you have to show someone the depths of your cruelty for them to know the kind power of your love? I don't think so… you have to be honest, and have compassion. To speak with care, realizing that your words can be weapons of destruction or foundations upon which houses can be built. You can be both complimentary and constructively critical with the same kind voice…

JD: Perhaps then it can be valuable to criticize things or actions not necessarily associated with a particular individual…for instance…the Pinto is an ugly car… if I were to say that it were beautiful, you wouldn’t trust my judgment when I say that the Corvette is a beautiful car…

Now, if I know someone who owns and cherishes a Pinto, I think if I were to say that to them, they might transfer value from their car to themselves, so I would probably either refrain or refocus… hopefully…

jh: Is there anything that isn't associated with a particular individual? A corporation is made up of individuals who made that Pinto. And so, I think about who put their heart and soul into crafting that Pinto before making my point.

The real question is what is my point really about? How the car looks to me, someone who isn't driving it, and has no intention to buy it? I don't think it through to arrive at a less powerful, more comfortable point. But a more certain point, that benefits the person receiving the criticism more than it benefits me in any way for saying it.

I feel that is something people often miss with criticism… the goal. Is it more important for you to say how you feel? To be critical? To convey that you have a certain ability for discernment? Or that the person you're speaking with hears what you want to say? Or that they personally benefit from what you say?

One could say that much of this is really an argument in semantics. Still, as we’re a language driven culture, I’ll have that argument. Again, I think kindness can have a strong foundation, and that strength can have a kind one. And I’ll stand by that, whatever words you choose to explain or express it… showing singers their specific weaknesses and/or pointing out and criticizing what they do wrong won’t necessarily make them better. Building their confidence and painting a picture of where they can go next will.

Eve Teasing

2009-09-16T08:46:00.032-04:00

Today's blog isn't about singing per se, but is still very much about the importance of being able to express ourselves freely, clearly, and fearlessly. Enjoy!

An article in the New York Times this morning announced, in an effort to curb 'Eve Teasing', the advent of 8 commuter trains exclusively for women. Not in New York, but in India, where women are constantly subjected to pinching, groping, predatory staring and catcall shouting on their way to and from work. The government didn't enact a law requiring men to behave in a civil manner, or impose fines or punishment upon those who don't. It simply created a system of separate but equal, circumventing a demand for respect and decency.

While I don't find this to be the case on Manhattan subways, I'm sad to report that the article might very well have been talking about life on the streets of New York City. In truth, at least 5 times a day I am either glared at in a predatory manner, or shouted, whispered, or sneered at with language that would make a grown man blush.

I'm not blushing however. I'm deeply concerned. And over the years, I've grown increasingly concerned by those who feel they have the right to a form of blatant disrespect and prejudice that, directed toward any other group, would be an offense worthy of similar front page coverage in our nation's leading newspapers.

My concern has manifested in a variety of ways over the years. I've ignored the remarks and accompanying energy. I've tried to engage the men with compassion and care, including starting conversations about how they would feel were their daughters, mothers, or wives being addressed and treated in a similar fashion. I've given into anger, fantasizing about having a bb gun to shoot out the car tires of fools honking and screaming as they drive by, tongues wagging. I've imagined being in possession of Harry Potter-like powers, anonymously zapping bolts of humiliation or empathy through the creeps who walk by making obscene noises, and from time to time, touching me.

But I don't have a gun or magical powers. Instead I– along with thousands of women and girls in the city– wear sunglasses to avoid eye contact and listen to iPods to silence the daily blows. We alter our wardrobes, lengthening our skirts while our confidence, ease, and comfort in the world threatens to loosen.

Though I shouldn't have to, I'd like to insert here for those who may be skeptical of my reports a few items: 1) These offenses rarely– if ever– occur when women are with men, so it may be hard for some of the latter to imagine that they actually happen. It seems indeed that there is a protocol of respect– or perhaps, fear– that enables predators to regulate their behavior. 2) These offenses occur whether I'm wearing a lovely dress or sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt, and a baseball cap. It seems that contrary to the opinion of some– that women bring this treatment on themselves– that sexual harassment is indeed an issue of power rather than one of sexuality. 3) These are offenses, and not feminist or angry misinterpretations of flattering or courteous gestures. Neither I, nor any woman, would take offense to a man or woman respectfully commenting on an attractive outfit, spirit, or appearance. What I am speaking of is entirely different, and entirely unacceptable.

I, like any man, woman, or child, would like and should be able to walk 2 blocks to get a newspaper, a cup of coffee, or an ice cream without being treated in a disrespectful manner. Our society stands up against the heckling and harassment of elderly-Americans, homosexual-Americans, African-Americans, Asian-Americans or Hispanic-Americans. It's time to add female-Americans to that list.

A Cure for Anxiety

2009-09-10T15:10:00.018-04:00

More often than people realize, psychological distress is caused by some combination of lack of meaning, lack of social engagement, and lack of spirituality. These and other existential issues aren't often discussed in Western therapies, but that doesn't make them any less real.

Also not discussed in Western therapies are the concepts of duality and non-attachment, social service as a means of transcending self-absorption, and the importance of mindfulness, meditation and yoga. We come from a culture that insists that to resolve our mental health problems, we need to focus on them- and ourselves- more. How do I feel? What do I need? What am I missing?

The answers are out there, if we're willing to listen, and looking in the right place. Recently, for me that place has been Eastern Philosophy, including Asia's two more prominent forms of psychotherapy, Morita and Naikan, both of which purport to offer complete psychological cure from fear, psychosomatic pain, perfectionism, anxiety and neurosis.

How do they do this? In the case of Naikan, the resolution of these issues comes from asking and answering three simple questions about the people in your life. These questions are:

what did that person do for me?
what did I do for that person in return?
what trouble and inconvenience did I cause that person?

As you probably noticed, not one of the questions is about ME. Both Naikan and Morita believe that relief from anxiety and malaise comes not from asking "what's in it for me" and "what have I not been given" but rather "what have I not given?"

It would be easy to dismiss Naikan as some Zen, optimistic ideal if it hadn't been proven in a series of studies to be as effective if not more than our own Western psychotherapies. Which means- get this- that the roots of anxiety may in fact be culturally created and empowered. Rather than an innate and inflexible response in all people to a host of life and family circumstances, anxiety may in fact be caused in large part by our conscious preference for self-focus, self-obsession, and self-absorption.

This is a hard pill to swallow- on a number of levels- for us Westerners… one that many people can't or don't want to stomach. The idea that all psychological unease can be resolved by an increase in gratitude and a decrease in victimhood is uncomfortable. Neither do Naikan and Morita seem, from our perspective, to take into account the anguish caused by physical and psychological abuse, or to hold the perpetrators responsible in any way, upping the discomfort level to infuriating...

Still, the next time you take a yoga class, go for a walk or sit before the majesty of the setting sun, consider quieting the litany of thoughts running through your head... your to-do list, your drama, your issues, your pain, and ask... first about your mother, then about your father... next about your siblings, then about your children... then about your friends, your colleagues, and your partner:

what did that person do for me?
what did I do for that person in return?
what trouble and inconvenience did I cause that person?

You don't have to be a believer in Naikan, Eastern Philosophy, or anything to feel your heart open and the tears stream down your face...

The Social Animal

2009-08-28T13:36:00.012-04:00

We are lonely.

In New York City, where I live, I'm surrounded by people every day. On the street, on the subway, there's never a second when I'm not alone.

But there is a difference between being around people and really connecting with people. Physical proximity and social cyberspace aren't substitutes for relationship, and we as a culture are starting to feel the weight of that truth. It's part of the reason, in my opinion, that Starbucks has become the corporate and cultural giant it has. You can make coffee at home, but the community that Starbucks provides- a fundamental component of their mission statement, by the way- draws people in droves.

Still, we pick up our latte and sit alone with our computers, rather than talk to those around us. Or we go out to dinner with a friend or spouse sneaking glances at the people one table over, rather than saying hello and striking up a conversation.

The reality is, we are social animals. Just like dogs that sniff and roll around with each other as a means of introduction, we too long to get close and personal. That's not to say we should start nuzzling strangers at cocktail parties, but we've gone to the other extreme, becoming isolationists in a social context.

In my practice, I've recently started suggesting social interaction along with personal introspection as a recipe for progress and growth. And it's working! Joining a choir, establishing a Friday morning coffee group, participating in a hiking club and volunteering are really making a difference in the lives of my clients.

It's not just benefitting them individually, but their marriages and partnerships as well. Without realizing it, our loneliness has caused us to expect too much from the one relationship we do consciously allow ourselves to look and long for. That bridge isn't built to carry that much weight though, so all too often it collapses under the pressure.

But when we recognize the difference between our relational needs and our foundational social needs, and fulfill them both via the proper channels, everyone thrives. Our lives become more rich, and we feel more fulfilled.

Not that that's going to stop me from going to Starbucks every morning... : )

Today

2009-08-17T09:25:00.007-04:00

My recent travels into the technology-free country have taught me so much. I've recognized not only that I have a default addiction to 'checking in' via the many means that technology provides, but how much I've been missing by not consciously creating and allowing for moments of stillness and silence.

So many of us wake up and consider the day ahead based solely on the appointments, to-do lists and messages that flash out from our computers and blackberries, neglecting and therefore forgetting our spiritual, creative essence... our passion. Consider starting with a different focus... on the presence, caring and openness with which you hope to walk into the world. What a shift! A shift that allows everything you do... including errands and email... to become sacred.

TODAY
jh

I will go out now and call to the winds
To bring forth their joy
Dance under the rising sun
And celebrate the dawning of this new day.
I will wander her lands
And take in her splendor
Listening to her call,
Honoring her rhythms,
Obeying her timelessness.
I will feel, touch, taste, smell and see
All of the gifts she silently bestows
Upon the eager observer.
I will pursue the stillness of my mind
So that hers may become my guide;
Our minds becoming one, our wisdom uniting.
I will love all that I can,
Cherish this gift called life,
And revel in the endless possibilities
Of countless pleasures in all things great and small
In the wonder called...
TODAY.

Talent

2009-07-11T08:40:00.020-04:00

A few weeks ago I talked about the power of 'The Moment'… that crucial crossroads in our lives when we're given the reins of opportunity to turn right or left, to rise or fall… those choices that looking back, meant everything.

Most of us have had these moments in our professional and personal lives. But I believe that they're also there waiting in a place you might never expect… in the formation of talent.

Of course, there's no conclusive proof of what makes a musical genius… the debate goes back and forth between some combination of genetics, environment, brain circuitry and practice (10,000 hours of it, according to Malcolm Gladwell). In fact, the only thing experts do agree on is what they're uncertain of.

I certainly don't claim to have any definitive answers, either. But I would like to share what I've observed in my own practice over the past 13 years… commonalities that have led me to an exciting conclusion about 'the moment' that- perhaps- talent is born.

In my experience, brilliant musicians today… singers and instrumentalists that 'speak' the musical language fluently, intuitively, effortlessly and naturally… all had initial language-less, non-technical, and generally teacher-less experiences. In other words, they approached music's door, and- finding it open- walked in silently and usually alone, sat down, and make themselves comfortable.

In that space, immersed inside of music's house, they observed and played without inhibition, rules or criticism from self or others, and developed their ability as an extension of their soul's own language. Certainly, many of these musicians went on to study technique and to read music, but it wasn't part of their initial experience or engagement.

Conversely, I've observed that those who began the study of an instrument or the voice with technical instruction- or as an individual, intellectual pursuit- seemed to master only two rather than three dimensions of proficiency. Yes, they can read music. Yes, they can play songs. But they're not fluent. It doesn't come as naturally to them. They always have to think about it, the way someone who studied French or Spanish in school has to think about and translate from one language into the other before being able to connect.

For those scoffing at the idea that how we learn music might be as important as inherent talent, take a look at countries and cultures- Ireland, African-American churches, the Native American tradition- that teach and celebrate music as an uninhibited practice. It is astounding and inspiring to observe that most- if not all- bravely, comfortably and fluently speak the language of music with powerful, beautiful voices.

This is not a function of a greater amount of inherent talent per capita, but rather, a difference in approach toward music and creative pursuits: the initial engagement- if it wants to demonstrate as inherent rather than practiced, a natural ability rather than a learned one- must bypass the technical, language-oriented, left-brain, and engage directly and immediately with the creative, right brain, emotional centers. The aforementioned cultures go right to these emotional centers. Our current teaching model turns sharply to the left.

None of us can go back and change the way we experienced our initial musical, artistic engagements. But what we can do is use this wisdom to our advantage as we walk into the world and approach learning, particularly things of a creative nature. Abandon language, judgment, and a sense of time. Ignore the temptation to name and perfect things. When the moment comes, sit in the house of your creative pursuit, make yourself at home, listen, and play…

1 + 1 = 4

2009-06-27T15:12:00.009-04:00

A client and I were talking about communication yesterday, marveling at how seemingly simple conversations sometimes go so wrong, the meaning getting incomprehensibly lost in translation…

The language we use is so crucial to communication that (as some of you know) I spend an entire chapter of The Art of Singing discussing the many ways that it can help or hinder learning and understanding. On the surface it seems obvious, but in fact it's often an incredible challenge to be certain that what you say is an accurate reflection of what you truly feel and think.

More important than the language you choose however, is ascertaining the actual number of people involved in a conversation.

It sounds like simple addition, but look closely. When two people are talking, they are not alone. Both bring to the table not only their current, conscious selves- the part of them that hopes and longs for specific things in the specific present- but the aspects of themselves that have been formed- often unconsciously- by their conditioning and past experiences.

If you're not sure what I'm talking about, consider the last important decision you made… see if you can recall the distinct- and likely disparate- messages from your brave and centered self, and your fearful, uncertain self… the part of you that knows who you truly are and where you stand in the world, and that which is still caught up in less than ideal thoughts and patterns from long ago.

Two people are talking, but four entities are communicating and reacting to what is being said (and not said), each with their own very distinct agenda… No wonder things get so confusing!

In singing it's even more complicated, as there are actually three energies wrestling for the spotlight when a single person steps up to the microphone: the present-day person, the collection of that person's past pains, fears and experiences, and the voice.

Certainly singing is about the physical instrument, and its development and training are obviously important. But the voice is only one aspect of the entity that is The Singer. Truly effective vocal training- if it wants to be holistically integrated with long term results- cannot only be about isolated technical development. It must also involve and listen to the hopes and dreams of the person actually standing before you, as well as the fears and issues that oftentimes push that person both forward and back.

It's a powerful lesson for all of us: we must become aware of every message we're sending out as well as hearing, giving space to each aspect of ourselves and others. When all of who we are feels acknowledged, listened to and understood, communication- and learning- are effortless.

Selling Your Truth

2009-06-11T11:10:00.006-04:00

Earlier this week, I shared the wisdom of my friends Rachel and Charles regarding self-promotion: know what three things you want to say, then say them again and again. Yesterday, Rachel followed up and asked: "If there were one thing you wanted to share out of your book, what would it be?"

I have absolutely no idea.

And I'm not sure I want to know. The walls of resistance rise in me whenever I'm asked to sound bite or pare down in an effort to 'focus'. Were it up to me, when asked the question "what one thing is your book about", I'd open up to page one and start reading…

In composing, for some reason, I don't have this problem. I usually have tens of pages of notes and ideas that I happily hone down to 3 minutes and 33 seconds... twenty or so lines of words and melody that encapsulate all that I think and feel about the topic at hand.

Why don't I mind, and even enjoy, the narrowing then? Why do I get giggles of giddiness as I try to carve and sculpt general concepts into small melodic moments and quick linguistic lances? Because it feels like a distillation, rather than a whittling away. I'm compressing large amounts of carbon into what I hope will become precious diamonds, rather than choosing between my heart and soul.

Great businessmen and women understand this distinction. They know that 'selling' isn't the diminishing of a concept, person or product. It's displaying the highlights of a jewel in the best possible light.

We artists have got to wrap our heads around this idea… to learn that 'selling' ourselves and our art doesn't require the minimizing of who we are into a teensy, tiny box. It's about delivering a summary that's as or more powerful than the work we've created… sharing the best of who we are and what we do in a way that others can easily appreciate. (After all, imagine trying to get people to learn and sing along to a 56 minute song with no discernable melody, rhythm or rhyme…)

When the time comes to present your art and heart to the world, don't see the negative- and incorrect- notions of compromise, soul-selling or debasing your art for gain. See the opportunity as an invitation to write a gloriously catchy song… to translate and elevate your narrative heart into a most exquisite haiku.

Sing Your Truth

2009-06-09T14:39:00.014-04:00

Yesterday, I had an interview with Back Stage about my new book. I consulted with my friend and business guru Charles Day before the call, who told me to think of the three things I wanted to say, then say them again and again.

The lovely Rachel Kice seconded Charles' advice in her blog today, suggesting that the key to getting what we want is not to be aggressive in energy or mind, but to simply keep repeating what we are determined to achieve.

Language is a very powerful vehicle, and I speak often about the importance of knowing what it is that you want (rather than what you don't) and proclaiming that to yourself and the world. But the call for repetition struck me…

Often, in an effort to help clients open up, I'll ask them again and again, "who are you?" The initial answers barely brush the surface: "I'm Bob. I'm a singer. I'm a man." But as I continue to repeat the question, a greater depth and often surprising awareness is reached: "I am the hope of my family. I am not contained by my body. I am alone."

The continued asking of a question yields a greater truth, and speaking that truth out loud confirms it. But indeed it is repetition that transforms and manifests a hope into reality.

Religions and governments the world over have recognized and utilized this power of ritual in prayers, chants and anthems, and so should we. Therefore, sing your truth. Repeat the verses and choruses again and again from the depth of your soul-centered knowing. Let your song reverberate and be certain that people- and the universe- can't help but listen, and eventually, sing along.

The Moment

2009-06-03T09:04:00.006-04:00

I work with a lot of people who have made a lot of decisions. They know what they're afraid of. They know what could have been, what should have been. They know what lovers and others have hurt them and what jobs have been taken away unfairly. They know what's wrong with the world and the people in it.

They come to me professing these things like a bad habit they're desperate to shake. But when I ask them to articulate what exactly they do long for, and what steps they're taking in that direction, they usually have very little to say.

Life mantras are powerful things. But more powerful than the messages we constantly feed ourselves, are the moments those belief systems are born, take root and begin lives of their own.

Those moments wait for us at every crossroads… Go this way, and grow. Go that way and don't.

Unlike the beautiful, slow motion movie scenes with the symphony playing in the background, these moments usually come at a low point in our lives… when we've been shown, yet again, that our belief systems aren't working… that we've in fact been working against our dreams and best interests, rather than for them.

At those times, all any of us want to do is wallow in a gallon of ice cream and our feelings of hurt and failure. And there's nothing wrong with that, for a time...

But there will come a moment- a single, ironic moment- when you feel least powerful, when life will actually hand you the keys to your entire future, and ask: 'will this break you, or will this help you?'

Listen closely, then choose wisely.

Sunday in the Park

2009-06-01T08:57:00.015-04:00

Thank goodness for good friends, good weather and good walking shoes.

Yesterday, my friend Maniezheh and I decided to take advantage of all three. By the time we were done, we'd traveled over 10 miles, from morning to evening, river to river, restaurant to restaurant, shop to shop, park to park. What a gorgeous city we live in… at every turn a new experience, a new opportunity…

The same is true of life. It's so easy to get caught up believing that the only view out there is the one you're currently looking at. That's great news if what's before your eyes is something you've consciously envisioned, bravely created and lovingly nurtured.

But sometimes, even the best of us get distracted and lose focus. We silence our inner voices and let fear have its say… and the landscape changes into something rather different than what we've looked forward to.

Thankfully, as the wise and wonderful Charles Day often says, sometimes all you need is a fresh perspective. Indeed, the best way to get a handle on the view from the inside looking out, is to get on the outside and look around.

Memorial Day

2009-05-20T13:01:00.024-04:00

I decided that what I needed was a long walk. I decide this often, but something about a view looking out at the river and park makes me feel that in some small way I'm already out there... vicariously getting the fresh air and exercise I know I need through the people four stories below...

Thankfully, a break in my schedule opened up at the last minute, so I replaced my sandals with sneakers and headed out.

Life sometimes has a wonderful way of giving you more than you expect. Those moments are made even more wonderful when you're already expecting great things. For me, a warm, sunny day, fresh air and a walk in nature are about as good as it gets, so to be given more was a real treat.

The waterfront bordering the west side highway is always filled with people- walkers, cyclists and rollerbladers... workers eating lunch, children playing with mommies and nannies nearby, and lovers creatively wrapping around one another. But today, something was different. All eyes were directed to the river, to witness what a paused runner told me was the beginning of Fleet Week.

Sure enough, a parade of boats was starting to go by, just as a series of fighter planes flew in configuration directly overhead. I'm not sure what was more incredible, the ceremony of it all, or the looks on the faces of everyone present... joy and awe.

A man with his daughter on his shoulders offered binoculars, and the moment went from beautiful to sacred... the men and women I'd seen as little white spots mingling on board the nearest ship were in fact standing in rigid and proud salute, to us, the city of New York.

Memorial Day for so many of us, myself included, is a wonderful chance to take an extended break- to enjoy that extra day of relaxation before revving up the real life engine once again. Today gave me pause to remember what this long weekend is really all about, no matter your political views... the struggle for peace, the mourning of loss, and gratitude for those who have served and serve the cause of freedom for not only themselves, but in the hopes that others too may be free.

Angels Among Us

2009-05-16T22:22:00.012-04:00

I've never felt that I've been given more than I can handle in life. Sometimes it seems to get really darn close, but then something always happens to rescue me at just the right moment. An unexpected smile from someone on the subway, a tender word from the guy at Starbucks. A child in his mother's arms knowingly touching my face in the elevator, a dog racing toward me in the park, determined that wild, unbridled affection is just what I need at that exact moment…

Earlier today, I was in Grand Central Station. I'd had a really difficult week, and some friends were kind enough to offer their home for me to rest and reflect. I vaguely remember them promising to make me laugh, let me cry, smother me with care and leave me alone.

I bought my ticket and treated myself to lunch. I could feel the sadness starting to seep through the brave face I'd been trying to wear. It felt good, and felt even better knowing that I'd soon be somewhere where I could let it come and fully feel it. I was looking forward to that release, only an hour or so away, as I went to pay the bill… only to realize that my wallet was missing.

Mortified, I promised to bring the counter waitress the money – to which she simply smiled and told me not to worry – as I gave her my bag as collateral before racing off. I ran frantically to the bathroom where by now I was certain I left it. No one had seen it, though people I've never met looked deeply into my eyes, touched my shoulder and arm, and sighed with me. I ran to the lost and found, which was closed, but found a police officer who, with the kindest smile, took my cell phone number and promised to personally call if anyone turned it in. He sweetly pretended not to notice the tears now streaming uncontrollably down my face… tears that had nothing to do with my wallet. He told me to go to the station manager, give his name, and to say that he'd be up on his next break to pay for my ticket.

Silently weeping, I ran to the station manager. On my way, I passed a bartender and asked whether anyone had turned my wallet in. He said no, and with the most genuine look of concern asked whether I had any money to get home, offering me a $20. I thanked him, but told him that the officer already had it covered.

I stopped to ask the Metro North desk clerk whether he'd seen my wallet. As he sadly shook his head no, the woman sitting next to him came out from the booth, and holding my hand the whole way, walked me across the terminal to the station manager, assuring me in that knowing, soothing mother tone that everything would be just fine… just fine, baby.

The station manager listened to my story, and as she handed me the ticket – that she refused to charge the officer for, and instead paid for herself – touched my hand in a way that made my heart lurch. The desk clerk was still holding my other hand. As I thanked them both, the desk clerk I'd initially spoken to ran up to us, holding my wallet. I've never seen a more beaming, proud smile on a grown man's face. Apparently a woman had almost missed her train in order to make sure the wallet got to the 'right place'. It was as I'd left it- $360 in cash, a week's worth of clients' checks, all of my credit cards…

I'd missed the train I'd planned to take, and so – with 45 minutes to go before the next – went about finding the other Good Samaritans who'd been so kind to me. Alma, the counter waitress, had already paid my check with her own money, and refused to take my cash or a tip. Mike, the bartender, greeted me with a 'hooray!' and insisted we celebrate together with ginger ale, on the house. Another heart-melting smile, and I was off to find the police officer.

Jim clapped and laughed out loud when I came bursting through the door, wallet raised above my head. He told me how thrilled he was that it had been found, as they're rarely returned, and insisted that I celebrate with something much stronger than ginger ale when I got upstate…

As I was walking out the door, he called out, "Jennifer, you know, you have angels watching over you."

I told him that yes, I did.

The Upside of Atheism

2009-04-30T08:25:00.012-04:00

There was an article earlier this week in the New York Times about Atheists, and their growing desire to congregate for the purposes of camaraderie, community and connection.

I think this is a great idea, and was therefore surprised by the opposite reaction of so many around me.

On the surface, it's understandable why some people are wary of Atheism. Not only does it fundamentally conflict with most faiths and religions, the absolute rejection makes many people uncomfortable.

It's the second point that I'm particularly intrigued by, as I believe the rejection focus of the definition somewhat betrays the true meaning of the word. Consider synonyms for Atheists- Humanists and Freethinkers. By speaking to what subscribers do believe in, rather than what they do not, they evoke a much warmer and welcome reception, though the meaning of the three is the same.

By focusing on what Atheists do not believe, the definition completely ignores what they do believe in: the wonder, majesty, mystery, spirit and beauty of all that they feel can't be named, fathomed or comprehended.

The singing world has the same types of language 'blind spots'. By not subscribing to a specific method, many people assume that a singer or teacher is devoid of technique, and therefore, effectiveness.

But this completely ignores what they do subscribe to… having all of the tools and philosophies available depending on what is best for each client. Singing in a variety of styles as well as learning a variety of ways to implement them.

By not having a philosophy that's held to as implicitly true, both singers and teachers are constantly and willingly unconvinced that infallible truths exist, and therefore, are continually and open-mindedly searching…

… and we all are all looking for the same things, regardless of what you call them: Vocal freedom, confidence, predictability, health and joy.

The common themes of spirit far outweigh what separates us, as well: The desire for health, happiness and freedom. The desire to nurture and protect our families, to learn and grow with dignity and humility. To feel appreciated and special. To have a purpose and fulfillment.

Once you get beyond the names and labels and into the heart of the matter, you'll see we're not so different, after all…

Scarcity-Based Thinking

2009-04-23T14:17:00.016-04:00

I've been having a wonderful conversation with my friend and colleague Kate Sawert about confidence and competition. The struggle to both attain and maintain the former… the dual-edge sword of motivation and isolation that the latter bears.

In sitting down today to share some of what we've learned and discovered together, I was struck by the overlap of many ideas I've had for future blogs, as well as themes from my past ones. The topics vary, but a fundamental issue binds them together.

That issue is Scarcity-Based Thinking… a mentality that says there's a limited amount of time, money and love to go around… that there’s a restricted amount of opportunity, talent, success and power in the world. That life is a game of chasing, rather than creating; of reacting rather than enacting… that there is no such thing as 'Too Good to be True'… that indeed, 'Something’s Always Gotta Give'.

In my studio, this way of thinking presents itself in what I call the 'Either/Or mentality'. The choice that seemingly needs to be made between Concentration and Joy. Consciously Understanding and Intuitively Knowing. Technique and Abandon. Thinking and Singing.

I see musical geniuses refusing to attempt to develop their technical minds for fear of somehow detracting from their creative gifts. Conservatory-trained singers clinging to their technical understanding of music, rather than considering that an entirely new way of experiencing and sharing that sacred language might exist…

This scarcity dance is not only performed by singers and musicians, but by all of us. It's in the water… it's our second National Anthem, and we start drinking the Kool-Aid and singing along when we're very young: Are you a real man, or a pansy? Are you going to be spiritually or financially fulfilled? Are you a professional or an artist? Successful or a dreamer? What one thing are you?

For women, the choice we're asked to make at a very early age is whether we're Smart or Pretty. Logically, we know as we get older that we can be both. Intellectually, we're aware of the mind-tricks of the media and society. Publically, we encourage each other to be both, demand recognition of both, adore both in ourselves.

But in our quiet moments, in the center of our beings, most of us are still stuck clinging to the one that we chose long ago to root our confidence, while aching for and envying in others the one we're certain we lack.

A corporate client and I were exploring this issue a couple of weeks ago. A beautiful, feminine, classy woman, she had worked her way up the ranks and taken over the top role in her firm. While raising a family. And going to graduate school. And starting a charitable organization. And sitting on five corporate boards. And happily and meaningfully partnering with her husband of 25 years.

Still, she struggles with simultaneously wanting to enjoy her sensuality and femininity, and feeling guilty for what have always been and continue to be constant hindrances in the workplace. Struggles with the 'opposing desires' of wanting to be sexy and feminine, and respected, admired and heeded.

We can put a person on the moon. We can create symphonies of the most beautiful music. We can cure disease, graft skin, clone animals…

… why have we yet to cure the world and ourselves of the ridiculous notion of Scarcity?

Contrary to the fear-filled, power-hoarding voices that tell us we need to divide and conquer the best of what we are, the world- and we- are temples of abundance that only find peace in a state of balance. Yin and Yang, dark and light. Without one, the entire system falls.

Imagine it. Women feeling smart and sexy, and demanding respect for both aspects of themselves, from themselves and others. Men as comfortable with their emotional sides as their masculinity, and the educational and cultural systems finally holding accountable the schoolyard bullies and those that raise them. Young adults seeking economic and spiritual enlightenment… becoming artists in any and every profession.

Being technically flawless and vocally liberated.

That would be one giant leap for mankind.

Dreams and Success

2009-04-13T08:09:00.006-04:00

My friend Rachel Kice has been writing about dreams recently. Dreams and success. And how you know when and/or whether you've achieved them.

I've always loved to ask people... would you feel more successful and proud of your work if you had $10 million in the bank from doing it? What is the real measure of success, of talent? Money? Recognition? The way it makes you feel to create and/or share it? The number of people you impact, or how deeply you affect each one?

This exercise doesn't work for my 'successful' clients, because they already have $10 million in the bank. So to them, I ask: 'what is it that you long for?' Their answers vary, but generally they either speak of a previous time or a faraway place… where life is more simple, more anonymous, better…

To sum up: Dreamers long for success. And successful people long to dream. Both long to find a happiness that often seems to elude them.

Were any of us to wake up with $10 million (or alone in remote cabin with no press or media), we'd spend a few months blissfully doing all the things we dream of doing when dreaming of success or freedom. But after the euphoria wears off, after the hundredth sunset, you build a fire, pour yourself a glass of wine and dream of... what??

Whatever it is, that is your happiness.

This imagining tends to be very hard for people, because often what we see ourselves doing in that moment isn't what we’ve spent our time, energy, money and education focusing on. What we told everyone we would do, what everyone expects us to do. What we built a career around, what brings us security and stability.

But that's life. People change. We learn, we grow, and therefore, we naturally start to dream different things. Until we stop ourselves from dreaming different things. Or from dreaming in different ways.

The angst I see in my superstars and almost superstars isn't caused by the elusiveness of dreams or success. It's caused by a lack of bravery. By stubbornness that holds onto a dream or success that no longer fulfils. By fear and insecurity that cling to the poor management of a dream at the expense of success and joy. By the decision to stop listening to the voices that whisper 'we came, we saw, we learned… where to now???'

Modern culture in many ways tells us that we have no right to more than one dream… that success means to make a choice, pay your dues, collect your proverbial pension, and remain. But don't forget that once upon a time, our lowly 'Jack-of-all-trades' was considered a 'Renaissance Man'… back when families gathered around a piano rather than a television…

Turn down the noise. Listen to what your heart now longs for and dreams of, and follow it at all costs with wisdom and reverence. Listen to what your soul believes it means to be successful. Then become it, every day, no matter what anyone else says or thinks.

Happiness will be there waiting.

Why We Sing...

2009-04-07T07:50:00.011-04:00

I recently joined a vocalist discussion board that my friend Benjamin Asher recommended. While many of its members are focused exclusively on the academic and provable side of voice production and science, I've met others with some really wonderful, out-of-the-box ideas.

Jonathan Doyel had one such idea, and decided to start a discussion group dedicated to exploring it further. Simply called "WHY?", the group aims to figure out why we sing. Not why we should, now how we should, not what we hope to achieve, but why we do.

This may seem like a simple question. But Jonathan made me realize that while I've certainly thought a lot about singing over the years, I haven't spent nearly as much time thinking about why I sing.

My initial gut reaction to the question was that singing for some of us is like breathing. It's like oxygen. These thoughts came to me over His Eye Is On The Sparrow playing in my head: "I sing because I'm happy... I sing because I'm free."

But so often this WHY? gets covered over… by fear, perfectionism and judgment. By the need to make simple things complicated in order to feel smarter, better and more important. Or by simply 'maturing' and becoming an 'adult'. We leave the wonder behind in our pursuit of knowledge, confidence, academia, success, power, fame, attention… and forget the joy of the experience, as well as the wisdom of that joy.

A child doesn't need to understand the composites of sand to play on the beach. Nor does she need to know the molecular structure of water to splash around in the waves or to lose herself in tasting a raindrop that's landed on her tongue.

Why do I sing? I sing to open up. I sing to share. I sing to discover who I am. I sing to discover who I want to be. I sing to transcend my body. I sing to expand out the boundaries of my emotions... to feel more, be more, taste more. To grow. To fly. I sing to tell the story of what I've learned with others, and to ask others to share their stories with me.

I sing to feel. I sing to love.

Understanding the science and psychology of singing is fascinating. But in the stillness, at the end of the day, wherever and whenever my voice and I share a moment, it's the joy, rather than the knowledge, that leads me on. It's the mystery of this wild gift inside of me- the WHY?- that brings tears to my eyes.

Silence is Golden

2009-04-03T08:22:00.002-04:00

While everyone- and everyone's journey- is different, there is one telltale sign that lets me know that a client is coming to a revelation… silence. Not only does the voice stop, the body and nervous energy cease from storytelling. The noise fades. All that remains is a stillness accompanied perhaps by a dancing in the eyes and a look of wonder spreading across the face.

The birth of silence is in my experience not only the surest sign of a person's impending growth, but the most important gateway to their evolution. Certainly there is a place for expression, but so often our 'expressions' are habits on perpetual auto-replay that distract us from what's real, including what's real within ourselves.

We therefore speak before we think, and think before we listen. We shout solutions to problems we've yet to fully consider. We offer advice to people we haven't taken the time to truly get to know. We proclaim truths we’ve yet to think about deeply enough to know whether we fully believe them.

The solution is to begin with silence. I help my singers work toward this vocal sacred space with a technique I call 'diaphragmatic learning', or listening with the diaphragm. Rather than sing through a song in an effort to learn it, I'll ask them to be silent and listen to what the music- whether a recording or on the page- has to say… to first feel how the body hears the song, rather than try to technically presume, name and claim it.

The music is always there waiting to be discovered, in singing and in life. Slow down. Still your mind and yourself. Listen beyond the voices around you and your own. In that silence lives a symphony that's been waiting to rush in. Once you've let it swirl around you in the blissful quiet and hear the wisdom of what it has to say, by all means, open your mouth, heart, body, mind and soul… and sing. That will be music worth listening to.

Lunch with Myra

2009-03-25T12:03:00.004-04:00

This past weekend, I had lunch in Washington, DC with my voice teacher from college, Myra Tate. Much more than a voice teacher, Myra helped me- after two years of rigid, top-down conservatory training- to regain my vocal and personal confidence.

While a long lunch wasn't enough time after 13 years apart, we caught up, shared our experiences and discovered new insights together. Here's some of the precious dust from the surface we scratched together:

- Stay Positive I've always felt that Myra never got the credit she deserved for her incredible talents. Yet every time I would 'go there'- in an effort to compliment her- she'd thank me and move on to the things she was currently working on and dreaming about. She reminded me in those moments that you never learn anything by criticizing others, and that frustration is never the best way forward. Both take time away from new thoughts, ideas and creativity.

- Don’t Sugar Coat the Past In recalling a rather personal story, Myra reflected that she could have done a better job than she did. I found myself quick with advice on self-forgiveness, 'you didn't know then what you know now' ideas and the like. Myra simply smiled and reminded me that it's OK to see the past for what it is. Peace comes when you accept yourself fully- mistakes and all- learn the lessons, and move forward.

- Check Your Personal Baggage and Pre-conceived Notions at the Door… emotional, intellectual, vocal and otherwise. We had a great time talking about the incredible leaps in our students when we've been able to be completely 'blank'. It's only then that we really hear what someone is sharing and asking of us, and are therefore better able to be there for them.

- Vocal Baggage This is particularly true when it comes to the voice. Not only do we all experience singing in a unique way, everyone has their own 'best' way of communicating about that experience. It's important to both listen to and learn each person's vocal language (verbal and non-verbal), rather than jump in with our own ideas, language and beliefs. While helpful for some, words like 'high' and 'low' and discussing the 'separate head and chest voices' can create a great amount of physical tension for many people. Better to lead by first listening.

- You Are What You Eat Eating clean foods makes for a clean body, which makes for clear thinking. Why create more hurdles in life by giving your body and mind less than the best fuel available? Respect and honor yourself.

- The Four Agreements A discussion of Miguel Ruiz's book gave us both a smile and a shake of the head in amazement. They really are an incredible foundation for a great life:
o Be impeccable with your word
o Don’t take anything personally
o Don’t make assumptions
o Always do your best

Over dessert, the conversation migrated from a mutual sharing to Myra asking my opinion on client issues and technical vocal matters. I found myself feeling incredibly flattered… my teacher asking for my advice!

… and then it occurred to me. In one swift, gasp-inspiring 'Aha!' moment on my drive back to New York…

…that is what a great teacher does.

Even all of these years later, Myra was still teaching me, just as she taught years ago in college, just as her memory and ideas continued to teach me over the years… by listening, by empowering, by encouraging new ideas. She allowed me to be her student once again during lunch, then gently encouraged and humbly allowed me to return to the teacher I'd become.

Thank you, Myra.

Safety and Bravery

2009-03-19T22:20:00.004-04:00

Recently, a client emailed over some songs for me to hear prior to our first meeting. They were good... other than some standard tensions (easily released), there was nothing in his voice that was or would be problematic.

What I did hear though, was safety. I heard a tremendous amount of potential not being expressed, many risks not being taken... I heard a choice to play it safe as a vocalist, as an artist and perhaps even, as a person. (Rarely are these three conditions unrelated, in my experience.)

What's stopping him? What's stopping you?

We're not talking about someone in need of vocal work beyond a simple strengthening and flexibility regiment. What we're talking about… what he's in need of- what we're all in need of, my friends- is bravery.

We're all good at doing what we do, staying inside the lines. That's why we do it. That's why we stay there. But that's not where the real fun is, regardless of whether you're a singer, a student, or a CEO (or all three).

Fear calls us to newer and better experiences. And while fear can certainly be scary, it's far less so than the gnawing and consuming anxiety that comes from not striving for and living up to our full potential.

Just as songs are to be shared, not merely sung, life is to be lived, not merely survived. So live while you're alive. Sing your heart out. You'll have all the time in the world to be quiet and still when you're dead.

Fear, Joy, (performing?), Anger and Love

2009-03-07T14:40:00.014-05:00

One of the greatest challenges for my clients- and I'd say most singers and performers- is managing stage fright. To further complicate things, this 'skill' is entirely separate from the understanding and development of the voice... what is solidly known, understood and eventually predictable in the practice room, shower and car becomes strangely foreign the moment the stage is approached or studio entered.

Over the years, I've come across some tricks and tools for managing stage fright that have worked well for my clients and myself: By anticipating, embracing and even practicing stage fright, we're able to blend into and ride the wave rather than get pummeled by it breaking over us.

Still, this approach is a challenge, as in many ways we're tricking ourselves into believing something that isn't true. We're pretending to be excited when we're really terrified... we're running toward our panic, rather than running away. All of this while trying to perform in front of an audience!

Thankfully, new research says that we no longer need to lie to ourselves. An easier and more honest approach for managing stage fright is available that can eradicate the nerves before making a toast, speaking at a business meeting, or singing on opening night.

This 'revolutionary' breakthrough isn't as revolutionary as it is stunning: Fear and joy, love and anger... While these are entirely different emotional experiences, physiologically, they're essentially the same.

If you're having trouble believing- or even conceptualizing- this idea, imagine narrowly avoiding a car crash, then your first kiss. Recall a scary part of a movie, followed by walking down the aisle at your wedding. The same physiological reactions were occurring in these moments... sweaty palms, dry mouth, shaking, rapid heartbeat. What made these experiences different from one another was our secondary emotional interpretation of the primary physiological experience.

While we can't control the physiological response to fear, attraction, joy, or rage, we can control our emotional naming of- and therefore reaction to- that response. What this means for us 'stage scaredy cats' is that we've just won half the battle; with our bodies now on our practical side, it's two against one versus our emotions.

Go get 'em, tigers!

Learning to Sing

2009-02-10T13:40:00.004-05:00

There are hundreds if not thousands of ideas about the 'best' approach to learning to sing. I've just written my own thoughts on the subject, and anticipate a bit of a backlash when the book comes out in a couple of months; I highly doubt that many in the voice teaching establishment will enjoy my insistence that 'proper' singing begins only when you 'stop thinking, forget technique, and just sing!'

I nonetheless hold tenaciously to this notion, and am thrilled that an increasing number of researchers and thinkers do so as well. I reference many of these men and women in my book, and continue to stumble upon the inspiring writings of those sharing this 'first, follow your instincts' approach to learning. According to D.T. Suzuki, creator of the method by the same name:

"We do not eat as we did in our infancy; eating is mixed with intellection. And as we all realize this invasion by the intellect or the mixing with the intellect, simple biological deeds are contaminated by ego-centric interest. This means that there is now an intruder into the unconscious, which can no longer directly or immediately move into the field of consciousness."

Indeed, the process of thinking about an activity often screws up the activity itself- particularly when the skills necessary to achieve that activity are by design organic, intuitive and unconscious. If you'd like some proof on this issue, try explaining to someone how to stand, talk or walk, and you'll have a good sense of the confusion and frustration that many beginning and professional singers alike encounter when trying to 'learn' to sing.

Psychologist C. Peter Bankart calls this the "sense domain being invaded by intellect". Author Eloise Ristad suggests that we remedy this unhealthy and counterproductive "technical addiction" by "going beyond the rigid set of rules that previously formed our boundaries". Neuroscientists concur, and are racking up research proving that intuitive learning (involving the emotional centers of the amygdala and brain stem) as opposed to technical learning (involving the inhibitory processes of the pre-frontal cortesis), allow people to more fully 'own' information in not only the short-, but the long-term.

In non-science speak, this means that true knowing is inherent, and precedes doing, which in turn precedes conscious reflection, naming, categorization and processing. Just as you can't be technically taught how to speak, walk or stand up, you can't really be taught how to sing. The process is one of trial and error, with practice becoming an ego-free act of familiarization and witnessing of the natural experience. Growth and expansion of the voice beyond this witnessing are playful acts best approached with wonder and curiosity.

When the Technical attempts to precede and supplant the Intuitive, the natural, interconnected flow of activity ceases (as does the fun), and problems begin. One needs to first witness, observe and allow the natural experience of singing to emerge before attempting to technically comprehend, logically explore and consciously manipulate the voice. It's imperative that the process occur in this order... 'training' (in the traditional, classical sense) before a natural understanding is recognized and fostered can cause not only a one- or two-dimensional understanding of a very three-dimensional experience, but physical- and mental- tensions that are increasingly difficult to extricate as time goes by.

Thoughts on Generosity

2009-01-28T10:22:00.003-05:00

I had a wonderful conversation with a client the other day about generosity- both the ability to be generous, and to be able to do so selflessly, with no thought to receiving something in return; with no regard for the potential of being 'taken advantage of'.

I experience this conversation- and the same general reaction (huh?) to my views- often in my studio. There is always a surprise at my desire and even determination to give; there is always a wonder at the idea that giving might not be contingent upon some proof by the receiver that he or she will indeed be grateful and/or will do something of equal measure in return.

In an attempt at an explanation, I ask my curious clients this question: how can limits be overstepped, how can lines be crossed, if boundaries haven't been drawn? Further, if 'invasions of privacy' and 'constant giving' are anticipated and seen as opportunities to share, connect and help- to love and improve the life of another through kindness, if nothing else- then how could these generous actions be anything but positive, for everyone involved?

For those that see this argument as unbearably 'Pollyanna-like', I assure you that the benefits are applicable to both receiver and giver. When I allow myself in the quietness of my smaller moments to dwell on the technicalities of my schedule or fees- the practicality of my practice and career- both my mind and practice inevitably become smaller... how can great, free and brave ideas be born from time-bound thinking that revolves around details of budget, schedules, income and to-do lists? Further, being willing to give constantly keeps my mind and heart open, which greatly improves my own life, relationships and self. While many would insist that I am opening and propping wide a very dangerous door, I have never once felt overwhelmed from this way of thinking and being; in fact, exhaustion comes only when I try to compartmentalize, separate and isolate myself for fear of being taken advantage of.

I'm not sure why the horse is before the cart for me on this issue; certainly there are other areas in my life where the reverse is true, but in terms of lending books, being flexible with session length and fees, and being available at all times to clients by phone, text and email, I find that this openness is not something that is ever taken advantage of, but instead, that it renews the faith of and faith in people, and in turn, breeds like kindness.

While many would disagree, I truly believe in Carl Rogers' notion that all people are inherently good; that we all strive for balance, openness and interconnectedness. Those that seem to contradict this adage- upon a closer look- often have experienced a great lack of kindness, generosity and indeed, love in their lifetimes. Like physical injury, emotional scars take years to heal, and often- if the insults are repeated- never do. If however, an environment can be fostered where people are unconditionally and constantly given kindness, trust, warmth, and the benefit of the doubt, not only do they grow both personally and vocally, but the world- and the views of those in it- begins to shift from a place of seeming scarcity (of time, money, trust, talent and love) to one of abundance. Rogers' 'unconditional positive regard' is indeed a universal medicine that can heal a million wounds.

Pre-nodules, Acid Reflux and Vocal Care

2009-01-23T09:26:00.005-05:00

Recently, I've been getting emails about the best way to care for pre-nodules and other vocal pathology issues. Obviously, the best first step is to go to an Otolaryngologist (Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor) who can look at your vocal folds directly to see exactly what the problem is. With that said, here are some helpful tips for both before you see the doctor and after your visit:

- First, not everything is a nodule or a pre-nodule. Nodules- or calluses on the vocal folds- are caused by prolonged vocal misuse or strain. Polyps on the other hand, are watery sacs often caused from a single, powerful vocal blowout; hemorrhaging is a similar situation resulting from the bursting of a blood vessel in the vocal fold. Treatment for these two issues often differs, but a great first step regardless of the problem is vocal rest until you have the chance to visit your doctor.

Many singers assume that singing is the cause of most or all vocal fold injury and problems. While this is true in many instances, in fact, there are two other important issues to also consider.

- Acid Reflux- as you may know- causes the stomach acid to come back up through the esophageal sphincter and into the larynx, reddening and swelling the vocal chords. Unlike indigestion, many people don't feel reflux, only the symptoms of it... itchy throat, hoarse voice (especially in the morning), and an inability to 'clear the chords'. These 'vocal problems' cause singers to overcompensate by working harder to produce sound, often in unhealthy ways, through 'thick' chords.

While not necessarily the direct culprit in the creation of vocal nodules, polyps and other vocal issues, reflux can certainly exacerbate problems. Obviously there are some purely physical & biological causes of reflux (eating too late, intense exercise after eating, going to bed on a full stomach, too much caffeine, eating spicy and other acidic foods... as well as hormone treatment therapies and birth control pills which loosen the sphincter), but in my experience, anxiety and acid reflux usually go hand in hand; I’ve met very few calm, centered people with this issue.

- If indeed pre-nodules exist, complete vocal rest for two weeks is a good start to treatment if you want to avoid making them worse and/or surgery (which you do!). While this will help, and sometimes even get rid of the pre-nodules, rest won't take care of what caused the problem; an issue which needs to be addressed once the vocal folds and vocal tract are both back to normal. While pushing, straining and other forms of improper use of the singing voice are common causes of nodules and other vocal issues, improper use of the speaking voice often creates a host of problems as well. Evidence of improper use may not be as aurally obvious in the speaking voice, but a disconnect from breath support caused by tension or stress (muscular & skeletal manifesting in the vocal) and unexpressed emotions/difficulty expressing emotion can be huge contributors to what seem to be singing issues.

Often singers are diligent about their voices, overlooking the myriad external influences, tensions and stress and that are affecting their vocal mechanism. Make sure to take a few steps back for a broader view of the situation. As well, remember that vocal fold problems are rare; they're not the result of normal, powerful and even prolonged, healthy practice or training. In fact, favoring your voice- going easy on it for fear of causing 'damage'- may often cause more problems than singing in a full, confident and comfortable voice. Fear tends to cause not only muscular tension, but for singers to 'pull off their air' thereby restricting the vocal tract and putting undue pressure on the vocal chords.