“Tell Them About the Dream, Martin.”

We all know about the 1963 march on Washington where Martin Luther King, Jr. galvanized the multitudes with his “I Have a Dream” speech.  I recently heard a story about singer Mahalia Jackson’s role in that speech.  Jackson was on hand to sing two songs during that march, one of which is attached at the end of this post.

The story goes that Ms. Jackson — in her deep and powerful voice — offered words of encouragement to Dr. King from the stage behind him. “Tell them about the dream, Martin!  Tell them about the dream!”  Perhaps this was the most affecting song she sang that day.

I wonder how her words and her voice affected that speech.  I imagine that they provided a kind of fuel for Dr. King’s oratory that day.  How would that speech have been different without her presence there behind him?

I also wonder how I can be like Mahalia.  To whom would I choose to offer that kind of enthusiastic support in the world.  Whose voice would I like to call forth?  Whose dream is worth hearing about and how can I help them tell it?

Today I celebrate all — those speaking in front and those encouraging behind — who are carrying Dr. King’s dream into the world.

Here is a link to Mahalia Jackson singing “How I Got Over” at the 1963 March on Washington. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TALcOreZi0A

A June Birthday

Here is a song to sing to everyone you know with a December birthday.

(To the tune of ‘White Christmas’)
I’m dreaming of a June birthday
One free from holiday excess
For friends don’t remember us poor Decembers
Or if they do, it’s under stress
I’m dreaming of a June birthday
One where of Christmas there’s no sign
There’ll be no self-pitying whine
When my birthday is once again all mine.

We’re good sports about sharing our big day with the onslaught of holidays.
Mostly.
We accept combined birthday and Christmas gifts gracefully.
And if they’re wrapped in Santa or dreidl paper, we understand that you’re busy.
We forego throwing a big birthday shindig because, frankly, we and everyone else are just a little sick of parties right about now.
We’re grateful for every little gesture you make in our direction — and we notice the weariness around your eyes with compassion.

My good friend D. was born on Christmas day.
One year her mother forgot her birthday.
D. may have been a little girl, but she could see why, given the distracting frenzy around the house.

Having a birthday the week before Christmas hasn’t been all bad.

For most of my early years, I thought all those twinkly lights on the houses were all about me.  The tree, too.

My heroic mom managed to make birthday cakes, wrap birthday gifts in birthday paper, throw parties, and generally celebrate the two of her three children that were born in December.  Not to mention her sister, several nieces, and a nephew as well.

The year I turned 40, two friends reorganized their entire holiday preparation to fit in a weekend of birthday celebration at their lake place.  I could hardly bear the attention.

When I turned 50, the Morning Star Singers (my volunteer hospice choir) threw me a surprise birthday party for the first time in my life.  Believe me, I was completely surprised.

Every year I go visit my mom on my birthday.  I bring her flowers and thank her for getting me here.  She tells me my birth story.  Every year hear a different nuance.

So I turn 52 this weekend.  I’ll be going to a caroling party, attending a solstice celebration, and having lunch with Mom.  I’ll be reveling in the darkest weekend of the year and honoring the gift of being alive in these perilous and beautiful times.

Happy birthday to all of you December babies.
I’m glad you were born.

When I Die….

I recently wrote my “death song.”  I’m in fine health, thank you.

The opening lines are:
“When I die, I know there’ll be singing
By my friends all gathered around.
As their sweet voices fade behind me,
I will join in the one great sound.
And I’ll stand on a sunset hillside
Just like I did in that dream
Join the multitude there that is singing
The song inside everything.”

I think about my death most every day — and not in a morbid way. I use the fact of my eventual departure to sweeten my days, align my priorities, and guide my choices.  Time is all we have.  I want to make mine count.

I just came across this wise article by a fellow singer/songwriter and hospice worker, Bronnie Ware.  Like her, I have spent many hours with people who are near the end of their lives. I agree with the top five regrets of the dying she identifies here.

Give it a read.  May it make your life more lively….

http://www.transitioning.org/2010/09/11/top-five-regrets-of-the-dying/

Occupy – “Our” Voice

Last night I heard a story about the Occupy Wall Street Movement on National Public Radio.  The report contained recordings of the occupiers’ innovative, low-tech amplification system where the people in the immediate vicinity of the speaker echo his or her words so the larger crowd can hear the message.

In the story I noticed that the people who were repeating the speaker’s message weren’t just repeating her words, but every nuance and inflection of her delivery.  This particular speaker had a tone that I can only describe as exuberant and joyful.  To hear a group of 25 or so “amplifiers” faithfully conveying that sound along with her words touched me deeply and got me thinking about listening.

When I’m leading songs in a community, I teach through the oral tradition — line by line, call-and-response.  People listen deeply when they’re learning this way.  They are focused and intent in a way I don’t witness in everyday conversation.  This intense process of listening and repeating weaves them together as a community.

They aren’t just learning the song from me; they are helping each other learn the song through their deep listening and diligent mirroring.  When they finally master the new song, there are high-fives, shining faces, and great celebration of the beauty we created together.

So I wonder….

How would you listen differently if you knew you were going to have to replicate the exact words, pacing, pitch, and tone of the person who is speaking?

What might you understand about a person, their message, and intention if you literally “tried on” their voice?

Have you been ever been listened to in this way?  If so, what did you notice about the experience?

Have you ever learned a song using the oral tradition?  What was the experience like?

Diversity and Inclusion: What’s Voice Got To Do With It?

I recently offered a Full Voice presentation for a group of diversity and inclusion managers at a large financial institution.

Expressions like, “we need every voice at the table” or “everyone must have a voice in this organization” inevitably arise in conversations about inclusion.  These comments are usually metaphorical in nature, but I do see the critical role our literal voices play in creating vibrant connections across differences.

Even when there is a sincere desire to create an atmosphere where all people feel free to offer their perspectives, it can be difficult to do.  Here are a few reasons why:

•  Silence is a strong habit.  People who are used to being silent may find it difficult to speak up.  One invitation may not be enough.

•  Oppression, discrimination, and bullying can make being seen and heard feel downright dangerous to those who have experienced it.

•  Many cultures place a high value on conformity and blending in.  What can be an asset in one of those cultures can look like a deficit in dominant Western culture where extroversion and individuality is valued.

•  People from under-represented groups are often reluctant to call attention to their differences in a group.

•  People who speak a second language in their everyday life are sometimes self-conscious about their accents or vocabularies.

•  Those who are used to taking up the airwaves sometimes find it difficult to stop talking and start listening.  They inadvertently fill every available space.

•  Timing and pacing vary widely among cultures.  People who are used to fast-paced conversations may not wait long enough for a slower speaker to jump in.

Four things you can do to connect with people across difference:

1.  Learn about the cultures of others, especially how they speak, listen, move, and connect.

2. Discover and master the diversity of sounds your voice contains.  You’ll have many more choices when you are communicating across differences.

3.  Listen deeply to the sounds, rhythms, and subtleties within the voices of people you meet.  Develop a keen ear for how people speak, not just what they say.

4.  And most importantly, notice how the way you are speaking and listening is affecting your connection with the other person.  Connection is the conduit through which all communication travels.

What have your discovered about how voice affects inclusion and diversity?

Opening Words

Here are the opening words of Full Voice: The Art and Practice of Vocal Presence.  It comes out next week.  Buy it on Amazon on October 4 to support Fifty Lanterns International and their great project in Uganda!

Welcome

This book is not just about voice.
It’s about life.
It poses some big questions:
Are you willing to be alive?
How alive?
And in service to what?

The words “voice,” “vocation,” and “avocation” all share the common Latin root.  Vocare literally means to call, invoke, or name. The people who first made these etymological links recognized the deep connection between voice and calling.

Here’s what they knew. The voice emerges from the mysterious intersection of your body, mind, emotions, and spirit. For anything to get created, it must make the treacherous journey from the world of imagination to the physical world.

Your voice is the primary vehicle for making that journey.

If your “vehicle” breaks down on the way from the inside out, your gifts will remain locked inside you.  If what you are saying is at odds with how you are saying it, your listeners may miss your message altogether.  And without a connection with other human beings, your work can’t come alive in the world.

Your voice says a lot about you. Did you know that just by hearing you speak, a listener is able to determine your physical stature, sex, and age?  That the sound of your voice reveals detailed information about your health, mood, fatigue level, social class, race, and education level?  Long before they process the meaning of your words, your listeners are busy making up their minds about you based on the clues your voice reveals.  And you’re doing the same thing whenever you listen to someone else, whether you realize it or not.

Identical words spoken in different tones can express a diversity of meanings.  The answer to the ubiquitous question, “How are you?” can be answered with the word “fine” in way that indicates joy, boredom, rage, uncertainty, lust, or impatience.  How many exasperated parents have told their rebellious adolescents, “Don’t use that tone with me, young lady!”  Tone is so powerful that it often trumps the meanings of the words themselves.  If there’s a jarring disparity between your words and the sound of your voice, you can be certain that your listeners will give more credence to the sound than the actual content of your speech.

Given its pivotal role in our lives, work, and relationships, it’s astounding that we devote so little time and attention to the voice.  We don’t get training in how to use it well and lack a shared language for talking about it.  We walk around unconscious about the messages our voices are spilling into the world.  At the same time, we hold strong opinions about the voices we like and dislike.

Voice is at the heart of your personal relationships as well.  It is a kind of miracle that your voice has the power to connect your inner world to that of another person.  And it can shut someone out just as easily.  Our voices create a soundtrack for the lives of those closest to us.  The beautiful baritone singing voice of my Grandpa Fred is still vivid in my mind’s ear even though it fell silent in 1996.  I hear my mother’s voice in my mind every day, sometimes imparting words of love and wisdom, sometimes saying things that irritate me no end.  I recall in detail the sound of the blessing I received from a wise therapist in 1985, the scathing sarcasm of my dad at his worst, and the warm resonant tone of the teacher who helped me find my voice.  Whose voices are ringing in your memory right now?  How do you think the people around you will hear your voice in their memories?

The voice you have right now is not your fate.  It’s not fixed and permanent.

Voices change all the time.  You’ve changed yours over and over during your lifetime, sometimes on purpose, sometimes unconsciously.  Some aspects of how you sound are determined by physiology, gender, culture, language, and history.  Those vocal qualities aren’t open to significant change.  Other aspects of your voice, though, were cobbled together by a series of unconscious decisions you made along the way.  (Picture something made of duct tape, pipe cleaners, and Popsicle sticks.)

Some of those decisions served you well; still others suppressed parts of your voice that could be useful to you.  Aspects of your voice that were shut down can be reawakened and integrated back into your full voice.

They aren’t gone.  They’re just rusty.

Here’s another truth that’s woven through these pages: you don’t have one voice; you have many.  You vary the sound of your voice many times a day, whether you realize it or not.

Do you use the same voice at an intimate dinner and a sporting event?
With a prospective client and a smiling baby?
Do you talk to your boss the same way you talk to your pets?

You’ve got all the voice you’ll ever need in there – a veritable wealth of sound just waiting to be set free.
Every color in your voice is worth reclaiming.
Each one carries a piece of your humanness.
Reclaiming your full voice makes for a fuller life.
For what did we trade our raw, messy, human voices?
When did we start to believe that becoming less of ourselves would keep us safe?
What is the long-term cost of suppressing the wisdom of our instincts and emotions?
What is so frightening about the possibility of authentic expression?

This book asks you to consider what might be more interesting and important than your fear.
Invites you to shake off the lies that keep you tight, silent, “nice,” or scared.
To take off that muzzle and speak.
To drop your chains and dance.

Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “Most of us go to our graves with our music still inside us.”  The thought of all those wasted gifts is what calls me to this work.  Your gifts are not yours alone; they are your part of our shared destiny.

I hope you will use your voice in service to your vision.
I hope your loved ones will recognize your love for them by the sound of your voice.
I hope your “music” will find its way out here where it belongs and that your “song” will inspire other songs.
I hope your resonant and wise listening will invite the silenced ones to speak out.

May you experience the pleasure of your voice rising up from your deepest center, opening through your heart, flying unimpeded from your mouth, lighting up your eyes.  I haven’t found a feeling more wonderful than that.

It’s sheer joy even when it’s terrifying.
It’s what kept me going through the swamps of fear and self-doubt.
It’s the sound of a body fully alive.
It’s the shortest distance between your gifts and the world that is so hungry for them.
It’s your part in the great song that all of life is singing.

Full voice.
Full life.

Come, let’s begin.

What Is This New Voice?

Long before I wrote songs or books, I wrote poetry.  Lots of it.

I was that sensitive teenager whose heart poured out into the pages of her journal. Somewhere along the line, I started creating little chapbooks of them.  There are now five collections.

My hard drive now contains a file of 283 of my poems.  And I wrote #284 at the Images and Voices of Hope Conference last weekend at a prompt from our reflection leader, the wise and generous Mark Nepo.

Here is a poem from 1992 that celebrates the brave emergence of my own full voice.  It is the ancestor of the book that is being released next week.

 My Voice #2

I shed my clown mask for good –
the one with entreating eyebrows that leak apology.

Here I come –
striding out into the bright light,
clear-eyed and buck naked.
Once the cloak of feigned incompetence falls,
it never fits quite right again.

“There’s no turning back!”
sings my bounding heart
and my lungs stretch another centimeter
to take inside
more space
and more
and more…
until my chest blooms into flame.

There is a new force moving through me:
I run with my feet underground.
I piss thundershowers and spit lava
My eyes are sky sponges,
exchanging blue for blue in scathing riffs.
My body sprouts feathers.
The sweet cry in my throat burns and soothes like brandy in reverse,
heat rising from belly to mouth.
I shake with the power of sound.

What is this new voice?

It is a company of friends
a spinning galaxy
an angel hootenanny
a viper pit
a slow motion volcano –
Made from pillows of God’s breath and leaps of faith.

© Barbara McAfee  1992