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My anxiety was relentless. My chest was tight, my jaw clenched, my breath shallow, and I wanted to hide beneath my desk. But I had a voice lesson scheduled that afternoon, so I psyched myself up and walked to my music teacher's house.
I was studying classical voice in the Italian operatic tradition, and something about the act of singing erased my anxiety. Maybe it was the immaculate breathing exercises. Maybe it was the sound of a rich mezzo soprano voice pouring from my lips to fill the room. Whatever it was, it was working.
I sang scales. I sang from Carmen, and my jaw relaxed, my posture grew taller, and I let my hands express the highs and lows of the music. Singing is healing. Singing can scribble out sadness and overwrite it with joy.
I was studying classical voice in the Italian operatic tradition, and something about the act of singing erased my anxiety. Maybe it was the immaculate breathing exercises. Maybe it was the sound of a rich mezzo soprano voice pouring from my lips to fill the room. Whatever it was, it was working.
I sang scales. I sang from Carmen, and my jaw relaxed, my posture grew taller, and I let my hands express the highs and lows of the music. Singing is healing. Singing can scribble out sadness and overwrite it with joy.
no subject
Date: 2022-03-02 02:27 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2022-03-03 12:50 pm (UTC)From:My own anxiety has been ramped up these days, too. Part of it is menopause, part of it is the state of the world, and part of it is feeling trapped by circumstance. JOY.