Kate's Voice

I had been singing and  teaching voice for quite awhile when I had an important realization; I have learned a lot about living by learning a lot about breathing.  Frankly, breathing is essential for living.  It is natural and reflexive.  It should be easy, but when the physical demands of singing are added to this natural process, problems may arise.  Now, isn’t that just like Life itself?   One day things are going along smoothly, and the next day, some demands are made upon us that suddenly engage us in the complexities of balancing, controlling and analyzing what once seemed so simple and natural.  I decided that if I wrote down some rules for better breathing, I might have some tools I could use in life, too. Here’s what I came up with:

1. Remember to breathe.
2. Take good care of your body.  It is your instrument.
3. Gradually increase your capacity to breathe by challenging your “limits.”
4. It takes work to make your breathing feel natural.
5. Breathe ahead.
6. Breathe into each phrase and keep the breath flowing with energy.
7. The beginning is often the hardest part.  The secret of a good beginning is to breathe into it.
8. The cut-off, or final word, takes breath, too.  Keep the air flowing even after the sound stops.
9. Always give yourself time to breathe even when there’s not much time to breathe.
10. Talent, practice and skill are very important.   But if breathing is a problem, it’s a lot harder to demonstrate talent and skill.

Related articles:

Breathing: The Seductive Key to Unlocking Your Vocal Variety on Six Minutes

Are Presentation Skills Like Riding a Bicycle? on Kathy Rieffenstein’s Blog

Yoga Breath Blog

I finally got around to going through some drawers in my office that had not seen the light of day in months, maybe years.  They were filled with papers that I didn’t have time to deal with before.  Now, time was my file clerk: Most of the papers were outdated and unimportant, so I just threw them away.  After the last paper was removed, I noticed an unmarked cassette tape at the bottom of the drawer.  Since cassette tapes are even more outdated than some of the papers I found, I considered just tossing it as well, but curiosity got the best of me.  I grabbed my dusty cassette player, turned it on, and inserted the cassette.

At first there was a loud rushing sound—the sound you hear on tapes that were recorded with a built-in mic—then I heard a funny cooing sound.  I wasn’t sure what it was at first, though it sounded human.  Then after a few more sounds, I realized it was a baby.  I heard little squeals of delight, the sound of a toy hitting the ground, a little fussy  whimper, and then something like a cross between a baby crying and a car engine that wouldn’t start.  These were followed by a man saying, “Uh-oh.  Did you drop it?  Better pick it up.”   Then a woman saying, “Hi, baby girl. Do you want your toy?” and louder, “Katie, you know where the cookies are.” A young voice responded, “Yes, Nanny.  That would be so delicious!”

I stopped the tape and rewound it.  I listened, and stopped it again, this time in pure disbelief and wonder.  The voices I heard were ones I hadn’t heard in years.  The familiar patterns of sound took me back to the aromas of my mother’s cooking and my dad’s pipe, the warmth and softness of a plump baby filling my arms, and the blue glass of the cookie jar that Mom kept in her kitchen for my children.

Many years and what seems like another life time ago, my daughter was an infant lying on the wooden floor of my parents’ living room.  I remember my mom giving me the tape, saying that she had recorded it one night while she was babysitting for me.  She didn’t want me to forget my daughter’s unique vocal sounds.

Now, when I listen to the recording, I agree that my little girl made some unusual sounds, but so much more comes flooding back. Listening to the tape, I recall my daddy’s voice that I was sure I would never hear again, mom’s cheery words that always spoke wisdom and love when I needed them, my oldest daughter’s articulate speech that even then reflected a love for language, and my youngest, whose vocal sounds as an infant foreshadowed her general impatience with life’s little frustrations and her drive to plow through them.

After listening to the whole thirty-minute tape several times, I labeled it and put it in a box in my dresser for safekeeping.  I made a note in my calendar to have it transferred to a digital file.

I am especially grateful for those voices and the people they represent.  I am thankful for the technology, however archaic, that allowed my mom to capture that moment in time. I am also grateful for the fact that the tape was serendipitously kept in a dry, dark place for so long.  Above all, I celebrate the miracle of the human voice, a sound that says so much more than mere words.

What do you remember or love about someone in your life?