Magic

Since the election, I started taking voice lessons. The symbolism isn’t complex: when the world looked bleak, I had an undeniable urge to conquer my fears and make my voice heard. Years ago, my fears manifested in nerves whenever I spoke publicly. After five years of Toastmasters and a ton of practice, I can speak. Now it’s time to take my turn and sing in public. (Shhh, please don’t mention this to anyone. I am so. not. ready.)

We do a vocal exercise called “The Reeds.” You imagine a space in front of your eyebrows, relax, and let the sound come. It’s as if the sound comes through a thread from your sternum to your forehead, bypassing your throat completely.

The Reeds are my own personal form of magic.

I have been told often in my life that effort isn’t the only thing. I have been told often that, if you just let go and open yourself up, good things will flow in. I haven’t easily found proof of that.

But the Reeds are my version. The sound is not beautiful until I let go. I don’t need to force it. Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard – even in the Reeds, my diaphragm is working hard to power me up. Forcing things, however, doesn’t work in this case.

I find this exercise comforting during challenging global times. We can’t let up, can’t stop being who we want to be, can’t collapse under the weight of things. We can, however, delight in wonder and awe, celebrate those we love, and envision – always – the world we want to see.

Let’s place our sights in a good spot, envision what we want to see, and let the music flow through us. Find our own Reeds and make our own magic.