-Listening to another human being is the most precious gift you can offer, and the most powerful tool we have for change and growth as individuals, families and communities

-Being heard by another human being is among the most precious gifts we can receive: a deeply healing experience that can change a life

-Silence shared with another is among the deepest, most ancient medicine; and Silence is the seed of a miracle that allows us to be in the deepest support possible of another human being in pain, without acting to fade or hide or fix that pain. When in doubt about how to be a friend, we can be silent and offer the profound love song of our silence.

-Sound offers expression where words fail.

-Silence offers expression where sound fails.

-When I sing/sound/speak I am telling my story, and as a living being it is my birthright to share my story. My story is important—and necessary—to share

-Silence brings awareness to the dynamics of daily communication, and awareness leads to evolution and innovation

-Sound is the expression of love, fear, shame, grief, rage, joy, conflict and delight. Without these emotions and experiences there is no music, no art

-Sound is also—along with its friend, silence–the double-threshold to the music that is deeper and older than the music of all conflict

-Certain patterns of music (e.g. mantras, rhythms, the scale Sa-Re-Ga, musical modes) have been given to us—or are waiting to be discovered—to attune and entrain our physical systems in an ongoing process of healing and becoming

-Music transforms all emotion, all experience, into a love song that can fuel our lives

-Listening to music [any genre] can help me to hear my story as told by another and reminds me: even if I am lonely, I am not alone

-Sounding gives me the opportunity to acknowledge, integrate, and express my own shadow safely, without harming myself. or another

-Sounding authentically in a safe environment—be it a group or my bathroom shower—creates a habit of self-awareness and expression, which can become a habit of authentic self-expression in daily communication, which can become a habit of acting and living from the centre and source of my being

-Is there anything that resonates more deeply in our very cells than a deep belly laugh, the sound of a child’s giggle, the keening of honest grief, or a primal scream of rage or fear?

Add your own . . .



Human Beings Tell Stories

When I am exhausted, when I’ve run into something I don’t know how to handle, when I’m sad or frustrated, there are two things that help me: telling my story, and walking in beauty for a while. Often, the two go hand-in-hand.

Storytelling has been in my life for literally as long as I can remember. I consider myself fortunate that, in addition to reading my favorite storybooks, my Dad also told actual, off-book-out-of-his-head bedtime stories.

Many of them were along the lines of “things me and my brothers used to do on Grandma’s farm that you should never do because they’re really dangerous.” And some of them were giggle-inducing spoofs on popular fairytales, like “The Three Little Pigs and the Welcome Wagon Wolf Who Lived in the Middle of the Desert.”

(I’ll leave that to your imagination.)

Storytelling has been a part of human life for as long as we can remember. Since we first had sing-song musical communication and language, since we could draw on the wall of a cave. It is a primal, human impulse.

Over and over, from my English Lit degree to my current work as a voice coach, I have had opportunity to appreciate the value of storytelling: to honour our humanity, to entertain, to connect with our tribe, and to facilitate individual healing or group evolution. One of the first things I do in my work with a new voice student is invite her to tell me her voice story.

When I practiced foot reflexology many years ago, I was consistently amazed at how—about ten minutes into a session—just about every client would start pouring out their stories: vignettes about the minutiae of daily life; or huge archetypal or ancestral tales that they’d been carrying with them for decades. The combo of physiological input and the space of trust they felt with an empathic, skilled listener seemed to open the floodgates. Even now, I can’t say for sure how many were actually coming for the foot massage, and how many were there to simply be witnessed. It’s a humbling thought.

The innate capacity to tell our stories is how we share our joy, it is how we live in the midst of the crisis without imploding, it is how we solve problems and move forward after heartbreak.

New School: The Myth of ‘Sharing’ in Social Media

Today we have more outlets for sharing our stories than ever before: my blog could be read in China, or Antarctica, or outer space. But posting cautiously-curated snippets about our lives or weird-factoid memes is not the same as sharing our stories. Hitting the “Like” or “Heart this” button can make a mockery of witnessing another’s story with honour.

It is a truism that what we have gained in the ability to instantly update our network on our status, we have lost in our experience of being truly seen and heard.

That said, I’ve noticed a curious thing: when I post a vulnerable piece my personal story; or when I take a few minutes to shape my perspective on current events into a narrative of momentary beauty, I get instant and enthusiastic engagement. And when I offer a thoughtful comment on someone else’s post that communicates, “I hear you,” instead of reflexively hitting “Like,” real dialogue often happens, and I feel the connection buzzing down the airwaves.

Old School: Circle the Fire With Our Tribe

Whatever the modern media options, I feel in myself that primal need to share words and songs around the metaphorical fire with my tribe. To be in the same place, at the same time, and just. . . .be there. It’s not about learning something new, it’s not about ‘doing,’ it’s simply about following what feels like an impulse coded in my DNA. It feels like going home.

And here’s the lovely thing. When I follow the impulse home, when I tell my story in words, grunts, cries, songs and dance around that metaphorical (or real!) fire—and those energies drop into the container of what I call resonant listening—they are transmuted. Whatever the subject matter—however bright and joyful, however wounded and dark—that witnessed story becomes transformed into a thing of beauty in the world.

By sharing our stories in this way, we give each other the gift of walking in beauty for a few moments. Each teller of tales becomes an artist, each human life, a work of art.

If you too are feeling the call, I hope you will join me at the upcoming event in the Calgary, Canada area.

And, I know it isn’t always possible to share with our tribe around the fire, in the old way. Here are some other possibilities to bring your innate storytelling ability into a place of conscious practice in your life.


Some Ways to Tell Your Story

In writing

-Write it in a journal. Or on some random pieces of paper. Eventually, you may want to have a ritual around it—ripping & recycling, burning, or perhaps turning it into a more polished piece to share with friends and typing it up beautifully.

-If things like grammar and vocabulary are buggin’ ya, Let it go. Write stream-of-consciousness words, write poetry snippets, get out your crayons and draw it or (if you’re like me) scribble odd things on the page.

Speak it out to one person

-Share with a friend, and then reciprocate and listen while they share. I highly recommend a practice like Heart Listening so that you can offer each other a container of compassionate listening. No interrupting, no problem-solving, no judgment, no commentary, no “me too.” Safe space, silence, resonant listening.

Without Words

-Sound it Out. Use your voice in a practice like Free Singing. You can do this at home on your own, or with a friend or two.

-Dance It. Find a song that is a favourite or that seems to match the energy of the moment and dance it out.

Bonus Material: Video Yourself

-If you don’t have the opportunity to speak to a friend, try video-ing yourself using your computer or smart phone camera. Tell the story as many times as you need to, in order to feel complete. In my experience, the camera acts as a sort of witness. You can even have fun with costume and set. Change the room up, change your clothes, put on special make-up or do your hair in a way you’ve never tried before.

Some Suggestions for Practice

If you are Speaking or Writing and not sure where to start, here are some key elements to include:

WHAT happened (events as you see them),

WHO was involved,

HOW you felt/feel about it (using your senses, your emotions),

WHY do all these elements form a story in your mind (what is the connection, the through line, how is the character “you” developing in this narrative)

WHERE are you in that story right now (are you at the end or somewhere in the middle, do you need further input or feedback to complete)

If you are Dancing or Free Singing, Some Suggestions

Craft Your Safe Container

Give some thought to how you will feel safe telling your story. Maybe you need to keep it private, sing it to yourself. If you are dancing, maybe you need to have some props on hand or move furniture out of the way. If you are sharing words or sounds with another person, try a practice like Heart Listening.

Begin with the Energy or the Feeling

Now, begin with the energy of the story. Feel your feet on the ground, pay attention to your breath, feel the emotion and locate where you feel that energy in your body. Don’t try to give it words or shape. Let your body and your voice do that.

As always, I am curious to hear how it goes. You can share your feedback, here.




To listen is to lean in, softly, with a willingness to be changed by what we hear–Mark Nepo (Sounds True magazine)

Listening is a practice of exercising and honing the senses.

This is true whether we consider ourselves musicians, or not. When we open our listening to music, to our child’s or partner’s voice, or the ambient sounds of the city or natural environment, we gather information in the moment and at the same time build our skills for gathering and utilizing information in the future.

I recently shared a Facebook post about the experience I had tracking down a gas leak at the back of our fourplex condo building.  The jist of it was that when I took out the recycling one afternoon, I happened to bend down at the back of our condo building to grab some snow, and followed my nose right to a small gas leak. ATCO was called, and the leak repaired in very short time.

Although the repair guy said it “probably” wasn’t enough to cause an explosion, he had no idea how long the gas line had been slightly leaking, and I’m really glad that no one decided to light a cigarette back there in the meantime!

Of course, I felt good about following my nose to help keep the 8 people and 3 dogs living in our building safe and sound.  I even got a whimsical invitation to work for the gas company—haha.

But just as important for me was the reminder that our ears, eyes, noses, beaks, fingers, feet, talons, tongues, whiskers, skin, guts, hearts & spidey-senses are our most vital sources of awareness for the information that helps us to survive and thrive. That pure, undomesticated input of all the senses can be invaluable guidance in all areas of life.

Listening is something that we do with our entire beings.

Sadly, the ability to receive, perceive or trust that info sometimes gets damaged by life experiences. Initially, I doubted whether I “smelled what I thought I smelled.” I had to risk being wrong and feeling silly when I followed my instinct to report what I sensed. But I did.

I credit the trust I have in myself in part to the practice of improvised group singing. Feeling, hearing, & seeing what is in the musical environment and then stepping in to help shape it is excellent practice for trusting my own senses and acting affirmatively on that knowing in any situation.

There are many such ways we can hone our senses in this way, below is a simple practice for “listening” with multiple senses that doesn’t require you to sing, at all.


-Stop. Wherever you are right now (please be safe!)

-Ears. Begin by closing your eyes.  Using your ears, listen to the sounds around you and within you:  the voices, the ambient sounds of the environment, your own breath and heartbeat, the soft rustling or creaking of your clothes.

-Feeling. Now, feel the contact of your feet with the floor, place your hands on the wall or on the table or even on the floor, if possible.  Sit on the earth or bring your attention to the connection of sit bones to chair to floor.  What do you feel? What vibrations are you noticing? What subtle movements or quivers?  This is listening with your body.

-Eyes. Finally, open your eyes.  What motions are associated with the sounds?  Do you see people’s mouths moving, are you watching the washer vibrate on the spin cycle or the child dancing as she sings?  What visuals are cueing your listening?  How are you listening with your eyes?

-Unique to you.  What other ways are you listening right now?

Take a moment, a mere breath of gratitude for the rich life of your senses.

At Compassionate Community Voice, we explore listening in many different contexts and formats.  Have a look here if you are curious.

For more information on a unique way of group improvisation that is dear to my heart, called Sonica, check out the exciting work of Gary Diggins, here.