What do I mean when I say Soul?

Almost two years ago I participated in a course called “Journaling for a Soulful Life”, through the Jung Platform. The instructor gave a lecture on the history of the term Soul from a religious and psychological perspective. Then she asked us to ponder on the question, “What does my Soul look like to me?” At this point I was used to examining my dreams and had done a little bit of “Active Imagination”, a technique Carl Jung developed to work with dreams and other images that emerge from the unconscious.

I thought, “No problem. Images come very easily to me.” So, I sat at the dining table, closed my eyes, and waited. Nothing. I asked the question in my mind. Nothing. I tried going outside and seeing if I could get more inspiration from my beloved backyard. Still nothing. I tried again the next day, seated at the dining table, eyes closed. I asked, “What does my soul look like to me?” However, this time I started to pay attention to my body. My head felt tight, my breathing was somewhat shallow. I noticed tension around my eyes and mouth. I was trying to force an image to appear. I then decided to breathe like I would for singing: very deep and expanded all around my body.

I already had an image of something coiling up at the base of my spine when I inhaled and uncoiling through my torso and out my head and neck when I exhaled. I breathed consciously this way for several seconds. I felt the layer of tension in my head and neck peel away. Awareness of my arms and legs started to disappear. I was a single unit, a being breathing in the space. A third time I asked,

“My Soul what do you look like? How can I see you?” An inner voice, deep and rich, replied,

“Why do you want to know?

– “I seek wholeness and meaning, a higher purpose.”

 – “You aren’t ready.”

– “Is this really you, my Soul, or am I answering for you?”

– “Now… when you force, you can not know.”

– “I’m sorry. I will try to release control and let you speak.”

– “You are too much in the Head. I am Breath. I am Life. I swirl within and flow out. I coil and uncoil. I spiral. Every time you sing, I am there. I am Music! I am the Song! You have felt me in the wind.”

I started to weep and shake. I wasn’t sad, but deeply moved. This rush of feeling washed over me and overtook me. I felt loved, like a child coming home to her mother. I had experienced Soul on a visceral level. After that I tried to recreate the experience as soon as possible, but of course I couldn’t force my Soul to appear, I couldn’t recreate the exact same experience. Only when I released control and leaned into my breath and body did any words or images appear.

I have been blessed to have had many “visitations” since my original encounter, none as earth shaking as the first, but always rich and profound. The image of my soul evolved from a swirling vortex to a turquoise serpent, and finally to a beautiful blue woman.

(From my journal: December 2021) “I reached out to my Soul. It always takes awhile before the “cramp” of my ego consciousness can be released. I close my eyes, breathe slowly, but there’s a tightness in my head and throat. I feel my eyes straining to see. I call out, ‘My Soul, what do you have to teach me?’ Silence. I ask again, I search for an image. I try to release the tension. ‘My head hurts,’ I say, ‘Why am I feeling this way?’ Finally, I state, ‘I will be quiet and let you talk.’ I begin to have a tingling sensation on my skin, energy builds up inside of me like a wave. My Soul speaks, ‘Take my hand, and walk with me.’ – ‘Where are we going?’, I ask. ‘To the place where you will heal.’ I begin to cry and desperately try to remember every word. A tall blue woman with long hair holds my hand, I am much shorter, like a child. The image fades. I cry, ‘Come back! I want to remember the words.’ – ‘You will.’ She says.”

This “Blue Woman” has been my companion ever since. When I feel lost, lonely, and adrift I bring her image to my mind. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we are just present together. I know this image is my experience of my soul. I know this will not be the same for everyone, nor should it. The experience of your soul is completely unique to you. To quote Jungian analyst and author, James Hollis PH. D,

“The soul is simply the word for our initiated sense of a presence that is other than ego, larger than the ego, and sometimes in conflict with the ego. The soul is the archetype of meaning and the agent of organic wholeness…[It] reminds us that we are never alone when alone, that there is another that provides continuity to our fractured days, organic unity to our broken selves, and transcendence to our fallen condition.” (Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life, p. 253)

In conclusion, I offer you the same question I asked myself, “What does my Soul look like to me? How do I see it?” If you would like to have deep conversations about the Soul and what your Soul want to sing, please contact me.

Singing Through the Sadness

This split within me has become so pronounced that I can see two images clearly. One is of a tall, beautiful woman standing with her arms open to the sides, her chest is open, and light radiates outward, the sides of her chest morph into a flowing stream of colorful gauzy material like scarves or wings, her expression is serene and confident. The other personality is a small creature that is contained in a white box. There are no doors or windows, but one can look in from an ariel view. This creature is scared and anxiously looks from side to side, not knowing which way to go; sometimes this image changes to a person pacing back and forth in a tiny white room.

The first personality comes through when I have time to be alone and silent, doing the things that bring me joy and conversing with Psyche. I also feel this way when I perform at my best. I have prepared and am leaning into the meaning of the piece, I consciously breathe in the environment, inviting the space and the audience, and fellow musicians to sing with me. Lately I mentally ask my soul to sing, I will be the instrument. This purposeful and relational approach to music making keeps me in direct contact with my soul and I feel a connection with others. This personality also appears when I’m teaching or conducting. I’m vibrant, commanding, more in tune with my intuition. I receive so much life and vitality when I let this personality come through.

My second personality appears in social and family situations. I am sometimes quiet and awkward, searching for direction and something to say. I wait for others to give me the cue to speak, to turn on. I feel myself staring at people I want to engage with, but don’t know how. The image of the scared rabbit becomes very strong. Its heart starts pounding and it frantically hops back and forth, bumping into the walls of its cage. If I get no external feedback I withdraw even more, then find a task that will occupy me. If I’m at home it might be cleaning or baking, knitting, but often I don’t have the life energy to do these things so I constantly pick up my phone and scroll through social media, or check messages; hoping to find something that will spark life within me, but it rarely happens.

Masks are essential when I’m in this diminished, caged-in state. The mask I wear vaguely resembles the first personality, but it is faded and stiff. The cracks are beginning to show, chunks have even fallen off. Every time I put it on it becomes heavier and heavier. My true being draws away from this false costume and I am forced to pull whatever scrap of energy I can from deep within. But this personality, what I believe to be my Soul, wants nothing to do with this way of being. She feels betrayed but will come back when I take part in activities that feed her; reading, singing, dancing, drawing, walking in the woods, anything that has to do with beauty and connection. However, she is so depleted that I do not always feel her full power.

When I sing, I often don’t connect with her first. My mask is on so tight, I have forgotten it’s there. I sing with a focus on technicality and precision, but there is also this faint longing to be truly heard and seen. I know I am talented, hardworking, and a gifted musician. My voice is rich and colorful, it cuts well, but I often struggle to blend with a choir. I have had many occasions when I’m trying to be sensitive to the group and not overpower my section, while at the same time retain my vocal health and integrity. Yet, the conductor inevitably tells me to “back off”, “I’m getting a lot of Laura and not so much from everyone else.” I pull back my voice even more; just as I diminish my Soul. I push it down so much that by the end of rehearsal I’m barely phonating. I’m furious and sad, and end up crying in my car on my way home, thinking, “Why am I even singing with this group if they keep telling me to ‘back off’? I feel like I’m barely singing at all!”

It is a wound to my Ego, but I think there is a deeper wound there, a Soul wound. She gets to make her appearance so infrequently that when I allow her, and need her, to come forth, it’s too much. It’s a flood instead of a steady stream. Then when she is told to “hold back” she cries out, “No! I’ve been trapped in that tiny room for ages. Don’t make me go back in there!” But she does, and I am left to muscle through on my own. Then I wonder why the singing was so difficult, why my neck and shoulders ache, why my head is heavy and my thoughts foggy.

This slow process of awareness and reconciliation has shown me that when I let Soul express herself through me, I have the energy I need. I can sing softly without feeling wounded, my voice is not diminished. It is a conscious choice to be in relationship with Soul, not just when it is convenient for me or when the conditions are perfect.

Where are you splitting parts of yourself off? How is this effecting your life and artistry?

Are You Listening?

Energy of expression and being desires to flow outward, when a path is blocked, it will proceed to the nearest opening. If all are closed the life force sinks in upon itself, festering, caged in. When a door is finally opened, it may come flooding out, too much to handle, then the way is shut again. An imbalance occurs when life force isn’t allowed to flow to all the paths.

I feel most alive and present to my true self when I sing and teach, but not in everyday situations. I have boxed my Soul in and told Her she must wait for the proper moment to come out. My body has become a cage. I feel tightness in my chest, my breathing is shallow, my head is heavy, pressing downward. My thoughts are fuzzy, unfocused. I am moody, irritable, short tempered (which makes me suppress my feelings even more), and distant. Soul is telling me this way of being is no longer acceptable. She says, “I must be in all things.” Singing will be more joyful and a chance to connect with others if this same life energy is put into everything I do. 

I know when Soul is trying to get my attention because I feel an internal pulling, nudging. An anxious energy that doesn’t want to be ignored; you’ll miss out if you do. This feeling reminds me of my young son when he wants my attention. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” “Yes, just a minute”. “Mommy, look! Mommy!” Over and over again. I pay attention to my son, but always shove Soul down, she must wait her turn. She’s patient at first, but always reminds me of the “thing” I need to pay attention to. “I promise I’ll give you my full attention later.” “When?” “After everyone has gone to bed.” “You’ll be too tired.” “I promise I’ll listen to you then.” But She’s right, I am too tired. Instead of giving her my full attention I scroll through Facebook until I’m numb and it’s time for bed. I have let Soul down, again. She pulls at me the next day and the next; every time I ignore this pull more and more energy is taken from me. It’s small and subtle, but it accumulates until I have nothing left. All this life force is stored deep inside me. The tiniest thing will release it in a flood of tears. I weep, often without a clear reason. When the flood has finally subsided, I am exhausted, drained, and at the same time renewed. My Soul has been heard and she begs me to follow Her calls.

I am slowly beginning to put Her first and listen to those inner nudges. It is up to me to keep those doors open so that my Soul may flow. I find it easiest through artistic endeavors, but lately the pull to let Soul speak in other ways and with other Souls has been very strong. She will use whatever medium I present her with to convey her message, as long as I stay open and receptive. Now, with my writing, I feel my Soul is having her say, in Her own words. This door has been closed a long time; now that I have opened it again, she will pull and tug at my hand until I put pen to paper. Sometimes I feel I won’t have the energy to write or know what to say. Somehow, I am given a word or phrase, and then another and another. I have the energy and the words I need. Afterwards I feel energized to do the other activities of the day. A gift from Soul for putting Her first.

What is most important to you? What do you value above all? What is nudging at you? Are you paying attention?

Softening Edges

Can I give myself permission to take the scary leap? There is desire and resistance. I want to take the next step, but what will happen? Will there be ground beneath my feet, or an empty chasm? I feel this internal tug-of-war, a slamming on the breaks as if I’m approaching a brick wall, while at the same time Soul is trying to break through the barrier. I perceive this at my heart center. Her shoulder to the wall, pounding, and with every blow a tiny crack appears. My outer body feels as though there are hard edges all around. If the barriers come down, I will have to take responsibility for my actions and would be held accountable. Soul would be free, but what would “I” be? These thoughts bring up feelings of Imposter Syndrome: “I’m not smart enough. I’m wasting everyone’s time. I don’t know what to say.” Excuses pop up to avoid doing the work that Soul requires, such as “I have to be Mommy and Wife, I’m busy with other projects.” In the end it’s nothing but scapegoating and lies. When looked at objectively, logically, this endeavor to expand and do my real work is not scary at all. No one’s going to hurt me or take anything away from me. I really have a lot to gain, but that wall remains.

With a hard, stone-like exterior one can either stand still or force their way through. The battle ram crashes again and again, but fatigue sets in, no progress has been made. Eventually the weary Soul gives up and retreats. The wall remains intact, but there are now hair-line fractures in the facade. They go unnoticed until one day Soul approaches again and spies a sparkle of day light, a chink in the stone. She presses her face to wall, straining to catch a glimpse of what’s on the other side. As she pulls away a bit of powdery rubble tumbles to the ground. The chink is bigger, more light flows through. She brushes away crumbling rocks, slowly and gently rubbing the service of the wall between her fingers. With each gentle touch more of the stone falls away. She is now able to see clear through. It’s bright and colorful on the other side.

She is so excited, she begins pushing, scraping, pulling off pieces of rock. Both arms and head emerge, but this is as far as she can go. She is stuck; she could go back, but the hole might be filled in when she wasn’t looking, and she can’t go forward without help. It’s hard to breathe in this in-between space. The rough edges of the hole scratch at her waist, and the weight of the wall begins to bare down on her. She stretches her arms, fingers grasping the open air. She stares frantically around for a passer-by that might see her and offer aid, but no one comes.

This world is beautiful, but all the inhabitants are walled in; some walls are smooth and pristine, some have many cracks that have been patched over, and one far off in the distance is crumbling. She can see it. The other Soul is breaking through. This wall is like sand that bas been eroded by the tide. A figure steps over the pile of softened debris. They are completely covered by a golden light. She can make out the outline of a body, but no features. The figure walks freely down a central path, stops in front of Soul and kneels beside her. This presence is so bright she must look away.

She feels a touch upon her hand, warmth radiates from her fingertips to her shoulders, up through her head and down to heart. She opens her eyes, the light from the stranger is now running through her veins. She feels peace, softening of the edges around her body and the wall itself. The figure rises and guides her to a standing position. There is no resistance, no effort. As she looks down the wall disappears as dust. She steps forward now in her true from, a body of swirling blue and gold. She and her companion walk on to other walls, touching their surfaces, and from a distance you can a see a glow of gold, blue, and a faint red.

Sing Together

A thought has been swirling around in my mind: “What if we invite all present, human, other-than-human, and the performing space itself to sing with us?”

I recently participated in an Alexander Technique workshop in which the instructor had all the participants stand in a circle and sing a single tone together. He then asked us to bring awareness to the room and invite that into our singing, finally look at each other and invite our colleagues into our singing. I was amazed at the difference in sensation and overall production of tone. The first time we were all individuals with our own ideas of how to sing this pitch. With each invitation that perception expanded. I felt as if the outer edges of my body were softening and stretching outward to all corners of the room. The final invitation changed our sound completely. We were unified, whole. No one had diminished themselves, but brought the others in. It was beautiful.

I have carried that experience with me into my choral and solo singing. I’m inviting all present to sing with me. In a group setting this has enabled me to listen more to my fellow singers and find the best tone and vowel formation for the moment. I wasn’t taking anything away from my voice, but I was including all the others. I decided to try this when I lead the opening hymn in church a few weeks ago. This is literally what a song leader is supposed to do, invite the congregation to sing. However, something had to change inside for me. I had to say it to myself, “I’m inviting all to sing with me”, and lower my hard-edge presence. It felt like a group of friends sitting around a campfire singing together. I went from presentational to relational. I am inspired to apply this approach to my solo singing as well, especially in an audition situation. Instead of coming in with the attitude, “I’m going to prove myself and hopefully you will hire me,” defensive and hard edged, I could come in with the thought, “I invite you all to sing with me.” The energy of my body and voice are sent out to the listeners ears and their energy is sent back to me, an exchange. We resonate together and are connected. How much more meaningful and joyful the audition process would be.

An Invitation

Soulful Conversation Around Singing and Music-Making

When Soul meets Soul there is a spark, a connection, an opening into the true being. Singing has given me glimpses into my Soul and working with other singers has allowed me to connect with theirs. When my Soul is not free to express what it truly wants, I feel tightness in my body, especially the head, neck, and torso region. My energy is low, and I am without direction; everything has gone underground. My singing is forced, even painful at times. Thinking technically may get me through, but I have missed an opportunity for a deeper understanding and relationship with myself and my singing.

When I able to be still and tune into the teachings of my body, imagination, and feelings, I gain a bounty of insight and wisdom. At these moments a layer has been stripped away. I took off an ill-fitting costume that my Soul hated for so long. Inevitably there are tears shed and a feeling that I have betrayed a beloved companion, but now we are reconciling and beginning anew. I am then met with clarity and renewed energy, my singing is more free, joyous, and authentically me. The more I tune into the Soul first: “What do you want to express? What do you need to sing? What do you have to tell me?”, the more my life is filled with curiosity, wonder, meaning, and connection. Expressing this relationship is my ongoing pursuit.

I invite you into Soulful Conversations Around Singing and Music-Making. “What is your connection to music? Why do you like to sing? What prevents you from singing the way you want? What thoughts, feelings, sensations, and images come to mind when you sing? What wants to be sung? What is your Soul asking of you?” I am here to listen, ask questions, and offer my observations, feelings, and intuitions, as well as my musical and singing knowledge.

Please let me know if you would be interested in engaging in these types of conversations.

My Own Material

                I usually approach singing from defensive standpoint. I am prepared, confident, I’m going to show you what I’ve got, and I will make you love me. There is no relationship, only force. This has, until recently, been unconscious. I have assumed the listener is the enemy and I must fight to prove I am worthy. This approach has served to the point of building up my Ego so it can withstand criticism and rejection, but now it feels dated, uncomfortable, and inauthentic.

At this point in my musical journey, I have acquired the skills to learn my music, and execute it to the best of my ability with a reliable technique. In other words, I know how to sing. What has been missing is the “why do I sing?” When I consciously asked myself that question, I came up short. I’m at a loss for an answer. I thought I knew at one point; “I want to be on stage!” Now that answer doesn't feel like it’s enough. I’m invited to take a step back and ask my Soul, “Why do you want to sing?” There is no quick, lightning bolt revelation, but a slow growing awareness, an inner listening. I know that singing is an expression of the Soul, just by having this conscious thought I get this image of a dancer’s arms opening out to the sides. That which was deep within is moving outward. I’m aware of a lifting sensation in my head, an “Ah-ha” moment. I want to know more, so I ask, “What do you want to express?” More waiting and tuning in. I might have a past memory pop into my head, which leads me to contemplate why that emerged, which sometimes leads to a phrase from a song I knew a long time ago.

The Soul wants to express what we are going through right now. This came in strong for me a year ago when the song “If He Walked into My Life Today”, from the musical Mame, kept playing in my head. The song speaks of a mother who is questioning all the decisions she made while her son was growing up, for now he has completely rejected her and everything she taught him. As a mother of a five-year-old boy, at the time, I felt I was living this story every day. One line that always evokes a strong emotion in me is “At the moment when he needed me, did I ever turn away?” My Soul yearned to outwardly express these questions. I followed Her lead, and worked on the song for several months, fine tuning the technical and emotional challenges. It felt rewarding to work on a piece that wanted to be sung. However, more was needed. I had to present this to others.

When I worked on it with my vocal coach, I fell back on a lot of the old “singer patterns”, relying heavily on technique with a thin front layer of character. The result was decent, but it didn’t go deep enough. My coach encouraged me to lean into the expression, as if I were speaking instead of singing. Something within me said, “You know what to do, so do it.” I let Soul sing, I put technique worries on the back burner and leaned into the text. It was a completely different experience for both my coach and me. There was more collaboration and connection. I felt more freedom in my singing. Afterward my coach confirmed what I felt inside. She gave me permission to do what I already knew how to do. A few months later I had the privilege of singing this song on an audition for the opera chorus. I was so pleased the panel picked this as my second offering. I tried my best to let Soul do the singing and was rewarded with a feeling that “I expressed exactly what I wanted to express.” My singing was fine, I knew it wasn’t my optimum best; pushing here and there, singing through a cold that left my ears very clogged, but those factors didn’t matter as much. It was one of the few auditions where I walked away feeling satisfied with what I produced. Later, the company offered me a position in the chorus for the upcoming season. Double pay off! More importantly, I listened to and fulfilled my Soul’s desires.