SEEKING PERMISSION

I was recently asked, "How long have you known you can sing?"  It was a great question.  For me, singing has never been: I am a good singer, so I will sing.  As I remember, mostly I have had to learn how not to sing; learning when to hold back my noise so it does not disrupt others; learning to understand that some situations need silence;  giving others room to sing.

As I understand singing, it has very little to do with talent.  I am convinced that I would still need to sing if I had a broken down and rusty voice, or no sense whatsoever of pitch.  

As I think about that question, it makes me feel sad for us.  We seem to have lost the idea that what we are called to be comes from within us.  We have replaced it with the idea that we should try on outside purposes until one fits.  Outside purposes include such things as:

1. Get a college degree in something useful so you will always have a job.

2. You are pretty.  You should become a model.

3. Women are emotionally unstable, physically weak, practically incapable and universally good mothers.  

4. Everyone wants success and admiration.

5. Dads can fix everything.

6. There is nothing we can do to stop this.

7. Only the strong survive.

I do not mean to suggest that healthy souls are always the ones that break rules.  I mean to suggest that when we stifle an inner truth because of rules, we risk soul sickness.  There are no ordinary people.  There are no unimportant people.  There are no worthless people.  There are no unlovable people.  There are no ugly people.  When we live believing we are any of these things, we are not living an inner truth.  We are wearing the lies given to us by our community and our need to fit into it.  

I am fortunate.  When I acted freely from myself and sang that first time, people must have liked it.  I could have been born in a family that hates music.  I could have been born deaf.  I could have had a nasty, angry music teacher whose love for abstract perfection spited my learning spirit.  Instead, I have always had support in pursuing the thing that has always filled me with joy.  

Nevertheless, the songs came to me unbidden.  They would have been there without the good fortune.  When I was young, I was wise enough to know that.  It is only as I get old that I think my purpose is the same as "what I am good at," or "what others think is good for me."  

To sing, you must free your soul.  You must open the doors and windows and listen.  You must tune out all the words and structures built between you, your life and your death.  Then, it may be that you find yourself singing because you can't stop singing, rather than singing because someone gave you permission.