“Singing is a basic human need. It nourishes the soul and brings people together.”—Zoltán Kodály
If you know me personally, you know I’ve been singing since I learned to speak, and have very rarely stopped. I have lost my voice to illness or stress a few times as an adult, and it feels like an identity crisis. I don’t know who I am without singing. I express emotion through singing, and I experience community through singing.
Like many people, some of my earliest memories of singing happened in church. I noticed right away that my mother, a soprano, and my sister, an alto, were singing different notes, and my obsession with harmony began. I learned to read the tenor line, because I wanted my very own note, too. I began writing songs in our backyard, and would climb to the highest branch of an old magnolia tree to sing them. My mother and I sang entire albums in the car. My cousin and I harmonized absolutely everything we could think of for our entire childhood, and we haven’t stopped yet.
In February 2002, my maternal grandmother—adorably named “Goggi” by my older sister—passed away unexpectedly. It was the most earth-shattering experience of my life up to that point. At her funeral, we sang several hymns, and I sang with tears flowing down my cheeks. My dad gently asked how I could sing beautifully and cry at the same time, and I told him I didn’t know, but I just HAD to sing. That same month, my high school choir, Tascosa Les Chanteurs, had been selected to sing at the Texas Music Educators Association Conference in San Antonio. This is a big deal. One of the pieces we performed was a beautiful arrangement of “How Can I Keep From Singing.” I’d like to share a few lines with you now:
My life goes on in endless song, above earth’s lamentation.
I hear the real, though far-off song that hails a new creation.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that rock I’m clinging.
While Love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
I wept as we sang. My choir director knew of my grandmother’s passing, and as he spotted me in the choir, I knew he realized how deeply and personally I was feeling those lyrics. I never took my eyes off him, and no one in that sizable group of teenagers missed a single note. It was truly a spiritual experience.
A few years later, and under completely different circumstances, I was attending a concert at the Red Rocks Park & Amphitheatre in Morrison, Colorado. The opening act was a phenomenal guitar duo with no singing at all. That is, until they played a rendition of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.” Suddenly, as the audience began to sing, thousands of strangers became a choir. We sang in harmony. We sang each verse and chorus as though we had rehearsed them. Another moment of singing that reached the very depths of my soul and has remained there all this time.
The first time I cried tears of joy in front of my students was in my second year of teaching. Second-graders were preparing to sing “God Bless America” for a Veterans Day celebration. One day in rehearsal, I was struck by the powerful realization that they might be able to have the same kinds of experiences singing that I have always had. I was overcome with the strange combination of gratitude and responsibility that only comes with being a leader of children.
I could write a year’s worth of columns on my personal experiences with singing, but fortunately for all of us, this essay won’t be entirely about me. There is a heap of science to support the claim that singing is medicine, therapy, art, universal language and so much more.
Almost certainly, some of you are thinking, “But, Maggie, I can’t sing!” To this I say: nonsense. Everybody can sing. It doesn’t have to be “good” to be beneficial, and what exactly qualifies as “good” singing, anyway? You don’t have to join a choir to sing, either, although singing with others does have additional benefits. You can sing in the car or in the shower, you can sing to your children, your cat or your dog, you can sing in church, at a concert, or in a bar, but just sing!
Singing requires intentional breathing and good posture, increasing confidence and lowering heart rate. Singing releases “feel good” hormones, decreasing stress and anxiety. Singing occurs in multiple areas of the brain, keeping those who sing healthy and sharp! There are many cases of individuals suffering from dementia who have lost access to other skills, but they can still sing every word to an old hymn or song from their youth. Because singing requires mindfulness, the singer’s stream of consciousness is quieted, providing escape from worry and negative thoughts. Singing can even strengthen your immune system! Studies show that immediately after singing, the body produces higher levels of certain antibodies. Singing stimulates the vagus nerve, activating the parasympathetic nervous system.
Throughout human history, singing has been a way to tell stories, share heritage and celebrate community, bridge cultural divides, experience joy, and express complex emotions.
I sang yesterday, and I will sing today, tomorrow, and every day until I can sing no more. Until we meet again, Amarillo, I hope you will sing!
