"Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices"
The Tempest (Act III, Scene II)
As with any musical instrument it requires both discipline and boring, long hours of practice. Anyone can grind an organ or play second fiddle to another persons opinion (repeat what we heard, to be as good as our last conversation).
What stirs us when music plays? What is the music in your voice?
What do you stir in others when you open the organ of your mouth?
What emotions do the notes and lyrics of your voice evoke? What song is left resident in the heads of the people you have touched yesterday, today and tomorrow?
When we find our own voice, there is no need for pretense or approval. There is enough space for other voices.
The challenge is when we do not have our own voice, when we are an extension of everyone else’s motives and needs, consumed with what he said, she said, what they want, what they feel, what they do?
"In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart"
King Henry VIII (Act III, Scene I)