Singing came to me unexpectedly, revealed itself suddenly, and undeniably demanded my attention, especially because of the emotionally evocative nature of what was being expressed and the feedback on the juxtaposition between my singing and speaking voices.  Many have asked me who is singing with me in the beginning of Nammu’s Invocation…as if there was someone else there… In a sense it is true since I feel a definite presence with me every time. 

In truth I see it as that instead of singing, I feel I’m actually being sung… this voice comes thru me yet it is in a sense not mine…

I have been asked a lot of times to explain how I came to sing since it came late and I was never trained, but the truth is that no matter how much our minds crave for logic explanations, I have learned to grown really comfortable with not knowing, and just allow things to be what they are…

I had never dreamt of being a singer and it happened because I was broken open and I allowed it to come through.  I was deeply inspired by a sense of intimate connection with the mystery… an archetypal presence that has been dancing with me for the last ten years and in a way found a new access point and form of communication with and through me.  In linear time, it was an evolution that blossomed from a series of deeply felt experiences that awakened this passion and connection within to burn deeper and brighter.  Eventually this intense fire sought a creative outlet to express itself and when it found it in my voice, I felt like I was touched by grace…

Even though on the surface we seem one-dimensional, many archetypal aspects of us are available and at play at every moment. The more developed certain aspects are, the more pronounced they become, and in some cases take on a life of their own. The singer in me is an example of that.

Paradoxes are great teachers when we learn to harvest the wisdom contained in them. I have learned to appreciate and allow two apparently opposing forces to coexist harmoniously. They teach us to let go of an outdated paradigm of absolutism. It teaches us to move with the flow and let go of the illusion that fixed things are more secure. I have a paradoxical relationship with words in that I love that they serve me so beautifully at times, and yet they fail me too.  I can love words at their finest as in metaphors, poetry and stream of consciousness, yet, I also find them limiting to communication when I need it most, as in the moments where what I feel cannot be spoken, defined or contained by them. My way to circumnavigate this is through a heart language that is wordless, in the sense we understand words. They are intonations from the heart I have coined as “immanence”.  Immanence is a heart-centered intoning language that speaks when words cannot. It’s a soul flow. They are pure energetic frequencies, which in its raw potency encode the transmission of the message that’s coming through with perfect accuracy, with no need for the “middle” service that words play. In order to  “understand” it though, it is necessary to bypass all reason and allow it to crack you open and free of any limiting mental activity.  It’s no wonder my ambivalent relationship with words and my affinity for wordless heart intoning go hand in hand like a seeming resolution to this paradox.

Another apparent paradox is that I’m not a deep connoisseur of music and unlike many singers and lyricists I do not fill my days with it. I love silence and solitude whenever I can get it. It is a privilege that I try to cultivate in my life. I believe what I’m saying Aldous Huxley expressed very well when he wrote:

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”

Maybe now, after having overindulged in silence, music has finally claimed its rightful turn with me.