To Sing Or Not to Sing, Again: Perspectives on the Journey of Reclaiming One’S Voice As an Adult Non-Singer

To Sing or Not to Sing, Again: Perspectives on the Journey of Reclaiming One’s Voice as an Adult Non-singer

Mark William Ruhnke A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Music Education

Graduate Faculty of Music University of Toronto

To Sing or Not to Sing, Again: Perspectives on the Journey of Reclaiming One’s Voice as an Adult Non-singer

Mark William Ruhnke Doctor of Philosophy in Music Education Graduate Faculty of Music University of Toronto 2020

Abstract

In this study, I explored the perspectives of three adults who self-described as non-singers through the conceptual framework of “identity formation,” to determine how “sense of self” influences their lives, and how they re-imagine the singer-self as an aspect of the whole self – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Many well-established music communities in Western society do not often promote a sense of welcome and hospitality for those who believe they cannot sing. Fortunately, all three participants found their way to a “Singing Fore the Love of It” program focused on their needs, doubts, and concerns. After a period of continued participation in learning to sing activities, further exploration through interviews gave insight into their perceptions of the terms safe place, proprioception, and community. The vivid portraits of the participants’ journeys showed that sense-of-self as an adult singer was influenced by the relationships formed in group dynamics encountered earlier in one’s life; in families, in schools, in communities such as the arts, and in the church.

This research was grounded in the narrative methodological perspectives of Boyatzis

(1998), Yin (2008), and Creswell (2012), with a focus on the importance of investigating the

complexity of experience as lived by the participants, no matter how disparate their points of view might be. I collected extensive data over a period of six months through participant interviews, beginning with an opening questionnaire from which future questions were developed to draw out more vivid memories and reflections. I examined codable moments through the lens of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, culminating in the creation of a template for journeying as an adult non-singer. Based on the findings, I outlined implications for further research, specifically regarding how adult non-singers may be nurtured and inspired to re- imagine themselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually––from within, projected outward, and in collaboration with others.

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Acknowledgments

I am a part of all that I have met.

––Alfred Lord Tennyson (Ulysses, 1842)

There are many people I would like to thank who assisted me on my doctoral journey and who have encouraged and supported me during this process. From the time that I walked into Emmanuel College of Victoria University in the University of Toronto, to pursue a Master of Sacred Music degree, and then to the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto, where I have been a doctoral candidate, I have experienced this process of nurture and study as inclusive and interconnected. At Emmanuel College, interactions with the following were integral to my reintroduction to graduate studies: The Reverend S. Peter Wyatt, Dr. Fred Kimball Graham, The Rev. Dr. William S. Kervin, and Dr. Patricia Wright. Upon completion of my M.S. Mus Degree, I was further inspired to pursue my interest in research at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto. Academic mentors and as life unfolded, care-givers, the following were guiding forces along my path to the completion of my doctoral studies: Dr. Lori-Anne Dolloff, Dr. Nasim Niknafs, Dr. Elizabeth Gould, Dr. Deborah Bradley (Editor), and Dr. Lee Bartel.

To my committee members, Dr. Nasim Niknafs, The Rev. Dr. William S. Kervin, and Dr. Lori- Anne Dolloff, thank you for your guidance and support. To Lori-Anne, my advisor, your expertise in narrative research methodology has helped me formulate my thoughts as I have pursued this narrative journey. I cannot offer enough thanks for your countless hours of investment in my research, including many hours working together in your office, back and forth by email, advising me while you were on many trips around the world sharing your own expertise with others, always looking out for my best interest and keeping me on track.

I would like to thank the participants of the Singing “fore” the Love of It (SFLI) group who meet on Thursday evenings at St. Andrew’s United Church. Their interest in my doctoral studies and progress as I pursued completion, at times kept me going when the roller-coaster process of course completion and dissertation prep seemed overwhelming and exhausting. Their hugs,

laughter, and reassuring words that I was making progress, lifted and centred me. Their participation taught me the value of caring communities, mutual support, and the importance of relationship building. I am forever grateful!

This research study would not have been possible without my three enthusiastic participants, Eric, Anita, and John. You dedicated many hours to interviews, reflective reading, feedback, and in email writing, sharing vivid personal portraits about your lived experiences, sharing personal histories, memories––sometimes difficult––doing your very best to be authentic and heartfelt. Your stories provided me with the data, the foundation upon which this thesis has been constituted and established. I thank you for your continued interest in supporting the pursuit of those wishing to reclaim their voice.

As a Teaching Assistant at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto, the experiences and interactions with students was invaluable to my growth as a graduate student; many of these opportunities were integral to my understanding and development as a researcher.

In the education field, I was fortunate to work with children from kindergarten through grade twelve. Toronto District School Board communities in which I have worked––Henry Hudson Senior Public School, Woburn Collegiate Institute, Blantyre Public School, and Mary Shadd Public School––offered me years filled with opportunities to hone my skills as an educator.

Church ministries such as Wexford Heights United Church, Scarborough (my home church), Aurora United Church, Aurora (north of Toronto), and most recently, St. Andrew’s United Church, Toronto (Church St. and Bloor St. in the bustle of downtown Toronto), furthered my interest in music as a spiritual medium, through which I could encourage and promote healthy development of those within singing communities.

Lee Willingham, my high school music teacher at Agincourt Collegiate Institute, Scarborough, played an integral role in my formation as a pastoral, caring, and comprehensive musician. If only every child were so lucky to benefit from so much care and integrity, both in relationship and in musical development. I am forever grateful!

As I developed my skills as a singing performer, I drew great inspiration from Mrs. Megan Rutledge, with whom I had the privilege for over twelve years to pursue studies in voice. Our weekly musical interactions culminated in the completion of an A.R.C.T. at the Royal

Conservatory of Music, Toronto. Upon her passing, I was fortunate to inherit much of her voice library and to this day, continue to use it with my own voice students.

Most recently, at the International Symposium on Singing and Song II in Newfoundland, I had the good fortune to meet and speak with one of the researchers whom I have grown to admire, having found her research foundational in the development of my own thoughts on the perspectives of reclaiming one’s voice. Thank you to Dr. Susan Dyer Knight for her leadership in research to which so many of us have continued to contribute, adding to the long thread of understanding in the area of vocal development.

Dedication

I dedicate this doctoral thesis to the glory of God and in loving memory of my parents, Doris and William Ruhnke, who gifted me with life, who taught me the joy of singing, who encouraged me to do my very best and to persevere when times were tough, and who were true examples of what it means to be caring and inspiring parents and educators.

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Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii Acknowledgments ...... iv Dedication ...... vii Table of Contents ...... viii List of Figures ...... xiii List of Appendices ...... xiv Prologue: My Story ...... 1 Chapter 1 Introduction ...... 8

1.1 Setting the stage for a narrative journey––my research context ...... 8 1.2 How it all came to be ...... 9 1.3 Publicizing a new singing program ...... 11 1.4 Session #1––“Singing 4 the Love of It” ...... 13 1.5 Thursday evening programming diversifies ...... 13 1.6 Introducing a monthly worship experience––in the style of Taizé ...... 13 1.7 “Singing 4 the Love of It” becomes “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It” ...... 14 1.8 Purpose of the study ...... 15 1.9 Research question ...... 15 1.9.1 Sub-questions ...... 15

1.10 Limitations of the study ...... 16 1.11 Overview of the thesis design ...... 16

Chapter 2 Literature Review ...... 18

2.1 Literature search ...... 18 2.2 Who sings? ...... 20 2.3 Who chooses not to sing ...... 22 2.4 Selective mutism ...... 23 2.5 Dysphonia––physical impairment ...... 23 2.6 Who sings but in a limited way ...... 24 2.7 Non-singers who sing ...... 25 2.8 Negative reinforcement––real or perceived ...... 26 2.9 Trauma ...... 27 2.10 Gender issues ...... 28

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2.11 Social anxiety ...... 30 2.12 Literature that supports the creation of SFLI ...... 31 2.13 Spirituality ...... 36 2.14 Grounding ...... 37

Chapter 3 Methodology ...... 39

3.1 Narrative data ...... 39 3.2 Case study ...... 39 3.3 Choosing my participants ...... 40 3.4 Capturing vivid portraits ...... 41 3.5 Process of engagement: “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It” ...... 41 3.6 Questionnaire––revisiting the past ...... 42 3.7 Interview process ...... 42 3.8 Capturing data––utilization of technology ...... 43 3.9 Data analysis––finding my way: Sifting and sorting ...... 43 3.10 Thematic analysis ...... 43

Chapter 4 Eric: In Pursuit of a Spirit-filled Life ...... 45

4.1 Eric’s story ...... 45 4.2 Connecting with Eric ...... 48 4.3 The lens through which Eric sees what I am doing ...... 48 4.4 The Church––Setting them up for a fall ...... 49 4.5 It has roots, legs, and depth ...... 50 4.6 “Please do not do this!” ...... 51 4.7 Eric sings during the interview ...... 51 4.8 “It’s all about the breath” ...... 52 4.9 Eric rejoins a choir ...... 52 4.10 “Faith is not a word I use often” ...... 53 4.11 Silence and space ...... 53 4.12 Finding the balance––a Möbius strip ...... 54 4.13 Connecting with the Spirit ...... 55 4.14 Eric opens up his own spiritual edge ...... 56 4.15 Free flowing “for the love of it” mode ...... 57 4.16 Reading music––an insurmountable task ...... 58 4.17 Cleansing the palate ...... 60

4.18 Letting oneself out and experiencing the flow ...... 61 4.19 Granting permission––a personal journey ...... 62 4.20 Reclaiming his relationships ...... 63

Chapter 5 Anita: Journeying to Freedom ...... 66

5.1 Anita’s story ...... 66 5.2 Friendly invite ...... 68 5.3 Permission granted ...... 69 5.4 Making connections with the past ...... 70 5.5 Going to dark places––mourning the loss of her sister ...... 71 5.6 Note taking, looking back ...... 73 5.7 How does Anita feel today as a singer? ...... 73 5.8 Has Anita re-engaged her voice? ...... 74 5.9 Anita’s comments on societal pressures ...... 74 5.10 Aspects of breath ...... 75 5.11 “I can’t” ...... 75 5.12 Conflicted with positive/negative inner voice ...... 76 5.13 Anita’s analysis of her voice ...... 76 5.14 Goals for September––self-encouragement ...... 78 5.15 Having a sense of humour ...... 78 5.16 Anita gives feedback ...... 79

Chapter 6 John: Journeying Toward a Voice with Presence ...... 82

6.1 John’s story ...... 82 6.2 A new beginning––A call to ministry ...... 84 6.3 Comparing oneself to others ...... 84 6.4 Developing vocal presence––a new perspective ...... 85 6.5 John’s “aha” moment ...... 85 6.6 Appreciation for help received ...... 86 6.7 Physical approach––how to project one’s voice ...... 86 6.8 It runs in the family ...... 86 6.9 Drawing inspiration from the hymns ...... 88 6.10 What drew John to SFLI ...... 88 6.11 Facing his fear ...... 89 6.12 Having an opportunity to explore the hymns ...... 89

6.13 Vocal warm-ups can be fun and informative ...... 90 6.14 Guided imagery and metaphor ...... 90 6.15 When others sing for you ...... 91 6.16 Taking up the offer of a free voice lesson ...... 91 6.17 A run-in with the music director ...... 91 6.17.1 The back-story leading up to the run-in ...... 93 6.17.2 I was doing what I had been taught ...... 93 6.17.3 Feeling other peoples’ musical wounding ...... 94 6.17.4 “A note––after the conflict” ...... 95 6.17.5 “A note––my singing now” ...... 97

6.18 Helping others reclaim their voices ...... 98

Chapter 7 Summary and Conclusions ...... 99

7.1 Research process and review ...... 99 7.2 Discussion of salient points ...... 100 7.2.1 Common threads ...... 102 7.2.2 Filtering data through a Journeying Template ...... 102 7.2.3 Spiritual growth––a personal journey to the edge ...... 106 7.2.4 Question 1: What aspects of society encourage or discourage the vision and development of a sense of self as singer? ...... 107 7.2.4.1 Inclusivity ...... 107 7.2.4.2 Competence and ability ...... 108 7.2.4.3 Product driven ...... 109 7.2.4.4 Promoting elitism in schools ...... 109 7.2.4.5 Critique and judgment ...... 110 7.2.5 Question 2: How might institutions such as schools, local communities and the greater church facilitate “learning to sing again” activities? ...... 111 7.2.5.1 Building safe communities––welcome and hospitality ...... 111 7.2.5.2 Hire empathetic and pastoral instructors ...... 111 7.2.5.3 Language matters––an aspect of safe spaces ...... 112 7.2.5.4 Acknowledge our past as music educators ...... 113 7.2.5.5 Caring through music ...... 114 7.2.6 Question 3: Along the timeline of re-engagement as a singer, how do individuals perceive change from within? ...... 115 7.2.6.1 One’s sense of place in a space ...... 115

7.2.6.2 Understanding the self (cognition) ...... 116 7.2.6.3 Accessing one’s aesthetic needs––meaning and beauty ...... 117 7.2.6.4 Engaging the “spirit within”––transcendence ...... 118 7.2.7 Question 4: What and how are the physical, spiritual, and emotional signs or markers denoting progress made evident? ...... 121 7.2.7.1 Self-Actuating––tools to address the triggers ...... 121

7.3 Practical applications ...... 125 7.4 Conclusion ...... 127 7.4.1 Five implications ...... 128

7.5 Suggestions for future research ...... 130 7.5.1 Safe place ...... 130 7.5.2 Proprioception ...... 130 7.5.3 Community ...... 130

Chapter 8 Epilogue ...... 131

8.1 A final reflection on my pilgrimage journey to Taizé––making connections ...... 131 8.2 Sounds of silence ...... 132 8.3 A spiritual encounter ...... 133

References ...... 135 Appendices ...... 144 Permission for Use of Intellectual Property ...... 153

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List of Figures

Figure 1. Improving Congregational Song ...... 11 Figure 2. Poster S4LI ...... 12 Figure 3. Congregational Makeup––Who Are We Looking For? ...... 14 Figure 4. Episodic Wounding Experiences in our Memory Bank ...... 19 Figure 5. Supporting the Reclamation Process in a Group Setting ...... 32 Figure 6. von Lob et al. Model: Multiple Psychosocial Functions of Group Singing ...... 33 Figure 7. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs (McLeod, 2018, May 21) ...... 38 Figure 8. Reclaiming One’s Voice––A Journeying Template ...... 101 Figure 9. Seeing Ourselves More Fully. Used with permission of Rev. Kim...... 107 Figure 10. Meme from Facebook Page Ecological Consciousness © Chloé Jo Davis ...... 128

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List of Appendices

Appendix A: Ethics Approval ...... 144 Appendix B: Informal Recruitment Letter ...... 145 Appendix C: Invitation to Participate ...... 147 Appendix D: Consent Form ...... 151 Appendix E: Questionnaire––Initial Reflection ...... 152

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Prologue: My Story

My musical story begins at my birth! My parents, both educators and musicians, believed that singing for newborns––for all five of their boys scattered across a timeline of fourteen years–– begins the process of imprinting on their hearts and minds a love for the voice and its transformative potential during an individual’s formative years (see Campbell 2010).

For the past many years, and in lectures and presentations about my research, I have chosen to describe myself as a “cradle-child” of the United Church of Canada. Like many children raised in the church, I was baptized early in life, at the age of 1. Sixteen years later, and after much thought and consideration, I chose to confirm my baptism. This afforded me all the benefits of full membership into the United Church of Canada. Not surprisingly to anyone who has followed my life’s journey, participation and leadership in church communities have been a weekly practice throughout all 56 years of my life.

From the age of 6, my father encouraged me to sing along with his piano accompaniments. He recognized early on that I had a desire to sing and was comfortable singing for others. My first solo took place as part of our yearly Christmas Eve services––my solo rendition of “Away in a Manger,” with all three verses memorized. I remember vividly the satisfaction I felt as I sang my last note. Although extremely nervous, on that night I came to the realization that singing for audiences was something I very much enjoyed. I continued to sing regularly in worship and grew to enjoy the attention and accolades sent my way when parishioners expressed words of praise and encouragement. A boost to my confidence, this interest and enjoyment in singing found its way into my elementary school years. Although I had some learning difficulties in certain subject areas, I always relied on the successes I felt when pursuing music activities to carry me through. In the years that followed, I continued to hone my skills, becoming known as that young boy with the clear bell-like soprano tone.

In Grade 8, however, I found myself the target of negative stereotypes about boys who sing. My parents had decided to transfer me into the choir class, mainly made up of––as the instrumental band teacher called us––“those dropouts,” those who did not wish to pursue music in a band class. There were enough of us to make up one separate vocal class, and it became clear early in the school year that most of my classmates were not interested in singing. Many of my peers did

1 2 not see or appreciate my gift of song, and after a while, their taunts and jeers began to have a negative effect on me. Being called gay to my face and described as singing like a girl, my ability to sing in falsetto or my unchanged voice became demoralizing for me. By the end of Grade 8, I considered a full stop to my music-making as a singer. If it had not been for my parents, who without my knowing intervened with a phone call to my core teacher, letting her know that I was crashing under the weight of peer bullying and intimidation, I would not have survived. In fact, because of their intervention, I flourished! At the conclusion of my Grade 8 year, and to my astonishment, I was presented with the music award, the first time a student from the vocal class had ever been acknowledged for his/her contribution to the musical life of the school. That award, a “Sammy,” sits on my shelf to this day, a reminder of the struggle in the early beginnings of my career as a musician.

Research suggests that my experience was not a unique one. Green (1997) studied choices boys and girls made relative to participation in the musical settings at school. Her research suggests that “students and their music teachers, both male and female, consider singing to be a feminine activity and playing in band to be more suited to boys” (p. 80). Harrison (2003) noted that verbal bullying in the form of homophobic name-calling and sexual harassment by peers coupled with complacency on the part of music teachers reinforce fears young men face when electing to sing in middle school choir. He found that “almost all the existing literature ... indicated that a gender stereotypical bias exists in music: participation in activities that are soft, gentle, small, and high- pitched are not considered the domain of males” (p. 224). Green (1997) drew the following conclusion: “for a boy . . . to join a choir . . . involves taking a risk with his symbolic masculinity” (p. 185).

As I entered high school, my circumstance changed, and I found myself surrounded by other committed musicians and role models. As well as continuing to sing in my father’s church choir, I signed up for every choral opportunity available to me. Timing and luck were on my side and were pivotal to my continued success as a budding musician. As I arrived for my first vocal class, I was introduced to a new, enthusiastic, young and energetic music teacher who was beginning to grow the choral program at the high school; students flocked to early morning choir rehearsals. By the end of my Grade 9 year, I had not only tapped into all musical opportunities at

3 the school, but had auditioned and joined an all-borough ensemble, The Scarborough Schools’ Youth Choir. Life was thrilling!

As my first year of high school drew to a close, my parents encouraged me to audition as a camper for the Scarborough Music Camp, which took place later in June. I was approved as a camper and although excited, I was really nervous, as this would be my first experience away from home. By about the sixth day of camp, I had settled in quite nicely. The camp schedule offered ample time to sing, to experience professional performances at faculty concerts, to explore other artistic pursuits through electives such as dance, drama, and the visual arts, or simply to just sit on a hill enjoying conversations with like-minded individuals from other high schools.

Just prior to and evening faculty concert, I decided to call home to check in and say “hi.” Usually, my mom answered, but, on this evening, it was my father’s voice at the other end of the line. As I stood alone within the confines of the phone booth, my father told me that my grandma had died, and because it was near the end of camp, I should stay. My brother would pick me up on the last day of camp, and he would make sure that we would make it to the funeral days later. As I exited the phone booth, I really needed to tell someone what I had just heard. Mr. Daley, one of the “fathers of the camp” was walking by, and so I introduced myself and told him my sad news. Immediately, he stopped, gave me a hug, and then, with his supportive arm around my shoulders, encouraged me to come with him and to sit beside him backstage during the faculty concert. At the time, I did not understand how important a role he played in so many lives. Years later, and after hearing other campers and instructor’s experiences with Mr. Daley, I became fully aware of the impact this one individual had on so many.

A year or two later, I had achieved the role as mentor of a boy’s cabin, B15. On one occasion, we were informed that one of our campers was missing, and all who were in leadership positions were encouraged to spread out across the camp with the hope that we would find him. As luck would have it, I found the young boy, and after a short reassuring discussion, he expressed his deep sadness that he was being picked on by his cabin mates. I assured him that I would address this issue with the others and that he could come to me whenever he needed some support. I encouraged the little guy to come with me and to sit with me during the faculty concert. At the conclusion of the concert, Mr. Daley directed everyone to head down to the fire pit, located near

4 the flagpole. I suggested to my little tag-along that he should head down with the others, and off he went!

I remember this specific evening at camp, when a huge weight seemed to be lifted off my shoulders. Upon arrival at the flagpole, all were instructed to be quiet and to listen intently. I still remember the quiet and was astonished at the silence created by what must have been 400 campers. I looked up the long flagpole to the Canadian flag, and to my surprise, the full moon found its place immediately beside the flag as it waved in the wind. Then it happened! From around the bend and beyond sight, a faculty ensemble began to play Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man.” The sound roared down the left side of the bay along boys’ camp. An echo was heard miles away, and I was moved to tears. At that moment, everything seemed to align; I had arrived home, and I had something to contribute to this safe community of like- minded musicians. I slept very well that night!

Throughout my high school years, I studied voice with Megan Rutledge and piano with Harold Ross at the Royal Conservatory of Music. This intensive study led to a successful audition for entrance into the music program as a voice major at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto. In 1986, I completed a four-year Honours degree in Music Education, and in September of 1988, two weeks after the death of my father, I began my teaching career, working for the Scarborough Board of Education, now amalgamated into the Toronto District School Board.

After 14 years as an educator and after a short period of self-reflection, I made a pivotal decision to leave teaching, to pursue a career as a self-employed musician. To this day, I have no regrets! Having been freed from a restrictive teaching timetable, employment opportunities were many and varied, from Director of Music at a number of churches in the United Church of Canada, to clinician and adjudicator for music festivals throughout Ontario, as well as musical performances in Bermuda, in Dominican Republic, and as Music Leader for four summers at the Lutheran Ashram in Minneapolis, Minnesota. My musical life was varied and full!

In 2008, I realized my desire to pursue further studies in music education with a focus on congregational song in the worship space; I undertook a two-year degree at Emmanuel College, a theological college of Victoria University in the University of Toronto. In 2010, I graduated with a Master of Sacred Music degree. During my time at Emmanuel, I was fortunate to work with

Dr. Fred Graham. In all my interactions with him, he proved to be a tremendous support, both in musical knowledge and expertise and in his pastoral nature as a professor and adviser.

As part of the course load, I took Dr. Lori-Anne Dolloff’s course on narrative studies, and this spiked my interest in people’s stories. With great excitement, I applied for doctoral studies at the Faculty of Music and was pleased to be accepted into the doctoral program in music education. It was a coming together of all my varied experiences in music, both in the education field and in a variety of church settings. An exciting opportunity for research in music education had begun!

In 2013, and as part of my research, I embarked on one of my own pilgrimage journeys to Taizé, France. The Taizé community is an ecumenical Christian monastic fraternity, and at its core is a focus on the voice and community singing, a prayerful engagement with God. During my studies at Emmanuel College, Taizé had been referenced in many of my classes, as well as utilized in regular worship opportunities. I was eager to witness and experience this community of care. Through the community’s ecumenical outlook, all participants there are encouraged to live in a spirit of kindness and simplicity, with the hope of reconciliation, healing, and renewal. As a researcher, my main purpose for going was to participate as a community member, to engage others in prayerful singing, and to watch, listen, and to observe others. It was my intention to bring back a number of ideas for inclusion in worship on Thursday evenings, as part of a new program I had introduced to my local church community called Singing “fore” the Love of It (SFLI), and to begin my research for a doctoral project that would eventually lead to a dissertation question. While I went with the expectation to watch others, I had no specific expectations for my own journey, other than to participate in a singing community. I do remember going with the hope that my own pilgrimage journey would be one of respite and relaxation.

Having completed the 12-hour flight from Toronto to Paris, I disembarked from the plane at Charles De Gaulle airport, walked for what felt like a kilometer or two, to the kiosk where I had made prearrangements for a rental car. As I pulled out of the airport parking lot, the GPS in my car told me that I had a five-hour drive south. Although I was tired from a long flight, I was excited to get on my way, an adventure of a lifetime. Little did I know that my GPS had taken me past the turnoff to Taizé, and I found myself in the city of Lyon during traffic hour. At one point, I found myself in the middle of a farmer’s field, my GPS informing me that I had arrived.

After a quick phone call, I was redirected back to Taizé and arrived just in time for evening worship. I was exhausted!

I quickly parked the car in the field allocated for parking and followed others as they walked toward a large building. I assumed that it was the main worship space, the Church of Reconciliation. Along my walk, I passed large buses, which I assumed had dropped off groups of worshippers, and noticed large numbers of teenagers mingling and swarming in large crowds. I overheard teens speaking in a variety of different languages. There was an air of excitement that was palpable, and I seemed to find my second breath as I entered the hall.

A young lad held a large sign with the word, “S I L E N C E,” as I entered. Another teen handed me a music book of well-known Taizé songs and a sheet of paper with the Gospel reading written out in several languages. As I walked toward the front of the worship space, where I presumed the liturgical action would take place, I chose to sit on the floor like nearly everyone else. There were no pews, and only a few stairs along the edges allowed for seating; I remember thinking that those with physical challenges would appreciate that.

Men, each clothed in a white alb, entered quietly one at a time, assuming their places in an area reserved for what I assumed was the clergy. As they all faced forward to the front of the sanctuary and in the same direction as the congregation, younger priests were afforded small leaning stools while the older men seemed to be assigned chairs. To the front, my eyes were drawn to clay vessels with candles lit inside. Tall orange sails were drawn from the floor to the ceiling, and the fading outside natural light created shadows of the sails on the walls directly behind. In a loft up and to the left, I noticed a small portative organ. By now, about 60 men had entered and were facing directly to the front. Many were deep in prayer, while others presented a meditative stance, with a few engaged in an exercise of deep breathing and light stretches. On either side of the chancel, two lit-up signs, like those one might see on a sports scoreboard, communicated the song numbers. The service proceeded unannounced. As we sat in silence, large numbers of people had made their way into the hall, and it became very warm inside. I remember thinking that that boy holding the sign at the door had been successful and had commanded great respect from everyone in attendance. The hall was stunningly quiet. My Taizé experience in worship had begun!

I realized that for the first full day of worship (Day 2), many around me looked very relaxed, as if yoga was a regular part of their life experience. During the singing, I was enthralled by the massive sound. This encouraged my inner performer to sit tall and to sing out fully. Because the tradition included repeating the sung responses up to 20 times in a row, I began to sing all lines one at a time, first with the melody, then to the tenor, dropping to the bass, and then in falsetto, I attempted the alto line. I was sure that those around me recognized that I was an accomplished singer. For some reason, ego seemed to dictate my stance as a singer within the larger community. I seemed to be performing for those around me. Odd! As I sang, I looked to my left and right and noticed that many seemed to sing the responses memorized, with their eyes closed. I assumed that they had been here before or had become very familiar with the music of Taizé back home. During the next selection, I chose to read the music three times and then closed the book and engaged it from memory.

As I walked back to my dorm, I reflected on what I had just experienced. It became clear to me that all of the formality with which I had been nurtured as a singer––proper singing posture, projection, and production of sound, ability to read the music with accuracy, blending with others, and expressing the texts with emotional intensity––inhibited my ability to worship fully, to pursue a personal discussion with God through music. As I fell asleep, I thought, “tomorrow will be another day. It would be a day for me to let go, as a close friend says to me often, ‘let go and let God.’”

Lyric Metaphor: Mark

Confitemini Domino quoniam bonus. Confitemini Domino, alleluia!

Come and fill our hearts with your peace. You alone, O Lord, are holy. Come and fill our hearts with your peace. Alleluia!

Words: Taizé Community, 1982, Music: Jacques Berthier, 1982 (More Voices, 2007, #16)

Chapter 1 Introduction

1.1 Setting the stage for a narrative journey––my research context

The voice, both physical and metaphorical, allows one “to speak up and to be heard, and to shape and share in discussions, discourse and decisions” (World Bank, 2012). What ensues is a sense of agency where one “is able to make decisions about one’s own life and to act upon them, to achieve the desired outcomes free of violence, retribution or fear” (p. x). For centuries, the human voice has been somewhat of a mystery, as it is physiologically produced from within and hidden from the naked eye. Today, one is able to see the voice in action through a procedure called videostroboscopy. Through medical advances such as this, one may see vocal folds that vibrate, witness the effects of airflow as it is modulated up through the glottis, and hear corresponding tones and pitches as one’s voice is manipulated.

People also use their voices to sing. Singing is a universal activity and intrinsic to human experience. One may sing alone or with others. Breath is integral to singing and forms the basis upon which sound is generated and prolonged. This, in turn, creates tone, and when singing with others, forms the basis of harmony and blend. To communicate meaning, singing relies on the use of texts, incorporating metaphor and imagery as a means of telling a story. Singing with others has proven to be good for one’s health, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

A non-singer is someone who makes a conscious decision To Sing or Not to Sing, Again. Choosing not to sing stems from societal pressures including cultural myths about talent and God-given artistic gifts, trauma (wounding), tarnished relationships that have occurred in families, schools, churches, and in local communities, and the development of low self-esteem–– the nurturing of an ever-present negative inner voice and poor sense of self.

I deeply wondered how, as a program leader, I might create a nurturing and supportive environment, a safe place in which self-labeled non-singers might begin to be more vocal and

8 9 willing to engage in discussions and reflections about their past musical experiences. How might they be inspired to sing for the love of it, again?

1.2 How it all came to be

My continuing interest and questions about singing as a part of living led me to doctoral studies. From the outset, I found my interest and deep concern for the non-singer to be of interest. In early 2012, I began my second year as Director of Music at an urban downtown church. The setting is an intimate one, with a chapel-like sanctuary that seats approximately one hundred worshipers. Promoted as “a sanctuary in the city,” this congregation has had a 187-year presence in the area.

I began noticing that during worship, many congregational members were singing; however, many were not. I set out to improve congregational singing and developed an evening program that I believed would be welcoming, inviting, and would foster healthy singing. “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It” was born and has continued to run on Thursday evenings ever since. Attendance has remained steady, with 10 to 15 participants attending regularly.

With almost thirty years of music experience in both church and educational settings, I have observed and defined, without judgment, an adult non-singer as exhibiting some or all of the following behaviours: one who appears shy when asked to sing, who mouths the words, who listens rather than joins in, who looks away when eye contact is made, who stops singing when a musician draws near, who position their head down in the music even though they may or may not know or understand what they are looking at, who closes eyes while listening, encounters language difficulties, is unfamiliar with process due to cultural or religious differences, and, or, at times, may choke up emotionally, making it difficult to sing.

General observations noted during SFLI reveal a crisis of identity, with self-deprecating descriptions of self, as expressed through the use of a negative inner voice, leading to the labeling of oneself as a non-singer. “The underlying theme . . . was a ‘knowing’ or a ‘message’ about what it meant to be a singer and thus about what skills or talents these non-singers lacked” (Pascale, 2005, p. 167).

Physically, participants may experience some or all of the following: a lack of air to sustain singing, shortness of breath, a sense of physical tightness and inability to relax, locked knees, tightness in the shoulders, neck, jaw, and throat region, difficulty hearing oneself––both inner and outer voice, difficulty singing in unison or matching pitch, and/or a hesitation to physically engage a healthy singing technique as expressed by the leader. Emotionally, non-singers may exhibit some or all the following: anxiety, a sense of shutting down, tears, frustration, a deep sense of sadness, an inability to express verbally what they are feeling, fear, and hesitation. In time, they may experience joy, jubilation, exhilaration, and/or a deep sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. Research suggests that:

community singing has physical and mental health benefits for individuals and communities. Singing has been shown to enhance self-esteem and self- confidence. It can also improve immunity, lower stress levels and lift mood. Singing requires bodily movement and cognition that exercise the body and the brain and it can bring together people from different age groups, abilities and backgrounds in collaboration towards a common purpose. (Dore, Gillett, & Pascal, 2010, p. 11)

Of special interest to me was a focus on the many questions I had about all aspects of singing–– in schools, in communities, and in the church. At the conclusion of my second year of doctoral study, I had completed the workload for most courses apart from the research methods course. My research assignment focused on two individuals and their experiences as they attempted to re-engage their voices; their desire was to join the chancel choir. For both participants this was a challenging time, as they had not been in a choir for over twenty years.

As I researched their stories, it became clear that there were many adult individuals within the greater church community who also required special care. Many of them existed outside the formal music program and resided in the body of the church in the congregation. To improve congregational song, I began to look for ways in which I might encourage healthier singing for all (see Figure 1).

Figure 1. Improving Congregational Song

In September 2013, I offered a singing program on Thursday evenings, a one-hour exploration of singing, with hymns of the church as the vehicle and resource for singing, grounded in an environment that was safe, encouraging, and supportive. Hymns tell the story of the church. What better way than to express our story through the hymns we sing. Dolan (2013), in her video presentation at The Phenomenon of Singing International Symposium IX suggests that, “Stories connect us; we tell them, we share them, we listen to them, and yes, we sing them.”

1.3 Publicizing a new singing program

I chose to name the program “Singing 4 the Love of It.” The “4” had no special meaning––it was used more as an attempt to grab the attention of those who might glance at the poster (see Figure 2). Posters were placed throughout the church facility, on social media such as Facebook, on the advertising pillar on Bloor St., and on bulletin boards in surrounding churches including Rosedale Presbyterian Church, The Church of St. Peter and St. Simon-the-Apostle, St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church, a variety of United Churches in the downtown core, music schools, and on university meeting boards. All interested individuals were welcome to participate. At the inaugural meeting, more than 15 people showed up. Many expressed in an open discussion about

12 why they were there––they had met the criteria set out in the poster, and it had sparked their curiosity.

“Singing 4 the Love of It” - A Music Experience for Adults! (18 and up)

Time: Thursdays from 7:00 – 8:00 p.m. Location: St. Andrew’s United Church, Toronto

This music program is offered to those who wish to explore and develop confidence in their singing. In a safe and welcoming environment, we will support each other as we learn to sing for the love of it. Included in this introductory program will be opportunities for participants to learn to read music, to engage hymn texts encountered in weekly worship and to explore their own faith through song.

If you fit any or all of the following categories, this program is for you! ü You’ve been told that you can’t sing and have simply shut down. ü You know how to sing but can’t follow the music and wish to learn. ü You’ve always wanted to sing but have lacked the confidence to do so. ü You wish to sing 4 the love of it!

Figure 2. Poster S4LI

13 1.4 Session #1––“Singing 4 the Love of It”

Prior to the first session, I arrived early and arranged for a single note, “d” above middle “c,” to be played on the organ. A pencil was placed over the key and jammed into the space between the key and the console. Continuous sound ensued. As people arrived, a constant tone could be heard filling the worship space. Chairs were placed in a semi-circle and candles were lit with the lights from above dimmed slightly. The volume level was low enough that I could talk over it. I began with a quick welcome and then invited all present to close their eyes and to focus their attention to the sound that was present in the space. The journey of S4LI had begun.

1.5 Thursday evening programming diversifies

Over the next five years, S4LI has continued to play a pivotal role in Thursday evening programming at the church. A variety of program opportunities are now offered, including:

• KIDSTUF, a program for children ages 6 – 12 • Bible Study for Adults • Prayer Time in the Chapel • A Community Dinner • Chair Yoga for Seniors • MOSAIC for millennials (off-site)

1.6 Introducing a monthly worship experience––in the style of Taizé

Throughout the church year, from September through to June, S4LI participants gather to sing, and on every third Thursday of the month, evening program begins with worship in the style of Taizé. Often on these nights, the group grows, due to the addition of others who desire a mid- week worship experience. After 30 minutes of worship, S4LI continues with its usual assortment of familiar hymns and songs. At the conclusion of every Thursday evening, it became customary for all participants to gather in a circle for prayer, a benediction, and a blessing as they parted in peace.

14 1.7 “Singing 4 the Love of It” becomes “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It”

In its first two years of existence, S4LI created quite the “buzz” around the church. After Sunday worship, I often spent time in the narthex chatting over a cup of coffee with congregants and guests. This allowed ample time for me to meet with those whom I serve on a weekly basis, and to introduce myself to worship guests, church shoppers, walk-ins, adherents, and family members. When I asked about singing, it was quite common for me to receive the following–– “Oh, I don’t sing!” Or, “Ask my partner, I can’t sing.” Or, “My husband didn’t inherit his mother’s side of the music genes.” It was as if they needed to forewarn me about their inabilities to sing. This sparked my curiosity!

It became readily apparent that those who were hesitant to sing during worship, could, with little effort, remain hidden amongst the singing congregation (see Figure 3). In most cases, they simply mouthed the words. In some instances, non-singers stood defiant, mouths closed, with eyes transfixed on the PowerPoint screens or in their hymn book, void of engagement and/or participation.

Figure 3. Congregational Makeup––Who Are We Looking For?

Over the following weeks, I drove home after worship, perplexed with what I had heard and experienced during and after worship. Then, one day, as I was golfing with a friend, it all came together. To the non-singer, forewarning the music leader that they could not sing was a proverbial yelling “fore” on a golf course, warning others to take cover. With this realization, I chose to alter the name of the Thursday evening program to better reflect this apparent need by non-singers within the congregation to give me ample warning about their inabilities to sing and participate. Moving forward, “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It” (SFLI) would be the new name promoted in advertising, in Sunday worship bulletins, and on the church website.

1.8 Purpose of the study

After successful completion of a doctoral project, and in consultation with my advisor, I decided that a focus on the lived experiences of three SFLI individuals would generate rich data, from which possible illuminating conclusions could be drawn. Drawing on the research literature in music education, social psychology, and gender studies in singing, I explored perspectives of identity formation, musical development, aspects of spirituality, gender issues in singing performance, and other related issues for those who choose not to sing. It is hoped that this study may provide vivid portraits of their respective journeys as they participate in “learning to sing again” activities, through self-reporting, narratives, and reflective journals.

1.9 Research question

How does an individual, living within the social construct of present-day society, re-imagine the singer-self as an aspect of the whole self––physically, emotionally and spiritually?

1.9.1 Sub-questions

From the primary focus question, a number of other guiding questions emerged, which include:

1. What aspects of society encourage or discourage the vision and development of a sense of self as singer?

2. How might institutions such as schools, local communities and the greater church facilitate “learning to sing again” activities? 3. Along the timeline of re-engagement as a singer, how do individuals perceive change from within? 4. What are the physical, spiritual and emotional signs or markers denoting progress, and how are they made evident?

1.10 Limitations of the study

The three adult non-singers selected to participate in the study were representative of those who participate in the SFLI program. Eric arrived fully engaged in his lifelong journey of reclaiming his voice, and he and I had some informal discussions prior to his inclusion as a participant. John worked with the youth at the church, so, in some ways I saw him as a colleague. Anita was fully new to the program, and I did not know her before she arrived; however, all three were participants in the new program that I had created. I therefore have a bias, as I was researching within my own program and was fully committed to its success. Care must be taken to catechize assumptions based on past and present experiences within the SFLI program. The findings are not intended to be generalizable to areas outside the specific research area or beyond individual experiences.

1.11 Overview of the thesis design

This thesis is presented in three parts. It begins with the Prologue––my personal story, which includes my own lived experience of challenges and successes as I grew to be a full-fledged music professional in the education field. Chapter 1 set the stage for the narrative journey, which outlined the need and purpose of the study as well as the research questions and limitations of the research. In Chapter 2, academic literature focuses on concepts of the singer/non-singer, outer voice/inner voice, talented/silenced, as well as aspects of dysphonia, gender, trauma, wounding, and social anxiety, presented from a Canadian perspective. Chapter 3 includes a comprehensive overview of qualitative research methodology. From choosing participants to collecting data through individual case studies, I approached my role as facilitator, with the goal of enabling their voices to be heard and to present those stories in a coherent, compelling narrative.

The second part of the thesis presents the data (Chapters 4 through 6), with an individual chapter for each of the three participants. Each chapter begins with a short narrative based on their initial answers to a questionnaire. In each chapter, discussions shared during interviews about their narrative stories highlight specific details from their lived experience as adult non-singers.

The third part of the dissertation provides the analysis portion of the thesis (Chapter 7), where I ponder the relevant theoretical discourses relating to emerging themes. I also present a summary of the responses that answered the four sub-questions which guided the inquiry. A final section addresses the implications for future research, followed by an Epilogue (Chapter 8) in which I reflect upon my personal journey as a researcher. An extensive Reference List and Appendices follow.

Chapter 2 Literature Review

2.1 Literature search

While pursuing research in the early years of the 21st Century, I have been afforded immediate access via internet to the great research depositories and university institutions throughout the world. Easy access made it possible for me to work at home or in my office at the church. While exploring the possibilities for research, and then, as I began to develop a research focus, I was able to download online dissertations, paper submissions to conferences and periodicals, virtual hardcover books, and texts. My search included thematic material that provided rich texts about individuals being wounded early in life as singers. A good example of this type of literature came from the Canadian Music Educators Journal. Forshaw (2018), a colleague, wrote about her narrative self-study, which sought “to make meaning of [her] early musical experiences of being silenced in elementary school” (p. 23).

Within the literature, topics of wounding were complex and varied, with a primary focus on the power relations between individuals. At times, relationships were tested––between parent and child, child and a sibling or siblings, between teacher and pupil, or amongst friends on a playing field or in a sandbox. The potential for wounding events existed at home, at school, or at play, and analysis of my initial research indicated that these moments are forever etched into our bank of memories (see Figure 4).

18 19

Figure 4. Episodic Wounding Experiences in our Memory Bank

From the World Wide Web, I was able to access TED Talks, blogs, and websites that allowed immediate access to real-life stories as told by researchers, scholars, participants, and leaders in

20 the music field. Even on Facebook, pages celebrating the benefits of choir participation, learning to sing pedagogy groups, and short pithy memes supported and encouraged my research journey. In some instances, I was able to participate in email threads with other music colleagues and researchers, which allowed for robust discussions about mutual topics of interest. The greatest challenge as a researcher was to sift through all the data encountered above, deciding on its usefulness and applicability, and incorporating what was essential to my research on adult non- singers.

2.2 Who sings?

When a baby is born, it is common for the parents to hear the voice of their newborn as an initial cry. This primal utterance results from an initial intake and exhalation of air as the child breaks out from the comfort and warmth of the amniotic fluid sac inside the womb to the outside world, where breathing becomes necessary to survive. In the days and months that follow, every newborn is dependent upon and highly influenced by their own unique circumstance. Positive and negative exposure to surroundings and environment begin to mold and shape these young vulnerable and impressionable beings. Current research suggests that the womb is not a silent place; the fetus hears many musical and non-musical sounds from the external world. Even prior to scientific research, Zoltán Kodály surmised that music education should begin as early as possible, even “nine months before the birth of the mother” (Kodály Institute, 2019). Ancestral lines that show a familial connection to music making may begin to influence a child’s future, even before they are born; even so, much of the data on which researchers rely focuses on a timeframe following the birth of a child. Drawing on research from Rutkowski (1990; see also Knight, 1999; Stadler Emler, 2002; Tafuri, 2009; Welch, 1986, 2005, 2007), Knight (2010) refers to a threaded discourse on child development: “the neuro-psychobiological singing potential of individuals begins to be realized (hindered and/or nurtured), commencing in infancy, through learning encounters within particular socio-cultural contexts across and beyond childhood (p. 28).”

The culmination of educational opportunities afforded every child have proven to be of benefit or a detraction from their continued development as a young singer. As early as age 3, a child may be exposed to a variety of learning environments. For parents who place a high priority on the

21 arts and holistic learning, home schooling may be the chosen path, or they may choose to enroll their child into a Montessori program, a daycare centre, or a music school where programs are geared towards young musicians. In each unique learning environment, when attention is paid to the process of learning––in making connections through creating, exploring and experimenting– –singing should continue to be a positive experience, a way for each child to access the “child within” (Bannan, 2000, p. 295), fostering a growing sense of self-esteem and confidence. Knight (2010) states unequivocally that

evidence is well-established that humans possess a species-wide facility for singing as a learned musical behaviour (Bertaux, 1989; Cooksey, Beckett, & Wiseman, 1984; Davidson et al., 1979; Dowling, 1984; Gackle, 1992; Kalmar, 1991; Kemp, 1985; Welch, Rush, & Howard,1991) featuring physical, psychological and affective development across a continuum of increasing singing skill and knowledge, marked by a growing sense of self. (Welch, 1986, 1994b, 1997; Welch, White, & Sergeant, 1995; Welch, Sergeant, & White, 1997).

In the North American context, at about 5 years of age, most children are enrolled into public school systems or private schools. This is when a child crosses the threshold from pre-school, which is often based on play and exploration, into an institutional life where formal assessment at each grade level becomes the marker of acquired skill and ability. Age-related stages of development become a template for evaluation, and a checklist of a child’s progress demonstrates whether that child has succeeded or failed to meet the standards. As this relates to singing, “a range of researchers devised tests, observational criteria and hypotheses relating to the child’s development of the singing voice” (Bannan, 2000, p. 296). From my own experience as a child in the public-school system in Ontario, I was evaluated in all subject areas by a number of summative tests. Early on, report card remarks spoke of my love for music and my innate ability to sing.

Although a number of children will be labeled “talented and/or gifted” from a very early age, as if “born a singer,” “school [will remain] one of the chief environments where the child’s growing musical sense of self [will] take shape” (Knight, 2010, p. 51). Those who show promise often continue their pursuit of music through private study. They may turn to institutions based on the European classical tradition of music study, such as the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto,

22 or they enroll into performance or education programs at the university level, where they are put through a rigorous practice regimen with comprehensive exams in performance, theory, and composition, leading to a high standard of achievement. Some go on to professional careers. It is not surprising that the piano continues to be a major piece of furniture found in many homes throughout North America.

There are other individuals, however, who chose to pursue careers in fields outside of music, and the possibilities are endless; however, they may continue participating in music communities of interest. These individuals turn to church choirs, community ensembles, and/or front their own garage band as a lead singer, for example, where they continue to sing and/or play for the love of it.

2.3 Who chooses not to sing

Campbell (1998) suggested that “music emerges from children” (p.168):

Music emerges from children . . . Music is on their minds and in their bodies. It is evident in their conscious musicking alone and together, and in the various musical expressions they produce. It is present in their discourse about music, too, as their voices rise and fall to explain music’s importance to them, incorporating as they do melodies and rhythms in their speech to say what they mean to say. Music appears to be everywhere in the lives of children, and they love the musical part of their lives. (p. 168)

Narrative research forms the basis for much of what music researchers have come to understand as the lived experience of the child as music maker and the adult as the non-singer. Although most people are born with the ability to sing, at some point, some choose to refrain from singing. Stories expressed by those who stop singing are often rich texts based on tragic and painful events from one’s past, with highly charged emotional descriptions. These painful experiences resulted in years of silence and/or avoidance of participation in music making. Throughout the writings of Knight (2010), Joyce (2003), and Whidden (2008), readers are exposed to story after sad story of those who loved to sing, but who, through a traumatic event, were shut down. Whidden (2008) described it this way: “Students, who have been labeled as non-singers in grade

23 school by one whom they deemed as a musical expert, internalize this judgment and allow it to curtail future endeavours throughout adolescence and adulthood” (p. 1). Joyce (2003) delved deeper, exploring “the underpinning (dominant) discourses and practices” that lead people to being “excluded or disenfranchised” from participating in music (p. 19). Knight (2010) summed up non-singers’ lives as “sharing a common fibre, the reported constituent strands of which are: ‘anxiety,’ ‘fear,’ ‘exposure,’ ‘scrutiny,’ ‘judgment,’ ‘embarrassment,’ ‘exclusion’ and/or ‘avoidance’” (p. 54).

Adult non-singers who choose not to sing are often “caught in a society dominated by the view that musical abilities are dependent on innate talent and they have, unfortunately, simply accepted their non-musical status” (Ruddock & Leong, 2005, p. 18). School environments are highly competitive and prone to ranking students from best in class to those who fail or barely pass. In subjects such as music, physical education, and the other arts (visual, drama, and dance), skill comparison is a daily occurrence, especially when “a person is involved in joint production with others” (Knight, 2010, p. 54). For instance, within a choir, one’s singing may be evaluated or judged by those sitting nearby. A student who consistently underperforms, at least in the eyes of their peers, may develop a sense of self as being inferior or inadequate.

2.4 Selective mutism

In some situations, children may have a complex childhood anxiety disorder called selective mutism. This is characterized by a child’s inability to speak and communicate effectively in select social settings, such as school. For those who refrain from singing, they may not be aware that they have advocates who defend them, proposing “that educators are not upholding the value of fair treatment of individuals and groups and are thus perpetuating inequities through the education system” (Whidden, 2008, p. 7).

2.5 Dysphonia––physical impairment

Dictionary definitions for those who wish to sing but find it difficult due to a physical impairment of the mouth, tongue, throat, or vocal cords, describe the individual as having dysphonia. A descriptive medical term, the word dysphonia is made up of two parts disorder (dys-) of voice (-phonia). Recently, in a short discussion with a church music colleague, I

24 experienced hearing someone who suffers from dysphonia. I had to lean in to hear what he said to me. One might think that I heard a whisper, but that does not fully describe it. As my friend spoke to me, I noticed that his vocal utterance seemed interrupted, as if his speaking voice were skipping, similar to the break of music on a vinyl LP (record). I could tell that he was frustrated with the process; however, he expressed hope that his ailment would pass over time. He expressed a deep desire to sing again and to be able to use his speaking voice more fully when working with his choirs. He reassured me that he was under the care of an ear, nose, and throat specialist with whom he had dealt during prior dysphonia events.

2.6 Who sings but in a limited way

There are those who describe themselves as non-singers in the public sense, but who choose to sing privately. These reluctant singers may find their solace in the privacy of the shower, bathroom, car, cooking at the barbecue, or at the workbench in the garage. When they are caught singing, they feel ambushed and shut down immediately. When at a public music concert, they often may be recognized as good listeners, toe-tappers, hand-clappers, and whistlers. When asked why they do not sing, they suggest that “no one really wants to hear them sing,” that “they inherited the wrong side of the family tree,” or that their voice is “tinny and void of merit.” These non-singers have become believers of the cultural myth that only a rare few have musical talent, and that only the musically gifted should be heard. A possible explanation is that “these adult non-singers compared themselves to siblings or friends who appeared to them as having musical talent” (Ruddock & Leong, 2005, p. 15). What ensues is a personal belief that they do not measure up, that they do not possess “this attribute called musical talent” (Whidden, 2008, p. 3).

In some cases, men are especially self-conscious about singing in public, due to an upbringing in which singing was viewed as weak and not manly. These assumptions often stem from discussions within the family unit, resulting in an atmosphere that discourages displays of emotion, or where physical contact is rarely witnessed.

25 2.7 Non-singers who sing

Sociocultural anthropologists examine the complex web of world cultures by looking for similarities and differences within and across societies, with interest focused on the way individuals learn to interact and co-exist. While lived experiences may vary among individuals, one’s ability to create meaning falls along a typical timeline, from the moment one enters into the world to the last breath as one departs. The dash between these dates or threshold moments represents the accumulation of lifelong learning events, and one’s race, sexuality, class, gender, and nationality play a pivotal role in identity formation. Relating this to the domain of music, the self-image of a singer “develops by a process of monitoring [one’s] own behaviour, and making social comparisons” (MacDonald, Hargreaves, & Miell, 2002, p. 8).

In Knight’s (2010) dissertation, A Study of Adult “Non-Singers” in Newfoundland, she described culture as being comprised of “nested concepts of society and community” (p. 17). Joyce (2003) stressed that individuals live in communities where interactions are of a more personal and direct nature, while at the same time, are impacted by an overarching umbrella of societies’ “systemic and cultural forces” (p. 20). Whidden (2010) unraveled this complex web even further, suggesting that “participation in singing is influenced by such ecologies as cultural perception, economic situation, familial attitude, historical context, and educational circumstance” (p. 1).

In Western cultures, “we have created a situation where many ‘ordinary’ people are intimidated by the rather exclusive ethos attributed to music making” (Richards & Durrant, 2003, p. 79). Those who are described as musicians are labeled as attaining a high standard of excellence and virtuosity in the playing of their chosen instrument. Although voice students are musicians, too, they are often excluded or assumed to be in another class altogether. Having worked in many different musical contexts, from classrooms to sanctuary spaces, I have often heard this separation described in the following manner: “I’ll ask the musicians about rehearsal times and you check with the singers.” This divide suggests a sort of class system within society in general, and more specifically, in music communities. This may represent an assumption that everyone has the ability to sing and that it is not a difficult practice to learn.

Within arts communities and institutions of learning, perceptions about musicianship include similar cultural perspectives, both positive and negative, about those who have attained high

26 standards in performance and practice. When instrumental music students are asked whether they see themselves as singers, they often answer “no.” This impression may stem from negative stereotypes about singing in general and may be directed specifically at those who describe themselves as singers. Richards and Durrant (2003) put forward the view that “it is often assumed that singing is something that you either can or can’t do, with the belief that teaching is an irrelevant factor in making a difference to the condition” (p. 78). This may explain why many people, including some teachers, think that poor singing ability is an indication of a poor general level of musical competence. In her study on adult non-singers, Knight (1999) suggested, “this belief is an embedded cultural myth” (p. 144). This may explain why students responded negatively, because an association with another group of perceived lesser ability may impact negatively on their own reputations as musicians.

In familial contexts, family members may like to sing but will still self-identify as non-singers. Negative self-perceptions may be the result of sibling rivalry, where one member is described as talented musically, or conversely, the one in the family who appears to lack an ability to sing in tune. Labeled “tone deaf,” these family members are often ridiculed, made fun of, or identified as having acquired poor music skills from a descendent line of poor singers. This treatment may lead to the silencing of a family member or being made the “laughing-stock” at family gatherings. Welch (2001) suggests, “judgments about musical ability persist because we prefer a division between those who can and those who cannot” (p. 80).

2.8 Negative reinforcement––real or perceived

Individuals who self-describe as non-singers form their personal beliefs about themselves from cultural concepts and perceptions focused on what is “normal” and what is “other.” In 1989, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) defined a normal person as someone who was “physically and mentally sound; free from any disorder; healthy; unimpaired; heterosexual” (Simpson & Weiner, 1989). In 2014, OED revised the meaning of “normal” as “free from physical or mental disorders.” (Normal, 2014). This may suggest that society’s view of “normal” has evolved and no longer includes an individual’s sexuality as an indicator. This confirms that since definitions are fluid and subject to change over time, normalcy, therefore, is a social construct, rather than a pre-defined quality. It confirms that an individual’s identity “is not pre-given, but has to be

27 continually re-established” (Mohanty, 2000, p. 83). Flynn and Nitsch (1980) put forward a definition of “other” as someone who is “a) different from others in b) one or more dimensions of identity, which are c) viewed as significant by others, and d) this differentness must be negatively valued” (p. 8). Thus, it is no surprise that non-singers label themselves as “different,” and this can greatly affect their development and can even “change self-perceptions to produce what is termed a ‘damaged self’” (MacDonald, Hargreaves, & Miell, 2002, p.163).

“Music identity and identity in music” (MacDonald et al., 2002, p. 2) was a two-pronged approach to exploring how “a) humans use music in the construction of their sense-of-self and b) their sense-of-self as a musician” (Knight, 2010, p. 51). At its core, music is a collaborative experience in which performance focuses individuals “on the same subject . . . [which] is similar to the concept of ‘shared social reality’” (MacDonald et al., 2002, p. 166). Culturally, music is a symbolic language that all may embrace, regardless of age, race, gender, sexual orientation, or mental/physical disability, equalizing or leveling the “playing field” for those who participate. This is fine for those who are invited in, but what happens when participants are either disinvited or excluded, the result of poor performance practices or not meeting the expected standards?

Knight (2010) was highly critical of Musical Identities by Macdonald, Hargreaves, and Miell, noting two glaring omissions in the text: 1) the absence of singing in discussions about music identities, and 2) the implication of a negative musical identity (p. 51). In other words, without singing or an exploration of negative musical identities, non-singers were non-existent and erased from the discussion altogether.

2.9 Trauma

Throughout the literature, lived experiences as expressed in the stories of non-singers revealed dark moments of deep distress, the result of traumatic events experienced during childhood. While some described private moments of humiliation, others told stories of extremely embarrassing and highly charged emotional incidents during which they were exposed publicly as a failure, usually at the expense of someone in authority. Sordid details included being tapped on the head, told to mouth the words, described as “tone deaf,” born with a “tin ear,” relegated to the group of crows in the class rather than the sparrows, or called out in rehearsal as incapable of blending in (see Figure 4, p.19).

“Students, who have been labeled as non-singers in grade school by one whom they deemed as a musical expert, internalize this judgment and allow it to curtail future singing endeavours throughout adolescence and adulthood” (Whidden, 2008, p. 1). This has been the prevailing attitude for quite some time. “Seashore (1938) and Joyner (1969) were proponents of the idea that certain people did not have an adequate vocal instrument and therefore their vocal skills could never change or develop over time” (Whidden, 2008, p. 2).

During the 1970s and 80s and continuing through today, research on the plight of the non-singer has shifted this fatalistic attitude of no hope or future as a singer.

Researchers such as (Dweck, 1975; Goetze, Cooper, & Brown, 1990; Hallam, 1998; Hallam & Prince, 2003; Kazez, 1985; O’Neill, 1999; Relich, Delius, & Walker, 1986; Schunk, 1983; Sergeant & Thatcher, 1974; Sloboda, 1976; Sloboda, 1990; Topp, 1987; Welch, 1979,1986, 1994a) state that singing ability can be developed through one’s lifetime and that singing ability is not an innate gift only apparent in a small percentage of people. (p. 2)

Oddly enough, with television programs like The Voice (de Mol, 2011) and Canadian Idol (Brunton & Bowlby, 2003), the view in western society appears fixated on innate ability and talent.

2.10 Gender issues

A chorus impact study published on the website of Chorus America, an organization founded in 1977 as the Association of Professional Vocal Ensembles, proclaims that “new research shows that choral singing in America is stronger than ever, with more than 54 million Americans singing in choruses” (Grunwald Associates LLC, 2019). Even so, there has been clear evidence of a steady decline in the number of males who choose to participate in music-making opportunities. In England, for example, with its centuries-old tradition of all-male choirs in decline, many music programs found it necessary to create mixed choirs, auditioning female voices to sing the soprano and alto parts. This upset many traditionalists who felt strongly that all-male choirs, having been a major thread in the fabric of mainstay England, should become a priority once again. The Campaign for the Traditional Cathedral Choir (CTCC) was created “to

29 champion the ancient tradition of the all-male choir in Cathedrals, Chapels Royal, Collegiate Choirs, University Chapels and similar ecclesiastical choral foundations” (Welch et al., 2012, p. 28). Even the Church of England, with a centuries-old choral tradition of excellence, finds it difficult to maintain a strong male presence in its choral settings.

In the North American context, there has been a desire to create opportunities for more inclusion within music programs. Whether in churches, community groups, or education systems, fostering a spirit of equality and inclusion for males and females continues to be the predominant focus of music making. Despite this spirit of welcome and hospitality, male involvement continues to decline. As Harrison, Welch, and Adler (2012) reported: “Fewer Canadian children are singing, and as a corollary, even fewer boys are singing. A glimpse of the Canadian choral landscape now shows community and church choirs struggling to find male singers” (p. 45).

Educational research has revealed that gendered differences are predicated on cultural practices of the day. With singing development, data “provides a comprehensive perspective of how boys and girls singing becomes gendered through exposure to particular biases in their musical enculturation” (Welch, et al., 2012, p. 40) and, that, “on entry to school, boys continue to be at least as competent as girls in their vocal pitch matching skills in musical tasks where lyrics are absent. However, as soon as lyrics and musical material are combined in song singing, the same boys’ vocal competency is compromised” (p. 40). This may explain why male non-singers describe instances when they lacked confidence in their ability to keep up with their classmates. Instead of providing an appropriate nurturing environment, educators who were unable to recognize this lagging behind as a root cause of frustration for some male students resorted to the “tap on the head” technique of shutting down students who were having difficulty. Sadly, these students were often relegated to mouthing the words, in some cases for the rest of their lives. Had they been treated differently,

many more boys, as well as girls, [would] fulfill their singing potential–– arguably, their singing birthright––if those responsible for music education policy and practice in our schools and community settings ensure[d] that a nurturing singing development pedagogy is in place. (p. 41)

Female non-singers face other challenges, including, but not limited to, issues of injustice and power, and a cultural performance expectation that all women should be able to sing. Many of the lived experiences found in the research literature suggests that women have struggled to acquire or even maintain an equal footing in choral environments, the result of a strong tradition of male dominance. O’Toole (2005) suggested that “women have traditionally been marginalized, especially in the music profession . . . and women have asked different kinds of questions in the interest of creating different power relations” (p. 2). Throughout Western societies, prevailing discourses have left these questions unanswered. For women, breaking through the “glass ceiling” (Federal Glass Ceiling Commission, 1995, p. 4) is still a rare occurrence. For example, in many church organizations, patriarchal structures, both in language and in ritual, have relegated women to the “back pews,” denying them opportunities for full participation and access to positions of leadership and power. In some faith-based institutions, women are separated from the men and are required to remain behind a partition or wall. Like non-singers, they become “non-worshipers.”

2.11 Social anxiety

All the above potential causes feed the emotion of fear and anxiety in “Non-Singers.” Social anxiety is defined as “anxiety resulting from the prospect or presence of personal evaluation in real or imagined situations” (Schlenker & Leary, 1982, p. 642). With this in mind, Knight (2010, p. 54) described two ways in which “Non-Singers” experience social anxiety, when their ability or skill is judged and compared by their peers, or when publicly humiliated by someone in authority resulting in a desire to retreat or flee. She further suggested that,

this avoidance behaviour . . . has resonance with the medical model of social anxiety, known as disaffiliation, where individuals avoid situations that produce embarrassment (Brown & Garland, 1971), or prefer not to affiliate with evaluative others (Fish, Karabenick, & Heath, 1978; Sarnoff & Zimbardo, 1961; Teichman,1973, 1978; Watson & Friend, 1969).

31 2.12 Literature that supports the creation of SFLI

At the beginning of my doctoral studies, and as I began to explore the possibilities for a thesis question, I came across the BBC2 docuseries called The Choir (Isaacs & Hillman, 2006). It was a series of videos about setting up “Workplace Choirs.” In each case, choirmaster Gareth Malone attempted to teach choral music to people with little singing experience. Centred in Britain, Malone formed a choir with the wives left behind by troops fighting in Afghanistan, and he tried to start a choir at a school where boys did not sing. He searched out the busiest workplaces in the nation and created choir opportunities there. As I watched the series, my interest was piqued, as I had noticed in my own church ministry that many were not singing. Included on The Choir website was a link to a page focused on setting up your own workplace singing experience.

I began a literature review focused on beginning choirs for adults. Within two or three searches, I began to see a threaded discourse of like-minded individuals. Knight (2010), in Newfoundland, had completed her extensive dissertation, A Study of Adult ‘Non-Singers’ in Newfoundland. I had found a Canadian connection to Britain, in that her dissertation was published by the University of London, England, at the Institute of Education; her advisor was Graham Welch.

Further online research showed a growing number of choirs that were created to address adults who no longer sang or who thought they could not sing. Across Canada, Instant Choir (Growing the Voices: Festival 500, 2014), Beer Choir (Engelhardt, 2014), and Choir! Choir! Choir! (Goldman & Adilman, 2011) had popped up in major cities across the county. The main objective of these singing opportunities was to provide a community experience, that would allow an individual to escape, for an hour or two each week, the daily stresses and hectic nature of their lives.

With pen in hand, I jotted down several possible group names for my new Thursday evening music opportunity. I was looking for a catchy title, one that would put forth a sense of welcome and hospitality and informal in nature. From the outset, I stated on the publicity poster that SFLI would not have a performance expectation. This proved to be pivotal for some people in their consideration to participate and show up. SFLI is not a performance ensemble, and one of its core goals and objectives was to provide a singing experience, inclusive of all singing abilities. My goal was to provide “a space where ideas and practices may grow from the bottom up, where

32 there is a democratic and inclusive culture that listens, respects and acts on the individual voices of those who make up [the SFLI] community” (Higgins & Willingham, 2017, p.11).

Setting the stage for non-singers to begin the slow process of reclaiming their voices in a group setting requires a safe place, void of judgment, that promotes singing as a practice of personal growth, that puts people first, with no performance expectations at the end (see Figure 5). These building blocks grew out of research focused on singing in a group as a response to adverse life events. Von Lob, Camic, and Clift (2010) reported “a number of qualitative and survey studies [showing] that singers report a range of social, psychological and health benefits associated with singing (Bailey & Davidson, 2002, 2005; Clift, Hancox, & Morrison, 2010; Silber, 2005)” (p. 45).

Figure 5. Supporting the Reclamation Process in a Group Setting

As von Lob et al. (2010) completed their analysis of the data collected, they created a model illustrating how group singing is used in response to adverse life events. This model proved helpful in my own studies and research on the adult non-singer in that it breaks down the

“multiple psychosocial functions of the singing group in two distinct streams; interpersonal mechanisms and intrapersonal mechanisms” (p. 47; also see Figure 6). It is important, however, to see this model through the lens of singers who view singing in a choir as a form of

“escapism,” as expressed by von Lob et al. (2010):

Value is placed on the singing group as part of an individual’s “protected time,” an activity solely for the self, which is separate from the rest of their lives. Individuals use the singing group to manage emotions by helping them connect with and express difficult emotions, and by increasing positive emotions and feelings of well-being. It provides a form of escapism and distraction from stressful lives by keeping the mind occupied and focused. Singing in a group also has longer-term effects in creating a meaningful life by enabling individuals to give back to others and opening up life opportunities. (p. 48)

Figure 6. von Lob et al. Model: Multiple Psychosocial Functions of Group Singing (von Lob et al., 2010, p. 47).

This suggests that adult non-singers who attempt to address difficult issues and events from their past may be hindered if their goal is escape and avoidance. This points to a significant finding in

34 my research, as my focus looked for ways in which participants began to explore reclaiming their voices, with music participation and care as the catalyst for self-growth and personal understanding of one’s lived experiences, both present and past. Boyce-Tillman (2004) suggests that “music is an important trigger for these peak experiences” (p. 4).

As an accomplished musician, I had participated in many choral situations that were stressful, product driven, and exhausting. I wondered what a singing group experience might look like that would exude the values of “protected time” and a “safe place” for personal growth as expressed in the von Lob et al. (2010) study. As leader of a new SFLI singing experience, I first reevaluated my approach to music instruction and how best to deliver it to non-singers. As I reflected on my notes from the first four sessions, I found my expectations for learning to be lofty and loaded with expectation of performance, my approach focused on signs of improvement that many found intimidating, and my desire to “save them all” through music, while genuinely offered, did not hit the mark. I looked for inspiration in the writings of John Bell for further insight into engaging non-singers in meaningful musical interactions.

In The Singing Thing (Bell, 2000), the author’s bio states: “a hymnwriter and composer based in Glasgow and working as part of the Wild Goose Resource Group of the Iona Community.” (p. 159) A description of the Iona Community follows the bio. The Iona Community is an ecumenical Christian community, founded in 1938. At its core is an “incarnational theology,” and since its inception, the community has endeavoured to “rebuild the common life, bringing together work and worship, prayer and politics, [including] the sacred and the secular” (p. 160). Both Iona and Taizé communities are rooted in the joy of singing as an expression of one’s faith journey.

In making a case for congregational song, Bell (2000) mixed practicality with humour. As I write this paragraph, I remember the number of times during my Master of Sacred Music degree when I had the good fortune of meeting John Bell and watching him work “his magic” in a congregational setting. In answering the question, “why do we sing?” Bell laid out for the reader 10 reasons for engaging in song (p. 5).

Section One: WHY DO WE SING?

1. Because we can 2. To create identity 3. To express emotion 4. To express words 5. To revisit the past 6. To tell stories 7. To shape the future 8. To enable work 9. To exercise our creativity 10. To give of ourselves

For SFLI participants, this proved to be helpful. This list, supported by the building blocks I had clarified in Figure 5 (see earlier in Section 2.12 of this chapter): a safe place, to explore a practice of personal growth, void of judgment or performance expectation, woven together as if symbiotic in nature.

To add further encouragement that I was on the right track with my SFLI program, Bell, in The Singing Thing Too (2007), his second book, confirmed one of my long-standing beliefs: that in all of the churches in which I had served, there was an imaginary wall between the congregation and the music program, the singers and listeners, the performers and the audience, the professionals and the amateurs. Sadly, in my 30-year music ministry, SFLI was my first attempt to counteract exclusion within a singing community, to break down this negative perception of we/they, singer/listener, gifted/unworthy. My journey began by turning out to the congregation with my back to the choir. Within weeks, I developed an understanding that congregational singers required more care. “Congregations, like choirs, need affirmation not discouragement” (Bell, 2007, p. 14).

In June 2018, I presented a paper on my research at the International Symposium on Singing and Song II. It was during this conference that I met Susan Dyer Knight. As the week went on, we had several opportunities to sit and chat about my research and what I was doing in Toronto. In one discussion, she mentioned a new and exciting venture called Growing the Voices––Festival 500. It was an organization that she had created and for which she was the Artistic Director. Upon my return home, I perused the website; I was afforded a number of pull-down tabs, such

36 as, “Why Sing, Personal Stories, and Galleries.” Another tab takes the visitor to a list of their values;

Explore, celebrate and facilitate singing development and enjoyment (both alone and in the community) • by promoting wide access and diverse singing opportunities • in singing settings that are hallmarked by sharing, learning and mutual respect • with a goal of personal, social, and cultural expression and enrichment

It was apparent from my discussions with Susan Dyer Knight that SFLI might find a home under the Growing the Voices umbrella. I left St. John’s, Newfoundland, uplifted and inspired.

2.13 Spirituality

Journeying to a defined destination or arrival point occurs in many different forms throughout one’s life. One might embark on a pilgrimage journey to their birthplace. Another might involve a lengthy trip by foot, as many do when they pursue their personal spiritual journey along the El Camino in Spain. In most cases, stories about this lengthy pilgrimage describe a process where one is presented with a number of challenges, beginning with the physical rigour of an 800 km trip, followed by a time of emotional stress directly related to the physical, culminating in a spiritual awakening as one proceeds and eventually arrives triumphantly at their final destination.

Adults who claim to be “non-singers” appear to experience a similar process as they pursue a reclaimed voice. The physical, emotional and spiritual process in which they embark, pushes them to their limits and creates many moments of self-doubt, in their ability to persevere and to follow through. Group singing may allow for opportunities of spiritual growth; however, they must work through the physical and emotional constraints first (see Yob, 2010). What and how does music-making support one’s spiritual development? Baird (2008) suggested:

The spiritual benefits of choral singing are very difficult to measure. The word “spiritual” itself is interpretative and means something different to every individual. On a basic level it “encompasses a sense of meaning, purpose and transcendence in human experience beyond the purely physical and mundane

realities of life.” Spiritual benefits included being uplifted, causing one to think about religion, history and culture, and enhancing one's religious beliefs. (Clift & Hancox, 2001, p. 250)

It is possible then, that group activities that include singing may impact adult non-singers in a similar way, allowing them opportunities for personal growth and renewed sense of self as singers.

2.14 Grounding

This research is informed by others who have examined non-singers. In particular, the studies by Knight (2010), Joyce (2003), and Whidden (2008) were very helpful in the design of my research. While Knight (2010) focused her research on the historical transmission of singing traditions, Joyce (2003) focused her attention upon separation and exclusion in dominant discourses, and Whidden (2008) centred her research on the effects of educational practices on the singing-self. As an addition to this thread of research, my study illuminates the personal experiences of those who actively seek to reclaim their singing-selves. Therefore, I looked for evidence of re-imagining the singer-self as an aspect of the whole self––physical, emotional, and spiritual.

In order to explore what motivates individuals to re-imagine the singer-self, I first looked at patterns through which human motivations generally move. Maslow developed a hierarchy of needs, through which he studied human behavioral motivation. It is important to note that Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs were expressed in an ever-expanding model from a five-stage model, to one that included cognitive and aesthetic needs, eventually arriving at the hierarchy depicted in Figure 7, which includes transcendence needs and appears appropriately suited for these three case studies (see Bernard, 2009). Maslow continued to refine this theory over several decades (Maslow, 1943, 1962, 1987). My goal for this research is that the findings might serve as a model for other individuals who seek to re-imagine themselves as singers and to inform music educators in schools, churches, and community settings about the struggles and potential for reclaiming a singing life.

Figure 7. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs (McLeod, 2018, May 21)

Chapter 3 Methodology

3.1 Narrative data

This project used narrative data as the key element of inquiry. Creswell (2012) described a personal narrative study as seeking “to understand and represent experiences through the stories individual(s) live and tell” (p. 506). As such, I focused on exploring the meaning of three individuals’ experiences, told through their stories of beginning the process of reclaiming their voices. As participants in SFLI, each of my participants shared the same phenomena of musical group participation, and through this study, I sought to illuminate “individual history and past experiences and how it contributes to present and future experiences” (p. 508).

3.2 Case study

Creswell (2007), in Educational Research, Planning, Conducting, and Evaluating Quantitative and Qualitative Research, described case study methodology as an “approach in which the investigator explores a bounded system or multiple bounded systems (cases) over time, through detailed, in-depth data collection involving multiple sources of information (e.g., observations, interviews, audiovisual material, documents and reports) (p. 73).” I treated each participant as an individual case, and then as I looked across the data from the three cases, I raised important points of resonance and dissonance that served as further points of exploration and inquiry.

Merriam (2009), citing Yin (2009), defined case study as “an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context, especially when the boundaries between phenomenon and context are not clearly evident” (p. 18). As well, qualitative case studies are characterized as being “particularistic, descriptive, and heuristic” (p.43), confirming what is known about a phenomenon, discovering possible new meanings gleaned from the data, leading to potential rethinking of the phenomenon. Case studies are “valued for [their] ability to capture complex action, perception, and interpretation. And from case study reports pour vignettes and

39 40 narratives that feed into the naturalistic generalizations of readers and writers” (Stake, 2007, p. 3).

3.3 Choosing my participants

After receiving approval from the University of Toronto Ethics Review Board (Appendix A), I embarked on the recruitment process (see Appendices B and C). As I was the program coordinator and founder of the SFLI voice project, potential candidates were not difficult to find. Now in its fifth year at St. Andrew’s United Church, Toronto, SFLI has maintained a steady roster of participants, ranging in age from their mid-20s to mid-90s. Those who have chosen to participate in this Thursday evening program live within walking distance or just a short subway ride from the church facility.

Located near the corner of Church and Bloor, in the heart of the downtown Toronto core, St. Andrew’s serves a diverse community: to the north is Rosedale, an affluent community with private schools, to the east is St. James Town, apartment dwellings for low to middle income earners, and an arrival point for newly landed immigrants to Canada. To the south is Bay Street, the economic engine for the nation as well as theatres, colleges; the Village (LGBTQ2+), an initialism meaning Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer or Questioning, Two-spirited); and, to the west is the legislature for the Province of Ontario, government offices, University of Toronto, Toronto School of Theology, music schools, and museums.

In choosing three participants, I was keenly interested in three individuals with unique life experiences in a very specific context, the church. It is hoped that their experiences may have resonance and implications for secular contexts, too, although that was not a goal of the study.

Eric1 (given name), Anita (pseudonym) and John (pseudonym) were chosen at different stages along the timeline of “learning to sing again” activities: Anita was a beginner who had

1 Eric insisted that his given name be used throughout this thesis. For most of his life, Eric has worked toward the day when he could claim his story publicly. Throughout my dissertation, I honor this wish.

41 participated in some “learning to sing again” activities; John was a participant at the intermediate level who had gone through the preliminary period in “learning to sing again” activities; and Eric, a participant who had been involved in “learning to sing again” activities for a lengthy period of time. I explored the development of vocal comfort with these three individuals who self-labeled as non-singer. I approached these three individuals from SFLI in order to solicit a purposeful sample that allowed for the exploration of a variety of experiences along a timeline of engagement. I met with each individual privately, where I invited each to participate. In these discussions, I provided an explanation of what I planned to research and the general scope of commitment required by participants. I encouraged them to consider my proposal, and I gave each an Informal Recruitment Letter (Appendix B). I invited them to get back to me within a week or so. Once all three had agreed to participate, we met again and a Formal Invitation to Participate form (Appendix C) was signed as well as a Consent Form (Appendix D). All three were excited “to share their stories with the hope that their voice would be heard and that they might make a difference through research participation” (McEwan, 1995, p. 169). I was hopeful that these three participants would provide me with a framework for building case studies around their individual experiences.

3.4 Capturing vivid portraits

This study provides vivid portraits of the participants’ respective journeys, told through their self-reporting, narratives, and reflective journals (see Riessman, 2008). Eric was a self-employed professional who did not participate in a church community on a regular basis. Anita was invited to participate in the program by a fellow participant and friend. She also did not have a church affiliation but wishes to, once she retires. The third and final participant, John, was, at the time, a university student working toward a career in the church. All three participants described themselves as adult non-singers; none of them knew each other before signing up as participants in the SFLI program.

3.5 Process of engagement: “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It”

On consecutive Thursdays, SFLI attendees worked through a process of experimentation, engaging others and self in an exploration of making sounds with the voice. Activities were

42 varied and included breathing exercises, listening, and vocalizing opportunities, discussions where personal successes, frustrations, and insights were shared in addition to incorporating movement and metaphor as a medium for and interpretation of the hymn texts sung. In recruiting participants for SFLI, I did not anticipate a set time limit for acquiring a certain facility with singing, nor was there an expectation for performance.

3.6 Questionnaire––revisiting the past

Eric, Anita, and John were asked to fill out, at their own convenience, a questionnaire that delved into their past which requested short, factual answers (see Appendix E). Following the questionnaire, I conducted interviews, along with correspondence by email, phone, and in personal conversations; and the interviews were transcribed. Interview transcripts were given to each participant for comment, if desired. After receiving approval from each participant and with the transcripts in hand, I embarked on writing each participant’s chapter to be included in my dissertation. Upon completion, these too, were shared with each participant, and I received feedback from all three. In all cases, each chose to respond to their individual chapter with a reflection sent by email for further consideration. A large amount of data was collected and analyzed for thematic exploration and further consideration.

3.7 Interview process

After each participant completed the questionnaire (Appendix E), I took some time to become familiar with the basic facts expressed: family background, where they grew up, family dynamics, music opportunities experienced at home and/or at school. The questionnaire served two purposes: to ease each participant into a process of personal reflection and to create a level playing field from which I might begin to probe their life experiences as relayed in the interviews.

Over several months, I conducted three interviews with each participant, for a total of nine interviews. The length of each interview varied depending on the participant’s willingness and interest in telling their story. Interviews were sequential and aimed to cover the participants’ life experiences as follows: Interview 1 covered early childhood to just prior to SFLI activities; Interview 2 focused specifically on experiences during SFLI; Interview 3 investigated post SFLI

43 or looking ahead, with some personal goal setting. Interviews were free-flowing and conversational. Throughout the interview process, I strove to maintain the comfort and privacy of each participant. As a result, interviews for Eric and John were conducted in the privacy of their own homes, while Anita chose to meet in my office at the church.

3.8 Capturing data––utilization of technology

In order to fully capture all that was said during interviews, I recorded all data using my MacBook Air laptop and Apple’s music program Garage Band. This allowed for high quality recording that captured a wide dynamic range––from quiet, intimate moments to expressive declamatory outbursts. To aid in transcription of each interview, I utilized Garage Band’s looping tool to create a length of time (approximately 5-10 seconds) with which I could loop back to the beginning for repetitive playing of the same phrase. Once I was satisfied that I had captured the wording accurately, the loop tool was moved forward and the same sequence was repeated. While transcribing recordings is an intensive and pain-staking process, I chose to do my own transcription, as I believed that it would be beneficial to my process of getting to know the stories of Eric, Anita, and John.

3.9 Data analysis––finding my way: Sifting and sorting

The amount of data collected in narrative research can become overwhelming (Larsson & Sjöblom, 2010). The stories, called field texts (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000), provide the raw data for researchers to analyze as they retell the stories based on narrative elements such as the problem, characters, setting, actions, and resolution (Ollerenshaw & Creswell, 2002). In my study, I utilized the seven major characteristics central to narrative research as adapted from Clandinin & Connelly (2000), Lieblich, Tuval-Mashiach, and Zilber (1998), and Riessman (1993): individual experiences, chronology of the experiences, collecting individual stories, restorying, coding for themes, context and setting, and collaborating with participants.

3.10 Thematic analysis

By completing the three compelling stories based on the interviews of Eric, Anita, and John, the data I collected had become filtered through my own narrative voice. To diminish researcher

44 interpretation, it was imperative that I do my best as facilitator––to allow the voices of the participants to ring through the narrative by including large portions of direct quotes. After the participants considered their stories and were satisfied that their stories were intact, I began to explore possible themes. “A theme is a pattern found in the information that at minimum, describes and organizes the possible observations and at maximum, interprets aspects of the phenomenon (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 4).

In pursuing thematic material from the three narrative stories, I used the four questions that grew out of my thesis question as headings, from which I was able to compile a list of “codable moments” (Boyatzis, 1998, p. 2). My goal was not to assimilate the varied perspectives of my participants into simple conclusions, but rather, to show the complexity of experience as lived by the participants, no matter how disparate their points of view might be. Having answered the four questions, I then embarked on a summative analysis in the form of “a narrative discussion” (Creswell, 2007, p. 254), about how participants were empowered or changed.

I concluded the data analysis with my own interpretation of the findings. Here, I stepped back and formed “some larger meaning about the phenomenon based on personal views, comparisons with past studies, or both” (Creswell, 2007, p. 257). I conclude this dissertation with suggestions for future research, acknowledging that my research contributes to the continued study on the journey of reclaiming one’s voice as an adult non-singer.

Chapter 4 Eric: In Pursuit of a Spirit-filled Life

4.1 Eric’s story

For seven years, the Hellman2 family lived in the town of Lorne Park (now part of Mississauga), a city of over 700,000 people immediately west of Toronto, the sprawling metropolis known as the economic engine for the whole country of Canada. After the Hellmans had their first child (a daughter), a second child, a boy, was born, whom they named Eric. A third addition to the family arrived some time later, a baby brother.

In 1960, Mr. Hellman was transferred to Winnipeg, Manitoba, in the central region of the country. Several years later, a job opportunity in radio broadcasting presented itself, and he decided to take it. Now both the Program Manager and an on-air broadcaster, he truly loved this work. He had a lovely, rich, full voice, and it was common for his voice to be heard billowing throughout the house as his programs played from the radio in the living room.

By now, all three children were old enough to go to school. Around Grade 4, Eric became part of the school choir, which sang on various school occasions and several times in the annual Kiwanis Music Festival. The three kids also attended church for several years with their mother, and all sang in the small church choir. Eric loved to sing!

In 1967, his family moved back to Mississauga, then a year later to Montreal, and after two more years, to Toronto. While still in the broadcasting business, Eric’s father had needed to change jobs (he was now no longer “on-air”) and had been transferred several times by his company. This was common for many families of the time, such as those in the armed forces, the government, or in specialized industries such as broadcasting; uprooting was a regular part of family life. Thus, Eric’s adolescent years at school were interrupted several times, and stability

2 Eric’s surname is Hellman. It was his wish that it be used in this dissertation.

45 46 of place and social activities was not possible. “I felt like I almost died,” he said, having been uprooted from home, friends, community, and sports (which he also truly loved). He could not think of a time, as a young person past the age of twelve, when he sang; this was when he left Winnipeg. It was as if his main outlets for self-expression had been cut off, all at the same time.

Part of his deep sadness developed after his father had lost the on-air radio job that he loved. After this, Eric noticed a marked attitudinal shift in his dad. In Eric’s eyes, he seemed to have withdrawn emotionally. He had stopped playing music and doing art (which had been two more of his creative expressions). He also related less personally to Eric. It was as if the loss of his own voice as a broadcaster meant that his love for artistic expression had been shut down as well. To use a well-known phrase, Eric suggested that both he and his father “had been cut off at the knees.” As he witnessed his father’s creative life decline, so, too, did the relationship between father and son. Late night talks about science, humour, and other things were discontinued. More intimate time between them declined. These losses, in addition to his community and activities, resulted in a deep personal loss for Eric.

A sensitive man, his father’s emotions were often at the surface, and sometimes little things could send him off. The emotion he most often displayed was anger. This frightened Eric, and this fear resulted in Eric refraining from strongly expressing his emotions. Eric recounts that “it was not safe to use one’s voice to full expression.” The old adage rang true: “Children were to be seen and not heard.” Eric dared not mouth off!

During his non-singing years as a youth, Eric continued to enjoy listening to music. His favourite performers in those years included The Beatles, The Monkees, Simon and Garfunkel, the Mamas and the Papas, Petula Clark, Peter, Paul, and Mary, and Pete Seeger. As a young adult, he became a big fan of The Carpenters and John Denver. Yet, he also felt that his musical tastes were not completely acceptable to his father, so he chose to keep most of them to himself.

Eric remained mostly a non-singer from 1967 until 2006, except at Christmas time, when, if given permission or the opportunity and the right place, he sang familiar carols of the season with as much gusto as he allowed himself. Others sometimes commented that they liked his voice, but Eric’s shyness made it hard for him to accept this.

Early in the 1980s, Eric also experienced the shutting down of his own spoken voice. At the time, he was a pioneer and communicator in the recycling field, someone who shared his love of nature and the power of “making a difference” with anyone who would listen. He regularly spoke to groups large and small, on television and radio as well. In his words, he would “go anywhere, anytime, to talk about recycling”; however, as he pushed the edges of his field, Eric experienced a deeply humiliating experience while expressing some new ideas (related to the spirituality he had begun exploring) among his peers. Fearing additional rejection, he withdrew from public communications and his field of work, while vowing to “never talk about such things publicly again.”

Eric said that he “lost his own voice, out of choice.” It was his fear of others’ reactions that kept him silent. In some ways, he seemed to be going through a parallel experience to that of his father. Eric chose to shut down from speaking in the world, particularly in matters relating to spirituality, which had now become his path. The legacy of “withholding gifts” had somehow been passed on.

With respect to singing, 2006 was an important year for Eric. He was living in Vancouver at the time and felt a pull to join a small monthly singalong group. While feeling physically inhibited after many years of silence, he still longed to be able to express himself this way. Initially, it was challenging. In his attempt to re-voice, Eric realized that he didn’t have the breath or the vocal strength to stay on pitch; however, singing popular show tunes and pop songs gave him the familiar ground he needed to find his musical voice again––and enjoy it. He secretly longed for more. Another move several years later, however (this time back to Toronto), ended this experience of singing.

Within a year of his move, Eric found himself seated by chance across from me at a wedding reception of mutual friends. Throughout the evening, we engaged in light conversation and realized that our professional lives were engaged in helping others find their voices. While Eric focused his attention on a client’s search for their authentic, spiritual voice, I focused on the process of reclaiming one’s singing voice. Discussion about my new program called “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It” (SFLI) seemed both timely and enticing. With Eric’s deep desire to grow and open his own voice, both spoken and sung, he decided to check out the program.

From October 2012 to November 2015, Eric was a regular weekly participant in the SFLI program. Successes and failures in addressing some of Eric’s voice challenges are revealed in the discussion portion of this chapter. It also should be noted that Eric again resides in Vancouver, British Columbia. He has rejoined the singalong group in which he had initially attempted to re- voice. And he continues to sing––for the love of it.

4.2 Connecting with Eric

As previously mentioned, Eric and I serendipitously had mutual friends who got married and invited us both to the reception. He remembers spending much of that evening, over dinner, overhearing me describe my studies at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto. A guest sitting next me also seemed keenly interested in my music studies. Eric’s attention to what I said sparked an immediate connection. As he put it, “I was coming at things from helping people, and myself, to reengage their spoken voice. You were coming at things from how to reengage the singing voice.” The following September, Eric showed up at SFLI, creating the start of regular conversations over coffee and short reflections at the conclusion of many sessions.

When it came time for me to embark on the interviews for my dissertation, Eric had moved back to Vancouver, B.C. To facilitate interviewing him, I arranged to take a week of “quiet study time” with friends in Squamish, located about midway between Vancouver and Whistler. When my plane landed in Vancouver, Eric picked me up and I took him to lunch. After that, he showed me to his apartment, located in a picturesque area overlooking Stanley Park and the Pacific Ocean to the west. Breath-taking! We sat down, I turned on a recording device, and then interviewed Eric over the next four hours. It was refreshing to be sitting across from him, listening to his words of wisdom and insight from a long journey of bringing spirituality and inner peace into his work and life.

4.3 The lens through which Eric sees what I am doing

Eric: The way you’re framing [what you are doing, Mark] the first “piece” is reengagement, the second is the environment that supports that, and in the third I hear the question: What happens afterward? If you keep that as a broad lens, like the largeness of these windows in my apartment, it allows you to go in multiple

directions. “What are the challenges you face? What are the gifts you get? What do you have to do to take care of yourself?”

Even though Eric had been away from our weekly interactions about my research, it was evident to me that he had spent some time prior to our Vancouver meeting to prepare his thoughts based on his own lived experience. What preceded the quote above was our discussion as we walked back to his apartment.

We both agreed that the foundation for personal growth in the process of reengaging one’s voice required honesty with self. As a group leader, I felt my job was to create opportunities for that honesty to flourish. Eric agreed. “One of my biggest experiences when you open up people spiritually, myself included, is their need for safety; they need support, and they need an environment where they can grow themselves to come out.” He went further and shared that it takes time to rebuild one’s health and well-being, and that re-engaging one’s voice plays a role in one’s own healing. “The wounds go deep! And the scars remain,” he said. For Eric,

life is about the healing of our consciousness. So, if you had a break or hurt at an earlier time, and you revisit that place, it’s not just about revisiting. It’s about “what do I do with all the blocks I encountered back then?” . . . and then finding a way to deal with them.

4.4 The Church––Setting them up for a fall

Eric’s experience in the church has been at times satisfying but mostly disappointing. This may result from a focus on “religion” rather than on spiritual experience, which for Eric underlies what religions are fundamentally about. He is also troubled by how much of Sunday worship is spent trying to open people up, creating moments of vulnerability and comfort in a safe place, only to send them out sixty minutes later into a world of harsh realities. Worshippers go out ill- equipped to function in the world,

because you have to have the tools to survive and the language to communicate; you have to have the ways of bridging into the regular world; and you have to know when to speak up or when to stay silent. So, there’s this whole “after piece”

that’s huge, if you’re going to support the purpose of the process––which is helping a person find their full free voice in life, whether its spoken or sung.

4.5 It has roots, legs, and depth

Eric: When an idea comes from a deeper source, a more spiritual centre, or from our truths, my experience is that it has qualities that you can hear and feel; that this one has depth, or this one has something like gravitas, or roots, or legs. A lot of people talk about this in other fields.

I asked Eric to unwrap for me the contexts in which he experiences roots, legs, and depth as it pertains to re-engaging the voice, or more specifically his voice. He believed that engaging people in their past lived experiences, as he has in his professional life and as I have working within the church, suggests that we are “playing with people’s lives. And what they are dealing with is deep stuff.” To touch the surface is fine, but to really dig deep and delve into people’s wounds requires the acknowledgment that we touch sensitive areas” “issues people have been sitting on top of and have repressed for so long, the blocks, their inner inadequacies or that negative inner voice.” So, if we ask, “Why aren’t you singing?”, we must be prepared for what is to come: a surface answer with underlying turbulence. As Eric suggested, “it’s a door opened, a channel or a pathway in.”

He further reminded me that if we are to have “stewardship over the process,” we must be prepared to “enter into this territory with wisdom and awareness as a teacher, coach, or voice leader, and to be aware of what you are opening up for people and what triggers their blocks and anxiety.” Making participants aware of what they are going to experience is important too. “What they’re going to face as they start to express their voice, perhaps to be saddened about that, and then to coach people in feeling freer to express and re-engage their voice” requires a deep sense of empathy and a pastoral nature in how we ask them to participate and how we encourage that participation, while at the same time not making them the centre of attention. I reminded Eric that the process of re-engagement is cyclical in nature: one may revisit lived experiences a number of times, and that the process may be ongoing, possibly for a lifetime.

51 4.6 “Please do not do this!”

Prior to Eric’s move from Toronto, we had met regularly at a local coffee shop, and our discussions inevitably returned to his attempts at re-engaging his own voice, both spoken and sung. At that time, Eric had been a participant in the SFLI program for approximately three years. A year later, after his move back to Vancouver, I asked him how he was progressing in what has been a life-long process of re-engagement. He responded: “I’m just on the cusp of coming out with my spoken voice, and there is huge repression inside. It’s an interesting time where I’m moving way out, and yet there’s a part of me thinking, ‘Oh my God, no, please do not do this!’”

Eric’s decision to move back to Vancouver was two-fold: to be closer to his aging mother, and to listen to his inner sense or intuition that Vancouver was where he needed to be, to bring out his new work. “The work I have held back for over 35 years has me on the edge of excitement and on the edge of terror.” His goal was “to come out with his core self,” one that he has repressed these many years. To achieve this, Eric had begun to reach out into various communities, both locally and using the World Wide Web. At the time of our interview, he was doing talks in a local church and was also creating websites and workshops to help “re-engage his voice” and bring this work to others.

4.7 Eric sings during the interview

Within the first hour of the interview, Eric utilized his singing voice to demonstrate a musical idea or thought. This was a significant moment for us both, as he had never done that while singing in SFLI or during our coffee time talks. Spontaneously, he began to sing a five-note ascending scale and then asked, “Do you know where that comes from?” I paused and tried to remember a specific moment in a movie where a vocal exercise like that was so prominent. I thought silently but was coming up empty with an answer. Eric jumped in and said, “Sister Act.” He sang it again and then chuckled with amusement. He continued, “I sing that [exercise] often and then ask myself whether I am able to open my voice up? That movie excited me.” He closed his eyes, put his hand on his chest, and deeply inhaled and exhaled the moment. We sat in silence.

52 4.8 “It’s all about the breath”

I asked Eric to describe the challenges he encountered physically when singing.

Eric: The key is breath. Because of my work, I’m aware enough of my body that I can feel when I start to tense up. My tension comes up along my left side. When I get nervous or afraid, it’s almost like I unconsciously collapse or suppress my left side and my breath, and this cuts off my fullness of expression. When I feel this happening, I need to reconnect with myself through the breath [breathes in deeply]. So, I put my hand on my chest in order to feel the tension, be present to it and help myself open to my breath again. It happens to me all the time, and that’s what I do to reconnect.

At times, especially when talking about something deeply personal, Eric shared that he became so constricted that he could barely speak. When this happens, he questions whether he can really be “out in the world again” as a communicator. He then reflected on SFLI and how important it was for re-engaging his voice. This was not just because he enjoyed singing. “I came out [to SFLI] because I knew that I needed it [coaching] for my voice, professionally, rather than just personally.” Getting that support for both his voice and his breath has allowed Eric to feel more “whole and connected.”

4.9 Eric rejoins a choir

When Eric returned to Vancouver in 2016, he was thrilled to rejoin the monthly singalong group he had been part of a decade before. It was a safe place to sing, similar to the SFLI experience, and was a place to continue exploring his voice, as he looked for ways to improve his tone, endurance, and engagement. In the Vancouver group, evenings were spent sitting around a piano singing popular tunes, which Eric enjoyed because they were easier to sing than traditional hymns. His only wish was that it took place more often, as once a month was less than he preferred. “I want to open up my pipes, my breath, and my voice to express and experience the joy of singing.” By the middle or end of the singalong evenings, Eric felt that he was just beginning to reconnect with the feeling and the joy of singing with those around him. He felt that the month between gatherings made it difficult to develop community and to keep his singing

53 voice open and growing. Reflecting on SFLI, Eric found the regular weekly meetings were valuable for both. It was also helpful that a community dinner was offered each week, before the singing, to engage with others and “open his voice” in this way as well.

4.10 “Faith is not a word I use often”

While he was singing in SFLI every Thursday night, Eric also appreciated the opportunity for participants to explore and express their faith. As a learning tool, it was common for me as the leader to engage singers in a discussion about the texts they had been singing. Thus, in addition to vocal practice, it also allowed time to discuss spirituality, share journeys of faith with others, and to explore the use of metaphor and imagery within the texts––all with the purpose of making connections with the words being sung. For Eric, these discussions were “significant in accessing the spiritual aspect of a church in which I haven’t had many such experiences.” Since worship had often left Eric wanting for deeper spiritual experience and interaction, SFLI helped to fill some of that void as well. As Eric concluded, “you don’t become part of a community because you show up for an hour a week” on Sundays.

4.11 Silence and space

In our back and forth discussion, Eric pointed to hopeful signs that what we were doing in our Thursday evening (SFLI) program was also beginning to show itself in the weekly Sunday worship services. According to Eric, our attempts to include more “silence and space” within worship offered him the moments of silence, contemplation, and “deepening of the spirit” which he hungered for. As he recounted, “it was interesting for me to watch this when I would attend on Sunday and see how the services were evolving. And I would think, wow, this is cool!”

I shared with Eric that my understanding and desire for more moments of quiet grew out of my experience on a trip to Taizé, France, where, except for the reading of the day or Gospel, few words were spoken. There was little direction, and yet the process for worship was easily understood and followed. My experience in Taizé worship three times a day, over a period of a week, encouraged within me more personal reflection on what we did in worship at St. Andrew’s.

54 4.12 Finding the balance––a Möbius strip

Eric and I continued to discuss aspects of how people engaged in worship, for instance, how an extrovert or an introvert approached the worship experience. We both agreed that there was a need for balance, a time for the extrovert to engage in moments of silence and a time for the introvert to feel safe to engage in expression. Eric, pausing for a moment while drawing an infinity symbol (figure eight) with his hand in the air, described it this way: “It’s as if you’re bringing two halves together, the balance, that awareness of being Yin or Yang . . . or being a Möbius strip that has to fully go out in one direction, so as to fully come back and go in the other direction.” He appeared to describe how seemingly opposite or contrary forces actually may be complementary, interconnected, and interdependent. Eric continued by sharing an aspect of worship and the challenge of finding that balance.

Eric: This begs the question, “How do we experience spirit?” It goes beyond the either/or. For example, I experience spirit in deep silence and contemplation, the introvert side of myself. But I also find it in exaltation, the extrovert aspect of being. It’s like “Wow” when I’m getting excited. “WOW! This is amazing!” [said with exuberance], when I’m talking with friends and getting into the delight of the other, the larger self. So, I think we experience spirit in both the rise and fall of the music, in the fullness of expression and the feeling of the notes, the crescendos, and the moments of silence in between, probably more than just in our voices. Way more than our voices, I’d say.

Moving in a different direction, Eric proposed another path in which others might engage the spirit, more focused on biblical texts and the themes presented in a service.

Eric: Some people experience spirit in the sermon, the words, the ideas that come from the minister, because those also take us into a deeper place of experiencing something larger than ourselves. Think of it biblically. Where is God? Well, God is within. But that needs to be felt, not just left as an idea. This is something the church often doesn’t seem to get. It uses the Bible to “parrot” or speak the words. But that may not give us access to the experience underneath . . .

55 4.13 Connecting with the Spirit

Eric launched into a rather long explanation of how we in church leadership might operationalize connection with the Spirit (see Schneider, 2005). Worship planning and implementation on Sundays, he said, might encourage participants to

go to their Source. To go within for strength, for awareness, for connection. What would that mean in terms of engaging people with feeling, listening, deepening, connecting with their breath, or connecting with other ways of “being present”? If we just focus on the words, or beliefs, or even just singing, we may miss giving people a deeper experience of “spirit within.” I think it’s why so many churches don’t have much spirit; because they may not understand spiritual process enough. It’s not just having the right words, songs or music. And it’s not about the minister “filling us” with the spirit. “I am the source of spirit, and I will fill you.” That’s an old teaching model. It’s about giving people an experience for themselves . . . because it lives inside of them.

Eric’s voice had become more discerning, and he expressed with conviction his belief that the church has gotten “stuck” in old ways. He continued to share his hope that the church might adopt a new model for spiritual engagement:

A new spiritual model is saying, “You are the vessel or the channel of the Spirit.” If we’re going to “operationalize” that, or make it real for people, we’re going to have to take them “into themselves.” So, how do we go deeper into that spaciousness, that silence? A centering prayer? Yoga? Music? It’s things that take us inside [Eric inhaled and took a deep breath] . . . And with your new approach to services, you’re beginning to open that up at St. Andrew’s. If we talk about Spirit being within, silence is essential to that. As people start to listen to the different feelings and voices that come up within, we begin to not be filled by just the busyness of the outside world. We start to find that peace and depth and centre within ourselves. But, a lot of people are uncomfortable going there. They don’t know why they’re getting these different voices and feelings inside. [And many

think] “Let’s run from that!” That’s why we’re afraid of having silence that lasts more than a few seconds.

He paused and reflected on his experiences in church, SLFI and other church groups:

[People] feel more comfortable in “busyness.” We’re used to the current of activity and expression. But most haven’t experienced the balance or integration with the stillness, the silence. We get scared of a place that doesn’t have structure, doesn’t have activity. And in what you are doing, I think you’ve opened this up in the church, by bringing more “space” into the services.

4.14 Eric opens up his own spiritual edge

With a deep inhalation, Eric sat back and shared a deeply personal opinion about his own journey:

That’s kind of my “big picture,” philosophically . . . And you’ve helped me a lot with being able to express it. Apart from the singing, what you and [SFLI] gave me was our conversations, both during and afterwards. Those helped me to open my own spiritual growth edge. Because these are things I’ve been exploring for thirty-five years, yet haven’t had people to talk with about them. Part of the reason my tension comes up––and I’m exploring this with you right now––is that I get excited about the aliveness that starts to fill me as I talk about them. At the same time, I’m aware how deeply I’ve repressed them. So, as we’re speaking, my inner voice goes [imitates being choked off at the throat] “Oh, my God, Oh, my God. I’m going to my edge!”

With confidence, Eric then said, “but I now have the tools to counteract that constriction.” Part of the process, he indicated, involved “getting my head out of the way. It’s a release. It is a coming forward.” “When talking about these kinds of issues, I now try to move to the edge of my comfort zone, expression and awareness . . . instead of resisting it.”

I asked him if this is a “pushing through.” But he preferred to describe it as taking “a step back”:

When I feel tension inside, I try to ask, “how am I feeling underneath?” If I push through, I ignore the feeling and just go for the expression. But my interest is in full integration. So instead I “step back” and listen for what feelings I’ve been unaware of, by noticing what’s happening in my body. “Oh, I am feeling gripped inside. Reconnect with that place. Reconnect with my breath, the feelings and the wholeness of my being. In other words, ‘Don’t ignore it. Integrate it. Embrace it.’”

This allowed Eric to reconnect with his body, so that instead of his voice being forced and pushed, he was able to “relax into it.”

Eric went on to tell me that, as he became “present” to his tension, the underlying feelings and thoughts began to surface. Breathing gently allowed them to come up naturally. And this helped to release the tension so he could breathe more easily, while also becoming more conscious of what he had been resisting. “It’s a lovely integration and progression,” he stated. “It is becoming aware of where I’m holding my voice back, and why. And then, giving myself permission to release it, so I can sing or speak more fully.”

4.15 Free flowing “for the love of it” mode

Eric continued to celebrate the skills he had learned while singing in the SFLI program. “They’ve been invaluable.” While participating, he learned to be aware of consonants, articulation, and enunciation of the words. In warmups that focused on the breath, he had begun to have success in the process of inhaling and exhaling air [the fuel on which tone thrives.] There were nights when people complimented him on his voice and his ability to sing long notes. As for learning new hymn selections, Eric struggled and expressed some discomfort with learning new music. It took him five or six attempts at singing something new to feel more at ease with a new tune. Then he could approach the words. “I don’t integrate notes and music well, or music and text well.” But once familiar with them, he was able to engage in singing that was more satisfying and enjoyable.

As Eric reflected on the new monthly singing experience he participated in, compared to the SFLI program, he summed it up this way:

I now have a better chance of shifting out of “learning constriction” mode into free flow “for the love of it” mode. It is easier when I know the text and the music. So, there’s more fun in this than there was in SFLI because much of that was a struggle of integration. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t learn a lot or enjoy the music once I got into it.

One part of his SFLI experience that he missed was the singing of Taizé music. Its repetitive nature and construction allowed him to engage new music more readily, and he found the music and texts “spiritually rich.” On evenings when SFLI participants sang Taizé music, he often found himself humming and singing it as he exited the church and headed for the subway.

Eric encountered his greatest frustration when singing new hymn tunes. This was where he felt the most discomfort, and he sometimes “shut down.” “I don’t read music, and this is one of the roots of my problem,” he said. He also acknowledged that, as the leader, I recognized this fatigue in my singers and tried to balance unfamiliar and familiar texts and tunes. If one was a regular SLFI participant, hymns would, over time, be “cycled through again.”

Eric: On a Sunday, if you play a new song, I’m not going to sing because I don’t know the tune and I don’t read the music. I literally don’t associate the notes on the page with sounds in my head. So, I’m basically… listening to you. However, your cycling of tunes through a church service helps. That’s one of the things I notice in your services and haven’t in other churches. You’ve introduced repetitive music into the prayers, and you or the trio will play a tune over, over, and over, like a prayer. With that ‘theme’ in the music, I start to go, “ah, that’s a comfort place. That’s something I recognize,” and can begin to sing along. And, as I mentioned before, when you use selections from Taizé, I love it. I love it!

4.16 Reading music––an insurmountable task

Developing one’s ability to understand the symbol system for music notation seems to be one of the biggest “walls” to singing, a task too big and insurmountable for many. As Eric said, “Yep, that’s me!”

As the leader of SFLI, how I, approached the topic of learning to read music became pivotal to the journey of re-engaging the voice. Eric expressed it this way, “Learning is often uncomfortable. It doesn’t have to happen. But I think you were wise enough to take us into places of discomfort, though not for too long.” This reinforced for me that easing participants into areas of discomfort, and incorporating elements of music that were achievable, was paramount to their continued engagement in singing.

I shared with him that this was a precarious time for me as leader, because I became acutely aware that participants might shut down if I assumed too much. Engaging them in theory topics [teaching them solfege] beyond their comprehension or past experiences often seemed to overwhelm and cause people to disengage and/or to glaze over.

Eric: That’s why I go to this [sings a five-note scale up and down], because I don’t know what the notes are. But this takes me into the vocalization and movement in sound. That’s all singing really is for me, is learning what the sounds are. I have no relationship inside between lines and dots and sounds.

I pushed back and reasserted that the teacher in me believed that the impossible is possible. With a hint of frustration in his voice, Eric suggested that I might need to park the musician in me and start where people like him were. He continued,

For me, learning a piece doesn’t begin with reading the music, because I can’t do that. So, it’s about hearing you play it, hearing it in my head, hearing people sing it, and then trying to find my way into the rhythm and flow of it. Adding words? That’s a whole separate piece. It takes me three quarters of the night just to get there with a new piece of music. It’s like “a journey to try to find my place in the flow of it all, to integrate the words, the text and the music.” But it has nothing to do with reading the music. That doesn’t mean it’s impossible, or that teaching us some skills in reading is not useful. It’s just that those are “way down on my list” of what helps me to sing each night. It’s also why “feeling worship” in singing is hard for me. I barely get to an experience of “worship” because I’m so busy trying to get the notes and words of a new song, I’m not taking in what the words mean.

Actually, I’m just speaking them to music, because that’s what’s written on the page. It might be three weeks before I even start to look at sentences or see the words in context. And meaning is way, way beyond that. Thus, using a song to express worship is difficult because I’m often just trying to follow the words and music. [Grins] So, the question is, “Do you want to teach that, or do you need to teach that? If the goal is to sing for the love of it, for me, love comes from the freedom of the flow and reconnecting to the familiarity of known tunes and words. [He laughs.] Theory ain’t it!

4.17 Cleansing the palate

At this point in the interview, Eric and I took a break. He said, “Follow me!” Eric’s apartment was on the 17th floor of a 26-storey building. We headed to the top floor, where tenants were treated to a panoramic view in all directions––north, south, east and west. It was breathtaking! As we took in the cool fresh Pacific air, Eric pointed out some key spots in Vancouver. From Stanley Park to the huge cargo ships anchored offshore, to the rise and fall of the downtown buildings, it was obvious why he loved this place.

Upon our return to his apartment, he took a few moments to show me a gallery of his photography, in which he expressed his artistry. Most of his subjects were in nature. We sat back down into our chairs and, as the interview continued, Eric jumped right back in where we had left off:

When I don’t have to “learn,” I can start by addressing my other blocks––like breathing, unlocking my voice, and finding joy and flow in the music. And, I think really what I’m trying to say, it’s my deep-seated desire to address these. Thus, the block of reading music is far down the list of what’s important. My blocks start with “can I get my voice out at all?” Let me go back to some church experience in my past. Unity was my home church as a child. I was introduced to it by my mother and grandmother, and I remember it fondly. I even still remember some of the tunes we sang. But if I go into a Unity Church today and start to sing any of those songs, the block of getting my voice out supersedes knowing them. I just don’t have the comfort of opening my voice, even with a familiar tune. So, it

may take me multiple times of singing one before I find my full voice and feel comfortable with it again.

4.18 Letting oneself out and experiencing the flow

During our 4-hour discussion/interview, it felt as if we circled back on several themes. Even though I had begun to fade, I could tell that Eric had more he wanted to say, so we journeyed on.

Eric: It feels like we are getting to the core of things . . . If we shut our voices down, the barriers to opening those up are quite personal. [pauses] So, what can you do to help us get past those barriers? I think it involves “safety, familiarity, and experience of flow.”

When I looked at all perplexed by what Eric said, or my facial expression suggested confusion, he drew on examples from his own lived experience. For example:

Eric: Back in 2012, I had initiated some “spirit at work” breakfast meetings at a lovely downtown restaurant called Marché Mövenpick. At the first breakfast, only one or two people came out. Yet, I could barely speak to them. I had become so paralyzed by my fear of talking about spirituality, and so suppressed my voice over the years, that I could literally barely speak. But this was part of my journey of opening myself up, letting myself out again and talking about things that matter to me.

I was curious to understand more fully what it meant by “let himself out.” So, he continued:

There were several things I was letting out; one was “me,” one was “spirit,” and one was “relationship”––three pieces. My conscious and unconscious thoughts were so much about, “don’t say that idea, don’t let you out, don’t let people hear that” [clears his voice, because it begins to feel tight and caught as he speaks], that I was constricting my voice so much it was hard to speak that first morning. The same thing happened for multiple breakfasts, whether one person showed up or several did. I had been hoping there would be larger numbers. Yet, the

intimacy of a few seemed even more difficult for me. Interestingly enough, I think some of the same thing happened when I came to SFLI.

4.19 Granting permission––a personal journey

Eric breathed in and stretched a bit before continuing. I remember admiring his perseverance as he marched on to tell his story. He was “willing himself” to tell it:

At the core of my journey is this: Will I give myself permission to express and to let myself out vocally? It’s true for my spoken voice, and for singing. For example, even with a Christmas carol I know and love, will I allow my voice out and to be heard? For me, the barriers seem to be first to open the flow, second to hear myself, third to be heard by others, and fourth to deal with the spiritual text or content. Pacing, notes, and reading the music come after that. They support the process when I am out. But “getting me out” is the challenge . . .

As Eric talked about “coming out,” I could not help but reflect on my own personal “coming out” journey as a gay man. It was similar to what Eric had expressed: frightening, freeing, fear- filled, and very much a spiritual experience. It was a rebirth, a resurrection story. I saw the similarities.

Eric: Listening to you, this is what I hear. You [Mark] knew how to speak, you knew how to sing. But the challenge of coming out in your truth was about moving past a deep inhibition that said, “I don’t feel I have permission to be myself with others.” Or for that matter, perhaps even with yourself. And that’s how I feel. Even speaking with my mother lately, I’ve noticed that I’m having difficulty at times allowing words up. In spite of how far I’ve come, feeling freer than I’ve been in decades, I still find this happening. So, it’s an ongoing journey. The reason I raise this is, I think the same is happening with singing. It’s a risk for me just do it with myself, let alone with other people. And, maybe that is true for others as well. That’s why familiarity with words and music and getting the channel open with something like this [sings the same rising five-note scale] are so important. That’s what Whoopi Goldberg’s character, in the movie Sister Act

II, used to help her students find their singing voices again. [sings the rising five- note scale passage] It’s something so simple that it helps people bypass their inhibitions and open the channels enough, to allow us to sing again…

4.20 Reclaiming his relationships

As we neared the conclusion of the interview, I began to reflect on all that I had heard. Up to this point, Eric had focused much of his story on singing group activities and his own personal struggle to reclaim his voice. He had, however, refrained from discussing what I felt was at the root of his shutting down––the family dynamic in which he was raised. He had mentioned that returning to Vancouver was important for several reasons, most important of which was reconnecting with his mother, who is in her late eighties. I asked whether he might want to talk a bit about his attempts to reclaim his family relationships.

Eric: One of the barriers we’ve had in our family is talking about feelings, and truths, and spirituality as well. This was particularly true communicating with my dad, as I mentioned at the start. He was raised by a controlling father, my grandfather, who taught him that religion was bad because he had been hurt by his very religious parent. And even though my dad died in the early 1990s, these issues still affect us, and me, today. So, when I talk with my Mum on the phone or in her apartment, and I notice my voice starting to constrict, my best guess is that I’m holding something back. I may not even know what it is, but I can feel it. And that’s just part of my growth these days––taking our relationship to a deeper level and expressing myself more openly. I’m doing it with my siblings as well. Having held myself back from saying many things in my life, I guess it’s all part of the same journey––to be more real, honest, open, and vulnerable––wherever I am, and whoever I am with.

We sat quietly for what felt like quite a while. I looked across and Eric was looking out the full- length window of his living room. I couldn’t tell whether he was reliving a moment or taking a moment to breathe in. He appeared distant.

Eric: Saying that brings up emotions, just like “that” [snaps fingers]. Letting out what I really think and feel with my family. It’s just not where we went. And with two wives, too. “How are you really feeling? Is this what I really want to do? Do I really want to be in this relationship?” Those are things I held back because I didn’t want to hurt others, cause upset . . . or really look at them myself. It’s been part of my professional expression as well. Just like that infinity symbol [or Möbius loop], these also connect with the larger issues I know I’m here to talk about. My spiritual beliefs. A deep shift in my understanding of how life operates. And the new work I want to bring forward, about how we can create change more peacefully in our lives. To express these, I know I will be saying things that others may not believe or agree with. So, I’ve held myself back; not wanting to create conflict, upset people, or impose my beliefs on them. And yet, I know I need to speak up. Both to be myself and to bring what I have learned more fully into the world. And that’s why I have been opening my voice and healing those fears for the past twenty years.

I realized Eric was deep in discussion with himself. I simply let him continue. I stayed out of the way.

Eric: What I’ve learned from my life and work is that so many of us are afraid to be who we are. To name or speak our truths. To be seen for what we are, whether it’s gay, spiritual, religious, or having different beliefs than other people. And to see and accept ourselves. But that’s where I’m going because I want to open those boxes for myself, and to help others do the same. In many ways, I think it’s the same thing you are doing with SFLI: helping people open the boxes inside that will allow them to sing. And that’s why I found it so valuable to be part of your group [SFLI] and to talk with you on so many occasions. It’s helped me let my singing voice out. Share what’s important to me. And do more of what I love. It’s also helped me move past some fears with others, like my father who didn’t like noise, emotions or spirituality. And to risk being more openly myself, in both singing and speaking. Your work and our relationship have been an important part of my journey, Mark. And I truly appreciate all you’ve given me. Thank you . . .

Hymn Metaphor: Eric

Spirit, open my heart to the joy and pain of living. As you love may I love, in receiving and in giving, Spirit, open my heart.

Words: Ruth Duck, 1994, Music: arr. Arthur G. Clyde, 1997 (More Voices, 2007, #79, verse 1)

Chapter 5 Anita: Journeying to Freedom

5.1 Anita’s story

While living in Montreal, in the province of Quebec, Patrick and Kathleen, who spoke very little French, announced the arrival of their fifth child, Anita. Although she did not know it at the time, Anita had four older siblings––Lance, Diana, Andrea, and Glennis––and they were thrilled to have another sibling to play with. Two years later, mom and dad packed up the kids and family belongings and drove the long trek out west, to Edmonton, Alberta. There, Anita and her siblings lived out their adolescent years, playing and exploring together, listening to music, and as Anita recounted, “for the most part, they all got along.”

Anita’s dad was a World War II veteran who, after the war, landed a job as a janitor while mom acquired a position as a file clerk at the post office. Having two incomes made life easier and more affordable, although with five children the family lived a frugal lifestyle. With both parents at work during the day, each of the five children had responsibilities around the home and it was expected that each would contribute by completing their daily chores.

Anita’s home environment was filled with music. Her father had a substantial record collection, and it was common for opera recordings to be heard blaring inside and outside the home. He sang along, at the “top of his lungs,” to his favourite opera arias and other more contemporary tunes. “Sing Along with Mitch” really got him going, too! On Sundays, Anita often woke to her mother singing hymn melodies and at other times, war standards, or silly songs such as “Pack Up Your Troubles,” and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.” Oddly enough, Anita did not remember either her siblings or herself singing that much around the home. To her, music was a listening experience and something that was very much a part of the environs around and within the home.

Musical opportunities during Anita’s elementary and middle school years were limited to playing the recorder. Band instruments were not offered till Grade 9, and Anita did not remember any opportunities to sing during her adolescent years. It seemed that the older she became, the more that music seemed to “trail off.” During her high school years, Anita dearly wished to play the

66 67 clarinet. At home, Anita and her sisters became enthralled with rock and roll. It was quite common for her parents to find their daughters in one of the bedrooms upstairs, listening and dancing to their favourite tunes. Oddly enough, they rarely sang. Unfortunately, Anita never gained enough courage to sign up for instrumental music, so she developed self-expression through other means. At the age of 14, Anita’s parents signed her up for dance classes with a focus on modern jazz. It immediately clicked with her.

At university, Anita majored in dramatic arts and minored in anthropology. As an extracurricular weekly event, she continued to dance at the local dance club at the University of Alberta. It is during this time that she reconnected “and music came right back into [her] life, again.” While studying drama and after seeing a show by a group from Montreal called Omnibus, Anita became very interested in classical mime. She felt deeply connected to her movements as they related to the music, whether with the percussion rhythms or in the silent moments. “Music moved [her] in so many ways.”

During her time at university, a good friend who was training to become a voice teacher asked Anita whether she would be willing to take a few lessons as a sort of guinea pig, someone who could play the role of the voice student. Anita was thrilled with the idea, and in the months that followed, thoroughly enjoyed exploring her voice. From the outset, her friend Margaret encouraged her with ample amounts of positive reinforcement. “Oh, you have a nice voice!” and “don’t worry if you make a noise and you think ‘yuck.’ Just laugh at yourself.” It was during this time that Anita realized that she had developed a rather negative attitude toward her own abilities. Thankfully, Margaret helped her “to bring out the best in her. She made her blossom. She really did!” Sadly, lessons stopped for the summer and in the fall, Margaret flew to Europe to pursue her own career in voice, so future lessons were up in the air. In order to encourage Anita to carry on, Margaret arranged for a teaching friend to continue with Anita. With only a few lessons, her new voice teacher encouraged Anita to audition for a part in an upcoming musical. They decided that she would sing the opening number from Cabaret. Unfortunately, on the day that Anita was booked to audition, an administrative mistake had been made and she found herself auditioning on the same day as artists who were union members of ACTRA, the Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists. Instead of rearranging dates, the adjudicator agreed to hear her audition. Anita was excited to perform but was immediately

68 thrown off by the pianist. He jazzed it up so much that Anita was rattled, because it felt unfamiliar and different. The adjudicator gave her another chance and again, she couldn’t find her way into the song. She broke down and cried and as she left the stage and vowed never to audition again.

At the conclusion of her university years, Anita moved to Toronto. Deep down, she recognized her desire and need to be expressive through the arts. She again returned to dance as the medium through which she would feed her desire for self-expression. But, living on her own in Toronto had not promoted healthy living. At 5’2”, and having gained 30 pounds or so, Anita was an easy target for some choreographers. Although many were very nice and supportive, one choreographer singled her out in class, gesturing aggressively his dissatisfaction with her contribution to the troupe. Anita was very aware that she was being scrutinized, not by what he said, but the way in which he used facial gestures and audible grunts and groans of disgust. Needless to say, Anita’s dance career did not end well. Not only had she been shut down verbally, but physically as well. For the next 20 years or so, she removed herself from the arts completely. Anita became an administrative assistant at a local hospital and worked long hours, from daytime to nighttime shifts, as well as over long weekends.

In 2015, a friend invited her to check out a new singing opportunity called “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It.” Although hesitant at first, she decided to go.

5.2 Friendly invite

By the time Anita sat down in my office for her second interview, she had completed two years as a participant in the SFLI program. Anita arrived with the expectation that we would discuss her SFLI first impressions and experience. We began the interview looking back at day one, her first night of SFLI. She recounted, “If it hadn’t been for a dear friend who invited me to come out, I would have never found a place in the SFLI community.” She continued, “With great enthusiasm and encouragement, my friend Dina said, ‘You’ve got to come out to the singing group I’m in. You would love it.’” The following Thursday, Anita mustered up enough courage and began her SFLI journey. As she entered the sanctuary space, she reflected on the thoughts of discomfort and self-doubt that bubbled to the surface. “Oh my God! I don’t feel comfortable. What am I doing here?” Thankfully, the people were friendly, and the space was intimate and

69 inviting. Anita took a deep breath, did her best to ignore her initial feelings of “fight or flight,” sat down, and took in all that occurred during the first session. She chose to observe and listen rather than fully participate as a singer. As leader, I distinctly remembered Anita, with head down and little eye contact with me or the other participants. At the conclusion of the evening, I wondered whether I would see her again.

She returned the next week and slowly, over time, Anita gathered up the courage to explore her voice through group singing exercises. At first, this was extremely difficult for her. If I chose a familiar hymn with which to work with, she would join in, albeit so quietly that no one else could hear her. Even her friend Dina, who sat next to her, found it difficult to hear her. Dina sensed Anita’s hesitation. “Stop trying to be perfect! Just have fun, let go and just sing! No one’s going to judge you!” Even during the interview, Anita could sense her whole body tensing up; she shared with me a moment of self-realization that, “you can become your own worst enemy by not allowing oneself to break down barriers. Stop judging yourself!” She continued to express what she was feeling. “Many ideas were flooding through my mind. It was helpful when Dina said to me on that first night, ‘Anita. I can’t sing.’” Anita thought, “Well, I’ll fit right in then.” Even though Anita continued to be very critical and full of self-judgment, she felt as if she was beginning to fit in. She kept trying to reassure herself. She really liked the leadership approach that I used to encourage healthy singing. “You put me at ease. It was fun and there was no judgment. I was beginning to enjoy myself, again.”

5.3 Permission granted

On another occasion, Anita arrived after having had a very difficult discussion with herself as she walked to the church. Deep down, she really felt that she had arrived at the root of her problem––her hesitation to engage and participate fully and to enjoy and have fun. She pondered, “Why can’t I have fun? What holds me back from engaging others?” It was then that an answer came to her. She realized that it had to come from her, from deep inside. It was apparent that, “I needed to give myself permission; to be who I am, to sing with the voice I was given, to express my thoughts and feelings, and to just go with it and have fun.” From then on, Anita had some success with SFLI; however, her singing experience continued to a be a rollercoaster of

70 emotions, experiencing, “the joy and pain of living,” as expressed in one of the hymns from More Voices, #79, “Spirit, Open My Heart.”

5.4 Making connections with the past

Anita recounted that during her first year in SFLI, singing many of the hymns remained difficult for her. Certain hymns, especially the ones familiar to her, tugged on her emotions and resulted in an inability to continue singing, due to tear-filled eyes or a tightening of the throat. Group discussions about texts that were sung by the group were most awkward for her. It was during this time that she heard several participants expressing their own experiences and how a certain metaphor or phrase reminded them of a particular memory or captured a specific moment in their past. Anita remembered sitting quietly and taking it all in. Upon reflection, she realized that although she had granted herself permission to sing, there was no way she could muster up the courage to share a personal story or offer and contribute to the group discussion. “Maybe, down the road a bit.” Despite the fact that Anita was unable to share some of her story, within, she had begun to make connections and to begin a process of greater self-awareness.

For a moment, Anita sat quietly, and then with great excitement, told me the story of her last vacation with her sisters. On one of their evenings out, they decided to go to a Sherlock Holmes mystery exhibit. It was during the telling of this story that she began to make connections. Upon reflection, she stated, “I now realize that I acted just like I do in SFLI. During the evening, I just pulled back more and more and then, eventually, just sat down and watched them figure it out. I thought to myself, what are you doing? They’re having fun and you’re not!” Again, Anita seemed to get caught up in the aspect of not having fun. I began to wonder whether “having fun or not” was a way of deflecting any deeper thoughts about the reasons why she “shut down” when discussing lived experiences from her past.

Anita seemed to be showing signs of healthier self-analysis. When she was having a bad night, she turned deep within, and her critical inner voice took over. “I’m not singing very well. My voice is cracking.” When that happened, she stopped for a moment, looked me in the eye and said that she really needed to remember that singing with people and spending time engaging with them is really what is important. Singing for the love of it does not require someone to have a great voice. It will probably be better next time.

Anita now realized that her inability to sing was a result of her self-criticism and lack of confidence in being more expressive: to sing, to speak, to share, to interact, and most importantly, to simply be. She has begun to realize that granting permission to herself may be a process of many steps, incremental in nature and occurring over a long period of time.

5.5 Going to dark places––mourning the loss of her sister

At the conclusion of one of our SFLI sessions, Anita came to me as I was putting away the hymnbooks and quite unexpectedly, she gave me a hug. She held on tightly for what seemed like a long time, and then she quietly whispered into my ear that she would be away for the next few weeks; she had heard earlier in the evening that her sister was quite ill and that her prognosis was not good. She was going home to be with her and to help the family organize a service of celebration for her. She continued to hold me in a warm embrace and then, with tears in her eyes, turned, took a deep breath, and headed out into the night.

At the conclusion of each SFLI program, it had become a ritual for the participants to gather in a circle, usually around the piano, to share in a short prayer. For the next three weeks, we prayed for Anita, her sister, and family, with the hope that they would be in God’s care.

Prior to the Thursday when Anita was to return, she emailed me and asked whether she might have a few minutes to talk to the SFLI group. I wrote back that I would be more than willing to give her the opportunity to speak. I saw this as an important moment for Anita, as she had not engaged very much in any discussions prior to her departure. On the night of her return, Anita embraced many in the room. I proceeded with my usual routine of welcoming everyone to the session, reminding them of our collective goals of maintaining a safe space, warming up their voices, and engaging a practice of care through singing and continuing our focus on encouragement void of judgment. I asked the participants to open their hymnbooks to a well- known hymn, appropriately named, “Come In, Come In and Sit Down.” It is a light-hearted tune and text, with a strong downbeat in ¾ time. In the first verse, we sang,

Come in, come in and sit down, you are a part of the family. We are lost, but we are found. We are a part of the family. You know the reason why you came, yet, no reason can explain.

So, share in the laughter and cry in the pain, for we are a part of the family. (Voices United, 1997, #395, Refrain, verse 1)

At the conclusion of the hymn, I invited Anita to talk to the group and to share her story. During the interview, she recounted what she had said to the group that evening. She remembered it vividly. Anita leaned forward in her chair and with a deep breath told us about her time in Edmonton. She felt a bit teary but was determined to carry on with her story about the loss of her sister. She explained to the other participants that she was really looking forward to getting back to SFLI. Her sister had left her with a lasting legacy––to slow down and not to take life so seriously. It was important for Anita to carry on and to do the things she really wanted to do, like sing. To really enjoy it, Anita said, “Just eat it up! Suck it up like a sponge!” During the whole time that she recounted her story to the SFLI group, she felt the presence of her sister. It gave her a warm feeling inside. As the leader of the SFLI program, I was proud of Anita. I distinctly remember writing in my notes that the evening would count as a significant marker in her reclamation progress. Anita’s voice was back, both spoken and sung! Anita summed it up this way. “I felt comfortable. I trusted the people, and I trusted that they cared, and I connected with all of them, and they shared some of their stories about their life. I felt really safe!”

I encouraged Anita to dig deeper into her past and to explain what it was that seemed to hold her back. Was it simply a lack of familiarity with the music, or was there more to her inner struggle? Anita shared that it was her default mode to simply shut down. “Anything that becomes unfamiliar to me, I tend to shut down, rather than allowing myself permission and space to say, hey, this is new and just do the best you can. Just go for the adventure.” Anita appeared afraid to risk it, as if embarking on a new adventure was too much to bear. She tended to sink further inward and to withdraw from participating. I asked Anita to explore those “dark spaces” a bit further. For Anita, these gloomy spaces represented missed opportunities. She said, “I’ll be really sad when I leave, and I think to myself that there was a real opportunity for me to just enjoy myself. I’m the one that loses out in the end.” She finished by saying that she has made a promise to herself, that she is going to make a new goal to avoid these dark tendencies and, “hey, just let it go!”

73 5.6 Note taking, looking back

I asked Anita to look at her notes, to see if she reflected on one of those dark nights at SFLI. She read for a moment and then shared the following; “It doesn’t matter whether I have a bad evening. It’s not really bad. I’m just disappointed with myself. I put expectations on myself.” Comparing herself to others continues to remain a focus of her attention. What is interesting to point out, however, is that she aligns herself more with others, more in tune with their challenges. “They’re having their struggles as much as I have mine. I love being around other people who love the same thing and who have the same intention.” Anita summed it up this way, “You start to go through those walking/talking times and it’s all about yourself, confronting yourself, your own issues. And I know you’re going to emerge, and you’re going to come back, and you’re going to bump into something else.” She chuckled, “that’s me!”

Anita’s gaze wandered down to the floor in front of her as she reflected on her past experiences. “I thought about when I was in my younger years, [a chuckle] especially when I was involved in the interest of theatre and dance. I would listen to music more frequently than now. And I thought, that was kind of sad because music was such a big part of my life.” Anita expressed that another goal for the future was to bring more music back into her life, more opportunities for listening and/or participating. It brought her great joy in the past, and SFLI was one way in which she had introduced it into her life.

5.7 How does Anita feel today as a singer?

After a brief coffee break, Anita and I continued with the interview. I asked her to take a few moments to evaluate her own progress in the SFLI program. “I have improved! I project more.” She explained that even though she still had the tendency to withdraw and reflect quietly, she was having more success with, as she called it, getting back in the game. “I’m beginning to understand music better and I can read it a lot better . . . even the depth of the hymns and the psalms. Overall, my attitude has changed . . . not as critical” [chuckles]. It was apparent from these initial comments that Anita expressed some sense of accomplishment.

74 5.8 Has Anita re-engaged her voice?

Anita shared that she was still learning to re-engage. For her it seemed to be reciprocal in nature. On one hand, she resented those who criticized her voice and at the same time, she found herself being the critic. Whether on a subway train or just walking down the street, Anita found herself being judgmental of those who appear to sing freely, with abandon and little care of what others think. She, too, participated in the societal expectations and standards of what is good or bad. “And there’s the criticism in me that I’ve got to learn to let it go and just have fun, even if I’m way off-tune.” She finished by saying, “Wow, there’s room for this! Accepting those who may not sing well but who demonstrate passion and integrity may be appreciated by society more.”

5.9 Anita’s comments on societal pressures

“We’re so stuck in what we are told. That’s why I wrote down that society tells us what the acceptable standards are, what music should sound like, or what beauty is. Not all voices sound great and yet, in society we do listen to them.” At the time, Anita could not think of any examples, but I put forward performer’s names such as Leonard Cohen, Neil Young, and Liza Minnelli as three possibilities. She agreed and offered an opinion about what the future might look like. “Maybe, if we can break down all these walls of what we think should be, then maybe, we all can sit back and enjoy rather than criticize.” She acknowledged that what holds her back is both psychological and physical. Anita wished to be more uninhibited, freer, and with less care. The cultural lens appeared to weigh heavily on her opinion about her own singing ability.

Physical inhibition and fear of taking risks caused Anita to freeze up and to withdraw. At the beginning of each SFLI program, it was customary for participants to be led through some sort of physical warm-up, for example, lip trills, clapping rhythms, singing exercises to awaken the voice, as well as nonsense vocalizes that encouraged an exploration of dynamic range. Hearing one’s voice seems to be one of the greatest challenges for non-singers. What they hear inside is very different from what they hear outside. Numerous activities explored ways in which one can develop improved auditory skills. For Anita, physical experiences in singing related back to her yoga and meditation classes. “I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, so frustration and anger bubble to the surface quickly. I just want to look good in front of others.”

Over time, Anita noticed some changes in her approach. To allow herself permission to “have fun,” she engaged more fully in the nonsense warm-ups that promoted a greater sense of play rather than focusing on voice production. “This is okay, Anita. When it comes to the voice, it’s not okay, but when it’s warming up the voice, it’s okay.” As long as everyone else looked and sounded “foolish,” she could disarm and act accordingly. She melted into the group and risking worked because everyone else was exploring too. When I proceeded to vocal warm-ups that mimicked a more melodic vocal line, she refrained and withdrew from participating. As she put it, “when it came to the singing, something like a switch would come on.” All her inner fears began to work against her.

5.10 Aspects of breath

Throughout SFLI, breathing was promoted as an aspect of healthy singing. Having had a yoga experience, Anita immediately grabbed onto this concept as one she understood. “It’s not just breathing to the lungs, but it is going all the way down and breathing deep to the belly and the back.” Upon reflection, Anita shared that she did not feel successful when it came to deeper breathing as a support for singing. This stemmed from her challenge to engage her breath in yoga, too. Whether it was a supportive pose or just lying over a bolster, Anita remained tight, and inhalation or exhalation remained constrained and forced. After five minutes or so, she remembered some improvement. “You’re amazed! I’m like, oh my, wow, there’s room here. I can really breathe. It’s endless.” She continued, “it’s as if your whole body receives it and you relax and you feel so, I wouldn’t say, energized, but I would say, rejuvenated.” I asked her if breathing improved over time as part of her singing practice. “Just focus on the breath and let your voice project,” and “just allowing your breath to just carry you, I was amazed.” Clearing her mind of negativity seemed pivotal to her ability to engage. “Sometimes, I find that our intellectual thoughts get in the way, rather than trusting the instrument, the breath, and the voice.”

5.11 “I can’t”

In many instances from Anita’s life, wherever thoughts detracted from her ability to engage, there was one dominant theme or precursor, “there’s that phrase––I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Even

76 though her yoga teacher had told her years ago to clear her mind and to just do it and get out of the way, her inner voice could still “stop her in her tracks.” This resulted in a confrontation between her negative inner voice and her burgeoning positive one.

5.12 Conflicted with positive/negative inner voice

Certain SFLI music activities brought Anita’s reaction to the fore. She specifically remembered one night when I was focused on rhythmic accuracy. Throughout the activity, Anita shared that she kept “trying to shut off the negative side.” No longer was the positive reinforcement necessary from the group leader; deep within, Anita had developed her own reassuring words of encouragement and re-engagement. Unfortunately, on some occasions, the negative forces within won over and Anita, “who was the one to pull in the reigns,” shut down.

I asked Anita to reflect upon her past in order to gain further insight into her physical hesitation and braking mechanism. “Probably way in the back, in the past, where I had to be perfect. Or, oh, I’m so stupid, or I’m making a fool of myself, or I’m doing it all wrong. So, I say way back, probably when I was a kid.” For instance, when she was a child, Anita felt unsuccessful at singing the high notes. It was only recently that she had realized that she may have been an alto all along, when throughout her childhood she had been asked to sing notes higher than was actually possible for her. She also said that her improved ability to sing lower notes may have been the result of a deepening of the voice as she grew older. I reminded her that many hymn tunes are written in the mid-range, accessible to many, if not most of those who sing them. Anita seemed reassured.

5.13 Anita’s analysis of her voice

“Sometimes my voice will crack,” Anita said. She blamed it on the high notes and inevitably, she blamed herself for her poor singing. She had begun to realize that these excuses from her past repeated themselves over and over in her mind, like a record stuck on the same groove, unable to move forward. Giving herself space and time allowed her the time needed for improvement. “Being kind to herself” was a starting point, not just for herself but for others, too.

I ask Anita whether it truly mattered what others thought about her singing voice. As she explained, “the first word that comes to mind is untrained [pregnant pause] and within. I asked Anita for greater clarification, and she expressed her thoughts in the form of a metaphor–– as if she was standing inside a bubble, singing to herself rather than “breaking the bubble and letting it out.”

As our final interview drew to a close, I engaged Anita in a back-and-forth short answer dialogue focused on her views and opinions about how she heard her voice and how she described it. Throughout the whole interview process, Anita had struggled to find the words through which she could express musical thoughts. I asked her to associate her experience with verbal prompts, and she quickly obliged.

Mark: Let me share some descriptive words for you, words that you have heard me use in SFLI. For example, “Anita’s voice is sweet.” Anita: [animated] I was just going to say that! Sweet! Yah, funny, that was in my mind. Mark: Another one . . . dark Anita: At, times. Mark: . . . full Anita: Not yet. Mark: . . . weak Anita: At, times it can be weak, yes. Mark: . . . supported Anita: Not yet, when I think of the breath and use of my diaphragm. I’ll saythat my singing is supported by those who are singing around me. Mark: . . . scratchy Anita: Many times, yes. Mark: . . . lovely Anita: [pause] Not yet. [chuckle] Mark: Anita’s voice shows . . . promise Anita: I hope.

Mark: . . . is worth listening to Anita: Hmm . . . not yet, but at least I’m being honest.

5.14 Goals for September––self-encouragement

Consistently throughout the interview process with Anita, one “wall” or “roadblock” that she regularly encountered was her own sense of doubt about her singing ability, which led to her shut down, both in speaking and in singing. It was clear, however, that Anita, after becoming more fully aware of these challenges, had begun to look to the future and to begin a process of goal setting. She really wanted to “see how far [her] voice can go.” With regard to unfamiliar music, she “wants to overcome that little mountain.” Anita wanted to leave each night with a sense of accomplishment and with a greater sense of satisfaction. She believed that it may “ripple into other parts of her life.”

Anita became quite animated; with great excitement she wanted to share another experience from her past, when she felt as if everything was coming together. “It was last year, when we were singing outside around the Christmas tree. I really enjoyed that! As people walked by, some chose to sing with us. It gives you a high! It is so exhilarating! It was as if everyone was singing with and for each other. It was reciprocal.”

Anita had begun to sing again at home. She even had enough courage to sing along to a CD of her sister singing bluegrass. The lyrics really spoke to her. Even though it was a recording of her sister who died a year ago, she enjoyed singing along: it “makes her feel so good!” Her negative inner voice no longer brought her down. She was now able to find the joy in what normally would be a difficult musical moment for her.

5.15 Having a sense of humour

Anita brought up one more comparison in her life experience––how she was seen at work in the hospital and how she presented herself to the SFLI participants. “At work, I am very different. I’m very quiet and I notice that, when I became inward, critical, and all the negative stuff enters my head, I find myself beginning to stutter, or I use the wrong words.” She expressed a feeling

79 of tightness physically and her tendency to become more restrictive. “Nobody really sees me.” When she opens up, however, and makes a small comment, people around her say, “Oh, Anita, you do have a sense of humour.” Over the past two years of SFLI, I had noticed that Anita joined in with little quips and funny comments. It was apparent that she was having fun. “I love and wish that it [SFLI] were more than an hour long but you [the leader] have to have a life too.”

As Anita left my office, she smiled and said “thank you” for the opportunity to share her story. I told her that I was honoured to be trusted with her story and would do my best to share it as an integral part of my research. She left. I sat back down and began the usual shutdown of my laptop. I had accumulated over three hours of recorded data and could not wait to read from the transcriptions. Little did I know that transcribing would be such an arduous task.

5.16 Anita gives feedback

After a lengthy period of transcribing dialogue, I gave Anita a paper copy of what had transpired. I had paraphrased our interview, and I asked her to give feedback by writing notes in the margins, including any questions or clarifications she wished to make. Two weeks later, she called and asked if we could meet. I was anxious to receive her feedback, so I booked a time with her at the church.

We met privately on the third floor, and although it was extremely hot outside, the church facility was air conditioned. From the outset, Anita appeared ready to chat. She began by saying, “I need to be honest with you.” I reminded her that it was imperative that she be happy with my rendering of the interview data. She said that she enjoyed reading it very much. I asked whether there was something she wished to add or if there were details that required more clarification. It was with this invitation that Anita launched in–– ten minutes later, I do not think I had uttered a word.

She began by stating that her childhood was not always fun. During her formative years, primarily from age 1 to 12, her situation at home had been filled with tension. At the time, she did not really understand why; years later, one of her siblings opened up and tried to describe to Anita what had been going on. At the core of the tension in the family was a father who had served in World War II, a member of an elite squad that was given the task of going behind the

80 enemy lines at night to do reconnaissance maneuvers and to kill any opposition soldiers at knife point. Guns were a last resort, as a gunshot would “blow their cover.”

At the conclusion of the war, he returned, and after a few years of settling back into life in Edmonton, his “demons began to rear their ugly heads.” At first, he displayed his frustration with angry outbursts. Over time, he began to have episodic flashbacks from the war. Alcohol was his escape mechanism and when inebriated, he became physically and verbally abusive. At times, he thought that his children were out to kill him. For Anita, these moments were terrifying, and on one occasion, she felt that her father had begun to physically abuse her. He stopped mid-act and vowed to never do anything like that again. This was more than Anita could understand. He asked for her to vow secrecy and to never utter a word to anyone. Anita withdrew and held all her pain deep inside, and with her small stature, spent a number of years slinking around the house, doing her best to be “seen but not heard.” She stopped for a moment, and I suggested that she take a breath. I too, needed to take a moment, to gather my thoughts about what I had just heard. As we locked eyes on one another, I said, “It was really hard to have fun, wasn’t it?” She agreed, but immediately began to describe memories of the good times with her siblings. Whether it was singing together upstairs to Top 40 tunes or playing games outside away from her “mom and dad,” these moments were her escape from a fear-filled home experience. Anita recounted that it was years later––she was in her 20s––before she told her older sister about the abuse by her father. Upon reflection, she was not surprised that her parent’s marriage ended. Her mother had to get away from her father. For years, her mother had withdrawn to a room upstairs. When it “got really bad,” she approached the local minister at the church. He sided with her husband and did not believe anything that she said. Even the neighbours believed that she was the problem in the marriage. After all, he was a veteran who had fought for the country. He must have been a noble and righteous man.

Hymn Metaphor: Anita

God weeps at love withheld, at strength misused, at children’s innocence abused, and till we change the way we love,

God weeps.”

Words: Shirley Erena Murray, 1994, Music: Jim Strathdee, 1998 (More Voices, 2007, #78, verse 1)

Chapter 6 John: Journeying Toward a Voice with Presence

6.1 John’s story

Eva and Robert were thrilled to announce the birth of their first child, a bouncing baby boy whom they named John. In the years that followed, they had three more children: Victoria, James, and Eva. For most of their family years, they chose to live in a small rural town, Courtice, just east of Toronto, Ontario. The town grew, albeit modestly, to become a satellite town for those who worked at the General Motors plant, the largest employer in Oshawa, Ontario.

As John and his siblings grew up, they realized that their maternal grandma on their mother’s side of the family was very musical. She had been a church soloist in the choir and a pianist who could read music. His grandma’s love for music seemed to have been passed on to her by her father, John’s great grandfather. He, too, was a singer with a rich, low, bass voice. At family gatherings, John noticed that his mother did not sing, so he surmised that the talent of a singer had not been passed on to her. His dad, however, while not a singer, loved to play instruments, especially the drums and the guitar. Occasionally, he would sit down and improvise on the piano. He seemed to play by ear most of the time and John said that he would “noodle around on whatever instrument he was playing and make it sound really nice.”

John and his siblings enjoyed music, especially on long family trips in the car. When they were younger, they sang along to whatever CD was being played. Whether it was the soundtrack to Lion King or well-known standards from the 1960s and 70s, everyone joined in. As time marched on and John and his siblings moved into their teen years, trips in the car no longer included much singing, as modern technology––with its focus on individual headsets that catered to an individual’s tastes––independent listening became the new normal. As they grew older, the teens’ opinions and judgments about what sounded good or not became part of the family discussion. This occurred around the same time that John’s eldest sister began to take voice lessons. In no time, she became quite the critic, often correcting others when they made mistakes with the lyrics or attempted to sing a favourite song by a well-known artist. John distinctly

82 83 remembered a conversation in the car when it was suggested that Elvis’ rendition was spectacular; it sounded great and no one else should attempt to sing along. In other words, “Elvis is Elvis. John doing Elvis doesn’t work!”

John’s elementary school years included singing in the choir. Music classes often focused on singing, and even a few of the core teachers incorporated songs into their lessons, such as the math teacher who taught multiplication tables by using the singing of songs as the vehicle. In Grades 7 and 8, John chose to play the alto saxophone as well as continue to sing in the school choir. Upon entering Courtice High School, instrumental instruction continued; however, vocal classes and choir were no longer offered as an elective course. In his third year of high school, another school with an arts focus opened, and many of the best players transferred or auditioned for placement, resulting in the downsizing of music programs in the surrounding high schools. Eventually, the band program was cancelled altogether. In his final year at Courtice High School, John played in the pit band for the only extracurricular arts event offered to the school community––a musical. John admitted that the main reason for participating in the school band was because of his best friend from early childhood, a budding flautist in the first row, a young girl who would one day become his wife.

Well into his university years, John enjoyed listening to classic rock. He was especially fond of the music of Roy Orbison and the Beatles. Except in church, singing had become non-existent and was not a regular part of his musical enjoyment. After completing a degree in ancient history and classics at Trent University, John was accepted into the Master of Divinity program at Emmanuel College of the University of Victoria at the University of Toronto. It was during weekly worship services in the Chapel where he realized, while standing next to other ministers- in-training, that he had very little knowledge of the hymns being sung, and while everyone else seemed comfortable singing, he did not. Being self-conscious about his abilities, John mouthed the words, and if he did utter a sound, he made sure that no one heard. He felt less than the others. This lack of confidence bled over into classes where there was an expectation of public speaking. After all, he had chosen to become a minister of the Word.

In 2014, John decided to try a new program being offered at a downtown church where he had found a welcoming worship community with a program that he felt would help him address some of his insecurities around singing and speaking in public. SFLI became his Thursday “go

84 to” event. Over time, he even found enough courage to take up the instructor’s offer of a few free voice lessons.

6.2 A new beginning––A call to ministry

Having graduated with a Master of Divinity degree from Emmanuel College, John was called to the position of minister in a local church, near where he grew up in Courtice. His busy schedule required that I drive 50 minutes east of Toronto to his home to meet for our interviews. Upon arrival, John led me into his living room, an open concept that allowed for a kitchen as well as enough room for an upright piano. As we sat down on two sofas separated by a coffee table, I placed my MacBook Air equidistant to John and myself in order to record our conversation for future use in my research.

6.3 Comparing oneself to others

Interviews explored John’s initial experience at Emmanuel College, because it was at that time that John’s limited singing experience became more self-evident. “I really became aware of how little I knew about the hymns and how uncomfortable I was with singing. I think I just mouthed the words. If I was singing, I made sure no one else would be able to hear me, even the person next to me.” At Emmanuel College, he experienced worship in Taizé style; this type of meditative worship included participatory, repetitive chant music with an emphasis on periods of silence with little liturgical instruction by the worship leaders. For John, this style of participation and singing was completely “foreign to [him].” Throughout this worship service, John found it difficult to engage. It was as if comparing himself to the others seemed to be his primary focus. He became very aware of those around him, especially those who appeared to have strong voices and who seemed to lead the congregational singing. “They obviously had talent!” John assumed that he did not. His mind continued to wander, and he could feel some anxiety welling up inside. “I was also really nervous about public speaking.” The challenges ahead were going to be many, as John had chosen a profession where he would be front and centre, with a microphone only centimetres away from his mouth, and all in attendance would hear him, both in song and spoken word.

85 6.4 Developing vocal presence––a new perspective

Fortunately, as time passed and John found his way in his first term at Emmanuel College, he was afforded opportunities to develop greater linguistic skills and enunciation. One particular class offered “a new perspective on his speaking and singing abilities.” As John began to tell his story, he chuckled under his breath, as if he derived great pleasure in telling it. As part of a worship class, a supportive professor spoke of the need as a worship leader to be articulate and well versed in the Bible. Each student was asked to choose a passage, rewrite it into sense lines, practice it, and then return to class ready to present in front of their peers. After John’s recitation of his chosen biblical passage, the professor asked John how he felt it had gone. As John remembers, the question was “what is your opinion before I give you mine?” John shared with his classmates that he experiences great insecurity when speaking, side-stepping a direct response to the question. The professor, in giving feedback, suggested that, “it needed a bit of work, that [he] was straining [his] voice, and that [he] wasn’t accessing his diaphragm.”

6.5 John’s “aha” moment

After hearing the presentations, the professor led the students through various techniques to improve their presentation skills. John remembered a number of them: “hands on the pulpit, lift up your hands, stand straight, and kick off your shoes and firmly plant your feet on the hardwood. Then, put your finger here in front of your nose and just imagine yourself speaking to the tip of your finger and then move it out a bit.” John chuckled again. The professor asked John to return to the pulpit and to read again his chosen passage. After about two lines, the professor stopped him and said. “John, you’re using your boy voice. I need you to use your man voice.” John smiled and laughed as he tried to say it again. The professor stopped him again and said, “when you smile, it changes the way your voice sounds. You sound more confident.” As John continued to read, he was interrupted once again. This time, “just say this one part of the line and say it as loudly and project it as best you can.” John mustered all his strength and did as requested, “a time to die!” The professor rocked back in his chair and said, “Wow! Where did that come from?” He went on to say that if he could remember that feeling [of engaging his diaphragm], he would be able to do it again. Weeks later, John had the opportunity to speak another passage in front of the class. He stood up, projected very well, and then as he sat down,

86 the professor remarked, “you’ve been practicing!” What for others might have been a moment of silencing through public critique (“using a boy voice”) became for John a moment of growth.

6.6 Appreciation for help received

I asked John to take a moment to reflect on the care and concern exhibited by his professor. John shared that the experience taught him many things––first and foremost, people may require more work and that they are worth working with. The professor’s pastoral nature has worked its way into John’s career. He has continued to use the same pastoral approach with lay readers who exhibit anxiety or hesitancy when reading scripture or leading in worship. As John stated, “wow, this is very important! I’ll never forget it.”

6.7 Physical approach––how to project one’s voice

As John described in detail this significant event, I asked him to describe how it felt different. “I think it was the air I breathed in. I kind of puffed up. When I think about it, it was more like a superman pose. Before, I used to feel it in my shoulders” (see McAfee, 2011). As John reflected on his past months in ministry, he said that this moment had benefited him greatly. Even today, when reading scripture in worship, he physically engages his diaphragm, and this engages his voice in such a way that he projects successfully to the back of the worship space.

6.8 It runs in the family

John’s grandfather had been a minister in the United Church of Canada but was now retired. During his childhood, John had the good fortune of hearing his grandfather preach. As he reflected on those years, John remembered his grandfather’s slow and methodical pace, the rise and fall of his delivery. It exuded a confidence that engaged all who were in attendance. “When I hear him preach, even today, I think of some of the most famous preachers like Martin Luther King Jr. and Billy Graham. My grandfather has a way of emphasizing words and is especially effective when using the pause.” John expressed a deep sense of gratitude for the example his grandfather had set for him.

He was also aware that his grandfather had set a high standard toward which to work. Sometimes, when preaching, John found himself imagining how his grandfather’s voice might sound as he recited a passage. John strove to attain his grandfather’s rhythmic flow of phrases and poignant moments of pause. “With experience” John hoped to attain a high level of delivery, as set out by his grandfather. “When people start to give me feedback on my sermons, very rarely do they give me feedback on the content or the ideas I was expressing. Invariably, they give me feedback on my voice.” John continued to say that people in the congregation focus on elements of delivery, such as tempo, clarity, and projection. After worship, as John greeted congregants at the door, they would say, “You were talking a bit too fast for me to hear.” John saw this as a learning moment and did his best to reflect and then intentionally slow down the following week. At times, this frustrated John, as he really wanted to know what they thought of his ideas and his analysis of a specific biblical verse or theme. He wanted to ask them, “What do you think I was trying to tell you?”

Ironically, when John thought back on his grandfather’s preaching, he also tended to remember aspects of his delivery, presentation, and style. Rarely did he remember what the sermon was about. John thought for a moment, and then reaffirmed that, “how his grandfather presents himself, reaffirms his belief, and reinforces his confidence in what he is saying,” was worthy of emulating. This was an important goal for John.

Over the past two years, John has preached in the same church where he was married. In the few times when John had been invited to preach, his grandfather could be found singing in the choir behind him. For John, it was a privilege that provided a great sense of satisfaction to know that his grandfather had his proverbial back. His grandmother also sang in the choir. While grandpa’s voice tended to blend in, she was the real soloist and helped lead the women’s sections of the choir.

I asked John whether he had taken the time to chat with his grandfather on topics such as tools of the trade as a minister, what worked for him, did he ever feel anxious in front of crowds, what worked for him, or insight into how John might improve. While John had considered doing this, to date, he had not.

88 6.9 Drawing inspiration from the hymns

John sat forward and shared one last thought about his grandfather. John’s grandfather drew “a lot of inspiration from the hymns.” This stemmed from the many good relationships he had with the organists he had worked with. His grandfather also realized that the music associated with hymn texts was important, as the melodic line could “evoke feelings and emotions.” If a music colleague wanted to change the tune for a certain hymn text, his grandfather often followed the organist’s suggestion; however, when he really wanted a specific hymn following his sermon or as a musical conclusion to his message, he picked an old favourite or something familiar. He did, however, appreciate the ministry of choir leaders for the way they were able to help convey a message through advice on song selection and the performance itself.

6.10 What drew John to SFLI

Although John had been present in worship for over six months and led youth activities during the week, he had never engaged the idea of joining SFLI. During one of the Thursday night community dinners, another minister-in-training friend said, “You should come up [to the sanctuary] and sing.” As university students who took many classes together, they both had confided in each other about the challenges encountered in school. John’s friend was aware that he struggled with the heavy workload of courses as well as his lack of confidence when speaking or singing. “It will be good for you,” she said. “Come sing with us.” So, he went to SLFI, and to his surprise, he did not “find it as scary as he thought it would be.” Within a very short time, John realized “that [his participation in SFLI] would help him in ministry. It was a time, mid- week, when he could just park everything else that weighed heavily on him. It was meditative for him. Even though he continued to feel a lack of confidence in his singing, he appreciated the focus on hymn singing, and he enjoyed the opportunity to discuss the hymn texts; it was here that he felt he had something to offer. He engaged his theological understanding of the Bible and made connections with hymn lyrics. He enjoyed expressing his analysis of the metaphors and implied meanings. Over time, he began to “build a little confidence in his singing, too.”

89 6.11 Facing his fear

I asked John to explain more deeply his “fear” of joining in. He thought for a minute and then shared the following comparison. He imagined going upstairs to sing, but at that moment “when I was singing a wrong note, everyone would be silent. Just like that moment at a dinner party I was afraid that everyone else would hear my mistake. I was afraid of being centred out and then laughed at.” Even though John knew most of the participants, and he was aware through advertising that no singing ability was required, it took a close friend that he trusted to convince him to join. I continued to probe deeper. Were there past experiences that fed his present fear? He said,

What comes to mind is that my sister [was] very particular about how something [was] sung or quoted. We often would watch movies and my family would quote large sections of it from memory. My sister would correct us when we got it wrong. If you were to sing, you’d drive her nuts. Singing even one wrong note, she’d put a stop to it. Throughout my teen years, I felt really uncomfortable listening to my speaking voice. It really throws me. I can’t stand listening to audio-recordings of myself.

John had never heard a recording of his singing voice. At the core of his fear was a feeling of being judged. He preferred to sing in a crowd. John pointed out that when leading in worship, he stands back from the microphone so that his voice melds into the overall sound. He does not want to lead the singing.

6.12 Having an opportunity to explore the hymns

In worship, it is rare for the congregation to have the opportunity to explore, discuss, or ask questions about the structure of the hymns being sung. For John, SFLI offered many opportunities to ask the questions he had often pondered. When texts of new hymns were explored, “they didn’t intimidate [him] when they were broken apart.” It became clear, with more investigation, that hymn texts and the accompanying melodies were organized and written in such a way that line one, two, and four were often similar. It was line three where new melodic material was often introduced. Participants in SFLI became aware that line three proved

90 to be the most challenging vocally, too. This formula for hymn writing became familiar, and a way for participants to make connections and to develop an awareness of hymn structure.

6.13 Vocal warm-ups can be fun and informative

I encouraged John to reflect on the vocal warm-ups he had experienced in SFLI. He specifically remembered being asked to stand tall, to imagine drawing back a fishing rod, and then as he flung it forward, to lip-trill a vocal sound as if projecting it across a pond. This exercise allowed John and the other participants a way to explore their upper range, which for John meant singing up through his passaggio (the transition area between his voice registers), up and into his head voice or falsetto. John was pleased with himself. He felt successful because this exercise encouraged in him a deep, sustained breath as he exhaled. In the past, he often felt that he tended to “hold onto his breath and then to attempt to sing.” It had been his experience that he ran out of air, especially during the singing of long phrases. He acknowledged that he “hasn’t quite got the hang of the proper breathing [technique], how much to take in, and then how soon to release the air. It all felt very awkward.” It seemed like “a foreign action” to him. (see Reid, 1965)

Even now, as a preacher in a church, John stated that he refrains from singing the final verse of the hymn prior to his speaking. At times, he has found himself winded, and so he has learned to take the time to calm his breathing and to gather himself before embarking on his sermon.

6.14 Guided imagery and metaphor

Throughout John’s attempts at singing, he has found it difficult to focus his sound production on a single note. He often found that he swooped below or above as he attempted to find the pitch centre. In SFLI, I’ve used a variety of images to encourage note accuracy. For John, imagery such “throwing a dart, blowing out a candle, or singing towards an outstretched finger about an arms-length from your nose,” offered John some improvement and success in note accuracy. When standing or sitting in a circle, John enjoyed being encouraged to sing across to someone. Making eye contact, smiling, and singing across to another participant seemed to bring him some solace and a sense of calm. “We were all in it together.”

91 6.15 When others sing for you

As a minister, John appreciated the pastoral nature in which I instructed the participants. “For a lot of us, we were dealing with experiences from our past that were painful, that for different reasons had turned us away from singing.” He liked the way I encouraged and gently prodded participants to sing through and address their pain head on. One of the most moving moments for John was when I shared some of my own vulnerability as a singer. He remembered my story about the night at Taizé, in France, when I was overwhelmed and deeply moved by the singing around me. John remarked, “Even though you were a strong singer, you required those around you to sing for you.” Knowing that I, too, in a time of silence, needed others around me, gave John a sense of connection with all singers. It was clear to John that we had created “a safe place with a supportive atmosphere” to sing. SFLI had embodied the same pastoral attributes of Taizé.

6.16 Taking up the offer of a free voice lesson

From the outset, everyone who participates in SFLI is offered a free voice lesson. If one-on-one is too intimidating, I suggest that they come in groups of two or three. To date, only a few have developed enough confidence to sign up. As John concluded his time in SFLI, he took me up on the offer. He “couldn’t remember if [he] was more nervous while making his way to the church or while he sat waiting for the lesson to begin.” Even though John had known me for about four years and had engaged in regular SFLI programming on Thursday evenings, fear surged through his veins. He could no longer “hide his voice among the other singers.” This single lesson proved to be the last time I worked with John. Within a very short time, he had accepted the position of minister in the United Church of Canada.

6.17 A run-in with the music director

I was curious to know whether John’s re-engagement with his voice had created any new musical interests or opportunities. Quite proudly, John said, “So, after I was hired at the church, I decided to join the choir.” By the end of the first week in his new position, the choir director invited him to join. John thought that this would be a terrific opportunity, not only to sing but also to get to know the other choir members. It was his way of showing support to the music

92 program and, at the same time, getting to know many of the congregational members with whom he had not yet become acquainted. He also felt that singing in the choir would provide “a bit of balance with all the stress from the other work he was doing on a day-to-day basis.” For the choir, whose numbers had been “shrinking for a number of years,” they appreciated having someone new joining the ranks. “It was a bit of a novelty to have the minister sitting in the choir.” As John reflected on his first and second year of ministry, he considered the first year to have been a good one musically. It was during his second year that he encountered some “turbulence.”

With some added confidence and having had a healthy working relationship with the music director, John decided to become bolder with the music he wanted to introduce to the choir and congregation. In planning for an upcoming baptismal service, John wanted to introduce a new hymn/song from More Voices, a supplement used widely in the United Church of Canada. John suggested to the music director that he would like to introduce the song as a call and response between him and the congregation. Utilizing a process learned in one of his music classes at Emmanuel, John ended up “singing one line, with a repeat of the same line by the congregation. After that, the music director played the song through on the keyboard. Then, the choir sang it. Then, everyone sang together. I thought that was a good way to reinforce.”

Turning specifically to John’s contribution vocally, I asked him whether he sang the first line on his own or whether the music director accompanied him on the keyboard. He said that he had sung it on his own and that his wife thought that he had done quite well. More accurately, she said, “when [he] did it, there was one mistake that [he] made, but it was okay because it was consistent.” I probed further and asked if he had sung it in the key that it was written in and he said that he had lowered it a bit into a key that was more suitable for his voice. It was only when the music director played it for the congregation did they get the opportunity to sing it in the written key. John could not remember whether he was able to adjust his vocal range up to the key in which the choir and congregation were now singing. John did not feel that he was leading, “as the choir had taken over the leadership musically, and his voice wouldn’t be as distinguishable.”

6.17.1 The back-story leading up to the run-in

John began by stating, “I should have known, because there were signs that [my singing] was going to cause an issue. I had introduced the new song to the music director one week prior to the actual service. After looking at it, she began by saying that she didn’t know it.” John could tell that the conversation was souring quickly. It seemed that as John described the process for learning the hymn in worship, the music director became more agitated. By Thursday evening, things had deteriorated even further. In rehearsal, she asked John point blank, “Is that what you were looking for?” John replied, “No, not really.” In John’s mind, he wanted it to be more like a Taizé chant, or as John Bell would have introduced it at Iona. In other words, he preferred it to be sung a cappella. Flustered, she moved on but made sure to make clear to all present that she disagreed with John’s plan. It was evident through her body language that she was angry and frustrated.

Prior to worship the following Sunday, “tension was already in the air.” She stomped into John’s office to clarify the process, and when he said that he would sing it as a call and response, she turned around and stomped back out, saying, “you’re actually going to do this?” By the time worship began, she had developed some composure and the service ran quite well.

6.17.2 I was doing what I had been taught

During John’s time at Emmanuel College, he had been introduced to the teaching techniques of John Bell, a well-known musician and theologian from the Iona Community. He remembered that in one of his classes, he heard the following statement by John Bell: “if you’re not confident enough to sing it with your own voice, then everyone in the congregation is going to feel a bit undermined.” That was why John preferred his call and response song to be sung a cappella. He did not want the congregation to rely on the support of the organ or keyboard. He wanted the congregation to feel each other’s vocal support and to hear the call from one single voice. It seemed logical, then, that John should do the same with his congregation. “Looking back, I felt that I had been set up by the education system in which I had learned these techniques.” He thought that they were widely used by church musicians, and that the music director would be more than willing to introduce the song in that way.

6.17.3 Feeling other peoples’ musical wounding

In John’s second year of ministry, he had become well acquainted with everyone in the congregation, both young and old. Within that rural church, whole family lines were represented: great-grandparents, parents, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and an abundance of cousins on both sides. At the conclusion of Holy Week and with Easter Sunday celebrations completed, John began to look toward the season of Pentecost. In discussions with his music colleague, the decision was made to sing “Veni, Sancte Spiritus,” another composition of Taizé origin. The choral arrangement indicated that the choir and congregation sing a repeated ostinato, during which a soloist or soloists sing the verses above in English. The ostinato, in its repetition, required the congregation to regulate their breathing patterns and to approach their singing as a meditative chant. It is a call out to the Holy Spirit to enter their sacred space. The solo lines are quite challenging and require extensive practice prior to them being sung. Two children in the congregation were asked by the music director to sing the solo. She said that she would arrange a time to rehearse with them and to leave it with her. With a history of past conflict with the music director, John was quite happy to “stay out of the way.” A few weeks went by without incident.

As Pentecost Sunday approached, John decided to ask how rehearsals were going. The music director said that she had just spoken to the family, and they had agreed to sing the solo. In the same discussion, she asked again what the song was that he had asked them to sing. After a quick reminder about the plan, John left but deep down felt worried about what lay ahead. Their first practice was the Sunday prior to Pentecost. It was Mother’s Day, and the family was anxious to get on their way after worship to celebrate over a Sunday lunch.

As rehearsal began, John sat toward the back of the sanctuary, to be out of the way, with the expectation that he would only be a listener. The selection was unfamiliar to both children, and thus the rehearsal did not go well. It became readily apparent that both brother and sister did not want to go through with it. John witnessed the music director, as he described it, “guilt-tripping the children into singing.” Their hesitation to sing was described by the music director as “both of them not taking it seriously.” The mother piped in and with an angry voice commanded the children to “sing!” The tension in the room was palpable. The daughter burst into tears and that was all John could take. Feeling empathy with the two children, he stood up, jumped in, and said

95 that he preferred not to do it if the children were feeling uncomfortable. It seemed to John that “the kids were merely props.” He wondered, “am I witnessing the moment when this little girl is being turned away from music? Is she going to stop singing and in forty years remember this moment? It really tore me up.” This wasn’t going to happen on his watch! With emotions running high, John suggested that they all sit together for a minute, and at the conclusion of a few quiet moments and after the wiping of tears, it was decided that they would be invited back to sing something they knew and had ample time to work on. John led them in a short prayer and as they left, the children looked relieved. On Pentecost Sunday, the music director decided to have the choir and congregation sing the ostinato while John’s wife played the solo lines on a flute. John says, “It went over extremely well.”

At the completion of writing John’s chapter, I sent it to him for his perusal and feedback. About a month later, I received the following two notes. His reflection on what had happened was informative and filled in some of the missing gaps and details. He began his email by stating that in reading my chapter about his story, he was moved to tears and found it difficult to reread the portion of his story focused on his confrontation with his music colleague. The contents of the email are detailed in the next two sections.

6.17.4 “A note––after the conflict”

After the conflict between the music leader and me, we had a minister from another church mediate between the two of us. The organist made it very clear that I needed to know I was a weak singer, reminding me of this repeatedly, telling me that others had approached her to tell her I was a bad singer; the two she mentioned were my wife and the choir leader from the church I attended in Toronto. When I said that these comments were hurtful, they commented that the truth sometimes hurts. They shared that their goal was to protect me. If I was to sing in church again, I would end up getting hurt by people in the congregation much worse than by her words.

With the mediator’s help, we agreed that there would be a much clearer division of responsibilities. I would not be involved in music leadership. I said that I would

96 step down from the choir, but the organist said that she would like it if I stayed, explaining that this was a choir that welcomed weaker voices. I stayed in the choir for several months but ended up leaving after the organist repeatedly asked for my feedback on how songs were sounding/ if they were sounding the way I wanted during the choir practices, setting up a potential repeat of the conflict. Also, I felt like crap during those practices because I was always being reminded that I was a bad singer. She actually had the choir sing a short Taizé chant one person at a time, starting with the strongest singers, to the weakest. I was the second last. I had requested that song, as it was one I knew well from Singing for the Love of it. I eventually quit the choir, probably a bit later than I should have. Initially, when I said I wanted to quit the choir in the mediation, my plan was to hire a voice coach to keep practicing and developing. When I finally did leave the choir, though, I didn't feel like there was much point.

The organist and I were able to patch up our relationship a fair extent over the next two years. I came to understand that much of the hurtful things that choir members said to me came as a result of hurtful comments and actions directed toward them about their musical abilities. There was a lot going on beneath the surface of their comments about "protecting me" from the congregation. Mostly this conflict became a topic that was off limits for discussion, and there was always a bit of tension when discussing the vision for the music program; however, I don't think it ever became apparent to the larger congregation outside of choir and M&P [Ministry and Personnel Committee]. We were also able to support one another through some of the other challenges that came up in the next two years. I'd say we have a fairly good relationship now. The organist did end up resigning after an argument with a choir member while I was on leave after my daughter was born. We've been in touch regularly since then. She even invited me to a conference on clergy-musician relationships that she had helped work on with another organisation. I found the conference very interesting. She was grateful that I had gone and told me that it meant a lot to her.

6.17.5 “A note––my singing now”

I sing with a group of seniors every month who attend a community care program. They are of differing abilities––physically, mentally, and singing ability. I'll talk with them, choose hymns, pray with them, sometimes read stories about the hymn writers, and lead them in singing. For the music, I put on a CD with all the old gospel favourites. The CD has the song played through instrumentally, then has a singer sing the song. Everyone just sings along as able. On the rare occasion a song on the CD won't work, if they know it well enough, we've just kept going and sang it unaccompanied without issue. We use a large print words only hymn book––all the songs are on a single page, so they don't have to turn pages while singing. It is very low pressure as the CD does a lot of the work, but it is really their attitude that they just love singing and are grateful for the chance to do it. The group has a supportive atmosphere, where it feels like each singer is lending their voice to those around them when they struggle. There have been a few occasions where previously unresponsive people who mostly just sit quietly suddenly begin to engage with it and sing their hearts out. It's amazing how music can do that!

One thing I forgot to mention in the interviews and in the email was that I bring a member of the church with me to those senior singing sessions. That member is someone who was a singer but has had difficulty singing since having two strokes. One of the effects was that it changed their voice. They appreciate the chance to sing without any judgements. They have also commented that it has helped them to recover and strengthen their singing voice. I am amazed that I have been able to help someone working to recover their singing voice. I am so glad you had convinced me to go to the Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It and working with me to become more comfortable with my voice. I can't imagine being involved with this ministry if I didn't have the confidence from going to the Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It and learning from you. Thank you!

98 6.18 Helping others reclaim their voices

It was apparent from these two notes written by John that he championed the underdog and found great pleasure in helping others reclaim their voices. It was also clear that in his own negative experiences as he attempted to reclaim his own voice, those moments prepared him to acknowledge the wounding others feel and in certain circumstances, he has been able to step in and diffuse or redirect difficult and emotional discussions. He has found his voice in helping others. John continues to exercise his gifts and has come to a new understanding of the importance of encouraging young and old to sing. He concluded his note by sharing the following intimate interactions with his newborn.

Also, a big part of the singing I do now is with my newborn daughter, together to sleep. We've noticed that if we don't sing it takes a lot longer for her to sleep. If I stop singing, she seems to try and fill in songs with a kind of soft rhythmic cry, but she will stop to listen when I start singing again. I sing some children songs, hymns, Beatles, and other songs as they pop in my head.

Hymn Metaphor: John

Lord, you call us to your service: “in my name baptize and teach.” That the world may trust your promise, life abundant meant for each, give us all new fervour, draw us closer in community; with the Spirit’s gifts empow’r us for the work of ministry.

Words: Jeffery W. Rowthorn, 1978, Music: Cyril Vincent Taylor, 1941 (Voices United, 1997, #512, verse 2)

Chapter 7 Summary and Conclusions

7.1 Research process and review

In this study, I examined the lived experiences of three individuals, Eric, Anita, and John, who labeled themselves as non-singers. I drew on the research literature in music education, social psychology, and gender studies in singing and explored perspectives of identity formation, musical development, aspects of spirituality, gender issues in singing performance, and other related issues for those who choose not to sing. Three vivid portraits emerged of the participants’ journeys as they pursued “learning to sing again activities.” These portraits serve as illustrations of potential pathways, which resonate with the research focused on the phenomenon of reclaiming one’s voice.

The following research question was formulated to explore the phenomenon further: How does an individual, living within the social construct of present-day society, re-imagine the singer-self as an aspect of the whole self––physically, emotionally, and spiritually? Guiding questions grew out of this research question and were incorporated into the interview process. This deep inquiry elicited vivid comments and reflections from the three participants related to the following:

1. What aspects of society encourage or discourage the vision and development of a sense of self as singer? 2. How might institutions such as schools, local communities and the greater church facilitate “learning to sing again” activities? 3. Along the timeline of re-engagement as a singer, how do individuals perceive change from within? 4. What are the physical, emotional and spiritual signs or markers denoting progress, and how are they made evident?

I used narrative as the key research method for this study. As participants in SFLI, each shared the same phenomenon of musical group participation; I sought to illuminate their individual lived experiences and how they contributed to present and future expectations. Through

99 100 individual case studies, Eric, Anita, and John provided new tenable meanings about the phenomenon of the adult non-singer. When asked, all three were eager to participate in this study, and each expressed a desire to contribute their story to the thread of research stories focused on the non-singer and their individual pursuits in reclaiming their voices.

Initially, Eric, Anita, and John answered a series of questions about their life journeys from early childhood into adulthood and up to the time of the interviews. Questions focused on aspects of family upbringing, music experiences throughout their lives, including threshold moments such as birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, and births or deaths (see Appendix E). Other questions focused on SFLI details, confirmed participant history, and participants’ initial reflections on integrating with other singers.

Questionnaire results provided the basis for developing questions asked during the first interview. During this interaction, the participants and I began to explore specific moments in their pasts that led to the phenomena that they experienced as an adult non-singer. In subsequent interviews, I built upon the data collected in the previous meetings and focused more directly on the SFLI experience, the physical, mental, and emotional experiences, and the potential relationship between past and present. In the final interview, I explored experiences that pursued a reintroduction of singing into their lives. Participants reported facing some challenges as well as moments of musical fulfillment.

7.2 Discussion of salient points

Although each individual’s journey was unique, there were important threads in common. When exploring the detail found in the data, intersecting points emerged when analyzing the data from a macro and micro lens. Based on the data of each case study, and with Maslow’s Motivational Model (see Figure 7, Chapter 2) from Saul McLeod, updated 2018, I developed “A Journeying Template” (Figure 8), which represents the possible paths for an adult attempting to reclaim their voice.

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RECLAIMING ONES VOICE A JOURNEYING TEMPLATE

Renewal & Engagement (comfort, confidence, at ease, willingness to share, engaging other singing opportunities, seeing the need for support in others)

Actualization/Reclamation aceee e potential through creativity, independence, spontaneity)

May lead to

Reflection (revisiting, inner voice, physical & mental health, clarifying)

Safe Spaces Self-Actuatin Voice Exploration (for expression & sharing) (Moved to action) (speaking and singing)

Music Care Activities (inspiring, spirit-filled, open, non-judgmental)

Prompting/Invitation (initiating, engaging, reassuring, hand-holding, risking)

BEGIN HERE Self-Awareness (searching, longing, introspection, desiring, denial)

Figure 8. Reclaiming One’s Voice––A Journeying Template

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7.2.1 Common threads

All three participants expressed a need to address the wounds triggered by the words and situational memories deep-seated in their memory bank of lived experiences. Within each individual’s story, there was attestation to the physical, mental, and emotional journeys that led to their identification as a non-singer. This realization was the result of a long process of experiences over time, where each slowly withdrew from singing, resigned to a life of silence as a singer.

In written submissions for the questionnaire portion of the research, all three participants wrote about their family upbringing as being rather typical, with the usual complexity of siblings and parent dynamics and an acknowledgement that the family unit in which they were born was the first community in which some of the relationships began to shape the path that led to their becoming an adult non-singer. It took time for me, as the interviewer, to establish trust with all three participants. This trust was necessary in order for the participants to shift from a more simplified overview of family dynamics to a more delicate and sensitive exploration of difficult interactions and experiences. Lori-Anne Dolloff described these moments during the interview process as, sitting with “indwelling stories of deep listening” (personal communication, 2019). As trust was gained, and as difficult past memories were explored, all participants experienced emotional moments during the interview process, expressed as silence, moments of inner reflection, quivering chins, and teary eyes. Their wounds were deep and festering.

During analysis of the lived experiences of Eric, Anita, and John, it became readily apparent that there was a process through which all three journeyed to the potential of reclaiming their voice. To refine codable moments and to illuminate common threads in all three cases, I designed a journeying template which seemed to capture macro moments as well as micro details of similarity and difference.

7.2.2 Filtering data through a Journeying Template

Initial motivations leading to change appeared to begin from within deep seated denial and a closing off of difficult lived experiences from the past, followed by a time of introspection––a searching for, a longing for, a desiring for, something absent in the participants’ present lives.

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From the journeys of my three participants, it seems that a self-awareness of deep-seated wants and desires may lead to a state of increased openness, where one may be ready to hear or read an invitation or a prompting, a nudge of encouragement, a motivation by a friend, or quite simply, a poster of welcome and invitation. This brief and initial interaction must be built upon a foundation of safe space, may require some hand holding, must be filled with words that reassure, and must counteract and diminish one’s desire to flee. Even those prompting and inviting adults who self-describe as non-singers may be unaware of the pivotal role they play, and they may be required to reach out and continue the invitations over a period of time. Building trust and ensuring safety undergirds the vulnerable relationship-building opportunity during an SFLI experience.

It should be noted that much of the wounding that occurred early in life by adult non-singers resides in the lower half of the Maslow Model and have direct impacts on the bottom four needs: “physiological, safety, belonging and love, and esteem” (McLeod, 2018). McLeod described these as deficiency needs which impact all four to varying degrees and affect one’s ability to self-motivate or inspire one’s desire to learn and grow. As foundational to an individual’s growth, these deficiency needs or any deficit in one or all areas may hinder development in the growth needs: cognitive, aesthetic, self-actualization, and transcendence. For Eric, Anita, and John, as they address wounds from the past, deficiencies may continue to show up physiologically and emotionally, and may hinder their spiritual development.

Should the invitation be accepted, new participants of SFLI experience a time of social interaction, communal group singing activities, and open discussions about topics of interest gleaned from hymn texts, life experiences of other participants, and at times, leader-driven exploratory aspects of singing. Initially, this may be difficult for new participants, as they may experience aspects of intimidation due to their initiation and reintroduction into group activities. Interactions may evoke responses, both physical and emotional, tied directly or indirectly to “woundings” of the past. It may be possible that they leave the space, as the hurt may be too difficult to bear, or they may remain silent, engaged in their own memories and recollections. This tossing and turning between engaging in activities and not may continue for many weeks. During this time, trust will be built among participants, and aspects of non-judgement, as

104 expressed in words of encouragement from the leader, become paramount in the mind of an adult “non-singer” for promoting a desire to continue exploring aspects of the self as singer.

Self-actuating (located in the middle of Figure 8) is key to one’s reimagining of self as singer. Continued participation in SFLI presents many opportunities for one to be moved to action, motivated by inner thoughts and outward influences by other participants. Self-actuating may also occur during the open mealtime prior to the program. In fact, it is the culmination of interactions and experiences that builds and promotes motivations that move oneself to action.

With Eric, Anita, and John, all three engaged in aspects of self-actuating. For Eric, it began in activities that allowed for moments of reflection, giving him time to revisit past attempts at reengaging his voice. Vocal exercises that encouraged a direct connection to breath inspired Eric to find a pathway leading to improvement in both his speaking and in his singing. For Anita, a safe space and participation in a group that promoted a sharing of ideas and encouraged free expression of thought allowed her to eventually reengage in robust discussions. For John, it was in aspects of voice exploration that focused on aspects of healthy speaking and singing enabled him to find new purpose and hope in his future career as a minister. All three experienced what could best be described as a rollercoaster of highs and lows, filled with moments of emotional outbursts filled with joy and exhilaration, as well as inner cries of deep sadness and pain. Each week required a certain amount of risk taking; Eric, Anita, and John were required to muster some inner strength to commit, to self-motivate and to continue to participate. “It is important to note that self-actualization is a continual process of becoming rather than a perfect state one reaches of a ‘happy ever after’” (Hoffman, 1988, p. 257).

In SFLI “learning to sing again” activities, it is not a matter of achieving a passing grade, or meeting the goals and objectives as set out in a research project that designates a “pass or fail” for the adult who describes one-self as a non-singer. Rather, achievement should be monitored from within; the individual, upon reflecting on their own growth in the areas that have challenged them over the years, begins to realize their new-found potential as speaker, as singer, as participant, as motivator, and as spiritual guide. Realizing that there will be recurring challenges in the ebb and flow of life, individuals may be required to revisit and return occasionally for a “tune-up.”

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What may show in the stories of Eric, Anita, and John is an aspect of reclamation beyond the singer-self. Towards the end of the interview process, all three expressed a focus on the “other,” an awareness of the challenges experienced by others and an inner commitment to encourage others to engage in the process of reclaiming one’s voice. For Eric, it was a desire to reclaim family relationships, to be his real self in expressing thoughts and feelings, and to explore ways of encouraging family members to do the same. Eric came to the realization that reclaiming oneself is reciprocal in nature, and that he may, in fact, be the catalyst for improved communication with his siblings and mother. For Anita, it was an awareness that her mother had been silenced by her husband (Anita’s father), her circumstance, and when she reached out to the community for help, even they withdrew, labeling her as the problem in the marriage. Anita realized that others in her family suffered too, that she was not the only one who endured years of pain and sadness. New clarity about her past allowed her to move forward and to address her future needs as an active participant with her remaining family members and in society generally. For John, it was the realization that he might experience others being wounded in the church––he might be required to step in as minister and to redirect and confront inappropriate behaviours. The empathy he felt for a group of young singers who appeared insecure about singing a selection of music in a different language, and who had become emotionally distraught about the idea of learning and singing a new song with a short performance deadline, had compelled John to step in. He witnessed their triangulation between an overly zealous parent and a Director of Music who was impatient with young learners.

The process of reclaiming one’s voice, as revealed in the journeying template, may take months or years to fully unravel the mystery of the “whys and why nots” of one’s unique path. In the four areas that Maslow coined as “deficiency needs––physiological, safety, belonging and love, and esteem” (McLeod, 2018, p. 1) most, if not all “woundings” expressed in the stories of Eric, Anita, and John, were rooted in these areas of insufficiency.

SFLI, and the way in which it is structured, may provide adult non-singers with the foundation upon which they may begin to address these deep-seated needs that were not met in the past. Participation in a singing group that is safe, that supports a sense of belonging and love, and that encourages the development of one’s self-esteem as a contributing and valued member, may make it possible for non-singers to develop and grow. Having the opportunity to redo and to

106 reattempt engagement with self and others in a healthy environment may provide a degree of stability, a new starting point. Moving forward, SFLI members may begin to grow again and to pursue aspects of one’s personal growth in the areas of cognition, aesthetics, and self- actualization, leading to possible moments of transcendence.

7.2.3 Spiritual growth––a personal journey to the edge

Rev. In Kee Kim, guest speaker at the annual fall retreat for staff and students of Knox College, a seminary of The Presbyterian Church in Canada, presented the illustration below (Figure 9) as part of a Power Point presentation on spiritual growth. He explained in a lecture that as one moves further along and closer to the edge, to a place of discomfort, one is afforded opportunities for deeper exploration of personal challenges and issues arising from one’s past, which may hinder physical, emotional, and spiritual growth. It is at the very edges of one’s comfort zone that personal growth, especially as it pertains to spirituality, may show promise to expand and flourish. At the very edge, it may be possible for one to experience peak experiences. Boyce-Tillman (2004, p. 4) quoted Maslow in describing peak experiences:

Maslow defined peak experiences which include characteristics associated in the past with religious experience. These include an intense experience of the present, concentration, self-forgetfulness, a lessening of defences and inhibitions, empowerment, trust, spontaneity, and a fusion of person with the world. This notion of peak experience is also close to Csikszentmihalyi’s concept of “flow.” (Csikszentmihalyi M. and Csikszentmihalyi I.S. 1988, Csikszentmihalyi, 1993).

This may be the desired arrival point for adult non-singers and their attempts to reclaim a voice with presence and purpose.

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< Depth of Knowing > < Journeying > from left to right

Figure 9. Seeing Ourselves More Fully. Used with permission of Rev. Kim.

7.2.4 Question 1: What aspects of society encourage or discourage the vision and development of a sense of self as singer?

7.2.4.1 Inclusivity

Waving the flag of inclusivity is quite common in Canada and in parts of the greater North American continent. In the United Church of Canada, it is celebrated in our hymn texts (Voices United and its supplement, More Voices), in liturgical practices, and in the ways in which we promote welcome and hospitality with friends and neighbour. If one digs a bit deeper, however, into the structural and institutional pillars of society including the church, it becomes apparent that inclusion, as a postmodern ideal, remains problematic for many who are unable to engage in it in their everyday lives.

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For the adult non-singer, the lack of inclusivity may present one of the greatest challenges for re- engagement of the voice. This may explain why Eric found it difficult to find a “safe place” to explore his voice. For Anita, the body-shaming in a dance class prohibited her development as a dancer. For John, the fear and intimidation he felt while singing with others presented as a challenge. This aspect of belonging to or being denied access to appeared to be a daily struggle that made it difficult for all three participants to be fully invested in their day-to-day lives. Eric feared “rejection,” Anita withdrew from “having fun” in group situations, and John questioned his ability to be an “effective communicator.” They all sat silently while others sang.

7.2.4.2 Competence and ability

Whether in schools, on playgrounds, within family circles, or in places of work, individuals are evaluated based on their ability to fulfill the requirements of a goal or objective. Competence, as an evaluative marker, denotes success and acquisition of skills. Systemically, this is how individuals in North America position themselves and others––on the pay grid, in report cards, or as witnessed in children picking teams at recess. In varying degrees, Eric, Anita, and John continued their personal struggles to project themselves outward into the communities in which they lived and worked. In all three cases, there were personal expressions of holding back due to fear of judgment, resulting in withdrawal and hesitation to fully engage in activities that they wished to pursue. Eric’s business career was derailed due to his inability to speak fully in front of groups. The same tightening of his body and the inability to breathe in and fully project his voice resulted in his refusal to accept engagements as a guest speaker. He withdrew from public engagements and resorted to a career on the World Wide Web in the form of blogs and websites.

As each participant grew older and departed from the homestead, triggers that were now well established continued to impair their lives. Whether it was in university or well into their professional lives, words and situations from the past continued to have detrimental effects on their self-esteem, identity, and sense of productivity and accomplishment. Anita found that these triggers made it difficult for her to pursue interests in the other arts, such as in drama and dance. John found his attempts to sing in worship intimidating when among other students pursuing ministry; this resulted in a posture of singing so quietly that others could not hear him. Eric, in

109 his lifelong pursuit to find his voice, became acutely aware that his musculature tightened up, making it difficult to inhale. For much of his life, fear and apprehension rendered him silent.

7.2.4.3 Product driven

One aspect of society that operates as a social norm that impedes an individual’s sense of self appears to be North American society’s collective obsession with product over process. Many North Americans are taught to be product driven, as evidenced in the celebration of celebrities, from the art hanging on walls, to the stage productions that charge exorbitant ticket prices, to the live sports events broadcasted into homes, and in all that is seen as people walk their individual journeys. North Americans are inundated by those who represent society’s best on billboards, 4D screens and in print; we celebrate the best in class, and society projects these individuals as born with innate talent, worthy of praise and revered by all, to be paid large sums as remuneration for their “awesomeness.” Rarely does society acknowledge the work and effort of those who have not risen to the top. For example, for every professional hockey player, there are thousands who fall away and are left behind. This is true in the arts as well. This may explain why society celebrates those with “God-given” gifts and talent, resulting in “a shake-down or sifting” of those who can and those who cannot.

7.2.4.4 Promoting elitism in schools

Beginning in the 1980s, many boards of education in Ontario moved to a model of “arts” schools, luring away the best players and singers from surrounding high schools, leaving those left behind void of role models, thus, separating out school populations by ability alone. As an educator, removing excellence as exhibited by the very best students, does not, in my experience, achieve desired goals of growth in communities. Those who are good at what they do inspire, encourage, and with a healthy classroom culture promoted by excellent educators, nurture others, improving technical skill, leading to a greater sense of polish. Interactions with each other are reciprocal in nature, and those who struggle lean on those who are successful for support and learning. Likewise, those who are the best may learn to empathize with those who are challenged and struggling.

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Following from this argument, it is readily apparent that Eric, Anita and John, having been triggered into “submission” many times before and may have found school music programs as intimidating and exclusionary. As described in John’s opening paragraphs, he had the good fortune of playing the alto saxophone during his public-school years. Insightfully, he also mentioned that many of the best players moved over to the new arts school, leaving behind the less accomplished players to fend for themselves.

On a personal note, I claim my privileged upbringing: I was the recipient of many awards and benefited from exclusionary policies. This may explain why, when I taught for the Toronto District School Board, I preferred non-auditioned choirs that were open to all students.

7.2.4.5 Critique and judgment

In all walks of life, there is potential for individuals to be “critiqued” into submission, especially when engaging in arts experiences. Being silenced at home by a sibling or parent may apply to anyone who appears to be challenging power structures within the family. This was true for Eric; the silencing he endured as a child may have weaved its way into his years of suffering as an adult non-singer. It rendered him breathless and incapable of engaging audiences with clarity of voice. Submission for Anita occurred in a variety of arts experiences. The physical awkwardness and frustration she experienced on the dance floor set her up as a prime target for “serious” product-driven instructors who used body-shaming and stereotyping in order to weed her out of the class. Simply put, she did not fit the mould of a dancer. As a newly minted minister of the cloth, John was ridiculed and professionally criticized in front of the choir by his colleague, the Director of Music. It was clear that the goal of the music director was to critique him into submission and to shut down any future input into the music program. Embarrassed, John no longer volunteered his time in the men’s section of the choir. Many relationship building opportunities were lost.

There’s really no such thing as the “voiceless.” There are only the deliberately silenced, or preferably unheard. (Roy, 2004)

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7.2.5 Question 2: How might institutions such as schools, local communities and the greater church facilitate “learning to sing again” activities?

7.2.5.1 Building safe communities––welcome and hospitality

To inculcate a culture of change in the church, I embarked on the process of creating a singing experience for those left behind. No one was denied access to SFLI. For Eric, Anita, and John, SFLI afforded all three the opportunity to begin the process of reengagement with others through singing. As a precursor to involvement, all three expressed a necessity for and an interest in an empathetic, caring community in which they might be able to pursue their singing. Just the thought of walking into the singing space was intimidating enough. Introducing themselves to others required eye contact and a brief “hello.” To open the hymn book and to begin singing felt awkward, and the music notation––another symbol system of dots and lines––seemed like a foreign language. For several weeks, Anita “sat quietly with her head down.” Eric feared “other’s reactions” to his singing. John arrived hopeful that SFLI would “help him address some of his insecurities around singing and speaking in public.” All three expressed a desire to leave at first––noticing where the exit signs were, was paramount, should a hasty departure or escape be necessary.

7.2.5.2 Hire empathetic and pastoral instructors

As a researcher and the program leader for SFLI, it was imperative for me to hear what role I played in the minds of non-singers who joined my singing program. During the interviews, and evident in the review of my notes and reflections on program delivery, all three confirmed that the instruction leader (me), and the way in which I approached the topic of singing, was a pivotal factor in whether they returned the following week. For Anita, I made it “fun” to sing. John, in addition to his weekly involvement, accepted the offer of a free private voice lesson. For him, my tone of voice during SFLI and the willingness to be gentle and reassuring, coupled with inspirational support, gave him the courage to accept the offer. Eric immediately connected his desire to sing and my ability to balance the joy of singing with the need to learn skills in support of healthy singing: exploring the texts, singing the old and new, aspects of proper posture,

112 breathing and enunciation. These aspects had been missing in his other “singing around the piano” group experience out West.

7.2.5.3 Language matters––an aspect of safe spaces

Creating a safe place, as expressed in the literature and found in the data, appears to be foundational to a non-singer’s ability to begin their journey of reclamation. In schools, churches, and community groups, it is imperative that music leaders develop care through music programming. Musical environments in the church, that encourage healthy learning practices, are:

1. those that foster positive interactions among participants; 2. are supported by inspirational and motivational leadership; 3. are intertwined with familiar texts and hymn tunes; 4. encourage and reduce the amount of risk taking required; 5. promote greater expression of the voice, both spoken and sung.

The phraseology used by music educators is ripe with opportunities for the triggers that set off aspects of self-doubt. The cycle of physical tightening, restricting the breathing apparatus, as well as engaging aspects of anxiety and fear begins the negative ritual of shutting down, thus, returning the individual to the default stance of non-participant. To counteract this tendency, the leader must be aware that language matters and that the focus of activities should promote singing as a practice, as a process of personal development. For Anita, exploring the voice through utilization of singing exercises that encouraged silly sounds, or metaphor and imagery that seemed expressive, were “fun.” For John, an exercise during a private lesson which required him to lie on the floor with a hymn book resting on his stomach, allowed him access what it means to breathe deeply and to sing with support. For Eric, breathing exercises began the long process of opening and expanding the muscle areas that tightened up each time he attempted to speak or sing. At times, as music leader, I was so keen to push them further that I crossed the boundary and extended them further than they could go or wished to go. I triggered an expectation and in fact, in their minds, over-extended their abilities, resulting in expressions of “I can’t do that.” During the interview process, Eric did his best to remind me that, during SFLI, I

113 had crossed over into the elite music world and that I had forgotten with whom I was working. His reason for coming to SFLI was to sing for the love of it. For Eric, “Theory [wasn’t] it!”

Therefore, it is vital that those who lead SFLI programming realize that the ways in which one inspires and celebrates singing must focus on the process rather than utilizing musical phrases that support the discourse of achieving a musical standard. Expectations about quality and achieving a standard uttered by music professionals often lead to intimidation and withdrawal of participants, especially those who have come to sing for the love of it. The need to meet musical standards, in the minds of non-singers, leads to a level of singing that is unattainable. Their sense of personal worth deteriorates as they add another “failure” to their long list.

7.2.5.4 Acknowledge our past as music educators

There is evidence that many music educators, both past and present, play a leading role in the “wounding” of students through abusive music environments. It is time for the teaching profession to address these systemic issues in order to move forward. Lived experiences of abuse, hurt, and despair are far too prevalent to ignore. Whether seated one-to-one on a piano bench or conducting in large ensemble configurations, “wounding” occurs at alarming rates, even today.

In my own piano and voice studio, I am astounded at the number of parents who describe deplorable music experiences from their past, at the hands of former piano and voice teachers. It is not surprising that many are leery of signing their children up for lessons and doubt the value and need for a music experience in their children’s lives. Pointed pencils under drooping wrists, pencil snaps on fingers as incorrect notes are played, frowns of discontent, and raising one’s voice, which gave negative evaluations to parents about a child’s lack of progress or frustrations in making music, all generate moments of fear in any child. Rigorous institutional exam requirements, aggressive expectations of participation in recitals, or simply being disingenuously encouraged in front of family and friends to play or sing, all contribute to the stresses of those who simply wish to make music. All they want is a “participation” badge. First, second, or third place finishes are for those who already know they are at the top of their class. Children are astute and aware of the abilities of those around them.

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In the area of cognitive needs, Eric “locked up” physically when attempting to learn about singing, and this resulted in a shutting down during many attempts to sing. Anita, who had desired a life in the arts full of beauty and expression, was denied a place; she was not accepted as a candidate by an overly zealous teacher primarily concerned with artistic standards and form. John found himself among many who could sing. Intimidation resulted in silencing himself, although deep down he wished to learn. He felt trapped in a profession that had lofty expectations for its leaders to have singing ability.

7.2.5.5 Caring through music

More often than not, those of us who are music educators focus our goals and objectives toward that pinnacle moment when our ensembles achieve that perfect performance. Often, this level of performance is achieved by putting our singers through many long hours of intensive rehearsal. At times, performance deadlines are shorter than expected and require the conductor to rehearse for long periods, usually at the expense of the singers and their voices. In an obsession with music as performance, we often sift through singers and/or players, utilizing power discourses that allow us to intimidate weaker singers and, at the same time, promote and encourage those with “talent.” Some fall away, while others continue to persevere and struggle. Music-making, however, is so much more than a performance-driven experience.

Caring through music, as evidenced in “learning to sing activities” in SFLI, require a broad interpretation of what music-making entails. In order to facilitate music education that is both caring and that positions participants’ needs first, educators and music leaders need to broaden the definition of music education to include improvising, creating, and exploring. Here, process is valued as integral to the overall experience and may not require performance as an arrival point. In the stories of Eric, Anita, and John, performance expectations were of low priority. Eric wished to participate in a singing group, but not one that culminated in a public performance. Toward the end of the interview process, Anita expressed a desire to join a choir. To date, she has not done so. John, on the other hand, joined the church choir. He valued the relationships he was able to foster while singing in the choir. Unfortunately, due to some negative feedback from a colleague, he chose to remove himself from singing. Fortunately, caring through music remains a priority in his ministry, especially with those who are vulnerable musically.

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We’ll give a voice to those who have not spoken; we’ll find the words for those whose lips are sealed; we’ll make the tunes for those who sing no longer, expressive love alive in every heart. We’ll share our joy with those who still are weeping, raise hymns of strength for hearts that break in grief, we’ll leap and dance the resurrection story, including all in circles of our love.

Words: June Boyce-Tillman 1993, Music: Traditional Irish melody; arr. John Barnard 1982 (Voices United, 1997, 586, v. 2)

7.2.6 Question 3: Along the timeline of re-engagement as a singer, how do individuals perceive change from within?

7.2.6.1 One’s sense of place in a space

I remember very well the challenges I experienced as a youngster while learning to play the piano. At the time, I did not know that I was developing skills both internally and externally. Throughout our lives, humans develop many senses beyond sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. These allow us to function and interact with the outside world; however, from within, there are other senses that are developed throughout our lives, and one of these is our proprioceptive awareness––the position and movement of our body. As it relates to the art of playing the piano, it is our ability to play a variety of the eighty-eight keys while focusing our sight and concern on the sheet music in front of us. Over time, we develop a sense of where our arms and hands are and the distances required to play the correct notes.

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Throughout my research, I have been curious about and pondered whether one’s proprioceptive sense develops in other aspects of music-making, especially with those who sing and more specifically, those who have been “shut down” as singers. Participating in a choir, where there is an intentional pedagogy of correct posture and positioning as it leads to healthy singing, begins to develop one’s sense of balance, as well as a one’s spatial sense within a classroom, auditorium, sanctuary, or public arena. If one withdraws or is denied access to singing opportunities earlier in life, there may be a loss of one’s own sense of self as worthy of occupying space. Viederman (2016) suggested that “proprioception = ownership, while lack of = ‘disturbed sense of self.’” This may explain why adult non-singers later in life express a physical tightening or inability to fully engage their physical selves.

Although research is this area is not extensive, Viederman (2016) suggested that “when a certain body part or movement is used repeatedly in a coordinated and mindful fashion, there are actual physical and observable changes in the part of the brain that controls that body part or movement” (Viederman, 2016, slide #14). As this pertains to the adult non-singer, the brain may label one’s failure to move as “pain” which develops into a sense of “motor amnesia” over the years, resulting in reduced coordination, reduced movement, and a blocking of proprioceptors, resulting in even more pain and suffering. In the data gleaned from the stories of Eric, Anita, and John, there were expressions of reconnecting with one’s body and a perception of change from within: comprehending why their bodies reacted the way they did, counteracting tightening and restrictions as they occurred, and resulting in engaging a practice of healthy singing through improved sense of posture, connected to a supportive breathing apparatus, leading to improved vocalizing.

7.2.6.2 Understanding the self (cognition)

In the sources cited in Chapter 2, the reader is exposed to hundreds of testimonials and rich narrative texts, a long history of the struggle of adult non-singers. When Eric, Anita, and John shared their stories, they joined the long list of those who carry wounds of fear and hurt as non- singers. The timeline of re-engagement, while unique to each individual, demonstrates a similar progression from a place of unknowing to a life lived, but void of a horizon filled with hope. In some cases, reclamation never occurs. Some people live out their lives having never fully aired-

117 out the wounds of their past which have marked and named their lived experience. In the Maslow hierarchy of needs, “cognition” is recognized as a “growth need,” and this may begin to explain why adult non-singers struggle to fully understand their present circumstance. To be in the “here and now,” the stories of Eric, Anita, and John suggested that knowing oneself may require deep examination of difficult moments and experiences from the past in order to move forward physically, emotionally, and spiritually. For Eric, knowing himself more fully required a life-long journey of understanding the physical self and all its tensions and hesitations. Anita, through hymn texts, was able to fully understand and recognize her lived experience through song and text. John became more fully aware as a preacher of his limitations as a singer, becoming comfortable enough “in his own skin” to risk judgment by his congregational members and staff.

By exploring the plethora of complex interactions that surrounded difficult events and the detrimental impacts on their future motivations or lack thereof, the participants began the process of expressing their wounds, arriving at a turning point where each could grant themselves permission to move on. With this cognitive awareness of self, the horizon of reclamation seemed plausible, as well as worth working toward.

7.2.6.3 Accessing one’s aesthetic needs––meaning and beauty

Adult non-singers can witness and express appreciation for a beautiful performance, whether by a soloist, choir, instrumentalist, or orchestra. Unfortunately, they also see these moments of beauty, as presented by elites, the “cream of the crop.” They believe this because society, especially in Western cultures, has experienced a lengthy period of celebrating those with talent, those gifted from birth, those worthy of praise. Adult non-singers are relegated to the position of audience member, void of opportunities to participate as musical collaborators on stage––an imaginary wall denies them access to involvement and participation. Despite all this, they know what beauty is, and those attempting to reclaim their voices express a desire to engage and experience aspects of musical beauty in their lives.

One way in which adult non-singers access beauty and meaning in their lives is in the singing of secular lyrics and sacred texts. No longer satisfied as passive listeners, adults who are working toward a reclaimed voice access personal meaning by singing words that are poetic, engaging,

118 thought provoking, and relevant to their own lived experience. Making connections with and developing deeper understanding of the self is achieved for these individuals when words sung evoke an emotional response from within. At the end of Chapters 4, 5, and 6, hymn texts were included as an example for each participant, Eric, Anita, and John, as representative of their personal stories as expressed in hymn texts sung during SFLI. I noted, in my reflections on her progress, that this was especially true for Anita, who found it burdensome to share her own story with others. Finding meaning and relevance as she sang seemed to promote a greater sense of belonging, of personal value and worth, and a way in which to access her voice as a means of communicating with others.

For Eric, familiarity with the texts and music allowed him to engage deeper meaning––a “shifting out of ‘learning constriction’ mode into free-flow ‘for the love of it’ mode.” Learning new lyrics, coupled with the complexities of a new melody line, denied Eric the opportunity to sing out fully and with a greater sense of beauty.

John had a deep respect for his grandfather––recently deceased––who was a gifted preacher with “a way of emphasizing words and especially effective when using the pause.” Going forward, John’s goal was to develop and attain the same gift of expressing meaning and beauty through an effective delivery of his personal sermons and stories. How he framed-out this delivery focused not only on the words but in the “rests between the phrases,” as expressed in the hymn, “In the Quiet Curve of Evening, Voices United #278.” John had witnessed in his grandfather an effective delivery and elocution of a message, which existed in the ebb and flow, the rise and fall, and in the moments of silence where listeners were offered a moment for personal contemplation and reflection. Meaning and beauty reside together, when vocal delivery accompanied by moments of “Selah” (of silence or pause), are intermingled and intentionally placed at pivotal moments–– in this case, in a psalm text.

7.2.6.4 Engaging the “spirit within”––transcendence

As I arrive at my thirtieth year of music ministry in the church, I marvel at the variety of worship experiences to which I have contributed as a Minister of Music. In the last 10 years, my life has been intermingled with my ministry at the church and my masters and doctoral studies at the University of Toronto. In that time, my understanding and desire to create musical opportunities

119 for the Spirit to enter in has been of keen interest. Part of this focus drew out of my interactions with participants in the SFLI program. This also led to my own pilgrimage journey to Taizé, as I had read on numerous occasions that their focus on the Word, on singing, and on silence, allowed for those present to engage, what Eric described, as the “Spirit within.”

Adult non-singers may be spiritual people; however, their inability to fully engage their speaking and/or singing voice may deny them a life of expressing this Spirit within with others, hampering their ability to acknowledge the Spirit that resides deep inside. During interviews with Anita and John, it became readily apparent that talking about spirituality was extremely difficult for them. Anita struggled the most to fully engage in a robust discussion about spirituality. She struggled to find the vocabulary through which she could express her thoughts on the subject. John, on the other hand, tended to focus on corporate views of spirituality in the church. He tended to see aspects of spirituality from the vantage point of the minister. Eric was the exception; he had spent most of his adult life focused on the Spirit and the ways in which he could bring Spirit into the workplace. He recognized, over time, that it was his inability to engage his speaking and singing voice that hindered progress in this lifelong pursuit.

During his interview, Eric proposed, “If we are going to make [the Spirit] real for people, we’re going to have to take them ‘into themselves.’” To do this, he questioned how we might take them “into that spaciousness, that silence? A centering prayer? Yoga? Music?” Through these moments of silence, people may begin the long process of hearing the voices within and the feelings felt. The “busyness” of the outside world dissipates as their focus and priority. The self becomes “the vessel or the channel for the Spirit.” As individuals are introduced into opportunities of silence and simply being, they may feel aspects of discomfort and a fear of going there, to that edge (see Figure 9, this chapter).

As a music leader in the church, I have often thought that silence, as an important part of the worship experience, has been downplayed, especially in the United Church of Canada. For example, it is customary for the minister to conclude their opening prayer with a “moment for silent prayer.” This time rarely lasts more than fifteen seconds. A parishioner can barely utter, “Dear God . . .” in that time.

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Eric’s new-found ability to speak or sing allowed him the opportunity to share his story and the spiritual life he has pursued with others. It has been a long journey of trials and tribulations, of hurt and pain, a trail he walked alone. The key to success was his deep awareness and understanding of himself and the realization that he now had the tools necessary for vocal engagement with self and others. “It is becoming aware of where I’m holding my voice back, and why, and then giving myself permission to release it, so I can sing or speak more fully.” This led to a discussion on expressing outward. Eric described how he feels within and what it means to be “out.” There were three pieces that he was letting out: “one was ‘me,’ one was ‘spirit,’ and one was ‘relationship.’”

Come touch our souls that we may know and love you, your quiet presence all our fears dispel; create a space for spirit to grow in us, let life and beauty fill us, come touch and bless our souls.

Come touch us in the moments that are fragile, and in our weakness your great strength reveal; that we may rise to follow and to serve, steady now our nerve, come touch and bless our wills.

Words and Music: Gordon Light, 2002; arr. Andrew Donaldson, 2002 (More Voices, 2007, #12, verses 2 & 4)

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7.2.7 Question 4: What and how are the physical, spiritual, and emotional signs or markers denoting progress made evident?

7.2.7.1 Self-Actuating––tools to address the triggers

The lived experiences of Eric, Anita and John, as expressed in Chapters 4, 5, and 6 revealed a number of physical, emotional, and spiritual signs or markers, signifying moments of self- actuating––those personal up ticks along the reclamation journey timeline. As referenced in the Journeying Template (see Figure 6, Chapter 2), the central process of self-actuating is a dynamic and fluid interplay of experiences that may lead one to be moved to action. Within the data, there appears to be no logical order in which Eric, Anita or John pursued the self-actuating process. What is apparent in the timeline leading to reclamation, however, is their continual revisiting and circling back, what Eric described as a Möbius strip, as if building upon or working through the deep wounds of the past required a number of attempts leading to possible moments of reconciliation.

Participants entering the self-actuating arena may do so from a number of different vantage points and entranceways. For some, the activities void of risk or judgment invite various degrees of personal involvement. The emotional calming of a safe space may allow one to be physically present, exposed to the warmth and care of surrounding voices. Aspects of enjoyment and exploration of one’s voice may spark a greater self-interest and motivation to engage in greater risk taking and further experimentation. Being moved to action may result from a personal confrontation with one’s inner voice, often ripe with negativity, the result of wounding earlier in life. Bringing clarity to one’s lived experiences may provide an opportunity for personal growth, allowing an individual to be more independent, spontaneous, and inspired to be creative.

In multiple conversations with all three participants, each expressed physical tension, which they assumed was the result of fear and anxiety. During the interview process, triggers from their past had not been considered as the root cause or catalyst which denied them opportunity after opportunity to fully participate in life’s experiences. These triggers resulted in poor productivity and contributed to a lack of accomplishment in their studies and career paths. Signing up for and engaging in community activities, including interests that might have brought them great joy,

122 accumulated into a long list of lost opportunities. Like a wound that would not heal, their unique, painful journeys continued to fester, and any salve or band aid, simply hid the sore from public.

Each participant spoke at length about specific individuals whom they saw as a significant catalyst, an individual with whom they had experienced the greatest of conflict and negative interactions earlier in life. For Anita, it was her father, who served and fought as a soldier in the Canadian Armed Forces. He returned an alcoholic, and this affected his judgement and tragically culminated in an incident involving Anita. John’s sibling who began formal voice studies discouraged him from singing because he did not sound “that good” or “as good as Elvis.” For Eric, it was his father whom he dearly loved. Unfortunately, his father demanded quiet while he worked at home and insisted that his children be seen and not heard. It is possible that his father did not know the long-term damage being done to his son. In all instances, the protagonist, willingly or not, contributed to the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual wounding or scarring of their family member(s). Being able to share these deeply hidden stories of hurt and pain and to express a personal need to forgive past transgressions by others appeared to lighten the weight and burden enough that the process of perceived change from within began.

Giving oneself permission to sing seems to mark a significant turning point in the pursuit of reclamation and vocal presence. All three candidates expressed, during the self-actuating process, a desire to grant personal permission to participate, to engage, and to be vocally present. To Anita, this permission came from “deep inside.” For Eric, it was his hunger “to be out in the world, again.” For John, it was from a professional necessity, “to attain a high level of delivery.”

As a researcher, I pondered the roots of granting “personal permission.” At first glance, it appeared odd and counter-intuitive, and so I took time to consider societal norms and expectations of the past. Upon personal reflection, I was drawn to the building-blocks of society’s power structures and how aspects of permission are instilled as a norm and an aspect of respect. In elementary school, the norm was to put up a hand to ask a question. If permission was granted, the student could continue to speak. If he or she desired to go to the bathroom, a request was made, and, if the teacher was strict, the student was timed and expected back in class within a few minutes. In my own experience and as written forever on my Grade 1 report card, I had difficulty refraining from speaking out of hand, and then, when I did speak, I was usually off topic. During recess, I often asked my classmates whether I could join in, whether it was

123 baseball, soccer, or marbles. Likewise, I allowed permission for others to join in on an activity that I organized. Granting personal permission seemed somehow counter-intuitive and at times, never a consideration, whether at home, school or at play.

When Eric reflected on his childhood, there were many examples when permission was not granted. He was taught to supress the urge to speak, to sing, or to engage, except when his parents allowed him to. Granting permission was not a personal act, and his participation in the relationships at home were relegated to the instructions and intentions of the adults in his life. The negative power relationships between child and parent in Anita’s past created the groundwork for many “fear-filled home experiences.” As she told the story that she had repressed for a lifetime, her shoulders began to relax and settle. Her breathing, while short at the beginning, began to settle as well, and a sense of calm came over her. It was a courageous act of self-permission, and I was honoured that she felt safe enough to tell me, albeit weeks after the conclusion of the interview process. It reminded me of my own fear-filled moments, when I began to come out to my family and friends as a gay man, hidden for so long, repressed for what felt like a lifetime.

Within the data, there was a thread of consistency among the stories of all three participants, in that the first aspect to be reclaimed was the speaking voice, followed by the singing voice. For a number of sessions in SFLI, Anita spent much of her time listening. Much of the music was unfamiliar to her, and she preferred to sit and enjoy what she heard rather than to build up the courage to risk and join in. During many sessions, the SFLI group often broke up their singing by discussing the texts of the hymns being sung. Early on, Anita rarely joined in to offer input to the discussion. Generally, her head remained down, eyes in the music, and at times, appeared disengaged or mindfully off somewhere else.

Discussions about texts often focused on use of metaphor, imagery, or where one might find personal connections in biblical stories. I encouraged the sharing to be about ideas, and that ideas should build on what others had said rather than to confront, disagree, or appear argumentative. This took some time, as much of societal discourse today is confrontational and competitive. To create a safe place for a shared discussion of ideas, at times, it was necessary to redirect the flow of ideas and to remind participants that posturing and arguing a point was not productive nor healthy for the group. Slowly, over time, Anita began to offer, in a small voice, a thought or two.

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John, on the other hand, had difficulty matching pitch with those around him. When other men were singing next to him, pitch awareness was difficult. In frustration, John would stop singing and listen. He withdrew from a participatory stance to that of a passive listener. What he needed was a leader who could offer him ways in which he might engage his speaking voice, to draw it out of him. John recounted that it was during a university class with an encouraging professor that he found his speaking voice. This proved to be a pivotal moment in his reclamation journey. With greater confidence in public speaking, John now focused his attention toward his need to develop his singing voice.

When Eric withdrew from singing during SFLI, it was usually the result of an emotional response to a hymn text or an unfamiliar hymn tune. Eric expressed great frustration with new hymns and texts. It rendered him voiceless. Notes on the page meant nothing to him, and he could not acclimate his voice with what he saw. The only way he could engage new melodies was to sit and listen four or five times before attempting to sing. Another factor for disengagement was the tightness he felt on his left side which reduced the amount of air he could take in, making it impossible for him to sing a complete phrase. He would stop singing because he felt out of breath or incapable of taking in a breath. These physiological hurdles were insurmountable and contributed to Eric’s feelings of being walled in and shut out from the singing experience.

Prior to his departure from SFLI and his eventual return to Vancouver, British Columbia, Eric had begun to experience a physical change in his approach to speaking and singing. During his lengthy interview, Eric touched on this as a significant moment in his reclaiming process. Instead of resisting and pushing back [from moving to the edge], he had developed the tools to counteract his inhibitions and hesitations to go to places of vulnerability. He described moments when he takes one step back, embraces how he feels, lives into the discomfort, then allows himself to “relax into it,” and with a deep breath, moves toward the edge again. Prior to SFLI experiences, he would have realized the constriction in his body and immediately moved to a mode of denying how he felt, resulting in a withdrawal from the edge, another missed opportunity to go deeper and to develop greater self-awareness. As he became more confident with the tools he had developed to counteract this tightening, he found ways in which he could

125 move out, to be more in touch with “the flow,” making it possible for him to approach thorny and difficulty issues.

As I flew back to Toronto, I found myself reflecting on that day with Eric. I marveled at the number of times during the interview when Eric spontaneously sang to demonstrate a musical idea or an awareness of vocal presence. He expressed a desire and willingness to live at the edge, to be more fully known to himself and was prepared to go there when required.

What would you think if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song And I'll try not to sing out of key. (from “With a Little Help from My Friends,” Lennon & McCartney, 1967)

Voice of God, Voice of peace, Voice of love, Voice of life, Voice of justice, Voice of passion, Voice creating, Voice of healing, Voice of singing, Voice of praying, come upon us, come restore us, come inspire us, Voice of God.

Words: Adam M. L. Tice, 2004, Music: Fred Kimball Graham, 2006 (More Voices, 2007, #24, verse 3)

7.3 Practical applications

There will probably always be some people who believe themselves to be non-singers. As the profession of teaching music progresses and develops new and exciting ways to engage students in music-making, whether in private lessons, in schools, in churches, or in community organizations, it is imperative that educators aim to meet the needs of all with whom we interact, those hiding in the corners, and those who willingly stand and shout from the mountain top, “Let me sing!”

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There are a variety of practical ways in which we may engage in positive music-making. In curricular planning, allow for a variety of ensemble experiences with varying degrees of expectations and standards. Grow the music program by offering a “singing for the love of it” opportunity to the school population or church community as an alternative to elite auditioned choir expectations. Promote safe space singing experiences that are void of judgment, creating an opening, however small, to encourage and entice engagement of potential non-singers.

In writing curriculum for music classes, focus on process over product. Explore new and exciting areas of music study––a way of giving back, promoting empathy and understanding through the study of music as therapy, and most importantly, caring through daily music making. Offer co- curricular opportunities to volunteer time, to sing and care for those who struggle with dementia and/or Alzheimer’s disease, or assist with music classes in promoting healthy singing environments in the younger grades.

To develop ensemble cohesiveness and collegiality, whether in school, church, or community, develop a “code of behaviour,” or perhaps more aptly phrased, a “code for getting along” focused on mutual encouragement and support. Develop a mentor program, twinning seasoned singers with newer ones. Discuss thorny topics such as one’s ego, feelings of inadequacy, self- promotion, negative phraseology, put-downs, and the need to be sensitive to others and their feelings. In the case where ensembles are comprised of mixed abilities, put into the contracts of paid leads the expectation to support volunteer singers seated or standing next to them. In the end, promote the expectation to lift up, not put down.

In church settings, when appropriate, situate choir members among the congregation. Better still, for one Sunday or more, forego the use of choir gowns as a way to break down the implied, visible wall of those who can and those who cannot. As they sit among the congregation, promote the choir as comforters and supporters of those around them. Sing unaccompanied, simple, repetitive songs that are engaging and accessible to all. Music that has been proven in other worship spaces and liturgies, such as the music from Iona and Taizé, may be incorporated into weekly worship singing opportunities. As Director of Music, refrain from conducting. Sit in the front row with congregants. Encourage the minister to do the same. This will promote a universal approach to singing, with little direction or show at the front of the church. Become one in the congregational singing. Become one in the praying. “Pray twice!” (Wren, 2000).

127 7.4 Conclusion

Adults who self-describe as non-singers live among us all, in a variety of group settings: in families, in school classrooms, in rural towns and urban cities, and across diverse secular and sacred communities. They represent all walks of life: doctors, nurses, teachers, mechanics, garbage collectors, bankers, scientists, politicians, and preachers, to name a few. Those who walk among us may be highly respected in their fields of study and work or may simply blend in among the masses. They may enjoy music, but most likely as listeners at symphony concerts, in the car, as choirs sing, or simply around a campfire at the end of day. Rendered silent by years of neglect, these individuals hold deep within themselves a personal journey of pain and suffering, the result of “wounding,” experienced earlier in life.

The stories of Eric, Anita, and John provided evidence that their struggles and hesitations to fully engage in life’s possibilities were the result of societal barriers, promoted by the social constructs during their childhoods and adolescent years. All three carried what could best be described as “baggage” in the form of “woundings,” weighed down from within, denying themselves opportunities to participate fully in their individual areas of personal interest. As they began their participation in SFLI––a learning to sing again opportunity void of judgment, surrounded by a safe community of like-minded individuals, and led by an instructor sensitive to their needs–– they began to exhibit, comprehend, and deal with aspects of the physical, emotional, and spiritual impacts and delays associated with adult non-singers. Within an environment of care through music like SFLI, these non-singers began the journey of voice reclamation. Caring through music promotes a process that allows an individual to move at their own pace, returning to and making a number of attempts to deal with issues from their past. Eric aptly described this as similar to a Möbius strip, in the form of a figure eight, where the issue resides at the cross section of the two loops and one moves in and through, out and back. With each attempt, greater understanding and/or more questioning about the event and how it affected them resurfaces, and then the process continues and repeats itself. With each attempt, another layer is peeled away, moving ever closer to the original self. Chloé Jo Davis (2018) posted a meme (Figure 10) as part of a greater project called Ecological Consciousness. In the meme, Emily McDowell, whose quote forms the content, gives clarity to the struggle encountered by adult non-singers.

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7.4.1 Five implications

This study has implications for music programs in the church, in schools, and in community settings. Music leaders such as directors of music, classroom teachers and conductors, and those who lead in community music opportunities, may gain insight into providing an environment that nurtures and cares for participants of all abilities, even those who are reticent to participate. Based on a number of specific and notable moments found in the data, when developing a music program, it is important to consider how to provide opportunities for establishing safe space, how to nurture and encourage personal growth, how to pace programs to allow for attempts at addressing difficult issues related to physical, emotional, and spiritual impairments.

This study has implications for music leaders and the ways in which we teach. In our highly driven curricular focus on achievement and standards, we may be required to question and re- assess our methods for curriculum delivery, to become more aware of those in our classes and

129 ensembles whose needs may not be met by the programs we have implemented. The stories of Eric, Anita, and John, supported by other stories found in the many years of research of the adult non-singer, Joyce (2003), Knight (2010), and Whidden (2008) may cast light upon the need for present-day educators to revisit and to re-evaluate what they are doing in their programs, and how they may be contributing to the production of future adult non-singers.

This study has implications for how we instruct and conduct our choral ensembles; we may gain insight into the value of promoting our singers as story-tellers, and with intensive study of the texts and lyrics sung, nurture greater awareness of self and place in society. This may encourage a reflective practice, pointing out the obsession with product, precision, and perfection of sound, of intensity, of dynamics. More intensive study of the meaning and expressiveness of the texts found in the repertoire of our ensembles may offer opportunities for more intensive personal growth, potentially leading to the development of more compassionate and caring individuals.

This study has implications for music and the way we incorporate it into our planning of liturgy, ritual, and practice. Eric, Anita, and John described their need for familiarity and repetition, and the important role it plays in enticing and encouraging them to sing. Their stories suggest an intentional need to include more opportunities in worship for music that is accessible and easily learned. I offer my own experience at Taizé as an exemplar of how we might encourage singing by all congregants, music that is repetitive in nature, void of the need for music notation, and that allows for a revisiting of the musical line and text.

Lastly, this study has implications for how we, as leaders in education, the church, and in the wider community, offer opportunities for individuals to tell their stories. While sometimes difficult to hear, the spoken word can be powerful and life-giving, especially for the one sharing it. To tell one’s story, as difficult as that may be, is to “out” oneself, as Eric states, and in the telling and sharing with others, the weight of pain and suffering may be lifted. The wound is expressed graphically, and, with release, the tension and pain are diminished as it heals. In the church, there is little time for congregants to reflect on Biblical texts and hymns. In Eric’s, Anita’s, and John’s stories, it was the study of hymn texts during SFLI that enabled them to hear the stories of others and to share their own insights into what they had just sung. Seeing their stories in the hymn texts allowed them opportunities to be more open and willing to participate. As the United Church of Canada prepares to embark on the creation of a new hymnbook

130 resource, this study may offer insight into the need to include more new hymn texts that reflect present-day experiences, ones with which our congregants can make connections as they pursue their faith journeys.

7.5 Suggestions for future research

7.5.1 Safe place

• Utilizing case studies similar to this study as a mode for data collection, how do adult non-singers integrate back into formal choirs that express aspects of performance standards, expectations and evaluation.

7.5.2 Proprioception

• Explore how the “locking up and restricting of” the body informs and impacts the “disturbed sense of self” (Viederman, 2016) of an adult non-singer.

7.5.3 Community

• In the present-day context of diverse classrooms, ensembles, and in group music activities, utilize surveys to collect data that might inform decisions on future planning for healthier communities.

Chapter 8 Epilogue

8.1 A final reflection on my pilgrimage journey to Taizé––making connections

The intensive study and analysis of the journeys toward voice reclamation of Eric, Anita, and John has been an honour and privilege for me. Like the curator of an art exhibit, I have held their personal stories close to my heart, a responsibility I have taken very seriously. Throughout the exploration of their lived experiences, it has been my intention to allow their “points of light” to tell the story. Reciprocally, I found myself reflecting on my own story and invariably, the process leads me back to Taizé. My reflective memory of those six days illuminates many shared experiences––personal moments where I, too, experienced physical, emotional, and spiritual awakening. My unraveling began on day three of my pilgrimage.

As usual, the day began with worship followed by the morning meal: cold coffee in a bowl, a small piece of cheese, an apple, and a bagel with no butter. As part of one’s personal journey at Taizé, living the simple life of “less is more” encourages individuals to fully disengage from our daily Western living of plenty and excess and the easy access to daily conveniences. This meant that meals were minimalist, which served as a teaching moment.

Between worship services, there was ample time for personal reflective walks, as well as group sessions focused on biblical readings for the day. While walking, I observed that the vistas and surrounding hills and valleys were breathtaking. What was especially exciting for me, for the first time in my life, was seeing a field of poppies. This may not be surprising to some people or seem spectacular, but I had only ever seen poppies in Canada as plastic, with a pin attached for placement over one’s heart on Remembrance Day. I thoroughly enjoyed the small group sessions, as these gave me a chance to get to know others who represented countries from all continents and regions. While I was there, I was the only Canadian on site. As I walked about, a plethora of different languages mingled together, and those who spoke other languages did their best to translate during group sessions.

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By the end of day three, I had become quite accustomed to the daily routine at Taizé. This marked the midpoint of my stay. As I entered into the Church of Reconciliation, I remember feeling somewhat more at ease. As I sat down on the floor, my hip stabilizers didn’t ache as much. My breathing was beginning to become more relaxed and my approach to worship was one of calm and stillness, void of expectation for others and self. I simply wanted to be present. My approach to singing felt more natural, more sensual, and I had become very aware of my body. I had engaged a more exteroceptive (physiology––responsiveness to external stimuli) and interoceptive awareness (a lesser-known sense that helps an individual understand and feel what’s going on inside the body) of my whole being. I was ready to engage in worship–– physically, emotionally, and spiritually!

8.2 Sounds of silence

Except for the reading of the Gospel and the singing of hymn texts and responses, very little spoken direction is necessary at Taizé. Silence plays a pivotal role in the flow of the worship experience. About 30 minutes into worship, a lengthy time of silence allows for individual prayer. On day three, this moment of silence lasted for 10 or 11 minutes. By the end of the week, we approached an allotted time of almost 15 minutes in silent prayer. This was a marked departure from my usual experiences in Canada and presented several challenges for me; I had become accustomed to traditional worship where silence rarely goes longer than 30 seconds. I remember thinking how intimidating that was, as I had no idea how to even begin to organize ten minutes of silence. It has been my experience that for many, silence may either be soothing and a time for respite, or intimidating, used as a mode of influence. In different situations, I’ve heard silence by a parent described as a glare, “that hairy eyeball,” an effective way to correct a behavior or action. In the household in which I grew up, it was often pointed out that our parents’ stern look was most effective––words or tone of voice were rarely required. I could see a situation where sitting quietly for ten minutes in a worship service might feel a bit like a “time out”; however, over time at Taizé, that silence became a moment of welcome, for quiet introspection, a time of simply being, or a time to explore and address some of the thorny issues present in my life. I found that as my mind wandered, I began to accept these meanderings as a

133 simple process of “brainstorming,” bringing forward different ideas, thoughts, people, places, and prayers.

8.3 A spiritual encounter

I took time to engage and embrace breath as necessary and as a gift. These quiet moments became meditative and calming, focused on my breathing as a core element to being present. A calmness overcame my being, and I assumed that it was the increased oxygen level coursing through my veins. I remember thinking back to a time when my mom reminded me that during tests at school, if I felt nervous or uptight, I should put down my pencil, take in a few deep breaths, and that should clear my mind, calming my nerves for the task ahead. Why, at that very moment, had that memory of my mom entered my consciousness? A warmth surged through my core, and I felt a sense of contentment with my life, with the opportunity of all the experiences that Taizé afforded me; however, I was also conflicted emotionally with the thought of what I would encounter upon my return home: the slow demise of the mom I knew, due to the ravages of dementia. Tears welled up and I was drawn inward as I found my entrance into prayer. For a moment, time stood still. After what must have been at least ten minutes, I was coaxed back to the present by the singing of those around me. I was bathed in the warmth of the masses singing. I felt a huge release of energy as my body sank deeper into the floor. As gravity centered me firmly back on the floor, it was as if I had experienced a moment where I had exhaled negativity and inhaled positivity, wrapped in warmth, similar to the prayer shawl I had been given by a previous congregation. As I write this, the hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. “I may have encountered the Divine.”

Hymn Metaphor: Mark

My life flows on in endless song above earth's lamentation. I hear the sweet, though far off hymn that hails a new creation. Through all the tumult and the strife,

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I hear the music ringing; It finds an echo in my soul ~ how can I keep from singing?

Words & Music: Robert S. Lowry, 1869, alt (Voices United, 1997, #716, verse 1)

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Appendices

Appendix A: Ethics Approval

PROTOCOL REFERENCE # 32334

December 16, 2015

Dr. Lori Anne Dolloff Mr. Mark Ruhnke FACULTY OF MUSIC FACULTY OF MUSIC

Dear Dr. Dolloff and Mr. Mark Ruhnke,

Re: Your research protocol entitled, "To sing or not to sing, again"

ETHICS APPROVAL Original Approval Date: December 16, 2015 Expiry Date: December 15, 2016 Continuing Review Level: 1

We are writing to advise you that the Social Sciences, Humanities, and Education Research Ethics Board (REB) has granted approval to the above-named research protocol under the REB's delegated review process. Your protocol has been approved for a period of one year and ongoing research under this protocol must be renewed prior to the expiry date.

Any changes to the approved protocol or consent materials must be reviewed and approved through the amendment process prior to its implementation. Any adverse or unanticipated events in the research should be reported to the Office of Research Ethics as soon as possible.

Please ensure that you submit an Annual Renewal Form or a Study Completion Report 15 to 30 days prior to the expiry date of your current ethics approval. Note that annual renewals for studies cannot be accepted more than 30 days prior to the date of expiry.

If your research is funded by a third party, please contact the assigned Research Funding Officer in Research Services to ensure that your funds are released.

Best wishes for the successful completion of your research.

Yours sincerely,

Matthew Brower, Ph.D. Jeffrey Steele, Ph.D. REB Co-Chair REB Co-Chair

Research Oversight and Compliance Office - Human Research Ethics Program McMurrich Building, 12 Queen's Park Crescent West, 2nd Floor, Toronto, ON M5S 1S8 Canada Tel: +1 416 946-3273 Fax: +1 416 946-5763 [email protected] http://www.research.utoronto.ca/for-researchers-administrators/ethics/

144 145 Appendix B: Informal Recruitment Letter

October 8, 2015 Dear ______

As you may be aware, I am a graduate student at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto. I am writing to you to see if you would be interested in participating in a research project that I will be doing with a few participants in the Singing “Fore” the Love of It group. The research will be part of the requirements for my PhD in Music Education.

The name of the research study is, “To Sing or Not to Sing, Again.” The purpose of the research will be to examine the lived experiences of three individuals who label themselves as “Non- Singer”. Drawing on the research literature in music education, social psychology and gender studies in singing, I will explore perspectives of identity formation, musical development, aspects of spirituality, gender issues in singing performance and other related issues for those who choose not to sing. It is hoped that this study will provide vivid portraits of their respective journeys as they participate in “learning to sing again” activities, through self-reporting, narratives, and reflective journals. This study will serve as a model for other individuals who seek to re-imagine themselves as singers and to inform music educators, in schools, churches and community settings about the struggles and potential for reclaiming a singing life.

Participating in the study will involve taking part in a process including interviews, journaling and at least one group discussion with other participants. If you choose to participate in the study, I will ask you questions about your experiences and understandings of your participation in the Singing “fore” the Love of It group. You will also be given an opportunity to ask me questions about the research project, and to provide constructive feedback and suggestions concerning the Singing “fore” the Love of It program.

Should you choose to participate in the study, your involvement will be kept confidential. All of those who choose to participate in the study will be identified only by a pseudonym they will choose for themselves, so that their identity remains anonymous in the dissertation that will result from the study.

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If you are interested in finding out more about the research study, please let me know and I will send you a more detailed information letter, a formal consent form, and a list of proposed interview questions.

If you then decide to participate in the study, we will arrange a time and a place that is convenient for you to have an interview. I can be reached via email at [email protected] or at [email protected], or by phone at (416) 822- 5327. You may mail your response to 622 Amelia Crescent, Burlington, ON, L7L 6E5. Please indicate on the letter or return email if you wish further information about the research project.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read this letter and to think about participating in the project. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Mark W. Ruhnke PhD Candidate, Faculty of Music, University of Toronto Program Director, Singing “fore” the Love of It

147 Appendix C: Invitation to Participate

Date: Thursday, Jan. 28, 2016

Dear: ______

Thank you for considering participating in my research project. As I noted in our first contact, I am currently enrolled as a student in a Doctor of Philosophy program at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto. I am doing this research as part of the requirements for obtaining my PhD in Music Education. The purpose of this letter is to formally invite you to participate in the research study, and to provide you with information that you will need to understand what I am doing, and to decide whether or not to participate. Participation is completely voluntary and you are free to withdraw from the study at any time. The study is part of my doctoral studies, and is not in any way connected to ongoing activities associated with Singing “fore” the Love of It. If you decline to participate in the study, this will in no way affect your continued participation. Likewise, taking part in the study will not result in any special privileges for those who choose to participate.

Due to administrative and ethical issues related to research done in universities, this letter is a form letter. If you choose to participate, please sign and provide the date. Please return one signed copy to me and keep the other for your reference.

The name of this research project is: “To Sing or Not to Sing, Again.”

The purpose of the research will be to examine the lived experiences of three individuals who label themselves as non-singer. Drawing on the research literature in music education, social psychology and gender studies in singing, I will explore perspectives of identity formation, musical development, aspects of spirituality, gender issues in singing performance and other related issues for those who choose not to sing. It is hoped that this study will provide vivid portraits of their respective journeys as they participate in “learning to sing again” activities, through self-reporting, narratives, and reflective journals. This study will serve as a model for other individuals who seek to re-imagine themselves as singers and to inform music educators, in

148 schools, churches and community settings about the struggles and potential for reclaiming a singing life.

For the purposes of data collection, I am going to explore the development of vocal comfort with three individuals who self-label as non-singers. This study will provide vivid portraits of their respective journeys through self-reporting, narratives, and reflective journals.

Three adults will be chosen at different stages along the timeline of “learning to sing again” activities; a beginner who has not participated in any “learning to sing again” activities, a participant at the intermediate level who has gone through the preliminary period in “learning to sing again” activities and a participant who has been involved in “learning to sing again” activities for a lengthy period of time and who continues to engage in singing activities. These three individuals will allow for a purposeful sample, to explore a variety of experiences along a timeline of engagement, and to allow the researcher the framework for building case studies around individuals.

Interviews will take place in a church facility. This is the same setting for “The Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It” program so participants will feel a comfort level with the surroundings. The church is located in a vibrant urban centre and is surrounded by condominiums and commercial enterprises and is familiar to all participants. These three individuals will participate in a larger program called “Singing ‘fore’ the Love of It”. The group consists of approximately 15 – 20 other adult individuals who self-describe as non-singers. Sessions will take place weekly on Thursday evenings. The researcher will meet individually with the three participants and as themes become more evident, as a group. Individual interviews will be 1 hour in length and once a month. Data collection will be accumulated over a period of 6 months through regular interviews, in the writing of personal journals, and in my own observations during the regular program and in the reading of personal reflections found in journals and in the personal stories heard and transcribed in the interviews.

Several steps will be taken to ensure confidentiality and anonymity, to the degree possible, of each participant. I am the only staff person affiliated with the Singing “fore” the Love of It group who will know who actually is participating in the study. The three members of the focus group will know only who the other two focus group members are. The three will be strongly

149 encouraged not to discuss their participation in this project with anyone other than myself. The names and other identifying information of all participants will be altered or concealed in the transcripts, thesis and other reports and papers. All data, notes, transcripts, and audio tapes will be kept under lock and key in my residence at all times when not in use by me. With the exception of my dissertation supervisor, Dr. Lori-Anne Dolloff, the data will not be shared with any other person without your permission. All data will be kept on file for not fewer than five years following the completion of the project, and then will be destroyed. I may publish the results of the study and give talks about the study at presentations or conferences, but will not in such publications or talks reveal identifying information about the participants.

Participants may benefit from reflecting on and discussing their experiences in Singing “fore” the Love of It. Participants may also benefit from having the opportunity to contribute in an anonymous manner to future improvements to the Singing “fore” the Love of It program. I do not believe there are any appreciable risks as a result of participating in this study.

No compensation will be awarded as a result of participating in this study; however, if you wish to receive and review a copy of your transcribed interviews and a summary of the results, I will be happy to give these to you.

Attached to this letter you will find a proposed interview schedule. Please read this carefully before signing.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me at any time via email at [email protected] or [email protected], or by telephone at (416) 822- 5327.

You may also contact my supervisor, Dr. Lori-Anne Dolloff

Faculty of Music, University of Toronto,

80 Queen’s Park, Toronto, ON, M5S 2C5 Email: [email protected]

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You may also contact the Research Oversight and Compliance Office – Human Research Ethics Program ([email protected] or 416-946-3273, should you have questions about your rights as a research participant.

I appreciate your consideration to participate in this research and look forward to hearing from you. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Mark W. Ruhnke PhD Candidate, Faculty of Music, University of Toronto Address: 622 Amelia Crescent, Burlington, ON L7L 6E5

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Appendix D: Consent Form

Please check the appropriate boxes, and sign and date this form if you agree to your participation in the study. Please return one copy to me and keep one copy for yourself. Thank you.

[ ] I have read the above letter and attached proposed interview schedule. I understand what is being requested of me as a participant in the study. [ ] If I am making any exemptions, they are described as follows: [ ] I understand that I may withdraw from participating at any time without negative consequences. I, ______am willing to participate in Mark Ruhnke’s research project entitled, “To Sing or Not to Sing, Again.” Name: (print) ______Signature of Participant: ______Date: ______Signature of Investigator: ______Date: ______

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Appendix E: Questionnaire––Initial Reflection

Guiding Questions

GENERAL

Please tell me some things about yourself in terms of: • Your name and age • Your family: parents, brothers and sisters, etc. • Where you were born • Where have you lived since you were born • Where did you go to school • Were there music programs • Did you participate in any of these music programs? Why or why not? • Do you listen to music at home or when by yourself? • What are your favourite kinds of music to listen to?

SINGING “FORE” THE LOVE OF IT GROUP • How long have you been a participant? • Why did you first want to sing in this group? • (For returning participants): why do you continue to sing in this group? • Have you made friends since joining? Who are they? • How did singing with others in this group make you feel about yourself?

QUESTIONS RELATED TO IDENTITY • Do you speak any languages other than English? What are they? • Where did you learn to speak ______?

OTHER • Is there anything else you would like to say about your experience with Singing “fore” the Love of It or the music we learn? • Do you have any questions for me?

Permission for Use of Intellectual Property

From: In Kee Kim [email protected] Subject: Re: Dissertation Request Date: November 1, 2019 at 3:58 PM To: Mark Ruhnke [email protected]

Hi Mark,

I give you my permission to use the slide I used at the Knox seminar.

ikk

On Nov 1, 2019, at 12:17 PM, Mark Ruhnke wrote:

Hi Rev. In Kee Kim, You might remember that I asked for permission to use a powerpoint slide from your presentation at the Crieff Retreat Centre, last year, for Knox College. At the moment, I am in the ﬁnal edits of my dissertation for submission next week. My Editor has requested an email from you to verify permission for me to use the PP Slide that I found useful in my research. Last year, over the phone, you said “yes”. Would you, kindly, respond to this email giving me permission to use the slide in my dissertation.

I greatly appreciate your prompt reply, Sincerely, Mark

p.s. I was the one who played the piano that day!

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