Scandalous Joy
Surviving via Frivolity
A Capella is Protecting My Mental Health
At the end of last Summer, I joined an a capella group. It’s a women’s, barbershop-style group with four-part harmony. I suppose because of the man-centered history of barbershop, we use their terms for the voice parts. As such, I’m a baritone.
Leads sing lead (often, the melody). Tenors sing high harmony. Basses sing the lower notes that add harmony and rhythm. And baritones sing a mid-range harmony that is sometimes lower, sometimes higher than the lead melody, and can also be pretty complex at times. To sing baritone, it’s important to have a good ear.
I knew right away that I wanted to sing baritone, both because it fits my alto vocal range and because I LOVE singing harmony; the more complex, the better!
It’s Soothing
Have you heard of the vagus nerve? It runs from your brain stem, through your neck/throat, and down into your chest and abdomen. It branches out to multiple organs along the way. It assists with digestion as well as cardiovascular and immune system functioning. And it is instrumental in regulating the nervous system!
Fun fact: singing stimulates the vagus nerve!
I’ve been singing since I was a child. It has always been a soothing vocal stim for me. In times of severe distress I often find myself at my piano, holding my ukulele, or just singing into my phone’s recorder so I can then sing harmony with my own voice. Before I knew anything about the vagus nerve, my body knew ALL about the soothing power of singing and was guiding me to self-regulate.
This past fall, I had a sudden awareness that I needed to be singing in a group again. I could feel it in my bones. Lo and behold, I found an a capella group close by, and I’ve been co-regulating through singing ever since!
It’s Embodied & Mindful
Singing uses the lungs, throat, and mouth/face of course. But we really do sing with our whole bodies. While singing, I either sit or stand tall to make sure there’s plenty of room in my lungs and diaphragm to support my voice with both breath and muscle. During warmups, we visualize our torsos as space to fill with air, and as a point of strength for supporting our voices.
Finding the correct note in a line of harmony is part mind-puzzle and part somatic experience, something I think in my brain and also feel in my vocal cords and chest. Paying attention to all of the physical aspects of singing PLUS working on finding my notes and constantly adjusting my technique keeps my brain completely occupied. I don’t have mental space for things beyond this room, this rehearsal. That’s why I’ve always loved the performing arts: they firmly bring my body and my mind into alignment in the here and now.
It’s Communal
Lately I’ve been feeling best when I’m in a group, in a community. Even one-on-one time with loved ones isn’t totally cutting it, though it helps. I need to feel part of something bigger.
Being with friends or with my chorus is a somatic experience of feeling Safe and Connected. Somatic as in, no one is saying the words to me “You’re safe, you’re connected,” but the setting communicates that message wordlessly and profoundly, so that I feel it beyond my mind, with my whole being. This wordless message gifted to me by the presence of others has been really helpful during the fear and anguish coming up during our new fascist administration.
Right now, though one-on-one socializing is nice, groups are where it’s at for me. My body needs the feeling of being in a family, a group, a tribe. I long to feel thoroughly connected, thoroughly supported: part of something bigger and more powerful than little old me.
It's Delicious
There are moments when I’m in the flow of the moment enough to not just concentrate on my own singing, but to hear what’s happening around me, the sound we are making, together— and it fills me from head to toe with an invigorating but gentle joy.
The other day as my baritone section held a note for others to sing over, I could feel that resonant tone moving through my brain, side to side through my ears, as if it were a physical entity. It was like putting my brain through a car wash. The purity of the sound cleared out the dust and debris—all of my worries and preoccupations. For a moment, there was nothing but that sound, nothing but beauty. For a moment, I was simply alive and simply free.
It’s Scandalous
Sometimes it’s easy to lean into these breaks from the morass, these moments of peace and happiness. But other times, it has felt more challenging to let go and be present. Why is that?
Does it ever feel wrong to you to seek and lean into joy and peace? Does it feel like a betrayal — of your values, of the people you love who are suffering, or of your neighbors who are more vulnerable than you?
Or does it feel unsafe to be fully present? Maybe it feels like you need to stay vigilant. Maybe your anxiety or your PTSD is talking to you right now, telling you to Stay Alert, Or Else! Maybe OCD is piping up and saying that “You need to be absolutely certain!” before you can experience peace.
Or maybe despair is getting to you. Sometimes, in difficult moments, I have thoughts like “Why bother? Does this even matter?”
Regardless of how difficult it is to be present in a peaceful moment, know that you have permission. You have permission to breathe deeply. You have permission to laugh loudly. You have permission to forget—for a few minutes, or a few hours, or a few days!—about all the terrifying and awful things that are happening in the world and just sing, or read, or do your puzzles, or go on adventures, or pet your dogs, or do whatever it is that fills your cup and tells your nervous system, “Hey, we’re okay.”
If what you’re doing seems frivolous to you, you have a couple of options:
Look for evidence that it’s not frivolous; that joy and lightness are actually significant, important.
Embrace it, and decide that frivolity is itself a necessity.
So what if it’s frivolous? Be scandalous in your joy. Thwart the Powers That Be, which are raining fear and cruelty and suffering down on us, and say, “I’m gonna go look at birds.” Give terror the middle finger and sing your favorite songs. Party like it’s 1999. Enjoy your friends, submerse yourself in goodness so visceral it’s like a slap in the face to despair.
If you can’t access joy right now, I understand. There’s nothing wrong with you. This sh*t is hard. I just want to make sure you know that you have the right to be at peace, even—especially—now. You have the right to take a break from the onslaught and just be another animal in the woods, another person at the campfire, another singer in the chorus.
If peace comes to you, even for a moment, let it in. You deserve it.
Thwart the Powers That Be, which are raining fear and cruelty and suffering down on us, and say, “I’m gonna go look at birds.”
Where’s your happy place?
Where in your life do you have the opportunity to feel:
Soothed
Embodied
Mindful (Present), Engrossed
Invigorated
Connected?
What people, activities, or places help you access those experiences? And what might you say to any inner thoughts that resist your being at peace? Permission granted to shock and appall with the fervor of your joy!
Love this! When we lived in Texas some young folks from our church home group joined Lewisville Chorale. We loved so many concerts with really varried musical styles. Its a joy to support these groups too if you cant sing! Glad you found this group!