the town and the city.

Of the Feeling of Old

(Source: whitepaperquotes, via epilepsyblues)

(Source: gypsycindy, via mikbeth)

(Source: imthestoryteller, via mikbeth)

- Scott Schuman

(Source: agoverningdynamic)

How to sing out loud.

I’m not sure whether I’m ready to call Georgia home. Or whether I’ll ever be ready to call it home for that matter. I’m trapped in the middle of the forest with a lot more going on than you think.

You’d think that attending a college that’s isolated from the rest of the world and located in the middle of nowhere would be a quiet life. You’d imagine that such a detachment would create a barrier from the outside world, making it difficult to keep in touch with all the busy movement happening in our fast-paced society.

But by the time I finally crawl into bed every night, my ears are ringing and my head is throbbing from all of the noise. The days are louder than ever, and the noises come without rest. Not even a secluded location can keep out all of the distracting vibrations from seeping into my life.

Mornings are momentarily pleasant, until the voice chimes in. The man on the radio comes on. He preaches the biased news, spitting the opinions as facts - cleverly curving the truth into something a bit more pleasing to the ears. The tabloids, the internet, the television, the gossip, the talk, the material, the money, the noise. They all somehow get channeled into this seemingly desolate community. And soon enough, so much noise, so much influence is ringing into my ears that I can’t even hear my own voice over the loud racket.

On busy weeks when schedules are full and hours are flying, I often mistake these voices as my own, believing and conforming to the superstitions circulating the world. And pretty soon, everything I hear becomes a convincingly good idea.  Suddenly, my values are flipping, my beliefs are shaken, my decisions changing. One morning, I wake up to find there’s a stranger in the mirror. And then, as I find myself becoming a passive bystander in life, my presence means nothing. I mean absolutely nothing.

.

There was once a time way back in my childhood years when I would find myself lip-syncing words during praise and worship time at church. Week in and week out I would secretly yearn to be a part of the singing congregation only to passively stand there, closing my eyes, moving my lips, and passionately pretending to be making such a contribution. No one knew, and honestly, no one cared.

Why didn’t I sing with them? Of course, I tried. Multiple times.
But it was only a matter of time before I would suddenly shriek inside at the realization that that awkwardly weak, out-of-tune, and inharmonious noise was coming from my very own throat. Embarrassed, I would quickly stop and hope that nobody around me heard the weird wailing also known as my voice. After many failed attempts, I eventually gave in and came to the conclusion that passively lip-syncing would be the safest bet.

But the reason this happened wasn’t because I had a bad voice or because I was tone deaf - it’s because I didn’t understand how my own voice worked. You see, I had never really practiced singing on my own and didn’t have a grasp of the concepts of tone, volume, and pitch.

The truth is that when so many developed, stable, and pleasant voices are singing all around you, you can’t help but become passive and drowned out by their magnificence. The other point is that there is no way you’re going to develop and understand your voice in such a loud setting - it’s impossible to focus.

The ability to be able to sing confidently comes with solitary development. As odd as it sounds, you have to get used to your own voice and know what it sounds like. You can’t hear it in a loud setting because other sounds get in the way and distort the reality of it.

The art of singing is the never ending challenge of becoming acquainted and understanding the uniqueness of your own voice, and constantly developing it towards what you believe it can become. This can only be done by listening to yourself sing. And so my point is this: if I had taken time alone to practice and develop my singing voice, this problem would not have occurred.

And as I look back to my experience then, I realize that this same situation is reoccurring. These noises that surround, the ones on the internet and the radio that seem to sound so eloquent and convincing, begin to drown out my own. I find myself lip-syncing to sounds that I realize aren’t really my own. I find myself believing ideas that aren’t consistent with the true values that I hold within me. That’s the voice of bad influence and conformity - telling me that it’s ok to just go along to what they preach.

But I don’t want that. I want to really live - not just pretend.

And like the art of singing, the art of living requires an understanding of my own voice.

And so when I begin realizing how weak my voice has become - how loud the room is - I walk.

I go for hour-long walks away from noises, away from the voices and distractors that so confuse me. And when I’m finally alone, I take a good listen to my own voice which I have forgotten in the midst of all the noise. My head clears up, and in the stillness, I can hear it. My values, my beliefs. What’s real to me, what’s important to me, what inspires me, what I’m living for. I listen carefully.  And then when I feel ready, I sing.

I sing out loud, with all I believe.