At yoga this week we began class by chanting three times, which made me want to cry. I think my physical voice has a direct connection to the deepest most frightened but also joyful places in me. My throat gets constricted when I sing out loud in church or at sporting events. Like during the seventh inning stretch. When I was in college, I sang Handel's Messiah with a choir - second soprano - and the tenor in front of me turned around and asked if I was a voice major. Ha. I am a mouse. But I willed myelf to sound professional and sure, and, mixed up with other voices, I must've sung over my head. I even let go with some vibrato, which is like arming a person with one karate lesson. But, man, that's a good feeling, to sing full-throated in a thick group of voices.

I also tear up when I listen to/watch other people sing. Like Leann Rimes with the national anthem before the Rose Bowl. Ack. The song doesn't get me, it's the voice. There's a jailbreak going on in my heart, feelings on the lam with no place to hide.