A step by step healing visualisation for reclaiming, welcoming + integrating your sacred voice after times of "voice loss"
I sang all the time when I was little.
I sang along to the Spice Girls, enthusiastically copying their choreography in the living room on the weekends, I sang in the playground during break time and I sang in the school choir as a teenager.
I even sang solo at school concerts, performing my own song, guitar in hand, as a super shy but determined fourteen-year-old. Ah, the thrill! Sick with nerves but determined to sing the words I’d spent so much time weaving together.
Poetry in motion - that’s what a good song feels like.
Freeing, expansive, deliciously expressive.
If I had a bad day, I’d sing along to music at the top of my lungs until things didn’t suck quite so much anymore.
If I had a good day, I’d sing as a way of channelling and celebrating my joy. Many a time I’d drift off during maths class (not my favourite!) and think about the CDs I’d listen once I got home.
Sound was my saviour, as it is to so many, and without the likes of the Dixie Chicks and Michelle Branch to turn to, who knows how I would have made it through my youth!
Singing was in many ways both a means of connecting to something higher and a grounding mechanism, helping me taste the divine while anchoring into the rhythm of the present moment.
During our annual school Christmas concert one year, the Church filling with sacred sound, I began to cry and had to mime my way through the remainder of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. Even now if I’m watching a movie and a particularly moving song plays it’s enough to bring me to tears.
Sound is so powerful - our voices are so powerful - that it’s often through song we feel most connected to something beyond the everyday and the ordinary. To experience music is to touch upon truths, and I have learned many lessons through a well penned song.
It was as if I stopped singing overnight.
One day I sang, the next I wouldn’t.
Standing by the piano at my weekly singing lesson one morning, I simply refused to sing.
I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time or find the words to explain why. I just knew that I couldn’t possibly let out another note.
Looking back now, I’m able to understand the silence sixteen-year-old me slipped into. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sing, although that’s what I assumed at the time.
More so that not singing was a defence mechanism of sorts, an invisibility cloak.
When we’re young we often run into messages leading us to believe we need to be “more” of whatever it is we aren’t - more confident, more outgoing, more something else, in my case.
Refusing to sing was perhaps both a rebellion of sorts, against what felt like a demand to be louder, while simultaneously a punishment for failing to meet such expectations.
I couldn’t be anyone other than who I was, and the tension between the truth and the expectation felt too intense to face head on.
The thought of singing became mortifying, panic inducing. I no longer trusted my voice to hold a note, to fill a space.
When we go through such "voice loss" during our younger years we often experience echoes of such silence as we grow older. We may begin to swallow our words and our opinions, avoiding conflict or taking full responsibility for things that ours to shoulder alone.
Perhaps we avoid public speaking and fear networking, dreading small talk and answering questions. Or maybe we find ourselves overcompensating for our lost voice, speaking ever louder to ensure we’re noticed and acknowledged, not letting anybody else get a word in edgeways through fear of being silenced once more.
Whatever our reaction to such moments of childhood silencing, one of the most powerful things we can gift ourselves as adults is a reclaiming of our voice.
Returning to key moments from the past, compassionately reaching out a hand and telling our younger selves that it is safe to speak, safe to sing, that their words are sacred, meaningful, needed and wanted in our world - what an incredible gesture of love.
In doing so freeing ourselves from the chains of self-imposed silence. Together, past and present, welcoming the return of whatever words and sounds we once felt we had to swallow.
For our voice is never truly lost or abandoned but waiting for permission to rise.
There is no need to hide anymore.
It is time to speak, sing, shout, cry, dance our voice home.
It can feel frightening at first to speak, and welcome home, fragments of our voice from times past. We may feel familiar pangs of wanting to hide, of believing that our words just aren’t worthy of sound.
And yet speaking ourselves home is powerful, profound and truly life-changing.
During a therapy session three or four years ago my wise, kind counsellor invited me to speak aloud the words I wish I could have said during a difficult childhood exchange.
It was as if my tongue no longer knew how to move - the fear I felt in articulating my thoughts rocketed through my body, causing me to shake and cry and resist, sinking into silence once more.
Eventually, with much kind and gentle coaxing I began to speak. As I reached the end of speaking aloud what I felt called to say, I physically felt a heaviness leave my body, a lightness taking its place.
It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
My body felt calmer, grounded, strong. My thoughts were hopeful, content, assured. I no longer stumbled but spoke with ease.
And it really was as if someone had flicked a switch.
One minute I felt absolutely paralysed, unable to open my mouth, terrified of my voice; the next I felt able to speak freely, talking and laughing my way through the rest of the session.
In allowing myself to speak words in need of being spoken, no matter how many years later, I had welcomed home a piece of myself, a fragment of my voice, and integrated it back into my soul.
An accidental soul retrieval, perhaps; it certainly had a permanent, life-changing impact. To this very day I no longer fear the memory of the scenario I talked my way through during that therapy session. It just doesn’t have a hold over me anymore - my voice is free.
The following sacred ceremony is based on such an experience, designed to support us in finding our words and welcoming the return of our voice with compassion, patience and kindness.
Reclaiming Your Voice Sacred Ceremony:
I invite you to speak aloud your way through each step. There is something about the vibrations we create when we speak words into being that helps supercharge the healing process. What begins in one vibration shifts to another, creating notes in total alignment with our Soul.
Settle into sacred space, take a few deep breaths and set your intention - to honour, welcome and celebrate the return of your voice now.
Begin by taking a moment to write down instances in which you recall feeling as if your voice was silenced or lost in some way. Whether during childhood or more recently, put pen to paper and let it out.
Read through your notes and be with how it feels to recall such moments in time.
Closing your eyes, gently bring your attention to your breath. As you inhale, imagine a golden light surrounding your throat. Feel the warmth and love such light holds; this is the inextinguishable light of your voice.
As you exhale, visualise such light forming a golden cord extending from your throat chakra into the space in front of you.
Such a golden thread is going to help you journey back in time and connect with your voice at the moments in which you sense it became lost.
Follow the golden thread as it takes you to wherever it is you feel called to return to.
As you step into the familiar scene, describe it aloud. Where are you? What can you see? What can you hear? Who are you with? How do you feel?
Take a moment to gather your bearings. If you feel at all afraid, anxious or uncertain call upon your Guides and Angels to stand with you. Archangel Gabriel, the messenger Angel, is a wonderful companion to have with you as you travel.
As you speak your way through the scene unfolding, turn towards younger you and direct the beam of golden light radiating from your throat chakra towards them.
Imagine such light surrounding their body, crown to toe, bringing with it a feeling of total comfort and safety.
When you feel ready, begin telling younger you what you wish you could have said then, or what you know now about the value and beauty of your sacred voice.
Whatever you feel called to speak, speak it aloud, taking your time.
Extend a hand toward younger you and ask if she would like to journey with you to the present moment, returning home together.
Holding hands, the golden light surrounding you both begins to grow brighter and brighter, until you sense yourself merging together - the energy of your lost voice now held within once more.
Sit for a moment to feel what it is to have welcomed home a fragment of your voice previously lost in time. What might you do now to help reaffirm such a homecoming?
Perhaps you’d like to sing or talk or use your voice in some way in celebration.
If there is more than one moment in time you feel called to revisit, continue now or of course feel free to repeat this process as many times as you need to over the course of days, weeks or months.
Whatever resonates with you is the way to go, sweet friend.
You may find that after embarking upon such a healing journey your throat chakra begins to react, be it with a tickly cough, a slight sore throat or something else voice related such as temporarily stumbling over your words when speaking.
This is totally normal after such healing (although do visit your GP if you’re at all worried!), a sign that your body is shifting and releasing old energy while integrating the new.
Rest up and nurture your throat chakra and your voice in whatever way feels good - honey and hot lemon is always a winning combination in my book! Humming, singing, speaking aloud are all great ways to help support the healing process as it unfolds.
Again, whatever feels comfortable for you, as you know you best!
With love, sweet friend, as you embark upon the next stage of your journey, words and song and sound paving the way.
DISCLAIMER: All information, guidance and advice given is not equivalent to, or a substitute for, professional medical advice. You are advised to consult an appropriately qualified healthcare professional should you have any concerns about the nature of the activity shared. Your health and wellbeing are paramount, sweet friend.