Some years ago, someone at a party asked me the following question: “If you could be anything in the whole Universe, what would you be?”
I thought about it for a minute as my mind wandered through the brain-folder of infinite possibilities and answered, resolutely: Music.
A week later I sat at the kitchen table of my Jungian therapist as she talked about esoteric cosmologies in which the beginning of the Universe is described as sound. I felt that.
There’s something about the quality of sound that can cut through everything, capable even of breaking the containers of space and time. Music can transcend, revive, and transform, it can catapult us directly into the heart of the matter. It’s quite a powerful tool.
That may just be the reason why I’ve always had the biggest anxiety around singing, or making a sound, in public. On the one hand: Fear of failure and criticism. On the other: Fear of the deep intimacy involved in sharing an authentic emotional frequency with others through the sound of my own voice.
Though I’ve been singing, somewhat reluctantly, in bands and musical ensembles since I was a teenager, it is only fairly recently (36ish) that I felt, for the first time in my life, an actual excitement around the idea of performing on stage with my band. There’s a spark of lightness and joy to performing these days that took a lot of inner-work to establish. It doesn’t matter how many people there are in an audience, it matters that I sing my song.
I’ve been searching for my own voice for many years now. It’s not that hard to sing a pretty song. It is much more difficult to sing an authentic song (which could coincidentally also very well be pretty.) I feel like I am always moving closer and closer to my own true voice, though I haven’t totally arrived there just yet. And I may never get there entirely. But the persuit of finding my own voice is a liberating journey in and of itself. If I don’t sing – through all the discomfort and vulnerability – I am basically full of shit in all other areas of my life.
So I show up for band practice with my wonderful band mates every week. And I keep practicing how to strum a guitar with my right (wrong) hand to (forever) learn how to accompany myself with 2 scratchy chords. And I keep improvising gibberish for multi-hour experimental jam sessions. And always feel happier and more energized afterwards.
I trust that path as a guiding force in my life. And keep pondering the question: How can we reclaim sound as spirited/spiritual practice? As conduit rather than commodity? I believe we owe the Universe (who’s been singing us into Being since the dawn of time) our songs. To tune in. To hum along.
• Here’s a link to the website of my band, Moonwatch (we released our first album Myriad Eyes \ Myriad Other in January 2024!)
• I am currently exploring improvisational and meditative soundscapes with Gerben van ‘t Hag (Moonwatch, Fuzzy Dreamer) and Timo Klok (Moonwatch) in a project we named ~ A Million Years To Get Here ~ (for a sample of our sound, check out this video.)
• I periodically share *Soundimprovisions* (completely improvised imperfect miniature one-take song snippets from my phone) on my Instagram account @yvet_youssef – like this one:
Yvet Youssef 