The Sound of Music
My creator voice in motion
By Satu Luostarinen
In a Crowd of Thousands
Years ago, a sudden inspiration hit me square in the face: when was the last time I actually stopped and consciously listened to my voice? Not as an echo ringing in my mind, not as a memory, not as a recording, not as an imitation by somebody else, not even as a communicative tool carrying a message, but as actually me?
In spiritual circles, I’d gotten used to talking about the importance of listening to and knowing yourself, yet paradoxically, next to nobody seemed to give a crap about their voice. Thoughts, emotions, understanding, moods, wounds, identities, and physical sensations seemed to take the forefront and occupy the whole self-reflection process. Voice, on the other hand, was getting drowned out by all the noise.
I came to the inevitable conclusion that we tend to become so accustomed to our own unique voices that we forget to pay any attention to how we truly sound and what our voices are quite literally trying to tell us. Our voices become so familiar, so mundane, so “used,” so boring, that they start to resemble the general noise.
I knew that one way to ground myself in the midst of noise was, of course, conscious breathing. Yet the conscious use of one’s voice was certainly less common as a centering method. Why, I wondered? Wasn’t it just breathing with a little more of me in it? I began to bring awareness to my voice and question myself. Did I flinch and falter at the sound of my voice? Did I ignore it, or revel in the sound of me? Did I catch aspects hijacking my voice, or hear my mother’s voice interwoven with mine? Did I strive to sound smarter, more confident or competent, more chipper, or just somebody else altogether? I doubt many people could honestly say that they are in love with the sound of their voice (the traditional selfishness set aside here). Perhaps there lingers a fear that if such a falling in love were to happen, it would be impossible to shut the hell up.
Your song
In typical spiritual texts and teachings, there is a LOT of talk about all things relating to voice: toning, chanting, resonating, om-ing, vibrations, frequencies, and whatnot. In other words, esoteric concepts that are in no way part of the practical dishwashing, dogwalking, human life. These methods were always “set apart” somehow, making them impractical ways to get to know my voice. I doubt whether anybody can really become aware of their true voice in a controlled environment or by using it in a controlled way. Voice, too, I figured, needed to be experienced and lived; it is not a separate part of me; it is the essence of myself and my expression. However, to uncover this essence, I needed to do some serious rewinding and practice conscious speaking.
Voice is yet another building block for the human self that keeps the identity intact. Our voices restore our identities and remind us who we are. In a way, it both keeps us in our place and ushers us forward towards soulful authenticity. Who hasn’t noticed how our voice can betray – or rather, reveal – us with such brutal clarity that we have no other choice than to face the music of our own authentic selves? How we choose to train and test our authentic voices is naturally up to us.
I picked my poison early on, and working with young children has been just perfect for me. Children do not so much hear the words (as all parents learn eventually) but the layers and depths of the voice: insecurities, love, overwhelm, hurry, playfulness, control and all else. And the best part is that these little rascals react accordingly.
I noticed how easy it became to set boundaries when they came from the right place. The children would not thrash against firm, loving boundaries, yet if there was any hint of control or suppressed anger in my voice, the tantrums would only get worse. What is more, I found how valuable and liberating it was for me to hear and feel in my body the non-negotiable “no’s” coming out of my mouth. In early childhood education and care, we are aware that children tend to internalize the voices of their primary carers. Why shouldn’t that work for us grown-ups, too? Finding and internalizing my primary carer voice was a gamechanger for sure, but it was just the beginning.
✨hybrid AI
Singing in the Rain
Practical playfulness was the key that helped me to loosen up my identities. I started having fun with my voice and bringing liveliness and more expression to it, using funny voices when reading and playing with children, putting on a puppet show, or just goofing around with the kids. Then I started to sing for my own enjoyment. After having countless kiddie sing-alongs, I started to really belt it out from the bottom of my heart, soul, and lung capacity, not caring how beautiful I sounded – or not. I was just singing songs that moved me in some way. I did not have a spiritual agenda, only a feeling that I should go for it. It became a habit to shut myself behind 3 doors in a sauna (as a Finn, there is usually a sauna conveniently nearby) of my family’s summerhouse because I knew how loud I could be. Moreover, I really wanted to experience the force of my voice by myself, not to perform for my family or anybody else within a 5 km radius (yes, I am a very loud singer).
The strange thing was that as I broke through restrictions in my voice by singing, it started to feel like my voice broke through actual realms, and weirdly, I could also feel it return from its travels. I never knew when, but every time my voice returned, I would feel a sudden warm tingle throughout my body like the voice had landed back where it had left, and a second later, it would start to rain. Freaky.
Interestingly, the more fun I had with my voice, the more present I became, until finally I could stand behind every word I uttered and not worry about the delivery, whether serious or humorous. I started to feel the same sensations I had when singing, just by listening to music as if I were singing along all the time. This put an end to my singing sauna visits.
✨hybrid AI
Thank You for the Music
But with this evolution, problems arose. I found myself unable to enjoy the company of people who essentially were not aligned with their voices. Already pretty much a hermit, this change wasn’t drastic, yet as an eager musical goer, I could no longer enjoy myself if the performers were not having fun with their voices, no matter how technically brilliant they were. Oh, what awkwardness! To pay 100 euros for a night of discomfort was not pleasant. At work, I was sensing all the issues coming through from my colleagues’ voices, and I was, for a moment, longing for some earplugs for my newly found all-sensing inner ears. The faker the voice, the noisier it sounded. Like an off-key orchestra conducted by a baboon’s bouncing butt. I simply could not stand anything phony, or dare I say, artificial.
From my perspective, AI is just another mirroring tool that gets us in touch with our own voices, but as tones, not as a direct voice. However, to me, AI felt way too flat, definitely not sensual, and just unengaging after spending years in an intense daycare environment and singing in secret by myself.
Of course, there comes a point where the mirroring tool, even playtime with a kid, is no longer needed. Whenever I use my voice now, it is a conscious act, and instead of reminding me of my identities, it sounds like the true me sans all the stick-on accessories and internalized voices of others. A sort of pure essence voice that rings truer than ever before. My voice used to need a little something to bounce off of, but that need has expired. What fascinates me is the next step. The part where I use my true voice for the true me, whatever that means.
It is Tough to be a God
I would call the result of voice evolution the true voice, the creator voice, maybe even the voice of god, if that rocks someone’s boat. This real voice is unique and carries the core style of an individual souled being.
But still I wondered, why did this creator voice feel so important? Was it so I could sing or sound better? Stun everyone on karaoke night? I began to sense that it would be somewhat difficult to create and manifest anything worthwhile if the creator voice was still on mute. I don’t mean that anyone should be shouting or singing out, for instance, that they want a glittery pink Porsche with white leather seats by tomorrow, thank you very much! That would probably not work out so well. What I am getting at is that when we keep talking about alignments and resonances and all things esoterically fancy and seemingly deep, we are always kind of expecting things to appear and therefore living our lives in a waiting mode.
Naturally, when we embark on the spiritual path, we long to dive into the depths. I sure did. Now that I have matured, I’ve realized that it ain’t that deep. The mind makes all the wounds and traumas appear like these huge streaming torrents, while in reality, when I dared to jump in to feel them, they turned out to be nothing more than a trickle that I’d left dripping as a way to feel that I am moving forward. This is the effect of the creator voice.
When we start the journey, our comprehension of ourselves is so small that everything else seems huge in comparison. Turns out that in truth, I am the vast and intense one, not the garbage that has happened to me. The cracks in my voice that the close encounters with power have left behind are not that devastating. After all, how much damage could power, something so incredibly shallow and immature, really do to a creator?
Defying gravity
Now that I think about it, perhaps it is rare to talk about conscious speaking because it is so not that deep. Rather, it is simple, easy, and practical – perhaps the complete opposite of all the hard work that we are used to.
All the metaphysical theories and spiritual buzzwords have the tendency to trick our minds into believing that it is “oh so deep” because we do not see to the bottom. The metaphysical chit-chat can make our thoughts whirl and stir, and it can be quite a shock to discover that our minds muddy the waters to make it seem deep. Because if there is “nothing” really there, we’ll have to get practical, or you know, human. And didn’t we embark on this journey to get away from just that limited humanness? Funnily enough, using my voice with awareness and thus shedding the gunk has actually changed my perception of being human. In fact, it is pretty damn cool! Who knew!
As my voice got stronger, my imagination opened up in such unexpected ways that even now I can hardly believe it. Let’s just say that when imagination also joins in on the fun, the ride is a wild one that includes whimsy and plenty of captivating monologues. That is why I don’t think it’s far-fetched that shamans have traveled to other realms and retrieved parts of people’s souls by singing. Wouldn’t it make sense that the creator voice is the very thing that enables us to go through the veil? And wouldn’t the creator voice be the very thing that calls all the runaway aspects home? And isn’t the iconic Bible verse “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” kind of a dead giveaway? Besides, why are angels always depicted singing, and heavenly choirs often appear in scriptures? Perhaps it’s to remind us that we have voices too, and it might not be such a bad idea to use them.
How far I’ll go
Perhaps the short wall we have been encouraged to stand behind is not in fact so much of an imaginary safety barrier against noise, but an actual sound barrier in itself that our true voices create. Literally a field of our own singing that allows us to stay pitch perfect no matter what. Whilst standing there, we do not have to stay silent. If anything, I would encourage everyone to become aware of how we carry our voices.
I keep thinking that at this time, everyone seems to be yearning for some proper authenticity but ends up trying so hard to be unique that, in the process, all authenticity evaporates into thin air. There seems to be little trust that the soul has both a unique and authentic voice that does not need any embellishing.
I feel that it is crucial to actually use your literal voice and not just stay in tonal theory-land. Could it be that the conscious use of our voices works as a sort of landing lights for our souls? If the voice really moves through the realms and clears a path, then it would make sense that the whole souled being could fall into the densest realm and be embodied. Without the creator voice, how else would it become crystal clear in which body to land among all the past lifetimes?
Köszönöm, csodálatos utazás akár a hang által !🤗🥹😊
I absolutely Love every word and notes in this article…or song 💕❤️. It deeply resonates with something I already know. Thank you sooooooo much dear Satu 🌼🌷😘. I sang “Thank you for the music”….all week long, and this was the answer that came back to me. Thank you! 🥳
Genkendelse er stor hej. Tak fordi du satte musik på.😊❤️
Beautiful story, thank you! 👌🧡
Holly sh… this is the best article I have read in ages! Wow. I am a fan of The Sound of Music, BTW, and that is what called me here, but also, I am a fan of music and voice through singing. And I have seen, at least in myself, that the more integrated a human is, the more pure the voice shoots out. It is quite moving, actually. Of course, you can train your singing voice, but that is not what I mean. In any case, this is just a side comment. That the true voice crosses dimensions and realms, and is the essence of manifesting is both an original thought and a reminder. Great article, thank you!
BTW, you original voice has quite a character!
wow ! Einfach wow , Danke
Thank you for sharing your vital experiences with voice. I did plenty of vocal training when I was younger and enjoyed the sound of my voice generally. But frequently, when things were not going so well, I found it difficult to sing – the sound seemed to stick in my throat. Now I find myself doing plenty of Ahs, and MMMs and enjoying the resonances. Presently holidaying with animals present – horses, dogs, ducks, frogs, I talk to them musically and watch how intently they listen. Ears twitch, heads incline, frogs grow silent and then resume their rhythmic soundings. I’m more aware of sounds, since I began to feel into the vibrations within my own voice, and tentaively resume those lyrical songs of yore. Thank you for the confirmation. On Matias de Stefano’s Youtube website – in which he is tabling the alchemical transformations of Dmitri Mendeleev’s periodic tables, he ends each session with the sentences: Avra Kehdabra: I create as I speak. Thus we give sound to the Logos within us.