A “Vocalise” is a musical form, a kind of song or exercise that focuses the singer on creating pure sound without text.
This is my voice—a song without words. There are times when I can not find language. That part of my brain shuts down, or it disappears, or it is abducted by space alien scientist monkeys for various experiments. Probably not the latter.
When I lose language, I don’t understand… Sometimes I can’t even make a sound. All the voices in my head silence the space around them. As they become soundless, I become mute. I have noticed my loss of language more often. It’s a trauma response – my body is shutting down in preparation for some impending doom.
Shame, shame, shame…when I can not speak, I feel…shame. When I search for a word—it’s like a kind of aphasia. Worse is when I say things that don’t reference anything in my mind.
“What did she say?” “ Where is the cookie?” “Mom-Mom? Mommy?” “ I’m…Not sure…what…what…find her…”
And sometimes I go so far away, words melt into an abyss, I can’t even gaze there, and I don’t really remember. It’s like I’m watching myself, and can’t get into the mind of …myself. I try to get back, but I can’t.
I have attempted writing when this happens. Here – See? I’m a hot mess:
Dissociation.
What is the beauty in losing words? Language? What does it mean that I can’t tell you what is happening? Is that because back then, when the sky was falling, when the flowers danced frenzied until they- l- their petals fell and cried, cried… who…who followed their tears to the gravening…who followed their tears and laughed…and the bleeding crocus songing, songing, falling, crawling towards the gravening…gravening…grave…
And so it goes. She goes. Or whoever it is, whatever it is inside this brain that can’t keep above water.
But here…in a vocalise…words are not valued, or necessary. It’s not a mistake, a psychological condition, or a maladaptive coping mechanism –it’s supposed to be this way. A necessary condition for a vocalise is that it be without semantics. Some kind of pre-verbal, or maybe post verbal – condition. Bringing us back to a time where mothers and fathers hummed us to sleep, or forward to the sounds of dying, or whatever comes after. Maybe it’s the only sound we can make when our mouths are forced shut. You can still sing with your face in the sand. With hands over your mouth. With…with…with…ooooooooooooooooooooo…
Music is not about words. It’s about sounds. The movement of sounds. Pure vibrations. This is what makes it live. I do not need language to live. I need a heartbeat.
Heart…Beat…Yes, Erliss, your heart is beating. You are still here.
Here is a vocalise. Rachmaninoff. I listen, and weep.
Try listening, and tell me-do you have language for this?
Much Love,
Erliss
About my art work: I know it looks like a two year old got hold of some crayons. I am a musician. That’s the kind of artist I am. But drawing is…therapy. So there you have it. My art therapy. I encourage you all to try.
Hmmm…maybe that’s my role here, to make you all feel good about drawing. Art is not only for those who can do it well–actually, doing art well is all about the doing.
So draw.
Amen.
ADDENDUM : Here is what I wrote about “Vocalise” on my Facebook page a few weeks ago. I place this here for you, the reader, and for my self.
Language can be a barrier to experiencing our inner world. Sometimes we search desperately for the right word, or even for the ability to speak. We can feel even more anxiety when we realize we can’t…find…the…words…we…want…to…say…
If that happens, my dear ones, know that you are in a place where language may not be helpful. There may be a grief or sensation too great and profound for words. There may be a memory that is working its way through your body. You may be connecting with some power, a love, God – that is beyond your comprehension.
This all can be scary–and it also can be a source of beauty and transformation.
Should you find yourself in a place where words seem futile, maybe try this.
A gentle hum, or even just listening to Kiri, may be all you need to touch into the grace that is within you, the consonance of your soul, your heartsong.
Have a beautiful day, my fellow Monkey Whisperers. Stay connected.