Letting Go

Why is it soooooo darn hard to let go when we sing?

 

What’s strange is that we make big, uninhibited sounds all the time in everyday life.

 

 

Without thinking twice about it.

 

We call out for our kids from another room.

 

We erupt into laughter.

 

We squeal with delight.

 

We whoop, clap, and cheer at the end of a performance.

 

There’s no committee meeting in our head before any of that happens. 

 

No self-editing.

 

No micromanaging.

 

It’s just spontaneous sound-making. 

 

Honest. Immediate. Free.

 

And then… we sing.

 

We practice a song.

 

We step into “singer mode.” 

 

And suddenly the micromanager shows up. 

 

That voice in our head has lots of instructions:

 

“Support more.”
“Don’t be flat.”
“Relax your jaw.”
“Don’t push.”
“Open more.”
“Not like that.”

 

All at once.

 

Spontaneity starts to feel.... impossible.

 

Like we’ve been shackled, unable to move freely, unable to trust ourselves.

 

Recently, a singer I work with had had enough of those shackles.

 

In a lesson, she paused and said something like:

 

“I realized I can let go so easily when I’m calling for my pets… or when I’m laughing with my family around the holidays. There’s no effort. No fear. Just sound coming out.”

 

So instead of trying to “sing better,” she decided to tap into that state.

 

That familiar, embodied, unselfconscious place.

 

She sang her song and her voice SOARED.

 

It sounded SO free.

 

There was so much more ease.

 

There was connection.

 

There was color and emotion and truth.

 

She wasn’t pushing or strainging.

 

When she finished, she got teary-eyed.

 

 

A beautiful reminder how good it feels when we can tap into that state and how it can and should be our North Star.

 

Letting go isn’t a one-time achievement.

 

It’s an ongoing practice.

 

Even after years of singing, there’s always another layer asking for our attention:

 

 

Another place where we might be holding back.

 

 

Another moment of self-editing.

 

 

Another part where fear sneaks in dressed as “being careful.”

 

So the invitation becomes simpler, but no less profound:

 

Can you let go more?

 

More than yesterday.

More than last week.

More than the last time you sang this song.

 

Can you notice when your system tightens?

When control replaces curiosity?

When effort replaces trust?

 

And can you gently choose something else?

 

Singing gives us this incredible opportunity- not just to make music, but to practice freedom.

 

To remember what it feels like to release.

 

To trust our impulses.

 

To allow sound to move through us instead of trying to manage it.

 

Letting go doesn’t mean not caring.

It doesn’t mean being sloppy or unskilled.

 

It means allowing your technique to serve your expression, rather than choke it.

 

It means letting your body do what it already knows how to do.

 

 

It means giving yourself permission to sound human.

 

 

To sound alive.

 

Every time you sing, you get to ask:

 

 

Where can I soften?

Where can I trust?

Where can I stop holding on so tightly?

 

And little by little, that freedom starts to show up, not just in your voice, but in you.