The first time I sang in a choir was at a festival with the Spooky Men’s Chorale. In that space with hundreds of other people, we sang: “Stop scratching it. You’re only making it worse.”
As silly as the lyrics are, it was like magic to walk into a room and ten minutes later, be a part of that sound. It made the hairs on my arms stand up.
Recently, for the first time in my life, I made an effort to go to a choir which was not at a festival.
There was a moment, just before I opened my mouth to sing, where I had to push past my doubts: I will sound bad. I should just listen. I will hit a wrong note. I will make everyone sound bad. I should sing quietly.
Then I realised everyone is here to sing, and it’s OK if we sing our hearts out.
We listen to ridicule, maybe disguised as banter, which stops us from doing what is in our hearts, or from even knowing what is there. We listen to others when they tell us that we sound bad or look silly, and rather than using that to inspire us to learn, we cut ourselves off from our desire.
When I was teaching dance, countless people told me that they couldn’t. I pointed out to them that even if they have taken twelve weeks of classes, if they felt like they couldn’t dance it was simply that they hadn’t yet learned enough.
We can learn a concept, or an equation, or a set of facts by reading, or hearing and understanding relatively quickly. When we are learning to dance, or sing, or paint, we are changing the solid matter of muscles, as well as the electrical impulses of our nerves and brain. It takes time, and importantly, repetition. We accept that sports take time and practice to improve – why not artistic pursuits?
Technical skills and muscle development aside, singing in a choir as part of a four part harmony is about allowing our hearts to be open and free as we push our joy past our vocal chords, to join with other people’s joy in a communion of hearts and voices.
I’m pleased I listened to my heart and not to the naysayers. It feels good to sing.
Sarah Bonnar 
What went wrong with Australian culture I wonder to cause something that most birds and mammals do naturally to become almost a taboo? Contrast this with, say, the Welsh, where singing is a part of the national identity.
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I know, right? It’s an interesting question.
This article was written about a Canadian study:
http://education.unimelb.edu.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0020/1105940/whidden-paper.pdf It makes good points about innate singing ability vs developing ability on a spectrum.
I wonder if its a symptom of the new world? Our ancient cultures which did sing (and dance, too) as communion, were overtaken by other splintered, cultures. I suspect the industrial revolution might have also had something to do with it.
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I skimmed this paper – will read more thoroughly after work. It is very intriguing.
“The phenomenon of the creation of non-singers may be unique to our particular Western culture. The idea that
innate ability is restricted to a small percentage of the population is not a viewpoint that is held worldwide”
I wonder if this comes somehow from the rise of arts as professions.
For example, people hesitate to share poetry that they’ve written because that can’t write like Byron, or are embarrassed by their paintings because they can’t paint like Monet.
Art ceases to be something which is done and appreciated for the sheer joy of expression, and is instead compared like products in an online catalogue.
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