One more breath
Arpeggios to practice. March 2024. I can't find my voice. Not my speaking voice, my singing voice. I run the triads, the scales to the dominant, the arpeggios, and I feel the weakness in my vocal cords, muscles gone lax after a long period of inactivity. While I've never been an operatic virtuosa, I know what a warm voice and steady breath feel like in my own body, and I know equally well when I'm falling short of what's possible. I hate this feeling, to be honest. As much as I wanted to restart my singing lessons precisely to get back in shape, quitting feels easier right now. One less thing to do, one less thing to practice, one less thing to remind me of my own failures. I recognize this stage, of course; it also appears in the first month of a new exercise routine, the first year of a new job, and the first draft of a new piece of writing. It's the period of breakdown that precedes rebuilding. I know this stage is necessary, and experience has taught me I'm
