Humpty Dumpty
VOICETALK: Historical Perspectives on the Art of Singing is one blog again. Not two. Let me explain.
During the pandemic, I joined an excellent organization for independent singing teachers: the Speakeasy Cooperative. While there, I had the bright idea of monetizing VOICETALK, so I separated the “how-to” heavy content from the “about” content.
Nice move, huh?
Either I got cold feet or realized that monetizing previously published content wasn’t the smartest thing to do, so I let the new blog sit for a long while. Meanwhile, I was working on a literary project that filled my mind and proceeded to take all my attention.
Separating the material meant excising it, transferring it to another platform, and bringing it back again—not too arduous an endeavor. However, when it was done, it was clear that it could not be undone without considerable effort. But that has changed. Squarespace has made it possible to move blog posts within a website with the click of a button. Voila! Dumpty Dumpty has been put back together.
There is a lot of great content on VOICETALK. I read my old posts and am shocked at how much there is. And all of it is free. But I still have the monetization bug, so I have a Library in the works—a library of instructional videos for students and interested parties.
If it’s true that we learn most through our failures, then the twists and turns of VOICETALK remind me of the time I thought I wanted to be a music thanatologist—some thirty years ago. I let my apt go, gave away a lovely piano, and took the train to Denver—which took days—only to realize after twenty-four hours that it wasn’t for me. I called my mother, who gave me four words of advice: “You can come home.” So I did, but not before sitting and meditating for three days while waiting for the train which returned from the west coast. And while I sat quietly, I had the most remarkable experience I think about occasionally. I heard myself ask, “When will I be in love?” At that moment, I felt a presence behind me bend down and whisper in my right ear: “When there is no Other.”
