Alone, my voice wilts. In a choir, my heart bursts with joy and community | Canada Voices

First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide

It’s a struggle to hit the high notes and pronounce the odd old English words of Benjamin Britten’s Ceremony of Carols at speed.

Two choir rehearsals this week, two next, then the concert Sunday. Our new director reminds us to practise at home and makes no concessions to mediocrity. He is funny, enthusiastic and relentless in his expectations. Left to himself, he’d insist on auditions; fortunately that’s not an option. We are a community choir with a range of talent. I’m at the low end.

Until I was in my mid-40s, my singing was restricted to the shower and the car. The friend I drove north with to ski on winter weekends would ask me not to sing when she was driving. But then I moved to Scotland, to live in a New Age community where some people sang daily Monday to Friday for 20 minutes before breakfast. There might be four or 40 people present with one leader. The songs were from Taize, a monastery in France, easy rounds and harmonies in several different languages. I was entranced. Happy. Singing became my spiritual practice, a refuge in a place where the “New Age” elements sometimes set my teeth on edge. Daily singing opened my heart enough to allow me to listen and not react to people, to accept different points of view without criticism. I also took weekly singing lessons, which gave me more confidence.

The bagel ornament was the perfect metaphor for how our Jewish-Christian family rolled

Confidence is a huge part of singing. To be able to reach down and belt out melody makes a massive difference. The rewards from singing are great. Music stimulates motor activity, emotions and creativity. Joy. My habit, from childhood on, has been emotional repression. But singing bursts through old habits and both roils and uplifts my heart, especially when I’m part of creating it. Daily singing made me more appreciative of all kinds of music, from folk to bagpipes, opera to bird song. I left Scotland reluctantly when my visa expired and returned to Canada. My music teacher said find a choir there and sing. Do not stop.

In Vancouver, living with an aunt for a year, I agreed to drive her to her Unitarian church on Sundays. I wasn’t particularly interested in the services but the choir called me. No auditions! The conductor slotted me into the second soprano section without asking questions.

This was a lot more challenging than a community singalong. We sang during services twice a month, practised weekly and sang two concerts a year. The choir director acknowledged that perfection is an illusion but pushed us as far as she possibly could. My first concert focused on a Bach piece; I don’t remember which one, just that it was in German and the soprano section was very high. I planned to quit after the concert. But as soon as I’d decided that, I relaxed, didn’t try to sing the notes I couldn’t reach and thoroughly enjoyed the concert.

I learned then that when I’m in the middle of a crowd of good singers I can sing well enough to merit a place in the choir. Alone, my voice wilts. In a choir, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts and the “whole” can be glorious. Sometimes I’ve been so moved by the beauty of the blended voices, I had to mouth the words, too choked up to produce sound.

That was 20 years ago.

I always identified myself first and foremost as a choir member, but I also became part of the library group and the gardening team. I ran used-book sales. I joined the Vancouver Unitarians formally and served four years on the Board of Trustees and chaired the committee that found a new minister when the previous one retired.

I made so many friends that when my aunt died and my cousins moved out of Vancouver, I didn’t even consider leaving.

The choir is my family now that the others are gone. Just as in Scotland, the music we sing, the singing itself, touches my soul. The choir is what moves me to work to embody the principles upon which Unitarianism is based. To try to accept everyone as they are, without judgment. To develop patience and compassion, charity and love. To live in active hope regarding world problems and the environment. To become a better person.

When I think of all that, the hard work I put in to reach a level of mediocrity in my singing feels like an investment in becoming human.

Leslie Hill lives in Vancouver.