Dear Florence,

Yesterday I sang in a group for the first time in about a decade. Being in choirs used to be as natural and throwaway to me as wearing jeans or eating toast. Certainly pleasant, but so normal and regular that I hardly bothered to think about it.

Which I suppose is why it didn't seem that big a deal to me that I never got around to joining a choir when I moved to Sydney. I didn't quite comprehend what I was giving up. Yesterday brought it home to me how wonderful it feels to sing with a group of people, to make lovely sounds together, to work toward the common goal of blending voices in harmony. I completely underestimated how bloody amazing those good old endorphins make you feel. Back at my desk in the two or so hours that followed the class I had difficulty concentrating because I just wanted to bask to the glow of deliciousness and happiness I was feeling. I can't believe I willingly gave up that regular experience for so long, but have vowed to make sure I never do so again.

I wrote an essay about dance recently, and floated the idea that combining physical, bodily experience with intellectual focus is perhaps the best way to feel truly engaged in the experience of living. It's just occurred to me that singing is the same; you need to think about what your body is doing to get it right. You need to be open to the experience of what your lungs, throat and mouth are producing, while simultaneously monitoring it. You need to concentrate, and to feel. I am so glad to be back in that space again.


You'd think it impossible, but Monday has just become my favourite day of the week.