Is Well-being Created, or Revealed?
I was reading an article about a choral group in Los Angeles. The director of the group was talking about how difficult, at the start of the pandemic, it had been for the singers in his group not to be able to get together and sing.
As he talked about how much it meant to the singers to be singing together, he made the statement, “Well-being is created by singing.”
I know exactly what he means. There’s very little I’m aware of that will let me experience well-being the way singing can, but I have a slightly different take from the choral director.
Singing doesn’t create well-being. It reveals the well-being that’s already there.
Singing doesn’t create well-being. It reveals the well-being that’s already there.
It’s a rare day that I’m not singing at some point, and there are some days if I’m working outside, driving somewhere, or out for a walk that I’m probably singing for as much as two hours. I never get tired of it.
If I’m in a low mood, I may not feel like singing at all, but a song will come into my head, begging to be sung, and before I know it, I’m saying to myself, “well, OK I don’t really feel like singing, so maybe I’ll just hum a little bit.”
I never make it humming all the way through a song, because halfway through, I’ll be surprised to hear myself singing out loud. I’ve noticed that as soon as I start singing, I’m swimming in well-being.
I’ve taken to paying attention to that moment when I’m first aware of being washed over by well-being.
I’ve taken to paying attention to that moment when I’m first aware of being washed over by well-being. It’s in that moment that I can see singing is just a catalyst that allows me to experience the well-being I, just like you, am made of.
In other words, I’m not creating it, I’m just not doing anything that makes me lose sight of it.
Singing gets me out of my own way, partly because it uses more of the brain than talking, but beyond that, it lets the thinking part of my brain relax. In other words, I’m not overwhelmed by the “busyness” of my thinking.
I view singing as a great deal more than just a means to distract myself from paying too much attention to the thoughts going on in my head, but I’m aware of how useful it can be for that purpose.
What amazes me every time is the nearly instantaneous revelation of well-being that floods over me as soon as I start to sing.
If I were creating well being, would I be able to create it that quickly? And out of what would I be creating it? That moment when I’m first washed over with well being convinces me that all I’m doing is finding something I may have lost track of for a while. It’s like I’m throwing off a heavy tarp that’s covering a beautiful sculpture.
The sculpture may disappear from view when it’s covered by the tarp, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s just not visible for the time the tarp covers it. The instant the tarp is thrown back, there it is, shining in all its glory.
Is there something you do that instantly makes you aware of your well-being? If there is, you might want to pay attention to that moment when you’re first aware of swimming in well-being. In that moment, ask yourself, “Did I do something to create this, or has it been there all the time, covered up by my busy thinking?”
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