Finding My Voice
Music has always been woven into my life like a familiar melody in the background—sometimes quiet, sometimes vibrant, but always there. I can’t remember a time when singing didn’t bring me comfort. Growing up, I’d hum along to the radio in the car or sing to myself while doing chores. But it wasn’t until much later, after years of focusing on work, family, and community commitments, that I rediscovered just how powerful music could be when shared with others.
When I first joined a local community choir, I was nervous. I hadn’t sung in front of anyone for years. My voice felt rusty, and I wasn’t sure I’d remember how to follow harmonies or blend with others. Standing in a circle, surrounded by voices rising and falling together, I felt an overwhelming sense of connection—not just to the people beside me, but to something larger. Music has a way of reaching places inside us that words alone can’t.
The Joy of Singing Together
There’s a special kind of magic that happens when people sing together. You don’t need to be a professional or even particularly talented; you just need to be willing. In a choir or singing group, everyone’s voice matters, but no one voice stands out. That balance creates a sense of unity that’s hard to find anywhere else.
Every week when our group gathers, there’s laughter, small talk, and the occasional off-key note. But once we start to sing, the room shifts. We focus on breathing together, listening carefully, and building something beautiful as a team. I’ve come to realize that it’s not about perfection—it’s about presence.
After a long day of nursing or volunteering, singing offers me something grounding and healing. It’s a chance to set aside the day’s worries and focus entirely on sound and rhythm. By the end of rehearsal, I always feel lighter, calmer, and somehow more connected—to myself and to the world around me.
The Ukulele: Small Instrument, Big Smiles
When I joined a local ukulele club, I found the same sense of community I’d felt in choir. We gather in a casual circle, sharing songs and stories, helping each other learn new chords. It’s not competitive or polished—it’s friendly, inclusive, and joyful. Playing the ukulele has reminded me that music doesn’t have to be serious to be meaningful. Sometimes, it’s the playful, imperfect moments that bring the most happiness.
Music as Connection
In healthcare, I’ve seen firsthand how powerful human connection can be. Music often works in the same way—it bridges differences, heals wounds, and creates a sense of belonging. When people sing or play together, it doesn’t matter what their backgrounds are or what’s happening outside the room. For a little while, everyone is equal, united by rhythm and melody.
I’ve also seen how music can reach those who are struggling. Whether it’s singing at a nursing home or sharing songs during a volunteer trip, the reaction is often the same—a smile, a tap of the foot, sometimes even tears. Music reminds people that they’re not alone, that beauty still exists even in difficult times.
When I think about the places music has taken me—choir rehearsals, ukulele jams, community performances—it’s not the songs themselves I remember most vividly, but the people. The laughter between verses, the shared glances when a harmony finally clicks, the gratitude of an audience. Those moments are the real music.
The Science of Feeling Good
There’s plenty of research now showing what singers and musicians have known for centuries: music is good for the body and soul. Singing helps lower stress hormones, releases endorphins, and even improves breathing and posture. But beyond the physical benefits, it also strengthens social bonds.In a world that often feels divided, finding spaces where harmony—literally and figuratively—still exists feels like a gift.
Carrying the Music Forward
For me, music is more than a hobby—it’s a form of care. Just as nursing allows me to support people’s physical health, music allows me to nurture emotional well-being, both my own and others’. Whether I’m rehearsing with a choir, playing the ukulele with friends, or simply singing along in the car, music keeps me centered.
I think we all need something that brings us back to ourselves, something that reminds us of joy and connection. For me, that something will always be music. It doesn’t require perfection, just participation. You don’t have to know the notes or read the sheet music—you just have to listen, join in, and let your voice be part of the greater song.